Disclaimer: This post is not meant to discredit real abuse. Real abuse happens within all walks of life. It does need to be addressed and dealt with - with punishment for the offender and healing for the very real victim. But this post is a satire about a life that often seems hard and unfair. What child does not think life is unfair at times? 
Six years have passed since I graduated from what I have been trained to call formal education. I was taught that education was about more than the books and grades, so we called our curriculum, our scheduled learning, “formal education”. It is all documented in those records we kept, just in case anyone accused us of not doing real school.
It took me most of the last six years to really understand what was done to me during those years of “home schooling“. Firstly, and most importantly, I was never allowed to stop learning. How cruel is that? I was never allowed to shut the book, drop the pencil, pack it up and go home because I’d served my time for the day. We, my siblings and I, were “encouraged” to be always learning, to find the “why” for everything. Even now as an adult, my mind seeks out reason for everything.
That said, when it was decent weather, we were forced outside. We had to go find leaves or bugs for a unit study, (what’s up with “home schooling” and unit studies? As if everything is connected… gah.) Oh, and if the old lady who lived up the street needed help carrying in her groceries, we were forced to stop doing math and go help her. Math! We stopped math class to help people.
One of the very worst things about “home schooling” was the socialization. Surprisingly enough. Most people assume because “home schoolers” school at home there isn’t any opportunity to interact with other people. I wish that were true.
You see, I’m an introvert. I HATE talking to new people, I HATE HATE HATE speaking in front of a crowd. I loath the thought of small talk. But when you homeschool you have to interact with everybody, your family, the other families in your co-op, the people at soccer practice, your voice teacher, your piano teacher, the people at the gym and Wal-Mart; you are almost always surrounded by people of varying ages and ethnicities.
My Mom was a special kind of cruel, you see, she MADE me take public speaking, knowing I hated it! She signed me up for speech classes and public speaking competitions. Do you know what that did to me as an adult? It removed every excuse my introverted-self had for shying away from leadership responsibilities in business, in charity work, even in sports. Now when the need arises for a speaker, for a leader, my training, my conditioning kicks in and because I’m able, it’s expected that I contribute.
Homeschooling forced me to become a well rounded and thoughtful adult. It stole from me the typical teen experiences. I was never bullied, which from what I’ve gathered is a character building experience. I never had the opportunity to spend hours (weeks, months, years) crushing on a guy I’d never really end up with. I never had the chance to get caught up in high school drama or participate in trivial gossip like a normal girl. Instead my time was spent taking care of people, of learning practical boring things like cooking and quilting. So now as an adult I can feed you and keep you warm, but I’m a little awkward around shallow people.
I have my mother to thank for every twang of guilt when I don’t do a job completely, I mean, who does everything completely anyway?
I have no idea how I survived the mental trauma of being raised by two people who honestly thought it best for me to pursue a few deep relationships versus having a ton of friends. Like, totally not cool.
We had “free time” in the afternoons. I remember being kinda lost during that time. We could go do whatever we wanted. How does anyone think that is healthy? Shouldn’t kids be micro managed? I mean, do you have any idea the mischief we got into? We built ti-pis in the woods (where we could have gotten bit by a tick and contracted Lyme disease!) and rode our bikes without helmets.
We were forced to work. Physically. This is a dark part of my sordid tale. We were forced to help with family business. When the family catered an event, we kids were right there, cutting vegetables and washing dishes. When my father needed an extra hand on a home improvement job we were there to hand him tools, load and unload the truck, sweep floors, etc… see physical work I tell ya!
Sure, I learned a lot and by the time I applied for my first job. I was hired the next day because my resume (which learning how to write a resume was a mandatory part of high school) looked fantastic. But what my resume doesn’t tell you is that my parents saw through every detail of my work. They started me on chores when I was tall enough to reach the sink, with the help of a stool. As a 6 year old I had to do extra chores for any sort of extra cash. Allowance? Oh no, we were told that, “you work, you eat”. I don’t know where they found such capitalistic propaganda. I don’t care that that is how the real world operates, I was just a kid. I would rather have thought that everything would come to me because I was special and unique. I think I could have coped with the harsh realities of life if I had been sheltered from them till I was an adult.
Oh, and I never go to eat cafeteria food. Ever. I had to eat things like salads and homemade bread with strawberry preserves. To this day I’m a food snob and it’s “home schooling” to blame.
So what does a “home school” survivor look like? In my case it looks like a 23 year old with a plan to build a cooking school for kids who age out of foster care. It looks like a girl who loves her parents, who finds her worth in Christ, not fashion or fads and whose best friend is her sister. It looks like a girl who shows up early and stays late for both of her jobs. It looks like a young adult who doesn’t disdain authority. It looks like a happy, healthy, hard working, humorous, semi-normal woman. Which, I guess isn’t so terrible.
Written by Olivia Brodock, author of No More Wasted Years, and is a chef, peer counselor and board member at a local crisis pregnancy center, writer, missionary and visionary. She lives on beautiful Straight Mountain in North Alabama, where she attempts to carry out the Great Commission with her family.
