Since I’ve been a bit under-the-weather lately, I’ve been binge-watching episodes of the reality show Alone.
I rarely dabble into “reality” TV, mostly because I don’t consider it to be real, and also because I normally don’t watch much TV. However, this one was recommended to me by one of our grown daughters, and her description intrigued me.
Within a few episodes I was hooked. In case you are unfamiliar, this show is a survival contest. The episodes I watched were all set around a huge lake in the arctic, where 10 well-experienced contestants were each dropped into a five-mile zone on the banks of the lake in late September. The challenge was to live in their zone for a full 100 days (which extended past Christmas).
Part of the reason I was so interested was my love for my own dad. He was a skilled huntsman and would have loved this show (he was actually a renaissance man of sorts–he mastered everything from carpentry to scuba diving to oil painting, to bluegrass music and lots of stuff in-between). He also enjoyed solitude, which was a great part of the Alone challenge, having lived a number of his later years alone off-grid on top of a mountain in Arizona.
As I was watching, a number of ideas started presenting themselves to me.
One of them was the character of the individuals who were able to withstand almost to the last, or to the very last.
They were different. They were 100% in it.
It wasn’t about the 100-day challenge. The outdoors was their regular life. They lived in extreme conditions without homes regularly, not only as an occasional excursion. Inside them there was no “out” button. Whether during or after the competition, they considered themselves part of nature, so it was all the same. No matter what, they knew they would have to adapt and conquer each obstacle in their path.
They also seemed to think long-term. They expended energy up front to create a stable foundation for all of the rest of their survival activities. One took the time to create a house with stacked rocks and huge logs on top. Another built a nearly permanent chimney and mortared it with clay she had found.
Then, when a challenge came up, they thought through it (sometimes overnight or for a few days), formed a plan, implemented it, and overcame.
Of course, there were many failures. Most of these were due to uncontrollable circumstances, such as broken legs, disease, and scarcity of game.
But there seemed to be something typical about the rest of the failures: lack of commitment.
To these individuals, the outdoors were a fun excursion, but they had a “life.” When it started getting really lonely, or they were low on food, they bugged out easily because they knew they had it better at home.
One fellow spent the more temperate days of late September and early October resting under his tarp and complaining about the wind. Then, when the temperature changed and the snow started to accumulate, he was still under his tarp, continually out in the cold. It was no surprise when he left.
Other failures were continually looking “out there” instead of focusing on what was right in front of them. They could not completely surrender to the experience because they perceived they were missing people and things back home.
Now, it must be clear that I am not advocating for a solitary, woodsy lifestyle. Very few of us are equipped for such a thing, and even those who are equipped aren’t much of a blessing to others.
(Although I often wonder about the hermits of old who would go to an isolated place and live in a hut so they could spend time in concentrated prayer and meditation. There is something positive to be had in relative isolation that cannot be attained any other way. It is a stripping that deepens us and creates a quiet in our souls that is not easily shaken.)
So, what does all of this have to do with homeschooling?
A LOT!
First of all, homeschooling is an individual sport.
By definition, it is a personal decision and a personal quest. When we bring our children home we are usually breaking from the pack or the herd.
Since we are created to need companionship, this can be quite a sacrifice. It means we are stepping out onto a rickety rope bridge traversing a deep canyon of unknowns without the reassuring cues of commonality we have relied upon for most of our lives. Just like the different contestants on Alone, isolation can be a challenge to our survival, even with support groups (which can be full of insecurity and competition).
Secondly, any mistakes made are on us.
There’s no one to look side-ways at if something goes wrong. In the wild, just a wrong footstep, or the failure to put one’s line into the right spot, or eating meat tainted with trichinosis, or a host of other small miscalculations can lead to failure.
In homeschooling, the wrong method or curriculum can also be frustrating and debilitating. Because we are the only ones responsible for slip-ups, this is another burden we must bear.
Thirdly, and most importantly, if we are not 100% committed, we will likely give up when things get rough.
Over the last 34 years there have been some hard, hard times. Times when there was little or no money, or we were being attacked from outsiders, or we were being attacked internally.
Honestly, giving up never occurred to me. It was never an option. There were many reasons for this; even pride was in there somewhere, I’m sure (but pride alone does not get anyone very far).
I just knew, knew, knew that it was RIGHT.
I knew because of all the research I had done and the observations I had made (there is such an ocean of evidence for the superiority of alternative education that I cannot begin to list it in this post).
I knew because of the love I had for each child, and out of that love I wanted to do everything I could to give each one the very best I could. I don’t believe I would have been able to do this by putting my children into conventional schooling.
Mostly, I knew because of the commission I had received from the Holy Spirit to take whatever tools I had in my hands and use them to build a tiny bit of His Kingdom on earth, one stone at a time.
So I was one of the committed ones, as were those who were in the initial wave of the homeschool “pioneers” way back in the 1980’s (the women how introduced me to homeschooling are now in their 70’s–crazy!).
I’m just about at the end of my own stint in this wilderness quest, but even after we launch our last “student,” I will be here, learning more and helping more.
This is because homeschooling is more than just something I have done as a hobby. It’s something deeply embedded in my psyche. Homeschooling has enabled me to change my entire lifestyle.
In breaking free from the “pack,” I’ve created my own tribe; this one based on God’s love and care instead of the materialistic view of human beings as objects and mechanisms.
I know we all come to homeschooling from different angles. We often stumble into it. We even think we can buy a stack of books and keep “education” in its own separate compartment and keep living like we always have.
But this doesn’t go very well for very long.
This is because TRUE learning incorporates one’s entire life. Everything else is empty and pulls us away from God’s foundational intentions.
(Incidentally, the only way mankind has continued with any trace of God’s intentions is because we’re all secretly homeschooled in some form or another. It takes a little analysis, but the pattern is there in our history. Over and over again we find the most profound and meaningful accomplishments were done by those who did not fit within the lines of conventionality.)
So, if we are committed to homeschooling for the long haul, here is the question we must ask ourselves:
“Am I 100% in it?”
I may have gotten here accidentally, but am I willing to go the distance?
When we can honestly answer “yes,” the rest is gravy.
We won’t be looking for easy-outs; we will fight tooth-and-nail. Instead of whining in the face of obstacles, we will pause and think (and pray) ourselves around, and over, and through them.
Our commitment will cause us to pray, which will deepen our faith, which will increase our answers to prayer.
In the end, not only will our children be better equipped, but we will be transformed for the better; able to reach out and be a blessing of God’s love and care to others.
To listen to this topic as the focus of a podcast, click below:
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