So the title confounds you. That’s good. It’s sort of what happens when I attempt to explain homeschooling to people. They do double takes.

“Homeschooling? What’s that?” If I had a dime for every time someone asked me those twin questions, I’d insist on Philippine pesos so I’d at least be able to spend my small fortune.

So anyway, homeschooling. What is it and what’s the big deal? I get this all the time along with other questions like, “What about your children’s socialization?”, “Won’t they end up becoming axe-murderers?”, and “Why does your facial hair grow so fast?”

I don’t tire of these questions; in fact, I relish them. Like most homeschoolers, I feel I’ve been appointed to change the world one query at a time and therefore have to provide the meatiest, most persuasive answers to all homeschool questions, friendly and hostile.

I have my critics too, you see. And let’s face it, walking through a mall with my kids when, by society’s standards, they should be sitting in a classroom copying notes from a blackboard does warrant a decent explanation rather than a simple wink of the eye.

Oh and did I mention the fact that my kids rarely sleep early at night, sometimes eat candy before meals, don’t always go to church, and love playing all day?

Sacrilege, huh?

When my friends/relatives/government officials/the CIA start showing up at my door with frowns and bludgeons, I find the situation easier to deal with when I have credible answers.

So how about those answers? I’m sure if you’ve read this far you’re interested in homeschooling to some degree. Or maybe you’re waiting for me to say something damaging that you can use against your homeschooler cousin-in-law whose six kids all manage to ace the local quiz bee every year, despite the fact that your kids are doing extremely well in school and yes, they are excellent spellers in their own right.

Question #1: What do you mean, “Nuclear Education”?

OK, I’m a writer. Frankly, the term “homeschooling” has become a little boring. In fact, despite its fairly obvious connotation, a lot of people still don’t get it. So I figure that changing it up a little won’t hurt.

Nuclear Education, while admittedly not the most earth-shattering improvement on the word “homeschooling”, implies dynamic, energetic learning. The kind of learning that doesn’t happen in a classroom. The kind of education brewed in the fires of the living room and backyard, where love and chaos are one and the same.

It’s the type of education that only a mother and father can give, boiled in tears and sweat, steeped in fear and optimism, fused together by a torrent of parental passion and love for God, culture, and all things beautiful and good.

You see, homeschooling is not about sitting in a classroom with 40 other same-aged students who are only allowed to speak or question the teacher at allotted times. It’s not about having kids eat their snacks and play at predetermined stages of the day. It’s not about creating well-behaved, cookie-cutter people who will eventually blend in with society as easily as their gray uniforms blend in with the winter sky.

It’s about letting a child discover the world with a different set of lenses. It’s about introducing them to your values while giving them the freedom to examine the beliefs of others. It’s about allowing them to interact with people of all different ages, outside a classroom where they can feel the sun on their skin and not have to pine for it through bolted windows.

In other words, homeschooling is about giving your kids as varied and natural a learning experience as possible.

This often means that our home looks and feels like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have just galloped through. I am daily vexed at how my kids can go from 0-100 in just 5 seconds and wreak havoc throughout the house before I’ve had my morning coffee.

But somehow, it’s all good.

They’re not in a classroom, forced to sit still under the threat of detention. They’re not required to read stuff they don’t like or engage in experiments they’d happily see go wrong, just for kicks.

They’re not coerced into mingling with foul-mouthed kids whose lurid stories rival the latest issue of Bandera.

They’re at home, working on stuff we all love, enjoying our time together.

It’s never dull or boring. For the most part, it’s a mess – books are everywhere, board game pieces are flying all over the place, colored ink adorns paper crafts and kitchen walls. Tensions are high, passions are raised, brains are worked, stuff is LEARNED.

It’s nuclear and the most frighteningly insane fun we have with our kids.

Question # 2: Are you mad?

I think so. You need to be, to a certain degree. Robin Williams once said, “You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.” I agree. And therefore I choose to channel my madness through some select things, homeschooling heartily included.

Look, educating at home is tough. First it entails NOT putting your child through conventional school. The grief this entails is enough to make most people curl into the fetal position and never emerge from a hot shower.

Not letting your child go to a “normal” school is like saying you’re waiting for the Rapture to happen and you don’t think education is that important anyway. Your friends and family will ridicule you. You may as well wear tin foil on your head and eat canned sardines for the rest of your life.

Not only that, but YOU become truly responsible for your child’s education. Which means that you need to really take an interest. No more coasting through life, taking a backseat as your child “learns” at school. One needs to own his child’s education and not just leave it to the pros.

For the most part, moms assume teaching responsibilities in a typical homeschool arrangement. We dads are trusted to bring home the bacon, cheer at sports events, say stern things when our kids screw up, and slouch on the sofa when we’ve had a bad day (so that mommy can say to her fledglings, “It’s tough being a grown-up little ones; it’s important we study hard so we can deal with the curve balls life often throws our way” or some similar object lesson.)

But just because mommy is on the front lines teaching math and other abominable subjects, it doesn’t mean that we can slink into the shadows and watch TV in the other room. On the contrary, we men have to stand up and show our kids just what responsibility looks like. Like how a man honors his wife, how we deal with crises, how we fix toilets and cook food when mommy is sick (without setting the kitchen on fire).

Homeschooling means stepping into the lives of our kids and influencing them for the better. No more abdicating solely to the teacher. No more relying on a school to be your kid’s all-encompassing yaya.

You can’t phone in your participation. You really have to be there. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Like I said, madness.

Question # 3: Won’t your children grow into anti-social misfits?

As any homeschooler worth his salt will tell you, this is the quintessential homeschool concern. And I understand it, I really do. But let’s break it down shall we?

What do you think is more conducive to developing a child’s ability to function properly in society? Lumping him into a classroom with a mass of students all the same age or having him interact with everyone in the outside world, from the grocery stacker down at your local Puregold to scary Aunt Hilda who smokes like a trooper and still can’t get over the amount of shoes Imelda used to own?

Which more closely resembles real life?

I can understand if a child is raised by a pack of wolves. Or is home-educated but locked in a cabinet and fed cat food when the textbooks and whip are put away.

But this nonsense about children becoming dysfunctional because they’ve never set foot on school grounds… puhleaze.

If anything, keeping them out of school protects them from undue influence. I’m so glad my son is homeschooled because it means he doesn’t hurl invectives, tell crude jokes, or make fun of other people like his neighborhood friends often do. That’s not to say he’ll never ever do these things; you can’t completely shield a child from peer pressure and the world at large. It’s just that our strategy is different.

My wife and I do our best to teach a correct, Biblical worldview to our children so that they’ll be armed with an accurate way of understanding the world. That way, for example, if some kids talk to our son about sex outside of marriage, he at least knows what the Bible says about the issue as well as what we feel about it. Which is better than not knowing what to think and caving to peer pressure and compromise.

As a wise parent once wrote, it’s better to teach a right view of things at home than to correct wrong views learned outside the home. I paraphrase, but you get the point.

Question # 4: Why are you so confident you’ll succeed?

I’m not. Really, I share the same fears as most other homeschoolers. And that is, what if it all goes pear-shaped?

The truth is I don’t have any confidence in myself. I have a lot of confidence in my wife!

Seriously though, homeschooling is sometimes as frightening as when we first embarked on this journey 10 years ago. But it does get better and things do get more relaxed.

As you hit your stride and get a handle on how your child best learns, you begin to feel more comfortable and assertive. And as you begin to notice fruit (your child starts learning how to read, solve math problems, convince you to buy him load for his mobile phone coz he’s done x,y, and z and deserves a reward) you become less anxious and more excited about his learning trajectory.

It’s all very scary, for sure. But like all things nuclear, scary is part of the package.

Ultimately, all the passion you pour into your child’s education, all your energy, devotion, prayers, tiresome days and sleepless nights – the amalgam of these raw investments is a homeschooling experience that will shape your child in stunning and unique ways.

There are more questions, I know. And the answers will come.

For now, I’ve explained myself. So the next time you catch me at the mall, you know why the kids are tagging along. And why we’re all smiling.