"I'm thinking about a scheme..." I started saying periodically. My kids are mischievous, so this sparked interest. They would ask random questions ("Does the scheme have to do with animals?"), and regardless of the randomness, the answer could always be, "Maybe."
Sometimes I used it in a less constructive way, as in: "You must stop behaving like beasts or we won't be able to do the scheme." While this was true (home schooling definitely did NOT seem feasible on days when they were twanging my last out-of-tune nerve), I felt gross when I brought it up in that context.
The Dad and I decided that we would tell them while on a road trip -- as those are times when our family seems most like a team. Well, more like a little ship of fools... Whatever -- it's when we're each others' captive audience. We don't have a DVD player in the car, so I read to them. The book for this trip was carefully selected...
Again with the cosmic alignment: I stumbled on it while taking a pilgrimage to The Strand, where I go when I need renewed fervor to battle the doldrums. It caught my interest because it has a Nick Hornby testimony on the cover, but it didn't make the cut that day. When I went back months later I was drawn to it again -- same stack; same shelf in the children's area. Because it waited for me, I bought it... but I had too many other books in my queue, so it was shelved. Right about the time the home school idea started to percolate, I saw it on the shelf, again patiently waiting, and I finally read it. It made me fall in love with the idea (ideal) of home schooling -- not necessarily for our family (I wasn't there yet), but in general.
Skellig, by David Almond, is not about home schooling, it's strength is that it's not clear what it is about, or not about... There is a character in the book, Mina, who is home schooled, and it's because of her ability to see things as they are, her lack of construct-ness, that allows the story to progress into the totally weird-lovliness that it is.
I was so excited as I read that day in the car that I had to control myself from saying, "Isn't Mina amazing? Isn't Mina insightful?" too often. When we got to the end of the book, and the lump in my throat melted down to a size small enough to talk past, I asked the kids if they thought that it was cool that Mina was home schooled.
"Yes. She learned to hear the birds."
"And she got to do a lot of art."
I said: "We would have to work hard -- do a lot of math to keep up and have a really good attitude... You would probably miss your school, and your friends... But would you two be interested in home schooling for one year?"
Yes. The answer was yes. A resounding, jubilant yes. They were united in purpose and the excitement was palpable as we talked about potential topics to explore and field trips to take. The next morning at breakfast, Judd the Red Chicken (not sure that name is going to work) turned to his sister and said, with his eyes hyper-lit, "The scheme!" And she said, "I know. I forget about it, and then remember and feel so happy."
