"Why don't you homeschool Nathaniel?" The question was the first thing my mom asked when I answered the phone early Tuesday morning. It was asked last Saturday by a college friend, who has close to thirty years experience in public school special education, after she read my blog post about a Christian school's denial to consider enrolling my son. It is a question Rich and I have repeatedly asked ourselves, and it is a logical one given that homeschooling has been our educational choice for our other children.  Answering the question and making any educational decision on Nathaniel's behalf forces us to reflect on his journey.

When placed in our home through foster care, Nathaniel was enrolled in early intervention services offered through our state Department of Education. We have homeschooled for twenty-five years. Our experience with public education was limited to our older two sons who attended while living at their mother's home. Despite the unfamiliarity, we continued the services. The intervention model identified the child’s greatest need and offered one therapist to address concerns. Nathaniel was assigned an occupational therapist. We loved her. However, together we quickly realized that Nathaniel had more needs than she could meet in an hour a week.  Speech and physical therapy were added. Nathaniel’s experience with early intervention speech therapy has been documented here. Not soon after we began sessions, we stopped them. We sought private speech therapy to tackle what we knew would be long-term communication needs.

December has been a whirlwind of fun for our family.  Rich spent hours in the garage making three maple saddle stands as a Christmas present for Andrew; Nathaniel and I spent those same hours in the kitchen making yummy food for everyone. We were able to see all our children over the Christmas holiday and made some great memories. I love this photo of Nathaniel's first experience ice skating! Unfortunately Nathaniel is currently in the hospital with a virus. Rich is with him this morning to give me time to rest. I have enjoyed the quiet moments to reflect on my writing and reread some of this year's blog posts. Here are the top five most frequently read 2016 blog posts:

I have been a stay-at-home mom for twenty-eight years. Next week I start my twenty-fourth year of teaching my children at home. Josiah was born into a homeschool family; he nursed through older siblings' math lessons and overheard first, second, and third grade reading lessons all the same year while playing in his high chair. He was the youngest before Nathaniel and is a senior in high school this fall.

Both Joe and I reap the benefits that he has never known family life apart from homeschool life. For us, there has always been a blurring of what is daily living as a Rankin kid and what is homeschool; Joe has always known his parents, and mother specifically, to carry the duel roles of parent and educator. There were no "before we started homeschooling" habits or relationship patterns to overcome.

I did something Monday that I have only done once since July 30, 2013. I drove alone with Nathaniel in the van. We went to the park and took a walk. We stopped by Barnes and Noble. We were away from the house for almost two hours.

It felt so good to be out together. Alone. Together.

Four years ago this month, I wrote a three part blog series on the cost of homeschooling. It makes sense that I wrote that series in January. January is when I start to think about the next school year.

For almost two decades now, we've deposited that spring (IRS) check in a special savings account earmarked for school costs.  Some years we haven't needed all of it, some years we have. Many years, the doldrums of winter were chased away by browsing curriculum catalogs, comparing programs, making wish lists, and dreaming of next year's fun.  The Cost of Homeschooling, Part 1

While working on my masters in Composition and Rhetoric, I spent a semester writing about my experiences with literacy - the stories, people, and moments that shaped my view of reading and writing. The following are experts from that larger work; each story centers on the role my father had in the formation of my literacy practices.

The weekly walks to and from the public library with mom were full of laughter, skipping, and splashing in puddles. In my memory, Concord’s weather was always post-storm, blue-sky sunny with a few lingering puddles for the children’s sake. I have no memories of the library itself, only the route there and back. Our limit of books was determined by what we could carry. Perhaps backpacks and totes were used on the other side of town; rough brown cardboard boxes from the grocery store were our containers of choice. Once home, a small room off the living room served as our own library. My older brother, Ed, and I would carefully place the books on the long built-in bookshelf under the two large wood windows.  For hours while Ed was off at kindergarten, I would sit alone on the hardwood floor reading. Oddly, I do not remember if I could actually read. 

She couldn't concentrate on the work and smile for the camera at the same time. Sunday night pretzels. An Uncle Rich tradition for 20 years and tonight Ellie was assigned the responsibility of helping to make dinner for everyone attending the family reunion.

I grew up as a year around resident in Lakeside, Ohio. It is one of the few existing Chautauqua in the United States and the unique setting definetly shaped who I am today.  Reflections of experiencing Lakeside, both as a summer and winter resident in my childhood and as a returning vacationer, has filled many journals.