The One With The Hurricane That Sharpened My #2 Pencil.

Dear Lover,

Homeschooling.
It's not just for scary religious people anymore.

I think Gandhi said that.
Or Honest Abe.
Or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Anyway.
Did you know that I used to be a homeschool teacher?
And that a hurricane was the reason why I was one?

It's true.

And if you'd like the long of it all.
With all the sordid details.
You can just come over some time and I'll be more than happy to tell you all the little secrets that made homeschooling wonderful.

Oh, alright.
I'll give you a hint.

There were pajamas.
And mid-morning beach breaks.
And hours upon hours of endless mocking of the A Beka teachers, and their 1980's get-ups, on the DVD lessons.
And laughter.
And no shushing.
Or demerits.
Or scantrons.
And lots of reading out loud of favorite stories and books.
And dressing up as historical figures.
And talking in accents.
And no report cards.
Or scantrons.
Or scantrons.

Did I mention that already?

In case I didn't.
There were no scantrons.

I'll address my scantron issue at a later date.
Because I can.
Put it off, that is.
Because if homeschooling taught me one thing.
It is that procrastination is a subject all on its own.

Especially when there is a beach a block away.

Love,
Me.