(A note from The Mandolin: I haven’t blogged the past couple days because Zachary and I took our first overnight backpacking trip! More on that tomorrow.)
I started homeschooling when I was three, sitting next to my oldest brother and copying the letters he wrote. When I turned four, I began teaching my two-year old sister how to read and write.
We grew up in a time when homeschooling was rarer. Mom wouldn’t let us out of her sight during school hours. Friends and family worried. Strangers and acquaintances grilled me about math. Most people assumed I was either a genius or an idiot.
I graduated with an ACT that would’ve snagged me an excellent scholarship for college. But I had other plans in mind.