When I get out my soapbox, my DH always asks if I'm feeling froggy. Well, tonight I am.

I am so sad for all of the kids that I see every week at church that are wasting away. Don't get me wrong, they're well fed and well clothed. But, they look beat down all the time. It breaks my heart.

I am sad for the first grader who comes to church on Wednesdays and then has to go home and complete 90 minutes of homework for school the next day.

I am sad for the little girl that told me that she couldn't check out the book she really wanted at the library because it was above her graded reader level. Instead of getting a book about birds (her passion) she got a book about how to play with a rope (!).

I am sad for the little boy who has lost his spark because everyone tells him what a bad kid he is. He's not a bad kid. I've taught him. He is inquisitive, energetic (very!) and used to be happy. He's not a bad kid, but he has so much energy he doesn't do well sitting in a desk for 6 and a half hours a day.

I am sad for the little girl that has no friends because she has a wildly independent streak. She can be very loud and very opinionated. The other kids don't like that. She likes to talk. She's gotten in trouble at school for that (big surprise). She thinks she's stupid because the other kids have hassled her for getting in trouble. They don't understand how she can be "so stupid" as to not know how to be quiet. Every week I can see a little more of her spirit has died. She's 5.

I am sad for the girl who was "cyber-bullied" over the weekend. Someone posted hateful, ugly things on MySpace. Her friends have left her. She feels all alone.

I feel sorry for the boy that has his manhood questioned on a regular basis because he enjoys music over sports. And has chosen a historically feminine woodwind instrument.

I feel sorry for the girl I saw last Friday after the High School let out early for mid-terms. She looked miserable as the other kids turned their backs on her. No telling what her social crime was.

I can't say with any authority that homeschooling could fix all of the problems that these kids have. I don't know their lives, or their homes. What I do know is that the educational system is broken. By third grade the sweet, kind, thoughtful, inquisitive, eager child I taught as a 4 or 5 year old has been reduced to a glassy-eyed, labelled, bored, peer-oppressed mess.

And my poor high schoolers. Their prayer requests every week curl my hair.

Something is wrong. Very wrong.

And it chaps me that their parents just shrug and move on. Like they don't care. Or the kids are too much of a bother. Too time consuming. Too much trouble.

The parents buy into the labels that their kids are given.

Sure, they wipe the tears. They tell them that they are loved at home. But, let's face reality here. Mom and Dad can't help you when the kids on the playground decide that your purpose in life is to provide them with a target. You're on your own there.

Every time I feel my burning desire to homeschool my girls waning, or I feel the burnout is impending, or I feel overwhelmed at the task laid out before me, I only have to look into the hollow eyes of the children at church to know that I must keep on.

I have no desire to shelter my girls, but rather to provide a filter for them. I never want to see them beat down and depressed. I never want them to dread coming home to face a mountain of work that seems insurmountable. I don't want to watch them waste away while I stand by and wring my hands feeling helpless. I have been given a job and I will do it. And when I lose my joy in the task at hand I just remember those eyes. Seeking approval, acceptance, praise, a morsel of something, anything to say that they are worthy of love, pride, joy.

It breaks my heart.