Deciding to Homeschool

If you had told me a few years ago that I would be homeschooling my kids, I would have laughed or cried. Probably both. Homeschooling was for those organised, Pinterest-perfect parents who had craft stations, colour-coded lesson plans, and an unshakable patience I clearly lacked. I wasn’t one of them.

I had every intention of sending my kids to school like everyone else. I believed in the education system, despite its flaws. I trusted that teachers, with their training and experience, would be far better equipped to teach my kids than I ever could. I thought school was non-negotiable. A rite of passage, a necessity, a fundamental part of childhood. And then reality hit.

School was not built for our neurodivergent children. No amount of meetings, support plans, or “gentle encouragement” could change that. Every day was a battle. Anxiety, meltdowns, school can’t (or as the education system likes to call it, ‘school refusal’). We adjusted, we advocated, we fought tooth and nail for accommodations. But at some point, I had to face the truth: my children were drowning, and no one was coming to save them.

The idea of homeschooling was terrifying.

What if I couldn’t do it?

What if I failed them?

What if I made things worse?

But the fear of what would happen if I didn’t homeschool was bigger.

So, reluctantly, anxiously, and with absolutely zero confidence, we took the plunge.

Trial & Error: Finding What Works (and What Doesn’t)

I wish I could say we had a brilliant, structured plan from day one.

The reality? We flailed. A lot.

I started by trying to replicate school at home. Timetables, worksheets, structured lessons. It was a disaster. My kids were not interested in sitting at a desk for hours a day, listening to me drone on about fractions. The more I pushed, the more they resisted. The meltdowns didn’t stop. They just happened at home instead of at school.

So, we threw out the rulebook. I let go of rigid schedules and focused on what actually engaged them. I followed their interests, experimented with different learning styles, and accepted that learning could happen in bursts of hyper-focus rather than neatly packaged lessons.

We learned that movement helped with focus, that hands-on activities worked better than worksheets, that storytelling was more effective than dry explanations. We started gamifying everything. Maths became a scavenger hunt, spelling turned into word puzzles, science involved messy experiments in the kitchen.

Some things worked. Some things didn’t. But through trial and error, we slowly found our rhythm.

One of my biggest mistakes in the beginning was buying expensive, premade curriculums. I was so unsure of myself that I thought I needed a step-by-step guide to tell me exactly what to do. I spent so much time and money on boxed curriculums, worksheets, and rigid schedules, only to realise that they didn’t fit my kids at all. They were designed for a completely different type of learner, one who thrived on structure and worksheets, not one who needed movement, creativity, autonomy and flexibility.

With such opposite kids, Chalk and Cheese needed very different approaches, but working with different neurotypes is a whole other post.

Deschooling & Unlearning Expectations: Letting Go of Traditional Ideas

One of the biggest challenges wasn’t teaching my kids, it was unlearning everything I thought education had to be. I had to let go of the idea that learning only happened in structured lessons. I had to stop measuring success by how much they wrote down or if they could fill out a worksheet. I had to stop comparing our days to a “real” school day.

It was in this phase that I truly saw the failure of those premade curriculums I had clung to. They weren’t just a waste of money; they represented my lack of confidence in my own ability to guide my kids’ education. I needed to trust that learning could be different, and still be valid.

Then, I read Changing Our Minds by Dr. Naomi Fisher, and it completely revolutionised my understanding of education. Fisher explains how traditional schooling is designed for compliance, not curiosity, and how true learning happens when children are free to explore in ways that make sense to them. It challenged everything I thought I knew about structure, about assessment, about what counts as learning.

I realised that the education system isn’t just flawed, it’s fundamentally broken. It prioritises conformity over creativity, obedience over engagement, and memorisation over true understanding. Once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it. I stopped trying to replicate school and started focusing on what actually worked for my kids.

Instead, I had to embrace learning as a fluid, organic process. My kids were learning all the time. When they built with LEGO, when they asked endless questions about space, when they debated the best way to survive a zombie apocalypse (critical thinking, obviously). I had to trust that learning was happening even when it didn’t look like school.

And most importantly, I had to accept that it was okay to do things differently.

Creating a Flexible Learning Environment: How We 'Structure' Learning

Our homeschool days don’t follow a strict schedule. Instead, we have a flexible routine that adapts to our kids’ individual needs and interests.

Inspiration Stations – I leave out books, puzzles, and activities related to their interests and let them come to it naturally. No pressure, no demands.

Short Learning Bursts – Instead of long lessons, we do short, focused activities. Fifteen minutes of a dice game (maths) , then a break. Look up a word in the dictionary, then time to play.

Movement-Based Learning – Jumping, acting, hands-on projects, whatever keeps them engaged.

Interest-Led Exploration – If they’re obsessed with dinosaurs, we dive deep into fossils, evolution, and prehistoric ecosystems.

Gamification – Turning learning into games, challenges, or competitions to keep things fun.

No Forced Handwriting – They both have dysgraphia, so if they want to dictate their ideas while I write them down, that’s fine. If they prefer typing, great. If they want to act out a history lesson instead of writing an essay, why not?

Low-Demand Days – Some days, everything feels too hard. On those days, we focus on connection, storytelling, and curiosity.

This approach isn’t perfect, but it works for us. It’s not about recreating school at home, it’s about creating an environment where learning happens naturally, joyfully, and in a way that makes sense for them.

No Longer Surviving, Finally Thriving.

Homeschooling was never the plan. It wasn’t a dream, a goal, or even a consideration. Until it had to be. The decision was driven by necessity, by survival, by the desperate need to protect our kids’ well-being.

And yet, in the chaos of it all, we found something unexpected: freedom. The freedom to learn in a way that fits our kids, to honour their needs, and to redefine what education looks like for our family.

We still have hard days. I still have moments of doubt. But homeschooling has given my kids something that school never could. The ability to thrive on their own terms.

If you’re standing at the edge of this decision, terrified and overwhelmed, just know this: you’re not alone. It’s okay to panic. It’s okay to feel lost. And, most of all, it’s okay to do things differently. Because sometimes, the best decisions are the ones we never planned to make.

My only regret throughout this?

Not homeschooling them sooner.