We are at an indoor-playground type place, and it’s all boys, from about five to ten years old
The place is sort of out of the way. The moms talk about how they had to drive twenty or thirty mintues to get here. They ask me how long my drive was.
I say, “Two hours.” And I can feel tears coming. Because the driving is too much. I don’t think I can do it. I say, “I know this isn’t working. I’m coming up with a new plan. I have only been homeschooling a few months.”
The moms try to be supportive but I can tell they think I’m out of my mind.
I am scared to respond to emails on my iPhone because the moms are knitting and breastfeeding four-year-olds. It’s not a work-from-the-playground sort of group. And I want to fit in. So I stare into space.
The boys are running and screaming and they don’t slow down for an hour. Then they line up and appear to choose teams and pair off.
Then, on the floor, wrestling. Standing on each other, dragging each other by the feet, rolling around like new puppies in spring grass.
I say to the group of moms, “They could never do this in school.”
And another mom says, “Yeah, it takes all a teacher’s energy just to make sure this doesn’t happen.”
This is the moment, so far, when I have been most certain that my son does not belong in school.