The challenge is... accepted!

Education is a lifelong journey, but some choose to cut their lives short.

My name is Coley, and I have accepted a rather arduous quest: save the education of one teen boy. It was a challenge given to me by his father, who I have known as an acquaintance for maybe three years. He made this request as a last ditch effort to save the education of his only son, a 17 year old adult in training who I will call Trevor. "He just needs to get his GED and get on with his life, and I don't even know if he's willing to do that," he told me. "I've never tried a private tutor before, so if you're willing to give it a shot, I can't tell you how much I would appreciate it." I couldn't help but accept the challenge.

The short story on Trevor is that he has attended military school, private schools, public schools, psychiatric inpatient units, etc., and none of it has "worked." If he wasn't kicked out, he dropped out. He was arrested for assault at his last public school, and has a violent history. He has been diagnosed ADHD, and my suspicion is that he could be diagnosed for ODD as well (oppositional defiant disorder). He and his father don't get along at all; one of their last meetings ended up in a fist fight. He smokes, he drinks, and is addicted to online role playing games. He could care less about his education, or so I was told.

I met Trevor for lunch shortly after I spoke with his father. I took him to one of those entertainment places with lots of games, a bowling alley, and lots of fattening food; every teenager's dream. We sat down and immediately began to have a pleasant, humorous conversation about nothing: our favorite movies (like Fight Club), music, and Family Guy. I finally found a place to break in, so I asked him. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Kinda," he said. "You're going to tutor me?"

"If that's okay with you, yes," I said. "I'd be glad to work with you to help you get your GED. I helped my aunt get her GED, I made great grades in college, so I don't see why I wouldn't be able to help you out."

He looked at me funny. "There's just one problem. I don't want my GED."

My heart sank. I thought all kinds of things. Why not? Have you totally given up? Don't you understand you need at least some kind of educational proof? He must have seen the look on my face.

"I want my high school diploma," he said. "Like everyone else."

And there began the challenge. We strategized about it, ate lunch, played lots of shoot em' up games, and then I dropped him off at his house. "You think you're ready for this?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

That was enough for me. I spoke with his dad about it. "You know, Trevor is quite the con-artist. I think this is just some scheme to draw things out, but if you think he'll do it, you can try," he told me.

That was enough for me to believe I had the go-ahead, so I began researching our options. Correspondence schools, textbooks, private schools, public schools. I came to the best conclusion for him: homeschool. In Texas, it's legal to homeschool and have another individual teach your child; it's basically treated as private school. I started looking into high school curriculum, only to find that the majority of it was faith-based, which is right for many people, but in this case, it wouldn't go (I did give him the option for those of you who will argue with me on this. He quickly turned it down and chose the secular curriculum). I found Oak Meadow, a Waldorf-based school that sells curriculum and enrolls students in their own correspondence courses. After looking into it, it just fit.

For those of you thinking it, no, I have no formal education training. Then again, neither do many homeschool parents. What I do have is dedication, a caring soul, the patience of a freakin' saint, and the opportunity to do something that could change a life. So what would you do? I took the chance. I am willing to revisit all of the classes I've taken, learn anything new, and give myself 100% to making this work. What more could you ask for in a teacher?

So we began the Tuesday after Labor Day. I did not know what I was in for.