Taking the 1st Step to Build the Community WE Need
I remember the relief of stepping into a room of smiling faces at La Leche League, an energetic toddler and chubby baby in tow. Those early days of driving down to Portland for support and a little sanity amongst real adults made my lonely days of young motherhood a little more bearable. I had no family and knew not a soul when my husband convinced me (it was not difficult- I do love adventure) to move to his home state, Maine. By the time our eldest son was five, we had made the decision to home educate and yet, I knew very few people well enough to feel like I had a community.
What We Needed
We had moved to Brunswick and at that time, there were very few home education classes or clubs available. I struggled to meet other homeschooling families and often caught myself scanning the faces at playgrounds wondering if any of those mothers, with their hands wrapped around a coffee travel mug laughing with their friends, were home educators.
I saw an online ad about 4H and knew so very little about the organization BUT the ad said they had clubs so I called. Fifteen minutes from our house two mothers had recently organized an outdoor adventure 4H group and it was all homeschooling families! I could not wait for that first meeting – I think I was more excited than our son. Nervously I walked through the door, my son’s tiny hand in mine and our daughter nestled against my chest in her Ergo. That 4H group was our first foray into an organized homeschooling community and it was exactly what we needed.
Moving On Up
Two years later, a couple of the moms from that 4H group and I founded a homeschool community in Southern Maine. Meetings to establish roles and how the cooperative would function lasted all summer. Sitting in parks while our kids played, we dreamt together.
Those were beautiful days, I had three small children then and real friends. Friends I “did life” with, whose children my children loved. Once a week we came together to offer a robust array of classes taught by the parents. Years passed and our cooperative grew. As it grew, the membership body grew more diverse. The diversity became trickier to navigate when most of the membership wanted to remain focused on home education and a few families desired to change our mission. We were at a stalemate and after a few weeks, my family made the decision to leave.
A Painful Lesson and A Safe Haven
Ten years I had poured love, time and energy into that community. Children I had seen grow up before my eyes. Children that had gone from elementary actors to teen thespians in my classes. Parents that had become dear friends. Friends that had brought me meals and watched my six children while I battled cancer. It was painful to let it all go. At night when I was left to my own tears and thoughts, I would wonder, “Would I ever have a community like that again?” I needed to do what was best for my children and so twenty-five families rallied around us and together, we decided to begin again.
In one weekend, I had built a website. In three weeks, we had a full campus ready for our fall semester. “HAVEN” is what we named it- a safe place for us to call home. The fall of 2020 was our first semester. Coming off the summer of 2020, I felt raw, my nervous system depleted and emotions scattered … there was no denying however, magic was starting to unfold. Every successful week that went by was confirmation we were all doing something important- for ourselves and for our children.
That first year we created some precious memories- traveling once a week to a nearby campground to gather. Mamas sitting around a campfire drinking hot tea while our younger children explored the shoreline and teens cooked over a fire. Playing soccer in the snow. Manhunt all around the campground. Parents sharing our stories and often shaking our heads at what was happening in the world. We felt lucky to have found one another. We finished out that spring with a full roster of classes.
Build What You Want
It was hard for me personally to take that leap and trust, to start a new community while grieving the loss of my old one. There are worthy lessons from pain, feeling exposed and starting afresh. One thing I knew: no one was going to do it for me. If I wanted a community to be apart of, if I wanted lifelong friends for my children, it was up to their mama.
It is easy to feel isolated when you are homeschooling. It is common to feel frustrated by the lack of organized community. The good news is it is far easier to start groups now than before social media. With the click of a button, you can find other home education families near you and post your desire for community. If you want it, you can build it.
Lessons Learned
HAVEN homeschool collective is four years old now. Our community has grown beyond my wildest expectations. Is it easy to have the buck stop with me? Not always. There is often someone that feels I should do x differently or put more effort into fill in the blank. But I am human, my time is finite and I am still learning.
Vulnerability has been a constant companion. I have come by this lesson honestly and continue to strive to remove my ego from my leadership approach. I have learned the importance of firm boundaries (HAVEN has an extensive interview process), to surround myself with leaders that share the same values, mission and energy as I have and to embrace loving, authentic criticism (the best way for our community to be all it can be).
As I sit to write this, HAVEN now has three campuses serving over 200 children. We are planting our fourth campus this fall. HAVEN has a theatre troupe, proms, a soccer team and graduation. We are launching a teen-only program this fall called “HAVEN HIGH” that will include weekly classes, monthly adventures and a spring overnight trip.
I am absolutely humbled and slightly overwhelmed (in a wonderful way!) by the growth we have experienced in four short years. Feelings of gratitude bubble up when I think back to our start …one of my friends asked me, “What are we going to do?” I replied, “We are going to rebuild.” Without hesitation she said, “Count me in.”