A Case for Homeschooling

You know that feeling when your computer crashes and you lose lots of good stuff! I recently got my computer back and found that I could access all my stuff that I'd thought was gone forever. The following is an article I wrote for the local homeschooling newspaper last year. Thought I'd post it so that I don't lose it again.

3-18-07

A Case For Homeschooling

By Jeffery Weita ( A Homeschooling Dad)

So, having suddenly woken up in the middle of the night with a stuffy nose and being unable to breathe, I found myself in the middle of a discourse with a man, explaining to him why it was I was a homeschooling parent. Was it a dream or was it real? I’m sure that you have found yourself awakened in a similar situation, in the midst of topics familiar and unfamiliar, with people both real and imagined and later said to yourself, “Oooohhh, I wish I had written that down. I was so good and logical and sensible. I laid that argument out so well! I just wish I remembered what I had said.” When suddenly I found myself wide awake and in front of my computer, tapping furiously away, lest the wisdom of the night dissipate like the clouds of vapor on my pond, on a cool morning at sunrise.

Many times during the last 10 years, I have often found myself reverting to the defensive when attempting to explain to individuals my position on a certain subject, which is often brought to the forefront by a simple question. “Why do you Homeschool?” This seemingly innocuous question has caused a plethora of answers to spew forth from my mind and mouth, everything ranging from quality of education to parental input to Biblical mandate to “it’s none of your business.” All of which are perfectly logical, sensible answers and all of which satisfies neither the questioner nor the answerer. So before I forget my cogent and precise arguments in my state of greater wakefulness, here is the answer I would always love to give at a moments notice without hesitation nor defensiveness. I have the ball. I’m going on offense!

Perhaps the most elemental of beginning is simply Choice. My wife and I find ourselves the primary educators of our children because long ago, before we were joined in holy matrimony, we decided during our courtship that one of the tenets of our union was to homeschool our children together. We had always felt that if God saw fit to give us kids, then it was our duty and responsibility, hence our Mandate, to, firstly, raise our children in the fear and admonition of the Lord and secondly, to provide a quality of education unmatched by government schools. Now while choice is the logical starting point, it, in and of itself, is not enough to keep us on the narrow road of home education. (Doesn’t “narrow road remind you of another reference to the “narrow road” that one takes on the journey of spiritual education? But I digress.)

Which leads us to Mandate. By definition, as given by Websters, a mandate is “…an authoritative command: a formal order from a superior court or official to an inferior one: an authorization to act.” And I, being an inferior individual, am sensible enough to recognize the call of a superior being, that call to act with authority from above to shape and transform the offspring entrusted to us, taking them from young skulls of mush to young men and women of God able to stand firmly on their own two feet and with confidence push back the tide of secular humanism that they will inevitably encounter in college, the workplace and in everyday life.

Having worked in the government schools as a teacher and having dealt with them as a foster parent, my former faith in the public educational system was shaken. I mean, was I not a product of public education and didn’t I turn out OK? Was I so enamored with the idea of freedom from my kids and the ability to acquire the necessary greenbacks that I was willing to sacrifice my kids on the alter of ambition and avarice? After hard thought, and hard thought it was, we decided that, as difficult as it may be, we would follow Mandate. Thus I worked for myself, out of my home, on one income, so that my wife could stay home and be the daycare worker, the kindergarten teacher, the after school monitor, the nurse and cafeteria cook. And great the sacrifice it was to do that. Our society demands that we look a certain way, drive the newest vehicle, eat at the hippest restaurants and wear the finest of clothing. Are we not taught that both parents working is for the good of the child? “Now we have the ability to give the best to our child, (if we only had the time).” But in whose interest is it, really? The siren call of material gain is tremendous. Yet we, like Odysseus, lashed ourselves to the mast of Mandate, not heeding the siren call of riches and made the life-impacting choice of homeschooling. For it not only impacted my children, but my wife and me as well. The doing without, the praying for sustenance, the giving of time and energy. We know that we are not alone in our choices, that we are not the first to carve a trail into the unknown, for many of you have made similar sacrifices for the good of future generations. It is Mandate that pushes us, guides us, keeps us.

Mandate leads us to Worldview. What does the lens through which we view the world look like? What are we going to teach our children and Why? A Worldview, according to The Universe Next Door by James Sire, is a set of presuppositions (assumptions which may be true, partially true or entirely false) which we hold (consciously or subconsciously, consistently or inconsistently) about the basic make-up of our world. We all see things in our world differently due to upbringing, culture, education and religion. And if Mandate dictates that we shape our child’s views, what is it that we use to hone and craft modern-day thinkers? If we are uncertain, it behooves us to find out. What do we believe and why? Because what we believe will inevitably be passed down to our kids. What we think, they will adapt and call their own. Is the lens through which I view the world Cross-shaped or does it look different? If the Mandate is passed to me from a higher authority I must know what that authority says about religion, politics, relationships, business, economics, art, music and literature. If I do not know, I must find out and when I find out, I must pass it on. It is OUR responsibility to raise our children with a Biblical world view, NOT the responsibility of a nameless, faceless bureaucracy with a Humanistic world view. We would no more leave our children physically in the hands of a stranger, yet many in our society feel compelled to leave them both physically and mentally with strange people and stranger ideas. If I am not with them during the educational hours, how do I know what is being instilled in their young skulls of mush?

Worldview leads us to Process. The How-to-do-it. What curriculum do I choose, how many hours a day, to FCAT or not, am I up to the task at hand? The Mandate is a great and glorious cause, the reason to cast caution aside and ride off into the sunset on a charger of great size. Yet the day to day, week to week, month to month can wear away at our resolve. Chuck Swindoll once said,”The problem with Christianity is that it is so daily.” Line upon line, precept upon precept we shape and fashion and mold. Resolve and stick-to-it-ivness become our handmaidens. Each of us have our own process, our own blueprint that we follow because we know our children the best and what is best for them. Follow your instinct and the prodding of your conscience. Our goal is to create children who think for themselves, able to process knowledge and information, not just learners who have accumulated facts but do not know how to apply them.

Never let ones questioning of what you do or why you do it cause you to question yourself. Are you called? Do you have a Mandate? Are you following your Mandate? Is your Worldview solidified, understandable and transferable? Does your Process bear fruit? Can it be replicated easily?

So I say to those who ask, “Why do you homeschool?” the following:

“We homeschool because we have made a choice to have a Biblical worldview which says that we have a mandate from God to teach, shape and fashion our children with time-tested methods and curriculum because we are creating world shakers and world changers.” I bet you that will create some opportunities for discussion. For we are called not only to educate our own but educate others. “This is the way, walk ye in it.” It is not for our personal gain that we engage in battle. It is for the hearts and minds of our children. If you don’t step up, who will?

Peace on the Journey!
Traveler

The Start of My Travels

These next numbers of posts will contain my life's journey up 'till now. My Testimony, as it were. I hope you will enjoy the written journey as best as you can, since you were not there for most of it. Feel free to use your imagination to picture the locations, situations and motivations I am attempting to present. Putting one' s life into black and white has taken a considerable amount of time and thought, and hard as I try, almost impossible to color it the way I remember, both in language and style. I can only hope that at the end, you will know me a tad bit more and yourself a little better, because we always see ourselves in someone else's story.

Traveler’s Wandering – The Early Years: Part 1

This is my life in capsule form. Taken in small doses, it can be enjoyable, but be careful not to overdose. I was born on February 15, 1964, the day after Valentine's Day, in West Covina, California. I guess I'm just a leftover sweetheart. For the first 5 years of my life, I lived in California with my mother and father. I recall bits and pieces of that time but nothing that I consider life shaping.

During my fifth year of life, my mother divorced my father and moved back to her parents home in Michigan. One of the things my mother unknowingly taught me was the importance of tenacity, which was in evidence upon the trip to Michigan. She drove from California to Michigan in a rented U-Haul truck, pulling an old '64 Rambler behind it and in the cab with her were her 3 small children. Not an undertaking for the faint of heart. Yet, she made it. She settled in Owosso, Michigan and did her best to raise 3 small kids on her own. She worked often and we spent lots of time with other caretakers, some bad and some very good. Grandma Carpenter was one of the good ones. She ran an in-home daycare facility. She could be stern but was also loving and really cared for me and my brother and sister. I started at a local public school and would go to her house after school. Much about that time is blurry and memories usually consist of remembered snapshots or of specific instances, single pictures in the album of my mind.

Through a mutual friend, she met Don Weita and within a year and a half, had remarried. The now newly formed family, (really a His, Hers, and future Ours family), moved to my new stepfathers hometown of Warren, Ohio, which would become my home for the next 15 years. Warren was a typical mid-western town, full of bicycle riding children, two story houses with basements and two parent families. I grew up in the family as the oldest boy, the second oldest child. I have 4 brothers and 3 sisters. Being the oldest boy, I usually was the local whipping post and lighting rod. When trouble struck, it usually struck me. I was stubborn and rebellious as any young boy is inclined to be. Trouble followed me like a plague. But I guess I always had the most fun, too. All the other kids waited to see if I would happen when I did something. If I got away with it, so could they. I never seem to learn my lessons. I was sharp-tongued and often mean. But hindsight seems to indicate that I was just compensating for being in a somewhat dysfunctional family. Blended families are never easy or clear cut and the best of intentions don’t always work out the way it is planned. The blending of individuals is never easy under the best of circumstances. I have learned much from my growing up years. I hope my efforts with my own family will reflect what I learned during those formative years.

One night, as I sat on the edge of the bed waiting to have my behind whipped for another infraction of family code, my stepfather,( who I'll refer to as Dad, for he really was the only father I’ve known), took some time to share with me about his relationship with a person named Jesus. On the verge of getting a spanking, I listened intently to every word that proceeded from the mouth of my Dad. But as he spoke, thoughts of punishment disappeared as my young mind grasped (for the first time), the concept of a loving God who cared for me and wanted to have a relationship with me and could forgive my sins and trespasses. And that night, I gave my heart to the Lord. Despite the fact that I was young and lacking in knowledge and reason, this incident left a mark upon me that is still evident in my life to this day. But despite my inward marking, it was many years before the commitment I'd made took hold and bore fruit. To this day, I still can't remember if I got spanked or not!

During our early years in Warren, we attended a Finnish Lutheran church. My Dad’s mother was from Finland and happened to be the church’s organist. So that’s where we went. I cannot remember even being in a church up until that time. The only memory I have of any contact with a church up to that point was on my journey from California to Michigan with my mother. I distinctly remember waking up one morning in Albuquerque, New Mexico to the sound of church bells. They were very beautiful and I remember them well. We were parked in a supermarket parking lot and had been sleeping in the back of the 1964 Rambler we were towing behind the U-Haul. Funny, what makes impressions on you at a young age that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Back to the Lutheran church. This time was very instrumental in life, although I would not recognize it until much later in my church going life. What I gathered, but didn’t realize it at the time, was an understanding of the mystery and holiness of God. There was something about being in that church, with the stained glass windows, the priestly robes, the candles, the liturgy and the formal music of the organ and choir that impacted my young life. It would not be till years later in my church worship life that I would come full circle and reconnect with the liturgical heritage that I had as a young child. I served as an acolyte and remember well the presentation of the Eucharist, the recitation of the Nicene Creed and the pattern of liturgy found in the Lutheran prayer books. The pastor was tall and grave, with a kindly smile and gentle manner. I remember the respect I had for him. I especially loved the special candle light services we had on Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. We would sit in the balcony and look down on the service below us. The tall, fragrant Christmas tree almost touched the roof, the beautiful singing rolling to the rafters, the sanctuary lit brightly with only the candles we held, the smell of candle wax. Beautiful and holy and magical those times felt to me. The Mystery of God the Father played out before my very young eyes. Unbeknownst to me, the Master was already creating pattern on the core of my being, the beginnings of an ongoing and never-ending painting.

Peace on the journey!
Traveler

Who...Me?

It's amazing what lessons life teaches us and the things that it reminds us of that we don't yet possess. Last Friday, while at the local homeschool convention here in Jacksonville, my wife took a fall and ended up with a bad case of whiplash. Needless to say, I was thrust into doing much of what my wife was suppose to be doing both during the convention and afterwards. I had to run her around to the chiropractor (whom we love and believe very much in), see to her every need because she could not do much for herself. She was in much pain with a neck brace, an icepack, Aleve and ibuprofen her constant companions, (along with her ever-present ice tea). I had to take her place at the convention, sharing with parents about the tutoring program my wife administrates, running the booth, shuttling children here and there to accomodate for the accident. I at home became the nursemaid, chief cook and bottlewasher, taxi driver and on and on. I cared for my wife and children and home, picking up the slack, all while being an efficent member of Team Weita. By now you may be ready to either give me a gold medal for my selfless efforts or you want to wack me in the head for needlessly grandstanding. Neither of which I want because that is not the point of my blog entry. I said all that to say this......
I am not the servant-hearted individual that I think I am.
What I found most surprising and a little disturbing during an analysis of the facts afterwards was the growing realization that tho' I looked magnificant on the outside, a beacon or paragon of virtue and servanthood, inside my heart was not filled with servant-heartedness and doing all as unto God. What this past week revealed was how little like Jesus I really am. Instead of responding with love and graciousness both inside and outside, I like the Pharisees, was a white washed tomb, full of dead mens bones. Looking great outside but inside was still like the old self that I want to crucify. I know that I have a long way to travel to be like Him. Although my grumbling and fussing and huffing and puffing was kept inside, to Him, it was loud and clear. Oh, I long to be one whose presence causes people to gather around and say, " I want to be just like him!". Instead I am probably one that people use as an example for wayward children, a warning to heed God or end up like "you know who!" I know that God in resident in me and is working hard to clean me up and make me more like He is. I know that he loves me and forgives me. I also know that he expects more out of me, even when others cannot see what I really think. I know that I will have many more episodes like this in the future, events that remind me of my sinful nature and my need to change. I can only hope that I can apply that knowledge liberally and that the lessons will be less painful and revealing. Like the De-motivational picture above, I can only blame myself!

Peace on the journey!
Traveler (and sometimes Stinker)

Art Upon My Soul

Now while you expect to open your email each day and see an email from me informing you of a new blog posting, the truth of the matter is this. No matter how much I like this new found blogging, daily postings are simply out of the question. My time and savory thoughts are too precious and rare to dispense in such a cavalier fashion. My only hope for you is that you will learn to take my blog in measured doses so as to savor, prolong and heighten the reading experience. Onto some housekeeping comments.

A few of you have asked about the picture at the top of my blog. It is an brilliant, untitled piece by an up and coming artist. Me. I did this back in 2005 while painting with my children. I enjoyed the process very much and don't know why I haven't continued my painting. I feel very passionate about art, love it very much and wish I had more talent in that arena. Truth be told, I don't know what type of talent I have because I have never expended much effort in the area of art. I tell myself all the time, "Self, you need to get a set of brushes, some paint and a canvas and go to work." But time, money, laziness and daily life intrudes on every decision I make. And since it is not a priority, it gets shelved until the next time I visit an art museum and become inspired by the great masters and find myself drawn into a magnificent piece. I am transported by the colors, the textures, the context and the perspective. Great art stirs something in my soul, giving me pause in my daily grey scale life and it pushes buttons in me. Art causes me to look inside myself and forces me to look outside at the world around through their canvases. It puts filters on my eyes though which I am able to see a different perspective, one that I hadn't though of before. At least for time, I see life differently. Art breathes the passion for life into my weary, modern day soul. The longing for a purer time, a greater vision, or an exotic place. The dew on a flower petal, the smell of gunpowder, the tear on a cheek resonated deeply in my being. Art draws upon me sensitivity and compassion, longing and hope, wistfulness and melancholy. It creates in me a greater sensitivity to the world around me. Art causes me to recognize the Hand of Almighty on the artist, his canvas and his subject. We are merely shadows and blank slates, waiting for the Master to paint His plan across out lives. All because I love art.

Peace on the journey!
Traveler (and occasionally, Painter)

Day Two of My Blogging Life - Cont

Taking a cue from my friend JL’s blog, Jawbone of a Pastor, I have decided to write my testimony in a number of parts and in numerous blog postings. I feel that this will be a good starting place for a number of reasons:

1.) Because I want to. I am King of My Blog.

2.) It will be good for me to revisit my past and compile thoughts and timelines about my travels on this earth. The Scriptures tell us that when the Israelites had crossed the Jordan river into the Promise Land, they built monuments as they traveled to remind themselves of the faithfulness of God to them and so the all the people of the earth would know the hand of the Lord was mighty. (see Joshua 4). God has indeed been faithful to me, tho I have been faithless. The monuments in my life will help me to realign my future with my past and remind me of the Love and Hand of God in and along my wandering travels.

3.) This will be a labor of love for my girls, who will one day want to know the how’s and why’s of my life’s journeys. It will save me time because it could take me hours to tell it and they already think I give them too much information when they ask the simplest of questions. “Just get to the POINT, Dad!” I’ll just point them to my blog. When they have read it and have given to me a 5-page report, doubled spaced and spell checked with 1” margins that contains a synopsis of my life, then we will discuss it and their questions over guava pastries and little tiny cups of piping hot Cuban coffee, oh so sweet and with the crema on top.

Peace on the Journey!
Traveler

Day Two of My Blogging Life

I was unaware how much fun this would be or how time consuming. Deciding what to include on my blog, what pictures, what to say, dealing with comments and emails, both good and bad. I have yet to decide on the nature or course of this blog. I can't seem to decide if it should be full of wisdom and pity comments or just me blathering on about things only I find interesting or noteworthy. Maybe my direction will come in time. So I think for now I'll just enjoy the journey and see where it takes me. Kinda like being on an inner tube, floating lazily down the river, not sure what is around the next bend. "Could it be a placid stretch of tranquil water or a harrowing descent into a turbulent maelstrom of rapids and rocks?" Will I become the bear or the salmon? Weeeeeeee shall see!
Peace on the Journey!
Traveler

Day One of My Blogging Life

Today marks the beginning of my blogging life. I have, for quite a long time, wanted to start a blog. But for many reasons, I have not availed myself of this particular avenue. Sometimes I feel that I have lots of things to say or at least put in print. Gentle musings, strongly worded rants, words of encouragement or prayers of thanks. I view this journey as a type of catharsis or purging of my soul of the myriad thoughts that I have each and every day. I would like to think that this blog will become a magnet for millions, a place for other wandering travelers to find a word or two to quench the longing in their souls. But maybe I'm just having delusions of grandeur as I stand on the precipice of blogdom, ready to throw myself and my soul over the side of the chasm. Before I take the plunge, a word of thanks is in order. Three people deserve credit (or maybe blame) for this blog:
1) Garth Fout - he of the Foutfolk blog and friend of many years, has drawn me into the blogging world. To read of others travels and adventures brings laughter, a sage nodding of the head in agreement and somewhat bemused astonishment at their journey into an organic, self sustaining lifestyle. More power to ya, bro!
2)The Really Righteous Reverend Richard Hanner - One who is so full of a great many thoughts and opinions that if he didn't start to blog a while ago, i was convinced he would explode from being so full of wisdom, bluster, righteous anger and indignation. Keep up the good work on Antagoniz of keeping us in the pews informed and filled with correctly directed indignation ourselves.
3) J L Rivera - the newest of my friends, one who has trod the blogging highways and byways for many a year now in his Jawbone of a Pastor blog. Your life's journey has inspired me and causes me to reexamine what I believe and why and gives me graspable handles and a pallet of many colors from which to draw inspiration and pattern for my own life's canvas. Having said that, i do, however question his loyalty to a certain baseball team whose losing ways are the stuff of legends. But that's OK. There is always next year!

So there, this is my first of hopefully many posts of stuff that I want to say.

Peace on the Journey!
Jeffery
(Traveler)