My freshman year of college was the worst year of my life. Part of me is still stuck reliving it on a merry-go-round that is anything but merry. I hit campus having turned seventeen in June. My parents worked in Christian schools, so we were together 24/7 except for a week of summer camp each year. I had always lived in the shadow of their protection. College on my own felt like fire on an exposed nerve. I was looking for anything to ease the pain. I couldn’t go home. I would lose my scholarship. I found the only help was questionable, and it ruined my life. The moment my parents had held up as the pinnacle of my life was destroyed beyond mending. It didn’t matter that what happened wasn’t what I wanted and was facilitated by the innocence my community had so carefully cultivated. It had happened, and that was all there was. No comforting Augustine for a Baptist girl.
Homeschooling parents, give your kids a measured independence out of your reach. Allow them enough love to make mistakes. Teach them how to protect themselves, not squat under your protection, and just because someone is really smart doesn’t mean they are ready to be on their own.
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