Letting Go of the Homeschooling Vision I Thought I’d Have
I was homeschooled myself, so naturally, I carried a very specific vision of what homeschooling my own children would look like.
I was prepared to give it my all. I had always planned to homeschool straight through, just as my mom had done for me. When my oldest reached kindergarten, we briefly tried an online public school option, but it didn’t align with the vision I had in my heart. So the following year, I jumped into traditional homeschooling starting with his first grade year.
I did all the research. I learned the laws in my state. I carefully chose curriculum and mapped out what our days would look like. I was excited, hopeful, and deeply committed. It wasn’t easy, but it felt good. It felt right. And for several years, and a few more kids later, we kept going.
When my second child was around eight years old, I began noticing some learning struggles that felt bigger than the usual bumps along the way. We reached out for testing, and it was discovered that this child had disabilities that would make learning more challenging. Performing at grade level might never be attainable.
At the time, I was encouraged that homeschooling was the best option. I could tailor learning around his struggles, move at his pace, and give him individualized attention. So that’s what I did. I leaned in harder. I adjusted curriculum. I researched more. I tried everything I knew how to try.
But despite all my effort, things weren’t improving the way I hoped. And slowly, something else became clear — in focusing so much of my energy on supporting one child, I was unintentionally allowing my other children to slip through the cracks.
That realization was painful to admit.
As much as I wanted to hold onto the vision I had for our homeschool journey, I knew something had to change. I had reached a point where doing more of the same wasn’t helping anyone. And for the first time, I had to seriously consider reaching out for help.
This decision came with a lot of fear.
I had spent much of my life believing that keeping my children out of the public school system was the best thing I could do for them. Letting go of that belief felt like letting go of part of my identity as a mother. I worried about what this change might mean for all of my kids, but especially for my child who already struggled. I feared bullying, judgment, and the possibility that I was making the wrong choice — even though, deep down, I knew I had tried everything I could.
I worried about how my children would adjust socially and academically. I worried about labels. I worried about being seen as “the homeschool family” who couldn’t make it work. And if I’m being honest, I even worried about myself — because I never pictured my life including school drop-off lines and schedules that weren’t fully in my control.
To make peace with this choice, I had to release a lot.
I had to release my need for control.
I had to release the guilt that whispered I had failed my children — and myself.
I had to release the fear of judgment and the feeling that I owed anyone an explanation.
I also had to remind myself that this didn’t have to be a permanent decision. Trying something new didn’t mean I could never return to homeschooling if circumstances changed. This wasn’t about giving up. It was about responding to what our family needed right now.
From the beginning, I knew this wouldn’t be a rushed or careless decision. We toured schools, asked questions, and prayed for clarity — especially regarding support for my struggling child. Wherever my children landed needed to feel intentional and safe.
And what this decision has given our family has surprised me.
My children now have access to support I simply wasn’t equipped to provide on my own. They’ve been given the opportunity to learn, grow, and thrive in ways that weren’t happening before. The adjustment hasn’t been perfect — there have been hard days and moments of transition — but overall, the experience has been positive for them and for our family as a whole.
Letting go of the homeschooling vision I thought I’d have wasn’t easy. There was grief in it. But there has also been peace.
This wasn’t the path I imagined, but it’s the one our family needed — and I’m learning to trust that.
With grace,
