Homeschool was not part of the plan. In fact, I loved my daughter’s school—its vibrant staff, inclusive values and strong community gave me comfort, especially as a parent raising a child with diverse needs.
But by Grade 2, gentle mornings and play-based learning gave way to measurable outcomes. Recesses would be spent alone, while cliques formed and rules of the playground shifted. It was heartbreaking to watch. By Grade 3, the pressures of keeping up academically and socially started to chip away at her mental health.
Meltdowns and shutdowns became daily struggles. That distant, glazed look returned—along with subtle eye twitches we later learned were absence seizures quietly disrupting her learning. Reading and basic math felt heavier each day. Getting out the door became an emotional marathon.
We were overcome by frustration and defeat, desperate to help her but unsure how. The tension changed the dynamic of our family and impacted our confidence as parents.
The real eye-opener came with the pandemic. When classrooms closed, we all felt an immediate sense of relief. And as much as I valued her school, we knew it was no longer the right fit for her or our family.
So, when schools reopened, we made the pivot.
Instead of asking, “Will she ever finish this?” I started asking, “What does she need from me?” I listened closely, studied her cues and quietly accepted that homeschooling might soon become our new normal.
That shift, from compliance to connection, became our family’s wellness turning point.
Wellness Over Worksheets
Homeschooling wasn’t the plan—it was the lifeline we never knew we needed. At first, I worried: “Would she fall behind? Could I even do this?”
But deep down, I knew we couldn’t focus on academics until we prioritized her well-being.
So, I stopped doubling down on curriculum and leaned into emotional co-regulation, confidence-building and creating a space where she felt safe to be herself.
Fewer worksheets. More connection. Less grading. More grace.
Flexibility, Not Force
Homeschool allowed us to work with her natural rhythms.
If she needed a slow morning, we honoured it. If math called for baking banana bread, we pulled out the mixing bowls, put on our matching chef hats—and recorded the whole debacle for reporting purposes. Writing initiated by voice notes? Sure! Problem-solving with headphones? Absolutely.
Movement breaks, sensory tools and emotional check-ins became part of the plan. She began to thrive. And that mattered more than any textbook.
Unlearning My Role
I thought I needed to be her teacher. What she really needed… was her mom.
I let go of perfectionism, urgency and unrealistic expectations. I made peace with good enough, forgave myself for the chaotic days and modelled for her: mistakes are okay, rest is productive and safety always comes before success.
This wasn’t just her growth—it was mine, too.
Lowering Demands
One of the biggest surprises? How much joy surfaced when we simply lowered demands.
Without school timelines, we made room for mid-morning beach talks, reading Manga-style Anne of Green Gables under shared blankets, homemade sushi, fashion design and Taiso exercises woven into a Japan unit study.
We laughed more. We cried less. Learning began to feel like living again.
Mental Health Wins (for us, both)
As power struggles faded, my daughter slowly came back to life. She spoke with more confidence, expressed herself freely and moved through mornings with less resistance. I got my quirky, imaginative girl back.
And I began to feel like myself again. With a formal diagnosis and a support team in place, I could finally delegate parts of her learning. This made space for me to care for my aging parents—and return to the studio. She even joined me, eventually volunteering for the podcast.
In choosing a new way to educate her, I found a new way to reclaim myself.
Repair Over Routine
Prioritizing relationships over routine wasn’t easy—but essential.
Our home became a place of repair, not reaction. We rebuilt trust, redefined success and reshaped what learning looked like—not just for our daughter, but for our whole family, including her younger brother who continues to thrive in public school.
Coming Full Circle
Now, after a few transformative years, my daughter is returning to brick-and-mortar high school—with accommodations and supports in place.
Homeschooling gave her the space to feel safe in her own skin—and gave me the clarity to stop chasing my version of learning that never truly fit. Once we let go of what learning was supposed to look like, we made space for her to grow… in her own time, in her own way. That’s when healing began—for both of us.
Because when we lead with connection, learning has a chance to follow.
