Homeschooling | writermummy

Turns out, when an AuADHD adult tries to homeschool an AuADHD child, what you get is chaos. Creative, messy, fun, imaginative, spoon-depleting, stress-inducing, brain-exhausting chaos.

When the kids were little, they moved from activity to activity at lightning speed.

With the first child, I had a 25-labeled-box wall unit, and all activities went away. The farm, train, blocks, playdoh, paints, dolls, craft. I spent more time setting up and packing away than we did playing. But when you have a messy brain, you need a calm environment. Tricky, when you also have zero executive functioning skills.

Once there were two of them, only 19 months apart, I settled for containing it in one part of the house and ignoring it.

Thankfully, we escaped the house every day. To the Farm, the zoo, the supermarket, the park. Anywhere, to entertain without mess. I used to call Farm trips ‘Farm Calm’. A clean(ish), pushchair-friendly outside space, with endless variety, in a predictable, safe environment. With food and changing facilities and easy parking. One year we visited over 60 times. Value for money on an annual pass that paid for itself after four trips! We knew all staff and animals by name.

These days, our day trips are to Aldi and Primark, and sadly they don’t do passes. I might buy shares.

At home, chaos reigns once more. And now there are two brains that get disregulated by mess, but need to do All. The. Things.

My current projects include decorating, crochet, sewing, fitness, video editing, writing, reading, lesson planning and feeding everyone.

The daughter has rediscovered craft (which heals my heart) and lego and jigsaws and origami and painting and the glue gun. At Aldi yesterday, we bought stickers and colouring books and puzzle kits. Because, tiring as it is to keep up, I want to feed the embers of the girl I once knew, coming back to life.

It’s hard.

There’s little down time, particularly as my creative side is also seeking fulfilment, now there are no LinkedIn campaigns or PowerPoint presentations to fuel it. I might even start another novel. If I can herd the excitable puppies racing round my brain all into one place. I wake at 5am to get some time alone to drink coffee and process in silence. She’s often up by 6am.

With it all, what I’ve realised most is that healing has to come before homeschooling.

School lacks the creative stimulation for an ADHD brain. There’s little-to-no dopamine for a child who doesn’t want to dance or play an instrument. By GCSE, there’s no art or DT or cooking. If you can’t turn it into an exam, a career, it’s deemed worthless. But if you have no energy left at the end of a day to do those things, then what is left?

And she’s so worried about falling behind. I keep saying, behind where? Who set these goal posts? Even if she does return to full time school at Easter (and I doubt it), GCSEs are modular. She can catch up enough to pass five, and that’s all she needs to do. If that.

Education systems, teachers, the government, parents, they all love to convince kids that their whole futures depend on getting excellent GCSEs.

It’s such rubbish.

For a start, thanks to Bell Curve marking, a percentage will always do worse than they deserve. A child could give the exact same answers two years in a row and achieve different grades. The system is so flawed.

And who says GCSEs need be done now?

She has her whole life to get qualifications, but if she destroys her passion for life, what’s the point?

Obviously it’s easier, cheaper, if she takes them next year. I’m still aiming for those five. I’ll still plan lessons each week, and weep at my inadequacy to even understand half the topics, never mind teach them. But if there’s more lego than lesson? If we spend two hours making origami hearts, or even two hours in Primark (sigh), then so be it.

I have my daughter back. I’m getting myself back. I’m just not getting a lot of rest.

Pass the coffee. Black, no sugar, strong as you like. 😂

Note: this post was from a few months ago but hadn’t published. I think it’s still relevant so have hit Publish.

I’ve been thinking about the phrase ‘not waving but drowning’ recently, realising that so many of the funny posts shared on social media at the moment are really a frantic wave.

Then I recalled the course on water safety I did as part of homeschooling my son last year, particularly the fact that drowning is actually a swift, silent killer. The drowning person is too busy using their arms to stay above water to be able to wave. Too busy struggling for breath to shout for help. Before anyone notices, they slide beneath the surface and are gone.

We learned, too, that walkers and runners are most at risk of drowning in the UK. Not the surfers and swimmers who might be prepared for danger and equipped to deal with it, but people going about their day, not considered by themselves or others to be at risk.

So, my message is, watch your loved ones. Be a lifeguard. As someone who knows all the signs of slowly slipping beneath the surface, and is still desperately looking around for a lifeboat right now, I assure you, people you know are struggling to breathe. Maybe even people like me, who ‘have it easy’; who aren’t trying to hold down a job and teach five kids and care for aged parents, but are still wondering how to get the next breath.

We worry about out kids’ mental health right now, but their minds are elastic, they will bounce back. An adult who already found life hard might not be so lucky. Check on your friends and loved ones, make sure they’re not too exhausted to wave or shout for help.