My name is Destiny Davison Doremus. I have been happily married to Jonathan for more than nineteen years, and mother to our son, Danl Dakotah, for more than fourteen. Our home schooling “adventure” began nine years ago; birthed not out of an initial tugging on my heart or calling; the example of an inspiring mentor or even for religious beliefs. Not coincidentally, in God’s perfect timing, all of those reasons would become a factor, but to begin with necessity alone was my motivation. In the foothills of southern New Hampshire there is a small Christian school with a wonderful reputation for graduating men and women of character and academic excellence and, from the time I was a very young girl, it was my desire to send any children I might be blessed with there. When Danl was one, small Christian school opened a day care and Danl was the first child enrolled. I had big plans for my only son, and secretly hoped that when he graduated eighteen years later that he would receive a distinctive award for being the first child to spend eighteen consecutive years at small Christian school; impeccably dressed each day in a pressed shirt and tie with scores of hymns and verses that could be recited on demand stored in his memory as the result of the obligatory catechisms required of all students. My dreams were quickly dashed when I realized that this was not to be! We managed to keep Danl enrolled in the day care at small Christian school for the next five years despite bouts of biting other babies, refusing to nap and writing on the walls. Kindergarten, however, which should be a year of ongoing discovery and academic and social victories almost broke my spirit, and caused me to question myself as both a parent and a Christian. Danl was one of three students in the kindergarten class, and the only boy. Needless to say, he did not shine! Danl, who is a creative and curious child, did not fit into the “perfect” box required by small Christian school, and there was a lot of pressure on our family to fit into the rarely challenged and legalistic Christian school mold. And although we believed everything they preached at small Christian school, we had a radically different approach to expressing our faith and it wasn’t long before I was just one of two Doremus’ experiencing an internal conflict that often resulted in a stomach ache at the thought of returning to small Christian school. Even now, many years later, I can still recall the sting from feeling harshly judged by the powers-that-be at small Christian school and, I’m embarrassed to admit, disappointed by Danl, whose nonconformist, although not disrespectful or inappropriate, (He had outgrown biting and writing on the walls by this time!) behavior required frequent parent teacher conferences. Despite this, I didn’t believe that there was a better place for Danl to receive the excellent education I wanted for him, and I, sadly, allowed both my child and myself to withstand criticisms and intimidations that I would not today. Despite a horrendous kindergarten experience, we enrolled Danl at small Christian school for first grade; where he was in a multi-age first/second grade class. By week two, Danl came home with the first of many notes in his tiny book bag, “Danl is a distraction to the rest of the class because he consistently finishes his work too quickly and can not entertain himself while the teacher works with the other students. Please send supplemental work for him to do during class.” What? My child was not being penalized for being disrespectful, or unruly, but bright and inquisitive? And … despite paying dearly for the privilege of attending small Christian school, I was also expected to provide “filler” work for him to do? Not only did I not understand this, I wasn’t going to tolerate it. I made peace with the fact that not receiving a diploma from highly respected small Christian school did not mean that I was a second-rate Christian or that my child could not receive an excellent education. During the third week of October, and after receiving several “Please see the teacher.” notes, I picked my child up, collected the Bob Jones curriculum I paid for as part of his tuition and took my child home … for the last time! Although I didn’t initially know what I was going to do with Danl, I did know that I didn’t want to enroll him in our town’s public school or another private school until I was convinced that he was not or did not have a problem. In a moment of quiet reflection, as I struggled to figure out what I was supposed to do, I realized that the Lord had laid a calling on my heart; I was being led to home school. He also provided a supportive mentor, who found my incessant questioning endearing, and I found a bounty of curriculum that was in line with our Christian beliefs and Danl’s specific learning style. It was as if a secret sorority I didn’t know existed was suddenly inviting me to pledge! Although I still knew little about the realities of home schooling and felt overwhelmingly under-equipped, I shared my heart’s desire with Jon who prayed with me for wisdom and clarity and quickly came on board as President of the Doremus Family County Day School. Within days, I gave my notice at “well paying job I dearly loved” to stay home with the son I loved more, and within two weeks my child was flourishing in every way and I was enjoying him tremendously. I still had no idea what I was doing, but I knew that it was working. Because Danl was a quick learner and we had time to spare, we started a cookie route during his first year home and, to my surprise and delight, I found that he learned almost everything he needed through cooking; reading, writing, telling time, math, measurements, and without even meaning to, I had stumbled onto the most effective curriculum for a boy who learns best when both hands and mind are simultaneously stimulated. Every Monday we would bake a different cookie, bar or pastry and Danl would read the recipe as he measured out all of the ingredients, under my encouraging and watchful eye. He would set the timer and sit patiently, cross legged, in front of the oven watching his creations spring to life. When we were finished baking and cleaning up, he would write out the recipe which I collected in a folder; always making a mental note of how his handwriting continued to improve without the tears and drama invoked by the handwriting workbook. It was Danl, who decided that every recipe should be given a new name and brown and white bars were renamed “Snow on a Dirt Road” and chocolate chip cookies were reinvented as “Frost Heaves.” (Indigenous to New England, frost heaves are bumps in the road created when the ground expands and contracts due to freezing and thawing, and hitting one going even just a little too fast will send your car into the air.) On Tuesday afternoons we would deliver our creations to family, friends and a couple of elderly shut-ins we adopted. At the end of the year I took all of the recipes that Danl had handwritten and created a little cookbook. I included pictures of him cooking, cleaning up, packaging and delivering his goodies and gave a copy to each of the families on our route. I still remember how thrilled they were with our little homemade effort birthed out of the little homemade experiment we called home schooling. I hadn’t been home schooling long when I realized that I couldn’t possibly teach Danl everything I wanted him to learn, and that much of what I wanted him to know couldn’t be found in the best books or curriculum, so I invited other people and opportunities into our school program and found that most were very receptive to our untraditional approach at education. (Ten years ago home schooling was still a relatively grass roots effort in southern New Hampshire, and not a widely accepted, or highly regarded, approach.) I also made sure that Danl had appropriate social opportunities while teaching him that there is great value in enjoying your own company and being able to entertain yourself. I exposed him to many situations that took me outside of my own comfort zone for his benefit, and got over the betrayal I felt when I realized that he was his own person with his own ideas, interests and opinions. As a result of being educated at home, Danl’s world is rich; his imagination plays out in Kodak color and his “family” is bigger than what he was born into. He has been encouraged to succeed, and granted permission to fail without condemnation. He understands that trying and failing does not make him unsuccessful, but rather a scientist! Because we homeschool, I have learned to find joy in being spontaneous and freedom in flexibility; neither of which I was familiar or comfortable with when I was working 40+ hours a week and there was little time for unscheduled fun or days off with nothing to do but play, often in pajamas. Home schooling, while not without ups and downs, growing pains, and bumps in the road, has been an overwhelming blessing for me and my boys. It has permitted us to know each other intimately and to be present in each other’s lives. I have learned the invaluable importance of not comparing myself to other mothers or my child to other children. In my early years of home schooling, I inevitably met and allowed myself to feel intimidated by several “Super Moms.” Super Moms are best described as women who are always impeccably dressed and on time. They profess to have immaculate homes, perfect children, satisfied husbands and dynamic spiritual lives, and although they love to share their successes, aren’t prone to reveal their secrets … or failures! I, on the other hand, am well meaning, but ridiculously flawed. My child is good, but not perfect; perhaps even more precocious than precious. For as many successes as we’ve had, we’ve had an equal amount of disappointments, and I couldn’t say which we’ve learned more from. As an eager new home school who wanted to do everything “just right”, I subscribed to several homeschool publications that usually featured a big family, dressed in matching outfits, undoubtedly handmade, holding big stringed instruments on each month’s cover. A few months into my subscriptions, my wise husband asked me to stop reading those magazines as he could see that they were doing me more harm than good. I did not have a big family of smiling and submissive children. I had never (and still haven’t!) threaded the sewing machine in my closet, and Danl and I couldn’t even master the recorder! And yet, over time, and with grace, I’ve learned to play up our strengths and down play our weaknesses. Where is it written that we have to excel at everything? Danl is entering the ninth grade as a competent student and a well rounded and happy child. Because we have exposed him to many opportunities and experiences, he already knows what career choice he is interested, for the moment, in pursuing, and most importantly, despite being raised by parents who are learning alongside of him, and without the benefit of small Christian school, he is a child who delights in serving the Lord. He is becoming a man of both faith and character and I, as his mother and teacher, have been privileged to watch it all take place one small victory at a time; often feeling as if I have been granted front and center season tickets to the best show in town. In four short years, my journey of schooling and carpooling Danl will come to an end, and I won’t need to wonder whether or not my time was well spent. I know now, in the moment that it was. In an ironic twist of fate, as I learn to let go of my child, I feel the need and desire to rediscover myself, and I pray believing that when it is the right time for him to go that I will be ready to release him into the world; prepared, responsible, well educated and blessed. 

Be confident in your role as homeschool parent. You are perfectly, with God’s grace and goodness, equipped,

Destiny

 “The Lord your God will bless you in all your harvest and in all the work of your hands, and your joy will be complete.” Deuteronomy 16:15

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