From Public School to Reluctant Homeschooler

One of the many ongoing lessons eleven years of motherhood continues to teach me is to trust my intuition.

That sounds simple, but it has been one of the hardest lessons of my life.

Especially when society provides a well-paved path for raising children.

Go to preschool.

Start kindergarten.

Trust the teachers.

Trust the experts.

If something isn't working, there will be another meeting, another evaluation, another plan.

That was certainly what I believed.

As a child, I attended public school, and it was the only educational option my family ever considered. I had a wonderful experience and assumed my children would too.

But when I became a mother, something inside me began questioning school almost immediately. I knew in my bones my differently wired son wasn't going to fit neatly into the traditional public school box. Looking back now, I realize my intuition had been trying to tell me something from the very beginning.

I just wasn't always brave enough to listen.

Preschool: The First Whisper

My son's first school experience was at a private Christian preschool. Almost every day he came home with a yellow or red light instead of green on the classroom behavior chart because his behavior wasn't considered "where it should be." Even then, something didn't feel right. I remember thinking that publicly displaying a four-year-old's behavior on a stoplight chart felt more shaming than helpful. Friends who were educators told me this type of discipline was outdated.

His teacher was tired and ready to retire. My son was energetic, curious, impulsive, and deeply spirited. They simply weren't a good match. But did I listen to my intuition?

No.

I convinced myself I was just being an overly sensitive first-time mom, and we both suffered through most of the year.

Kindergarten: Hope

For kindergarten, we enrolled him in a Montessori charter school.

It was the middle of COVID, but despite everything happening in the world, it ended up being a wonderful year. His class was small and was only Kindergarten students instead of 3-6 year old, which I think was in his favor. His teacher was incredibly passionate about reading intervention. There were certainly difficult moments, but it was also a year filled with growth and joy.

One thing confused me, though. He generally did well at school. Then he came home and completely fell apart.

Years later, we learned this was part of his ADHD and autism profile. He was working so hard to hold everything together during the school day that home became the only place where he could safely let it all out.

First Grade: That Feeling Returned

In first grade, he was in a mixed-age Montessori classroom with a kind and caring teacher. But something changed. His academic progress slowed dramatically. That familiar feeling came back. Not because his teacher wasn't wonderful.

She was. But I knew he needed more support than one classroom teacher could realistically provide.

Rather than wait, we pursued a private psychological evaluation. At six years old, he was diagnosed with ADHD, learning disabilities in reading and math, and mild autism.

Looking back, I'm proud of us for taking that step. It wasn't easy, but it gave us language for what we had already been seeing.

Finding the "Right" School

Our next stop was a Waldorf-inspired charter school with a special education department.

On paper, it seemed perfect. Story-based learning. Handwork. Art. Music. Low technology. A slower academic pace. And, most importantly, an Individualized Education Plan (IEP).

I remember feeling relieved. Finally, I thought, "Now he'll get what he needs."

Like many parents, I trusted the system. We found a psychiatric nurse practitioner to help manage his ADHD medication. We hired private tutors. We attended IEP meetings (even though they were the WORST - more on this later). We followed the school's recommendations. We attended speech therapy outside of school. We got him tested for auditory processing disorder. We did everything we knew how to do.

There were wonderful people along the way. His classroom teacher looped with him for three years and became one of the greatest gifts of our elementary school experience. She worked tirelessly to build a relationship with him and cared deeply about his success.

Unfortunately, the special education department at the school turned over EVERY YEAR for four years in a row. Each year felt like starting over. Each year I hoped this would finally be the year things clicked and he would make progress in reading. That he would gain confidence in his own academic ability even if his brain is differently wired.

I know all teachers do the best they can with what they have, but we kept finding ourselves in a situation where I was doing as much as I possibly could outside of school while keeping our relationship in tack and he wasn't making progress. I was beginning the realize my sweet, wonderful, artistic, empathetic child was more complex than this broken system could meet at this moment in time.

The Tipping Point

By the end of fourth grade, I knew something had to change. My son was refusing to attend special education. He was struggling socially. Most importantly, he still wasn't making meaningful progress in reading.

At the end of the school year I attended a conference hosted by the Colorado Department of Education for parents of children with IEPs. I went hoping to learn how to better advocate for my son. Instead, I left the first day sitting in my car crying. Listening to other parents' stories wasn't encouraging.

It was heartbreaking.

So many families were carrying burdens even heavier than ours. Then I had a conversation with a homeschool mom. She described the accommodations she could make for her neurodivergent daughter every single day. No waiting. No annual asking permission. Just meeting her daughter where she was. For the first time in years, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. Not because homeschooling suddenly sounded easy. It didn't. But because I realized there might be another way.

Finally Listening

The funny thing is, I had thought about homeschooling for nearly three years. I found great comfort in a blog Homeschooling with Dyslexia. This blog was written by Marianne a mother of several dyslexic children. At the time, I just wasn't ready to dive into homeschooling. I doubted myself and my ability to not only teach my dyslexic son, but to spend many hours together being productive. Yikes.

I kept hoping the next school year, the next intervention, or the next support would finally be the answer. Eventually, I realized I wasn't choosing between public school and homeschool. I was choosing whether to continue down a path that wasn't working or trust myself enough to try something different.

So here we are.

A first-time homeschool mom.

A therapist.

A lifelong learner.

A stack of curriculum on the dining room table.

A wonderfully curious neurodivergent fifth grader.

And absolutely no idea what this year is going to look like.

Curious Together was born because I wanted a place to document this journey—the victories, the mistakes, the curriculum, the questions, and everything we're learning along the way. I don't have this figured out. But for the first time in a long time, my intuition and my actions are finally moving in the same direction. And that feels like exactly where we're supposed to be.