It’s Okay — You’re Okay: A Homeschool Mom’s Journey from Fear to Peace

If you know me and my family’s story, you know we never set out to homeschool. It started purely as a function of 2020. We didn’t believe our young children should have to cover their faces all day, every day, and we didn’t think it would be good for them developmentally.

After watching school board meetings, it became clear to me that the group of elected officials making those decisions was not going to come to the conclusion my husband I believed was right. So, we did what we thought was necessary, and I prepared to homeschool. Temporarily.

I approached it like a businessperson: with intellect, reason, and research. I created a spreadsheet with the criteria I believed would be best for my children — and for me — having never taught my children before (or so I thought). Hours and hours of research later, I chose our curriculum.

My criteria that first year was simple:

1. Secular

2. As close to a public school format as possible

3. Fully planned curriculum (because I didn’t think I could do it)

4. Self-grading (also because I didn’t think I could)

   
   

I planned everything. Down to lunch breaks and recess. I had alarms go off in my house every 30–45 minutes to simulate public school bells. Recess and lunch were timed, and no matter what we were doing when a bell went off, we stopped and moved on. My kids even asked to go to the bathroom!

This worked — for a short time.

It was like playing dress-up as a child. All the excitement of the event, but none of the reality. And just like playing dress-up, it couldn’t last forever.

I spent much of that first year in distress, discontentment, and extreme fear and I bet my children felt that too.

I approached homeschooling as though I were a trained teacher — and I’m not. When my kids asked questions I didn’t know the answers to, I felt stupid. Worse, I felt like it was a reflection of my intellect and my character as a parent.

There were countless times I would completely check out, lock myself in my small walk-in closet, and cry. I felt defeated. Like a failure.

It wasn’t until late 2020, when I began my faith journey, and sometime in 2021, when we started attending homeschool events and talking with other homeschool moms, that things began to change.

Listening to more seasoned moms brought peace to my heart. They shared stories of emotional roller coasters I could deeply relate to. I thought the way I felt was because I was new. I quickly learned it was normal.

Homeschool is hard.

But let me clarify how it’s hard — from my perspective. It’s not intellectually hard. It’s emotionally hard. When you are the sole person responsible not only for raising your children, but also educating them, things get real very fast. There are no “professional” teachers to fall back on. If my kids fail or are not prepared, it will be my fault! No “professional” advice to outsource the responsibility.

But is that actually necessary?

As I talked with other homeschool moms and learned what homeschooling really is, I realized I needed to deprogram myself. I grew up in the public school system — it was all I knew. And we only know what we know, when we know it.

The only reason I thought I wasn’t qualified to teach my own children is because I was taught that belief growing up. The only reason I thought I needed all the answers is because I never learned how to ask questions in school.

There is not a single person on this earth who knows the answer to everything. Even more, there’s not a single person on this earth that loves your child like you love them.

Looking back at my original business-minded approach, I now see what it should have been all along — and what it is today: homeschooling with love, care, and direction from God.

Little by little over the past six years, I’ve moved away from bells, rigid schedules, and planners. My focus is no longer time constraints, but whether my children are actually learning. Whether they know how to ask questions, how to find answers, why and how they were created, how to work hard, think independently, follow through, and grow.

Learning is so much more than academics. And that’s the beauty of home education.

Once my approach changed, my distress melted away. This isn’t to say I don’t feel stress — but I am no longer in distress.

God gave me these children on purpose, for a purpose. I was qualified to teach them how to talk and walk. How to use a spoon. How to wash their hands. Their ABCs, colors, and shapes. How to use the bathroom and look both ways before crossing the road.

Why do we view algebra, reading, and writing differently?

I was so worried about not being qualified that I forgot the gifts God gave me — the abilities He placed in me long before I ever knew I wanted children.

If I love my children, care about their education, and want to teach them how to fly on their own, why would I willingly hand that responsibility to someone else?

The purpose of writing this is both to warn and to encourage.

Homeschool is not a business, and it isn’t meant to be approached like one. You don’t need perfect systems, color-coded planners, or all the answers. You need love, intention, and the willingness to show up for your children — day after day — even when it feels messy or uncertain.

And here is the encouragement: you are already qualified. Not because you know everything, but because you care. Because you are willing to learn alongside your children. Because God entrusted you with them.

Your children do not need a stranger with a professional designation to believe in them, guide them, or teach them how to think. They need a parent who is present, curious, grounded, and willing to grow.

I want to pause for a note to teachers — our society truly does need you. This is not a statement against educators, nor is it a dismissal of the important work you do. There will always be a need for public, private, and charter schools, and your training, dedication, and education are deeply valued within those spaces. My encouragement for homeschool should never be interpreted as a criticism of public education, but rather as a strong and valid option for families who feel called to it or need it.

Yes, there will be stress. There will be hard days. There may even be moments where you question everything. When that happens, give it to God. Talk it out with another homeschool mom. Take a breath. And keep going.

You are not behind. You are not failing. And you are not alone.

It’s okay — you’re okay.