(Written by Adam Torkildson)
I grew up on a farm in Utah with 7 siblings and a lame Arabian horse named Agnes. We were homeschooled and had a lot of time on our hands. As long as we finished our homework for the day we were left to our own devices, like domesticated animals who aren’t sure if they belong inside or out. Our farm had a crumbling barn out back full of old newspaper. I spent several long weeks one winter (after my homework was done of course) cleaning it out and turning it into a fort. That barn saved my life.
Due to the somewhat free nature of my early life, I often got in trouble for something or other. I shot paintballs at the bull next door out of boredom. I often had a knife or other sharp implement in a pocket for nefarious purposes. I spent a lot of time figuring out how to break things.
Rather than spanking or time-out my mother doled out 10-page book reports as punishment. I hated writing reports so much by age 12 (I’d probably written 50 at this point) that I was willing to do anything to get out of writing them. That’s the winter my mom decided I could either clean out the filthy barn, or keep writing. I chose the barn, and ended up learning the most important lesson of my life up to that point. I was just as good at being productive as I was at being mischievous. I just had to have something positive to turn my attention to.
On a typical at-home day, starting at 8am Monday through Friday mom delivered a dizzying regimen of high focus study sessions, physical exercise, and memorizing poems. We had to learn verses of ‘The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere’, then switch to exercise videos of Richard Simmons ‘Sweatin to the Oldies’ without skipping a beat. We also had music lessons. I played the trombone, piano and guitar by the time I was 13. Thanks to my mom’s sporadic yet somehow regimented teaching style, I wasn’t bored or out of sorts too often during those morning hours. My problems always cropped up after the regimen was done for the day. My mom obviously noticed, and thankfully, she decided to have me write reports instead of more traditional punishments like spanking or time outs. Something I only came to appreciate in work ethic years later.
When I was 15, my siblings and I were integrated back into the public-school system. It was the most painful, eye opening experience of my life to date besides the barn. Since we didn’t interact with kids our age outside of church on Sundays, I was used to wearing old hand me down clothes, not caring what I looked like, or how I acted in social situations. In 9th grade, that made me the target of some intense bullying. I learned to be quiet, do my assignments, and go home. I did have one or 2 close friends, but that’s it. I reverted back to the emotional maturity of a 12-year-old. It was essentially a backward step for me in every measurable way. I want to include this part about my life as a note to every home schooling parent
College, on the other hand,was my element. My first assignment turned out to be a ’10-page report about how high school affected your vocabulary’. This is when I realized for the first time that I could make my way through a report like that in an hour due in large part to all the 10-pagers I’d written growing up. I quickly found that all my college-level assignments were eerily like the 10-page book reports I had been writing since I was 8. In fact, because of my unique “punishments”, college turned out to be a breeze.I graduated with a BS in communications after three years, all while working full time.
I never walked at commencement. By that time, I had started a company and had a more pressing focus. The success I’ve had with my own company I attribute to the principles I learned growing up as a homeschoolee. Switching between tasks often; writing, reading, and incorporating physical exercise into my daily life. And learning how to BS a 10-page report. That helped too.
Adam Torkildson
