One day until August 1st. The beginning of the school year, and the "end" of official summer, even if it's 90 degrees until late September here in Georgia.
August 1st has been the line in the sand. The straddled fence. The trigger to pull.
And we are stepping over, picking a side, starting the race.
We are homeschooling. Teaching at home. Private school (for one).
Yes. Us. Special Needs and all. A minority in the minority.
And yes. I'm prepared to be pigeonholed as a religious nut, a motherly martyr, or at least someone lacking in good sense.
I've held all kinds of ignorant assumptions about all manner of things, homeschooling included. I get it.
But here we are.
I wasn't going to share this so publicly so soon, but the true reasons we have chosen to step back from traditional schooling for the present time cut through all the sides and stereotypes.
I have to know my son's heart. I just have to.
As the days, weeks, and months pass by, we are moving by each other. We are parallel. Close in proximity. So far from intersecting.
All my ugliness, my frustration, my selfishness, my need to be right-- it all comes bubbling up facing the big, bad autism beast. My head understands, but my heart is so stubborn.
Even so, there's just enough of a whisper, a gentle assurance that this is the path.
It's falling into place.
We begin Monday. Bit by bit. Minute by minute. I'm gonna to choose to love my son. As Christ does. That's my aim. More than reading, math, life skills, therapy, anything.
Intersection.
I think that's enough to qualify me as his teacher.
