I've never been one for rebellion. I've also never been one for going-along-to-get-along. My position on most things is that to the extent what I do has no bearing on another, I don't expect comment. I have a pretty strong internal locus of control and don't require much in the way of others' approval. Luckily, Brainiac shares my feelings on the subject of, as he says, the coloring-within-the-lines thing and so we experience very little conflict between us on issues about whether or not we should do or not do X because everyone else does it or doesn't do it.

Does this make sense? What I mean is that we're pretty good at making decisions about stuff on the basis of whether or not it's right for us without worrying if it's not done, too alternative, too mainstream or too whatever. This is not to say that we don't have a sense of community responsibility, just that we'd rather bring our garbage cans in after trash day because it's a desirable thing to do, not because the home owners' association handbook says we must, you know?

There's one issue, though, that is bringing us up short in terms of what is expected versus what we believe to be the best choice for us and it's proving to be harder to manage the more we discuss it, rather than our conversations having an illuminating effect. Real-life friends and relations are sick to death of hearing us talk about it and, for reasons that will become obvious, subject-matter experts cannot be called upon for their objective views. As we have hit a standstill regarding this very large elephant in the room (see it there over in the corner? wearing a lampshade? and chaps?) Brainiac suggested that I take it to the blog, so here I am.

The Boy Wonder is enrolled in a half-day (half-day is a euphamism for 2.5 hours) Kindergarten program at our highly regarded elementary school. He wanted to go on the grounds that it was a guaranteed daily playdate with two of his buddies and has, for the most part, been positive about the experience. Reports back from the classroom (from teachers and other moms) indicate that he is happy and doing well.

But (you knew it was coming, right?) Brainiac and I aren't thrilled with what he's actually doing, school-wise. We're not all in with the Give 'Em Phonics in Preschool crowd or anything, but we've got a kid who started reading (C-A-T cat, S-A-T sat, M-A-T mat) before his fourth birthday and is now doing pretty well with independent reading, who is learning (at his request) how to add double and triple digit numbers, and who thinks that Beowulf is, like, the greatest story ever and read it again Mom! Please understand, I'm not making claims to giftedness or genius or anything like that, merely that he's had the benefit of two fairly geeky parents who spent a loooooong time in school and who have had the time and inclination to bring him and his sister along for the ride.

The activities he's toting home from school bring me up a little short in that I was expecting to have to defend him from too much academics (haven't we all heard that "kindergarten is the new first grade") and instead I'm in the position explaining to him why he's coloring in a picture of the number thirty as part of his math instruction. "Mommy," he said to me not long ago, "I think the plan is that we're going to play now so that we'll have time to learn later in the year."

The school has acknowledged that he is ahead of the curriculum for reading and math and has been quite frank in their plans to do nothing about it. They will not differentiate within the classroom, they will not accelerate, they will not enrich, they will not explain why.

My mother-in-law, a retired second-grade teacher, has pointed out that the kids on either end of the reading and math bell curves tend to join the kids at the top sometime around second grade and has suggested that this may be the basis for the school's disinterest in actually teaching the Boy. Such a norming may be a pedagogical certainty but I think it's actually irrelevant as an explanation - why is it a better educational option to let a kid sit around doing nothing for as long as two years waiting for his skill level to be at the median as opposed to reaching him where he is at the moment? It's clear to us that the Boy is squarely in a gray area where he is one of those kids who can be safely left alone, requiring little attention of any kind. These kids, if they're lucky, reach that top of the bell curve point without hating school as a boring, pointless environment. If they're unlucky, they reach that point with the understanding that being smart and motivated gets you nothing but hassle and make-work. Now there's a lesson I bet isn't in the formal curriculum.

Brainiac and I find this situation sad, angry-making and utterly unacceptable. For his part, the Boy is a little confused as to why he spends his afternoons cutting triangles, learning songs about Mr. M and having his questions about how the intercom system works go unanswered, although he enjoys that it all happens in such a bright and happy environment. He's asked, though, if we could find him another school for next year. "Maybe one that has more science." he suggests.

So. What to do? We're looking at private schools ($15K a year for first grade! and a first grade that's not really better than what we've got), magnet schools and homeschooling. Homeschooling seems to be the best answer, for us and for the Boy. We've essentially been homeschooling him from that moment we realized in the summer before he turned four that he was reading street signs and have continued to respond to his interests with all kinds of books, outings, experiments and activities. He has always responded well and enthusiastically to educational and informative stimuli wherever he finds it.

But man, homeschooling is coloring waaaaaay outside the lines. I have no fear of our ability to provide an excellent and thorough education for our children, none at all. I think, though, that homeschooling comes right up against my ability to do more or less what pleases me, sticks its toe on the line of not caring what people think and dissolving into tears over same and gives me a raspberry. It's one thing to choose a "love me, love my choices" sort of life for oneself but it's quite another to choose it for one's child.

You know, if the Boy Wonder were developing an enthusiasm for some unhealthy thing - a drug, maybe, or not eating enough, I'd move heaven and earth and spend every cent available to me to support him in healing. Why is it so hard to kick what I see as another unhealthy habit - this particular school and perhaps school in general - because it's "what people do". Why am I so afraid to be different about this, to take the plunge, to proclaim loud and proud "we are homeschoolers" when about so many other things in my life I do what I do with no thought or concern as to the general response?

Why is this different?