Real Life?

(Click here for this post’s year-old predecessor)

My current moment of celebration has been brought to us by this fact: I graduated high school last Friday night. 

It follows then, that now I’ve been on the receiving end of a surplus of advice and/or inspiring comments. I’ve been told both that my life has finally begun and that nothing really changes after graduation (Don’t be a motivational speaker, friend). Mm, and yes, my college plans have been questioned seventy-nine times in the past three days.

But even that is not enough to bring me down at the moment. I had a blast graduating, I did so with some terribly cool people, and I am super stoked to no longer be asked what school I go to, or what I’m doing after graduation. (the spirit of the second question will still be present often, but I choose to at least appreciate the change of tense)

I am no longer a high schooler. 

This is joyous news.

But I have a mission in today’s post, one that I must not forget – the geek speech. I mentioned this topic last year, when I got super stoked about putting fandom references in my grad speech and wrote a post (linked above) about how I would let you in on it someday.

That day is here. I have linked every otherwise-unidentified reference for explanation purposes.

 _________________________________________________

*pats microphone*

First off, what a turnout!

How wild is this, huh?

All we did was complete twelve years of schooling. And now look at us. Dressed in glorified trash bags. How far we’ve come.

But where to begin on the list of people we couldn’t have done this without?

I do feel like it would be an injustice not to give a shout-out to my school curriculum, so as much as I’d like to ignore Abeka and Saxon, I do have to say thank you to Adventures in Odyssey and Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego for being the thinly-veiled education machines that made up a good chunk of the important things I learned in my school years.

And of course, I have been immeasurably blessed by the people in my life. My friends are the best, most fantastic friends I could ask for, and my family is beyond marvelous. I can not say enough good things about them, and I could not have hoped for anyone better to be raised around. My parents, especially, have been so much better to me than I deserve. I want you all to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are loved. By so many, and so much, and by no one more than me – except maybe One. I thank the Lord for you daily, which leads to the next order of business – thanking the Creator who made every bit of this possible. Thank you for your strength, your wisdom, your unconditional love, and of course, for this moment. For all these bright young men and women who are ready to get down to business to defeat the tons of opposition that we may face.

After all, the protagonist of every story finds herself in a battle at some point.

And we’re all stories in the end. Just make it a good one. Cos it is, you know? It’s the best. Remember, all of our stories have already been written by the best author our universe has ever produced – or, actually, the best author that ever produced our universe. And stories are not meant only to entertain, but to teach. There are lessons in stories. The moral of the Three Bears, for instance, is never break into someone else’s house. The moral of Snow White is never eat apples. The moral of WWI is never assassinate the Archduke Ferdinand. What will our stories tell others? That’s up to us. But we really ought to make it interesting, make it inspiring. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all. And you know God does not create anything that doesn’t make some sort of glorious difference in the world. After all, no artist can resist signing his work.

The world didn’t come with any extra parts, but it didn’t come with any that were interchangeable either.

We all have something that no one else has, and that thing is exactly what the world needs, and the thing we need to give away.

In his book Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis wrote, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” This place is not our home. But any good houseguest knows that you should leave a place in better condition than when you first arrived in it. It’s no different here – except that you don’t usually find opposition when you try to clean a guesthouse.

The world, however, will do what it does best and tell us to do what everyone else is doing, and to stick to the status quo – but the status is not quo. The world is a mess, and we just need to… school it. It is our job to educate the world, to go and make disciples. Be fishermen, be fishers of men. So we’ll beat on, boats against the current. And, I don’t know, fly casual.

Madeleine L’engle once said, fittingly, “When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown up, we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability. To be alive is to be vulnerable.”

This isn’t my favorite truth to accept, but it’s definitely a pre-requisite. I don’t pretend to be grown-up now, but I know I’m on that road. I mean, all children, except one, grow up, but our pace on that journey, the way we deal with the walk, who we become along the way is all on us. And this milestone we call graduation, it means growing up far, far less than it represents it.

Regardless of age, you have always been important, you have always been something. Age just reveals the facts that always were, and experience uncovers the you that always was. Never let people look down on you because you are young. Set an example.

And if you’re ever discouraged, the world gets on your back, and you find yourself beating yourself up and saying that now would be a really good time for you to grow up – don’t ever allow yourself to be downtrodden. Growing up is an adventure, not a destination – and that’s your secret.

You’re always growing up.

Thanks for sticking with me today and for the past years.

Catch… you… later.

_______________________________________________

In closing, I just want to extend the warmest thank you to my excellent friends who used the moment after to yell out,

“No you won’t!”

Home Teached

Hello there, I’m a homeschooler.

Now, let’s get something out of the way – I am not painfully shy. I am not friendless. I am not forbidden to watch movies above a G rating. And I do not think I am better than you.

Boom! In case you haven’t yet figured it out, I would like to maliciously attack a stereotype today. A stereotype that has gotten in the way of several potentially pleasant conversations: homeschoolers are all the same, sad bunch of backward kids. And they are to be pitied.

Let me just clear up that definition real quick.

Yes, on occasion, you will find a homeschooler like that quiet, quivering, unsociable one you are now picturing in your head. They are not unheard of, but assuming that we are all like that is like me assuming that all kids that go to a public school are stuck-up Draco Malfoys. It’s just not true. I guess my point is, generalizations are always bad ideas (and no, the irony of that statement was not lost on me). Lest we forget, social ineptitude is not an exclusively home-schooled trait.

My mum has a friend who used to be a school teacher, and she seems to subscribe to the other popular homeschool stereotype that homeschoolers don’t actually learn anything throughout their schooling experience. She cornered me after church the other day and decided to help me unleash my potential by pelting me with fifty billion questions (or so) about what I was going to do once I graduated.

I had the urge to tell her that I didn’t want to get extra education; instead, I wanted to marry a farmer and move to Montana to raise thirty-seven children (and double that amount of livestock) and never take a shower. And probably wear the same denim skirt for the rest of my life!

… I did not say that. (I celebrate my small victories)

I did, however, decide to dodge her in the future.

To help you all to avoid being this person in a conversation, I have some tips for you:

• Don’t act like homeschoolers are some mysterious breed of animal.
• Don’t give them a pitying look and whisper, “Do you… like being homeschooled?” This question in itself is not terrible – just don’t ask it as if you are speaking to something that might die any second.
• Don’t ask if they have any friends. (Really, guys? Really?)
• Don’t ask “How do you meet people?” Would you ask a public schooler whether they’d ever met someone outside of their school? No, because it’s weird. I call double standard!

Need additional information? This guy says it way better than I do.

Good talk, everyone!

You are now prepared to meet the wild homeschooler.