Growing Up Ivy: Homeschooling 101

If you know me well,  you know that I had an odd upbringing and love to talk about it. I was home-schooled (insert scary awkward gasp here) until fourth grade when my mother's religious zeal subsided a bit, and she finally quit ripping the "guts" out of my TLC and En Vogue tapes: quite an achievement for the entire R&B community.

As far as home-schoolers go, my brother and I fit the bill. We never matched ( I still don't). We felt strange when confronted with other kids our age. We thought it was fun to learn bible verses and quote commandments.

Notice the mud on my feet and my awkward wardrobe.

Home-schooling certainly had its perks: Dairy Queen outings, homework on the roof, bird-watching, visits to nursing homes--armed with bananas and peppermints--, bowling parties with other home-schooled weirdos where we all sat around staring at each other. 

Imagine fifty kids like this poor guy. In one room.

Our "Cultural Studies" course consisted of watching (from the safety of our bean bag chairs / through the blinds with our binoculars) the traffic from the crack-house that filed up and down the street. 

Class was cancelled when it finally caught fire and burned to the ground. 

I'm not bashing home-schooling. In fact, I'm promoting the heck out of it. Who wouldn't want to create little minions that can spout every book in the B-I-B-L-E (cue song) better than the kids next door who are going to hell, I mean, public school.

Dear Mom, 

Don't be mad.

I love that we were home-schooled. 

It made me weird and quirky. 

Hearts, 

Ashlynn