I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way we talk about children who are struggling at school. Because there’s something a little strange about it.

To put it plainly, if your workplace is toxic and making you miserable, people will tell you to find another job.

If you’re in an abusive relationship, nobody sensible tells you to stay because it’ll build resilience.

People move house to get away from nightmare neighbours. They change sporting clubs because the culture’s awful. Adults leave friendship groups and workplaces that are making them unhappy. Some people will even cut off a family member because they’ve been hurt or offended one too many times.

We’re actually pretty comfortable with adults saying, “This environment isn’t good for me anymore, so I’m leaving.”

Then a child comes home from school crying every day, can’t sleep on Sunday night, has a stomach ache every morning, is being bullied or excluded, and is slowly becoming a shell of the kid they used to be...

And somehow the conversation changes.

Can you homeschool while working full time? Sometimes, yes — but this isn’t about leaving your child to manage alone while you get on with your day. It’s for families who genuinely don’t have another option. Maybe your child’s being bullied, struggling at school or desperately needs a different environment, but you still need to work to pay the bills.

This article looks at how working families can make homeschooling safer, more connected and more realistic — whether you’re working away from home with an older, responsible teen or working from home alongside your children.

Homeschooling means more time together, and that really is a beautiful thing… but sometimes Mum needs to hide in the car with hot chips, a caramel sundae and five glorious minutes where nobody asks her a question. Time out doesn’t have to be fancy — take it where you can get it, milk Mother’s Day for all it’s worth, and never underestimate the healing power of taking the long way home.

Homeschooling gave us this beautiful “us against the world” feeling, in the best possible way. We were in it together. We talked together, learned together, travelled together and genuinely enjoyed being a family. It felt like we’d somehow found the secret level of childhood.

No homework after school. No rushing around in the morning. No waiting for the bell. We got to live this full, flexible, friend-filled life, and from my point of view as a child, it felt like we had the better deal.

Some seasons of homeschooling feel like they’re working beautifully. The kids are learning, you’re getting through the work, everyone seems reasonably settled.

Then life changes.

Maybe you’re dealing with a run of sickness, a new baby who isn’t sleeping, moving house, work pressures or a financial strain. Maybe you’re unexpectedly pregnant, struggling with post-natal depression, caring for a child with additional needs, or supporting a sick spouse. Sometimes the season becomes much heavier again through the loss of someone you love, a serious or debilitating diagnosis, or the breakdown of a marriage through separation or divorce.

And suddenly, the homeschool plan that felt manageable a few months ago doesn’t fit your life anymore.

I’ve seen homeschooling from both sides.

I was homeschooled myself, and now I’m homeschooling my own four kids.

So over the years, I’ve had a front-row seat to just how much homeschooling changes as children grow.

That’s really where the One-a-Day Series came from.

I didn’t want to create one curriculum style and repeat it across every grade.

I wanted something that actually grows with the child and reflects the very different stages homeschooling families move through.

This is the honest stuff. The thoughts we don’t always say out loud because they feel uncomfortable, ungrateful or a little too close to home.

But maybe saying them out loud is exactly what we need.

Maybe it gives us permission to be imperfect. To admit that we’ve got flaws, bad days, doubts and moments where we genuinely wonder what on earth we’re doing.

Homeschooling isn’t a race. It isn’t a competition, and it certainly isn’t a popularity contest.

It’s about you, your children and the life you’re building together.

The rest is mostly noise.

I’ve had so many moments where I’ve looked around my house and immediately started thinking about what another mum would be doing better.

Another mum wouldn’t give her children cereal for dinner. Her floors probably wouldn’t look like mine, and she definitely wouldn’t have a pile of washing sitting there for three days waiting to be folded. She wouldn’t sleep until 9:00 am on a school day because the baby had been awake through the night, forget to take the meat out of the freezer again, or lose her patience again.

The families most likely to burn out are often the ones placing unnecessary pressure on themselves and their children. They believe every day needs to look impressive, every subject must be covered daily and finishing early must mean they’ve forgotten something.

You haven’t failed because your child finished before lunch.

You haven’t failed because your teenager spent the afternoon volunteering, working, cooking or learning something practical instead of sitting at a desk.

You’ve simply removed the wasted time.

So once the work is done, close the books, let the younger kids build the cardboard castle, let the teenager get on with dinner or head off to their volunteer shift, and enjoy the rest of the day.

You’ve done enough.

There comes a point in the school holidays where I look around and think, Right. Someone has let this house go.

And unfortunately, that someone is me.

For me, the trouble spots are always the same: the under-the-stairs cupboard, the craft drawer, the school drawers, the pantry and the toy cupboard. Basically, every place where I’ve shoved something in and said, “I’ll deal with that later.”

Well, apparently, later has arrived…

The children were singing beautifully. The weather was nice. Everyone was getting along. For a brief moment, I thought, Look at us. We’re organised. We might actually have our lives together.

A lady walking her dog stopped nearby to listen.

At first, I thought she was enjoying it. Twenty-five children singing together in the park is a pretty sweet thing to come across.

Then she started asking questions.

Throughout every term, keep coming back to the things that matter most: joyful learning, steady progress and positive relationships with your children.

Some weeks will go beautifully. Other weeks might feel slower than you hoped. Both are part of homeschooling.

You don’t need a perfect year. You need a year that works for your family, supports your children and gives them space to grow.

Start gently. Build momentum. Celebrate progress. Finish as strongly as you can.

Starting homeschooling can feel like standing at the bottom of a mountain with a backpack full of forms, curriculum tabs, half-sharpened pencils, and one child asking for a snack before you’ve even begun.

Deep breath.

Homeschooling doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t have to take over your whole house, your whole day, or your whole brain. You don’t need to recreate school at home. You need a simple, steady plan that helps your children learn, gives you confidence, and keeps the record-keeping side from becoming a second full-time job.

Here’s a practical, no-panic guide to getting started.

Thinking about applying for homeschooling in NSW?

First of all, take a breath.

It can sound a bit intense at the beginning — registration, educational programs, AP visits, records, curriculum links, certificates. It’s a lot of official-sounding words for something that’s usually much more manageable than it first appears.

Homeschooling with multiple children can be tricky.

If your mornings feel stressful, don’t immediately assume you’re bad at homeschooling (you’re not!). Have a look at the setup.

Are too many children needing you at once?

Is the child who needs the most help being given independent tasks?

Are you starting with the hardest subject for everyone at the exact same time?

The problem isn’t you. Maybe it’s just the plan.

When I was a kid, I remember thinking some homeschoolers were a bit unusual. Not in a bad way. Just… noticeably not following the same script as everyone else.

I noticed the different clothes. The funny little habits. The way one friend went through a stage of only wearing 18th century clothing for two years straight. Literally. No joke. Two full years of bonnets and long skirts while the rest of us were rocking it in Kmart basics.

Then there was our 14-year-old bestie who genuinely thought the “f” word was fart.

Bless her.

And honestly, good for her.

These are true stories. My real memories.

And they’ve stayed with me.

Because when people ask, “But what if homeschool kids turn out a bit different?” I think maybe we’re asking the wrong question.

Homeschooling gave us this beautiful “us against the world” feeling, in the best possible way. We were in it together. We talked together, learned together, travelled together and genuinely enjoyed being a family. It felt like we’d somehow found the secret level of childhood.

No homework after school. No rushing around in the morning. No waiting for the bell. We got to live this full, flexible, friend-filled life, and from my point of view as a child, it felt like we had the better deal.

Homeschooling is a lot.

It’s beautiful, yes. I love it. I’m grateful for it.

But it’s also loud, sticky, repetitive, and full of tiny interruptions that turn a simple job into a full-blown side quest.

So I think we need both things.

We need to be kind to ourselves, because we’re probably doing far more than we realise.

But we also need to be honest with ourselves, because tiredness can become an easy excuse.

“I homeschool, so I’m exhausted.”

And yes, we there are definitely those moments when exhaustion hits hard.

But I don’t want that to become the reason I stop praying with my kids at night.

Or stop hugging them properly.

Or stop asking what made them laugh today.

Or stop looking them in the eye when they’re trying to tell me something that matters to them…

People picture homeschooled kids as strange and awkward, as if school children are all walking around like polished little public speakers with perfect emotional regulation and excellent small talk skills.

Please.

Have you met kids?

School kids are weird too. They’re just weird in matching uniforms.

There’s something strange that happens when you start homeschooling.

You can be having the loveliest, slowest, most peaceful Tuesday at home… pancakes still on the bench, a child building a cubby out of every blanket you own, another one reading upside down on the lounge… and then suddenly you open social media.

And there they are.

The families doing robotics club, karate, dance, tennis, youth theatre, coding camp, violin, ninja warrior classes, and somehow also making organic bento boxes shaped like woodland creatures.

Meanwhile you’re just trying to find the good scissors.