Worldschool, Wanderlust, and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

     I first heard the term “worldschooling” from The Art of Simple. I was already planning our cross-country trip when I heard about the Oxenreiders and their awesome around-the-world excursion. I find it interesting that while planning our own trip this summer, I had inadvertently arrived at many of the same conclusions as Trish about the nuts and bolts of school on the road, what to pack, and life philosophy in general. I loved the word right away. After all, how can it be homeschool when you are away from home?  This year, we have forsaken traditional written curriculum in favor of a living, moving education as we traverse the continent—at least for history, geography, and science. Our math and language arts are still traditional by homeschool standards, which is pretty wide by definition, but still it leans towards a fixed syllabus.

     I have had a case of wanderlust as long as I can remember. I probably inherited it from my Dad. He retired from the Army and always spoke of his travels with that look in his eye. He said Vietnam was lovely, despite the hateful memories he had of it, and how Shenandoah, Virginia was the most beautiful place he had ever set foot on. He always had this crazy itch to move to Alaska. Mom didn't share this vision, but her reservations never stopped Dad from trying to talk her into it. So this dream of traversing the continent via RV surely stemmed from Dad's travel bug. Yes, Alaska is on our itinerary.

     I have been planning since June, when we learned that my husband was being transferred to Texas from our current home in KY, which might be exciting if we hadn’t just moved here from Texas a year ago with the same company, a good company, one we don’t plan on abandoning, even for our retirement dreams. We were in the process of buying a house, and it mercifully fell apart after the move was announced. However, the house we were renting had sold, and we had a few short weeks to get out. Enter travel dreams. We had mentioned cross-country RVving in passing, as a retirement pipe-dream. Since we had a year in limbo, we thought, why not?

     We bought an RV and started planning. We rented a small, rustic, 2 room guest house from a friend. No, we are not independently wealthy. John will eventually be living in the guesthouse without us, and the very reasonable rent fits into our housing-while-on-the-road budget. It is quite a downsize from the 2600 square feet we had been living in before, but we chalked it up to small living practice before the trip, during which I plan on living and schooling our family in a 26 foot RV.

     John can’t work from home. It just isn’t an option, so the kids and I will travel mostly without him. To answer your questions, yes, this makes us sad. It was really the only cause for pause in our planning. I so wish he could experience this with us, but a family trip of this magnitude will just never happen. He quickly and whole-heartedly agreed to our plans, as the months preceding his company’s move will be very busy and include very long hours. He can concentrate on work, and we can occupy our minds with the sights and sounds of our adventure. We also planned a few rendezvous along our route, and will go out and back, like a wagon wheel, so we can spend time together at home.  

     I originally planned to leave Labor Day, but we just weren’t ready. We are newbs to full-time RVing and had a few surprises, like how much it would cost to tow a vehicle behind the RV.  Yowzers. And I had no idea how complicated planning this trip—let alone actually traveling with four kids and worldschooling—would actually be. So we are hoping to get on the road the first week of October now.

     I have always been on the impulsive side. I jump into a project with both feet and all my heart. Maybe my head IS in the clouds sometimes, but I’m always committed. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never driven cross-county, alone with four kids, but I’m confident I’ll figure it out. We will learn as we go. I’ve never been that scared of messing up. Anyone who knows me can tell you I’ve done it plenty, but the benefit of jumping in--is the view. I hope my kids will inherit Dad’s wonder, the wanderlust, the desire to try new things. I can’t say I’ve ever been sorry for trying. I can't say I've often been sorry for trying.