We didn't put off thinking about Jake's education. Well before he even began preschool we were scoping out the local choices. I have to admit that I pretty much dismissed the idea of public school at the outset, based mainly upon my own experiences in the American public school system. My wife was open to the idea (having been to much better schools), but she was leaning more toward the idea of private school, anyway.
I had a short argument about his with Drew (a good friend and educator who teaches English at a university in Texas). Drew was of a mind that we should buy into the system as a means of supporting it. I felt (and continue to feel) that my son's future requires a more careful approach than a decision to buy a Coke from the small local store or from the national chain.
Regardless, my wife and I took a look around at the private sector. She was quickly enamored of a place nearby called The Center School. For my part, I spent 5 minutes scanning their website before I decided I wanted nothing to do with the place. My wife questioned this.
"They don't know how to use a comma," I explained.
Nonetheless, we attended an open house there. Their program has a lot to recommend it, but I didn't feel it would be a good program for my son. The Center School believes strongly in letting children do their own thing and learn at their own pace (I will forever think of the place as The Happy Hippy School. This is not a derogatory label - I myself am a hippy). Jake, however, needs structure. Lots of structure.
So we looked some more, and came across The Bement School. My reaction to The Bement School was almost the polar opposite of my reaction to The Center School. I spent some time perusing their website and I liked what I saw. We talked to a good friend whose teen-aged son had attended the school, and we liked what we heard. So we started the application process at Bement.
It began with an afternoon open house, attended by parents without their children. The Bement School wants to get to know the whole family, and they feel that separating them is the best way to do so. Jo and I spent the afternoon, checking the place out while it checked us out. When we got back into the car, Jo took a deep breath and turned to me.
"So what do you think?" she asked.
"Are you kidding? This place is like Hogwarts!"
And that was that. I was in love with the place, and even more in love with the idea of sending my son there. Everything about the place gave me a good feeling - everything I saw, everything I heard, everything I read. The more I learned about The Bement School the more I felt that my son was a good fit for it. More importantly, I felt that Bement was a good fit for my son.
A couple months later we returned, this time so Jake could spend some time on the grounds. He, of course, charmed everyone he came across, as is his wont. He spent a couple hours there in the afternoon, then a couple more the next morning. When we left, we were told that another group of children would be passing through in a week or so, shortly after which we would hear whether or not our son got accepted into their program.
Which we did. Rather sooner than I expected, in fact. Jo received a call and was told that Jake would not be accepted into Bement this fall. She was told that Jake was too young (he'll turn 5 in October) and that he wouldn't be able to handle the structure of the program. She was probably told some other things that were equally untrue.
At first, I was angry. After I had let myself be angry for a while, I spent some time thinking about the whole situation. Obviously, I had been wrong about something. I had been firmly convinced that Jake was a good fit for Bement and that Bement was a good fit for Jake. Since I had been wrong about this, I had therefore been wrong about either the school or my son. It wasn't hard to figure out which.
This just led me to another point of confusion, though. I'm the kind of guy who really looks hard at life. I do the research and I think things through. And then I double-check and triple-check everything. What had I missed? At which fundamental point did my logic fail? It hit me one morning as I drove to work. When I really did the math.
I had been functionally unemployed for more than a year. I was working a couple of days a week, and Jo worked full time, so the ends were sufficiently meeting. Bement, however, does not come cheap. Ostensibly, this set of circumstances is surmountable. Bement, you see, offers up some financial aid to those who need it. Naively (stupidly, even), I thought that Bement would choose whether or not they wanted my son in their program based upon his own merits. If they wanted him in, they'd make it affordable to us.
We never found out whether we qualified for financial assistance. Why? Because Bement won't even look at your application until they know whether or not your child has been accepted into their program. And yet, they required us to apply for assistance months before anyone could possibly have known whether Jake had been accepted. Do the math.
I'm not angry with Bement. I'm sure that if they had 20 openings and Jake had been one of 20 (or fewer) applicants, they probably would have accepted him (gambling that we would be able to pay full tuition in years to come). I'm equally sure that it didn't work out that way, and Jake was in fact number 21 (or higher). The Bement School is a business. Just like any other business, they have to look after their bottom line.
No, my anger was really directed at myself. For buying it. For letting down my wall of cynicism and actually believing the lies. For believing that any school - private or public - would actually care more about my child's well being than about their own financial needs. For believing that there are schools in America (or anywhere else) that actually care more about their students than about the money those students represent.
That was when I came back to the idea of homeschooling, and I came back hard. I had thought about it before - beginning practically the day Jake was born - but had dismissed it as an idea we were unable to realize. I had talked myself out of it by assuming we couldn't find the time or the energy or the educational wherewithal (or whatever we needed) and therefore we were somehow not qualified or able to teach our son the things he needs to know to get by in this world.
But now I'm thinking homeschooling is not just an option, but is the only option. I want - no, I need - for my son's future to come before the bottom line, and the only way I can think of to bring this about is to see to it myself.
