Miami Student

Issue date: 3/23/07 Section: Editorials

As graduation approaches and my baby brother prepares to begin his life beyond high school, I have found myself becoming nostalgic. I remember my own graduation from high school.

Considerably smaller than the average Talawanda graduating class, my class had seven seniors, an amazing piano concerto performed by a 10 year old, and homemade diplomas on printer paper signed by my dad.

Everyone has heard the generalizations about students educated at home. They are the homeschooled Hannahs and Henrys with trouble interacting in social environments, who wear out-of-date clothing, and not only know how to spell but also define words like "reticuloendothelial."

Yes, I remember those days. I remember long afternoons of math and literature with Mom, when her scariest threat was sending me to public school if I didn't behave. I would throw myself at her feet crying and promise to finish my math with a good attitude just so I wouldn't have to go to "real" school.

I actually enjoyed writing research papers, spent hours at the library for fun, and had more stirrup stretch pants and handpainted T-shirts in my closet than Archie has Heismans. But I was happy and unconcerned.

Beginning my sophomore year in high school, my parents sent me to private school, hoping they could give me sports, lockers and entertainment. I probably needed to experience high school before college. That lasted a year. I ended up transferring back home and graduated high school as a home-schooler with absolutely no regrets.

The six other seniors in my "homeschool school," Veritas Academy, are still some of my closest friends. They have all gone on to college, traveled and experienced some crazy opportunities all over the world. None of us have any qualms about whether or not we should have taken our parents up on the chance to enjoy a standardized education.

At graduation, we each had a chance to stand in front of the friends and family we loved, wear a cap and gown, and make a speech. We even had a cake with our picture on it.

While my year in private school brought many fond memories, good friendships and a prom date, it was quite a struggle. I wasn't used to lacking the ability to make my uniform stylish. I mean who doesn't tuck in their shirts?

I wasn't used to the structure of the class schedule. I wasn't used to being one of 30 students in a classroom and having to compete for the teacher's attention. By the end of the year, I still had trouble with the combination on my locker.

Continued...

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