A Song That Would Not Quiet

Before I ever knew the name Charlotte Mason, I felt her echo.

Not in textbooks. Not in theory. But in the quiet little refrain that played behind my childhood, my university years, and the early days of motherhood. Like a violin song I couldn’t quite name, it tugged at me—pulling me toward something more.

When I was a little girl in Canada, I used to line up my stuffed animals—and my toddler sister—right in front of a blackboard in our basement. I’d scribble in chalk, pointer in hand, and teach them with all the wide-eyed joy I had. I didn’t know it then, but something sacred had begun.

At school, though?
I always felt like something was missing.
It was so neat. So structured. But somehow hollow.

The wonder I longed for wasn’t anywhere in the lesson plans.
It felt like there had to be more.

But school—the real kind—it left me cold.
Boredom bloomed into disconnection. I coasted. Not because I didn’t care, but because I just… knew something deeper had been left out.

Education, I believed, should awaken wonder.
It should form the soul—not just train for a test.

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My Real Education

I majored in literary studies, with a minor in historical studies. In those classrooms, truth and beauty came alive. I devoured poetry, philosophy, and the patterns of human culture.

But my education classes?
Flat. Predictable. Built for systems, not souls.

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Years in the Classroom

When I became a teacher, I didn’t just argue that students deserved more than test prep—I gave everything I had to make it true.
I worked 60 to 70 hours a week crafting an atmosphere that invited my students to delight and savor the literature we studied.

When they entered my classroom, Enya played softly.
They read quietly for the first seven minutes of class.
A candle was always lit.

I wanted them to feel peace. I wanted reading to become something sacred.

When we read A Christmas Carol in winter, I opened the windows. Told them to bring jackets. Lit candles. Served hot chocolate. I wanted them to feel what Dickens described, not just analyze it.

I poured my heart into their experience—and still, that got me into trouble.

There were those in power who didn’t like what I was doing. I think it challenged the status quo—one where prepping for the state test reigned supreme. I not only questioned it with words… I challenged it with atmosphere, beauty, and meaning.

It was painful.

But still, I stayed.
And I kept learning.

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Graduate School and a Growing Song

During my master’s program, I dove deeply into the humanities. One of my thesis projects critiqued the American education system through a surprising lens: speculative fiction. The vision it offered—of depth, connection, and soulful formation—only made the song louder.

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Becoming a Mother

In a blink, I left the classroom and began raising my son. I followed instinct.
We read beautiful books.
We wandered butterfly gardens.
We observed, noticed, and played.

I didn’t know it then—but I was unknowingly walking to the same tune as Charlotte Mason’s song.

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Then: COVID

The lockdown gave me the gift of stillness.
And in that stillness, I listened again.

That old song? It surged back.

It forced me to see what my kids were actually learning in school—how their days were being filled.
My oldest, then in fourth grade, once loved learning. But something had dulled. He no longer lit up about books, science, or history.
Even with wonderful teachers, the spark was fading.

I could see it.
And I wanted to harmonize with it.

Through a series of events, I made the decision to homeschool.
I had no idea what that meant. No idea what it should look like. I didn’t know about philosophies or styles or Charlotte Mason.

But it was a pivotal moment in our lives.

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The Journey Since

When I first discovered Charlotte Mason, I felt drawn in.
Her vision validated everything I’d always believed should be part of education.
But… a feast of 24 subjects? (Or more?)
It felt impossible.

I was overwhelmed.
I’m still overwhelmed.

But I began.

At first, I tried a Waldorf approach—drawn to the nature study and the storytelling methods. It was rich, but I missed the integration of faith. I layered that in myself.

Then I moved into a boxed literature-based curriculum.
It was beautiful, with rich living books and thoughtful assignments.
But it was also exhausting.
So many boxes to check. One missed day—and everything fell off rhythm.
It felt like schooling at home—with better books.

And then, finally, I found A Gentle Feast, Simply Charlotte Mason, and Ambleside Online.

A Gentle Feast spoke to me. Julie Ross made Mason’s vision more approachable—spreading the feast in a way that was digestible for both the child and the parent.

Today, I homeschool my 8- and 11-year-olds.
My 15-year-old homeschooled for fifth, seventh, and eighth grade, with a year of private school in between. He’s now chosen public school for high school.

I also teach high school literature at our co-op—a Charlotte Mason-inspired course that weaves in literary analysis and narration. I’m writing the curriculum as I go, blending beauty with structure, truth with practice.

And now?

I’m listening to the song.
I’m walking in tune with its rhythm.
I’m dancing—imperfectly, joyfully—in step with the music that’s led me all along.

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What You’ll Find Here

You’ll join me on the path I’m still walking.

I’ll share:

• things I’ve learned
• questions I’m asking
• insights that stir me
• and the struggles I’m still walking through

This is not a guidebook.
It’s a companionship.

I hope that as I share my journey, you’ll feel supported in yours.

You’ll find:

• Field Notes for the Song – reflections on wonder, struggle, and soul-anchored learning
• Books for the Basket – handpicked read-alouds and deep reads for both kids and parents
• A Pocket of Beauty – a poem, image, or song to carry with you into the week

This isn’t about perfection.
It’s about presence.

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If you’ve ever:

• Felt that school should be more
• Longed to teach in a way that nourishes the whole child
• Wanted to build a life that holds both order and awe

Then you’re already part of this.

Welcome to Delight & Savor.

Let’s begin.

With grace,

Kim