I don’t homeschool because I did badly in school; I homeschool because I was a good, no, a great student.
If you ask my teachers if they remember me, I would bet a body part that twenty-two years later, they still do.
I didn’t talk during class; I didn’t raise my hand too often so as to give others a chance even when I knew the right answer; I waited my turn. I asked for permission. I waited for test days to let my personality shine through.
Which is exactly the reason I homeschool. Classrooms taught me enough bad habits to last a lifetime.
I was once put beside the most disruptive boy in my classroom during Science class. I cried. The reason, the teacher explained to the class of fifty, was to encourage the boy to behave better.