Chapter 1: Uncharted Territory: Jessie / 第一章：未知的领域：杰西

The first第一的/fɜːrst/ day I taught my three children孩子们/ˈtʃɪldrən/ at home家里/hoʊm/, I cleaned up the playroom游戏室/ˈpleɪruːm/ and set up three desks书桌/desks/. I hung an American flag旗帜/flæɡ/ at the front of the room and led them in the Pledge of Allegiance. I was shaking颤抖/ˈʃeɪkɪŋ/ with nervousness.

It was 1973, and my husband丈夫/ˈhʌzbənd/, Jay, and I had just done something radical激进的/ˈrædɪkəl/. We had removed移除/rɪˈmuːvd/ our children from school学校/skuːl/.

I was terrified害怕的/ˈterɪfaɪd/, which was ridiculous荒谬的/rɪˈdɪkjələs/. After all, I was a state-certified认证的/ˈsɜːrtɪfaɪd/ teacher教师/ˈtiːtʃər/. I'd taught public school公立学校/ˈpʌblɪk skuːl/ for six years; I'd taken postgraduate研究生的/ˌpoʊstˈɡrædʒuət/ courses in education from Tulane University, the College of William and Mary, and the University of Virginia. One year, I'd managed thirty-eight三十八个/ˌθɜːrti ˈeɪt/ second graders from dawn till dusk—no lunch break, no recess break, and no teacher's aide.

Yet I was completely intimidated被威吓的/ɪnˈtɪmɪdeɪtɪd/ by those three little children, certain确信的/ˈsɜːrtn/ that I couldn't do an adequate足够的/ˈædɪkwət/ job of teaching them myself. All my teacher education教育/ˌedʒuˈkeɪʃn/ had brainwashed洗脑/ˈbreɪnwɑːʃt/ me. I was convinced确信的/kənˈvɪnst/ that parents couldn't possibly teach their own children—certainly not at home. It had to be done in an institutional机构的/ˌɪnstɪˈtuːʃənl/ setting, run by professionals专业人士/prəˈfeʃənlz/, with their resources and specialized training and expertise专业知识/ˌekspɜːrˈtiːz/.

Unfortunately, the professionals had let us down让我们失望/let ʌs daʊn/.

I wasn't a stranger陌生人/ˈstreɪndʒər/ to failures失败/ˈfeɪljərz/ in the system. The last year I taught public school, I had in my sixth-grade class two sixteen-year-old boys who had not yet learned to read阅读/riːd/. I'd never even heard of home schooling家庭教育/hoʊm ˈskuːlɪŋ/, but I remember thinking: If I ever have a child孩子/tʃaɪld/, he will know how to read before he goes to school. I will not have my son sitting in sixth grade, unable to read.

So when my oldest child turned four, I said to him one day, "Bob, would you rather take a nap小憩/næp/, or would you like to learn how to read?" He chose reading (not surprisingly), and I started him on the old-fashioned phonics自然拼音/ˈfɑːnɪks/ I'd been taught when I was a child. I'd lie down with him on his little bed after lunch午餐/lʌntʃ/ and work on his letters字母/ˈletərz/ (since I also had a two-year-old and a thirteen-month-old, I was always glad to lie down). We practiced vowels元音/ˈvaʊəlz/ and consonants辅音/ˈkɑːnsənənts/, and sounded out new words that year. We called it "doing kindergarten幼儿园/ˈkɪndərɡɑːrtn/."

By the time my middle child was three, she wanted in. "My do kindergarten, too," she'd say, and I would boost举起/buːst/ her up and let her repeat the sounds after me.

I was proud骄傲的/praʊd/ of myself. I was preparing my children for school. Kindergarten, when it came, was uneventful平淡无奇的/ˌʌnɪˈventfl/ and purely social. Bob loved to play at school. At home, I went on reading to him and teaching him his language and number skills.

But when Bob reached first grade, he didn't fit in适应/fɪt ɪn/. He already knew the material材料/məˈtɪriəl/, and he was bored无聊的/bɔːrd/. The school—a well-regarded private school—was cooperative合作的/koʊˈɑːpərətɪv/ and moved him into second grade. He was bored there, too. The class was working on early reading skills, and we'd already done that. The second graders didn't like him because he was a little upstart新贵/ˈʌpstɑːrt/ invading their turf领地/tɜːrf/. The administration管理层/ədˌmɪnɪˈstreɪʃn/ moved him back to first grade, but now the first graders were hostile敌对的/ˈhɑːstaɪl/. He was a big shot who'd been thought worthy of second grade, and they wouldn't play with him. They were jealous嫉妒的/ˈdʒeləs/ because he was well prepared.

So here he was, in first grade, already feeling that doing well in school made him unpopular不受欢迎的/ʌnˈpɑːpjələr/. He started to change. He had been an excited, exuberant充满活力的/ɪɡˈzuːbərənt/, curious好奇的/ˈkjʊriəs/ child. Now he was a behavior problem行为问题/bɪˈheɪvjər ˈprɑːbləm/. He stopped doing well in school. His papers had always been meticulously一丝不苟地/məˈtɪkjələsli/ done, but suddenly his writing became sloppy草率的/ˈslɑːpi/. The teacher complained to us that Bob was always questioning质疑/ˈkwestʃənɪŋ/ her in class.

And the bus ride to school was horrendous可怕的/hɔːˈrendəs/: the older kids made the younger ones sit on the floor, stole their lunches午餐/ˈlʌntʃɪz/, and dirtied their clothes so they'd get demerits记过/dɪˈmerɪts/ from the teachers at school. Every day, Bob got off the school bus with a handful of bad papers, and he was either fighting mad or crying.