What I Hope My Children Remember About Our Homeschool Days

 

When I think about the education I hope to give my children, I don't only think about what I want them to know.  I think about what I hope they remember.  I hope they remember us, I hope they remember the ordinary days that didn't seem particularly important at the time.

The slow mornings, books piled beside the couch, muddy boots by the door, horses waiting in the pasture, afternoons at the river, library trips, conversations in the truck, the work we did together,the prayers we prayed, laughter, the hard days and beautiful days, mostly the life we lived side by side.

Because someday, the worksheets will be gone, the curriculum will sit on a shelf, the school years will be behind us.  And what I hope remains isn't a perfect record of everything they learned.

I hope it is the feeling of being home.

I Hope They Remember Reading Together

I hope they remember books, lots and lots of books.  I hope they remember curling up together with a story and asking, "One more?"  I hope they remember the stories that made them laugh and the ones that made them think.

The books we read together may teach history, language, imagination, courage, and kindness.  But more than anything, I hope they remember being together.  Because someday, they may not remember the details of the story.  But I hope they remember sitting beside me while we read it.

I Hope They Remember Slow Mornings

I hope they remember mornings when we didn't have to rush out the door.  Mornings when there was time for a slow breakfast, conversation, time for chores, to go outside, time to simply wake up slowly and begin the day together.  There is something precious about having time.

And I don't want my children to grow up believing that life is always supposed to be hurried, I want them to know what it feels like to slow down.  To notice, to breathe and to enjoy an ordinary Tuesday morning.

I Hope They Remember the Horses

I hope they remember the horses, not just riding them, not just the fun, but everything that came with them.  The early mornings, chores, responsibility the muddy days, beautiful rides.  Even the hard days, of course the babies and the losses too.  The lessons that came from caring for something other than ourselves.

I hope they remember that these amazing souls weren't simply recreation, they were part of our family.  And I hope they carry with them the understanding that love means showing up, even when it's cold, even when you're tired.  Even when it's inconvenient, especially then.

I Hope They Remember the River

I hope they remember the river days, skipping rocks, splashing in the  water.  The sunshine and exploring.  The laughter, the questions and the times we went simply because it was a beautiful day.

I hope they remember that learning didn't always require a table and a pencil.  Sometimes it looked like sitting beside the water and wondering about the world God created.  Sometimes it looked like getting wet and muddy.  Sometimes it looked like doing absolutely nothing productive at all.  And I hope they know that those moments mattered, too.

I Hope They Remember the Library and the Road

I hope they remember library days, searching the shelves, finding books they didn't know they needed.  Bringing home a stack that was probably far too big.

I hope they remember road trips, the conversations in the truck, playing the music loud with the windows down,  The scenery passing by and the questions that came out of nowhere.  The places we've visited and the places we're still dreaming about seeing.

I hope they remember that curiosity was welcomed, that questions weren't interruptions and when they wanted to know something, we could say:  "Let's find out."

I Hope They Remember Learning About What They Loved

I hope my children remember that I paid attention to what made them curious.  That I noticed what made their eyes light up and that I encouraged them to follow those interests.  My son loves history, and I hope he remembers dreaming about our future road trip to Washington, D.C.  My daughter loves nature, and I hope she remembers that she never had to look very far to find it.

There were books, the river, the pastures, our front porch and the whole world around us.  I hope they remember that their interests mattered, that their questions mattered.  That they mattered.

I Hope They Remember Working Beside Me

My children have always come to work with me.  They have seen the ordinary, sometimes messy, sometimes exhausting parts of getting things done.  They have watched me work and often helped.  They've seen problems that needed solving and experienced responsibility, I hope they remember those days.

Not because I expect them to remember every task they helped with, but because I hope they remember learning that life is something we participate in.  That work has value, contributing matters and that sometimes we do things simply because they need to be done.  And that there is joy in doing something together.

I Hope They Remember Being Trusted

I hope they remember being given responsibility and being trusted with things that mattered.  Being allowed to try and being allowed to make mistakes.  I don't want to rescue my children from every difficult thing, I want to prepare them for life and I want them to know how to work.  How to solve problems, to care for others, how to keep going when something is hard and how to take responsibility for their choices.

Those lessons may not always be easy, but I hope someday they'll understand why I gave them those opportunities.

Most of All, I Hope They Remember God

More than anything else, I hope my children remember that God was woven into our days.  Not just into a Bible lesson, not just into morning devotions, but into our life.

I hope they remember praying together and being thankful.  I hope they saw God's goodness in the ordinary moments.   In the sunrise, horses, in the garden, at the river, in answered prayers, during the hard seasons and the beautiful ones.  I hope they know that our faith wasn't something we simply studied.

It was something we lived.  Because ultimately, that's what I want their education to point toward.  Not simply knowing more, but knowing Who they belong to.

I Hope They Remember How It Felt

Maybe this is what matters most, I hope they remember how home felt.  Safe.  Loved.  Known.  Encouraged.

I hope they remember that they could ask questions without fear, that mistakes didn't make them less worthy of love.  That there were do-overs, we apologized and we laughed.  That we prayed and we loved big.  That perfection was never the goal.

I hope they remember that they were seen, not just as students, but as people, as individuals, as the unique children God entrusted to me.

When the School Years Are Over

Someday, these homeschool years will end, there will be a last first day.  A last stack of curriculum, a last morning around the table, a last time I get to call them in from outside and say it's time for school.  And I know I will probably wish I could have one more ordinary day, one more slow morning, one more book, one more ride, one more trip to the river, one more conversation in the truck.

Because that's the strange thing about motherhood, we spend so much time looking forward to the next season, and then suddenly realize we were living inside the season we'd someday miss.  So I'm trying to remember, to notice, to be present, to not rush through these days simply because they are ordinary.

Because these ordinary days are our life.

What I Hope They Take With Them

I don't expect my children to remember every lesson, they won't remember every math problem, spelling word or every assignment we completed.  And that's okay.

I hope they remember how to learn, how to work, how to think.  How to care for others, to be curious and to solve problems.  How to love God and to enjoy His creation.  How to build a home filled with grace.

But more than any of those things...I hope they remember the time we had together.  The ordinary days, adventures, the quiet, the laughter.  The prayers, books and horses.  The road trips, front porch and the life we lived while we were learning.

Because when I think about the education I hope to give my children, I don't only think about what I want them to know.  I think about what I hope they remember.

And if, years from now, they look back and remember a childhood where they felt safe, deeply loved, encouraged to be curious, taught to work hard, given room to become who God created them to be, and surrounded by a family that simply wanted to spend time together...then I think I will have taught them the things that matter most.

Maybe that is the education I want to give them, not a perfect childhood, not a perfect homeschool.  Just a childhood filled with love, faith, wonder, work, adventure, and time together.  

And maybe someday, when they're grown, they'll understand what I understand now:  The greatest gift homeschooling gave us wasn't more time for school, it was more time for each other. 

A Letter to My Children

If I could tuck one thing into the pages of every book we've ever read together, I think it would be this:

I hope you remember: the days that felt ordinary to you but were everything to me, the horses and books.  The muddy shoes, long drives and river trips.  The front porch, questions, prayers and all the laughter.

I hope you remember that I was there.  That I listened, I noticed and I loved you fiercely.  And I hope that when you look back on your childhood, you don't remember how much schoolwork we accomplished.

I hope you remember how much life we lived together.  Because that was always the point, you were never just my students, you were my children.  And getting to learn beside you has been one of the greatest gifts of my life. 🤍

Until next time, may your coffee stay warm and your children stay little just a little longer.

-Maggie