We are the soil (Part 2)

As some of you know I was very reluctant to send my eldest son to school. Alex is my close friend and a prized pupil.  Teaching him was a joy.  I missed all the books we would read together and all the creativity he brought to our school lessons at home.  I spent more time with him than anyone else in the last 12 years.  Therefore, this past year was bitter sweet.  I released him to learn in a different environment.  There were times he was puzzled by his talkative and inattentive classmates and I'm sure his studiousness puzzled most of them.   For so long I taught Alex that we master something before we move on and he being conscientious and hard-working continued the tradition. He is never content with 97 when he could get 100.  He loves to learn and has a fabulous memory for crazy, detailed things.  He is analytical and firm in his convictions.  I am so proud of the man he is becoming.  He is tender to God and self-disciplined. 

Well, Alex was the very last of the 120 students to cross the stage yesterday (being at the end of the alphabet requires patience).  He looked so grown-up and handsome.  He was ramrod straight and all I could think of is his comportment reflects his character.  He won't compromise his standards in a relative society.   Because of all the years of my investment in him, I was doubly proud when unbeknownst to me he was valedictorian. 

For all the derogatory comments I have received about homeschooling through the years, I delighted that Alex is a testimony that homeschooling works.  He came into the school reading harder books, working at a higher level of math and significantly more mature and thoughtful than his peers.  I had one person who kept asking for Alex's transcripts, because it seemed they had a hard time believing he could do so well without ever attending "real" school.  People are constantly shocked that a home schooled kid, who doesn't have the classroom advantages their kids had, can actually attain more in a shorter period of time.  My premature baby, who didn't talk till he was three, has done things late, but always well.  He has been a tortoise among hares.  And I am proud of his work ethic and integrity.  And I know we are entering a new period of life, because when I asked Alex to do a chore the other day it was so out of character when my young man quipped, "I'm sorry, your call has been disconnected."  I laughed, because, of course, yesterday's telephone operator is out mowing the lawn today.