An email friend of mine suggested I must be terribly organized, based on my web page. I hate to contribute to the belief we all have that everyone homeschools better than we do. This article is an attempt to be a little more honest.

Just remember, when I'm suggesting to you how to do something, I'm telling you the things that worked. There were hundreds of things that did not work, and there have been a billion days when I didn't plan a single wonderful lesson all day-maybe not even all month. There have been days when I was busy writing my book and forgot to start school. There have been days when I said, "Oh, just go learn something. I don't care what." There have been days when I yelled, or wanted to give up, and days when I canceled school because I was being the worst teacher in the universe.

And then there are the wonderful days when the kids get so excited by our project they forget to stop when school is over, or when the discussion continues through lunch, down the grocery store aisle (there is no better way to get attention than to discuss embalming in the meat department) and all the way to bedtime. Those days, you wish you could homeschool forever, and they get you through the bad times.

They don't happen very often.

When they do, write them down and put them in a safe place for the bad days, and the ordinary days, and the days when you're afraid the kids will never leave home.

Every year, I start out with a vision of the coming year. The first year, the vision was glorious. I pictured Colleen rushing out an hour early, unable to wait for school to start. I saw us at the table, our heads bent over a math book, delirious with joy over the multiplication tables. I saw her bragging to her friends that her school was the best in the world.

Well, something like that.

It doesn't happen. No matter how hard you plan, one day they just will not remember how to divide. You could offer them a million dollars, and they still wouldn't get the concept of long division. Some days you'll have a totally wonderful activity planned and they will look at you in disbelief and say, "You have got to be kidding!" Oh well. Don't get too attached to your plans.

And then again, other days they'll like the plan so much they'll want to do it again tomorrow.

Some days, they'll demand to go back to public school where they got to spend school days watching Disney movies and having parties. (They forget the tests and the fights and the boring lessons.)

Other days, they'll say, "Oh, you go to public school? Too bad. Well, I'm sure your mother loves you anyway, and she'd homeschool you if she could." (But they might not do it in your hearing.)

Some days the paint will spill on the carpet, and salesmen will come to the door all day, and the computer will crash, and you'll wake up and realize you have no lesson plan for the day.

Other days, they'll divide on the first try, your friends will be jealous of you, and the roast won't burn.

Most days will just be ordinary. You'll plan a reasonably good curriculum, and they'll do their work without complaining, if not with the joy you dream of, and when the day is over they'll be able to find China on the map first try.

So if most days are ordinary and a few are horrible, why do we stick it out, day after challenging day?

Because there is nothing like hearing your child read a whole book for the first time and knowing you taught him to do that. There is a real sense of accomplishment when he says, "Math is easy." Because field trips and reading lessons are more fun than doing the dishes.

Because they're your kids, that's why!