Dear Naysayers: Thanks, But We’re Busy Learning

The other day, we were at the park with our homeschool co-op group for choir, netball & science experiments.

There were around 25 children singing together practicing for an upcoming choir presentation, with parents gathered nearby, prams parked under trees, water bottles everywhere, and younger siblings weaving between us, climbing trees, making games out of sticks and generally making the most of being outdoors.

It was one of those genuinely lovely homeschool moments.

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.

What curriculum were we using?

Were we registered?

What qualifications did the parents have?

How would the children socialise?

Were they keeping up with “real school”?

She wasn’t asking because she was interested in homeschooling. She was asking in that particular way that made it clear she had already decided there must be something wrong with it.

And honestly, most homeschool families come across this eventually.

People see children learning differently and assume they must not be learning properly.

If your child is ahead a grade or two, people assume you must be skipping things. They wonder what you’ve missed. They think there’s no way you can possibly be covering everything properly.

If your child takes longer with spelling, maths or handwriting, they worry they’re “behind.”

If your child doesn’t say hello immediately, they assume they’re socially awkward.

If your child talks too much, they’re suddenly socially unaware.

If they’re quiet, it’s because they’re homeschooled.

If they’re loud, it’s because they’re homeschooled.

If they’re confident, apparently nobody knows what to do with that.

Somehow, “they’re homeschooled” becomes the explanation no matter which direction your child goes.

But children are children.

Some are chatty. Some are shy. Some need a little while to warm up. Some will tell a stranger their name, their favourite dinosaur, what they had for breakfast and every detail of the family holiday before you’ve even finished saying hello.

That isn’t a homeschooling issue. That’s just personality.

Homeschooling isn’t about racing children through a checklist just so they can look like they’re keeping up with everybody else.

It’s about meeting them where they’re at.

Some children fly through reading but need more time with writing. Some are brilliant with numbers but need extra help with spelling. Some need a quieter morning after a big week. Others are ready to start the next lesson before you’ve even found your coffee.

Children don’t all learn at the same speed, in the same way, or at the same time.

And that’s okay.

Homeschooling gives us the freedom to slow down when something is difficult and stay with it until it makes sense. It gives us room to move ahead when something clicks. It means we can spend another week on a book, take extra time with a tricky maths concept, follow a child’s interest when they’re really engaged, or put the fractions away before everyone becomes emotionally damaged.

That doesn’t mean nothing is getting done.

Homeschooling is productive in ways people don’t always see.

Learning happens through bookwork, of course. But it also happens while baking, gardening, building Lego creations, writing shopping lists, caring for animals, visiting the library, working out change at the shops, asking questions in the car, helping younger siblings, going on excursions, reading for fun and figuring out why the washing machine has suddenly started making that strange noise again.

And yes, it also happens while standing with 25 other children in a choir at the park.

The naysayers don’t see all of that.

They don’t see the quiet progress because they’re only looking for it in the places they expect to find it.

But you see the whole picture.

You see your child’s progress, you see the struggles and you see what lights them up.

So let people have their opinions.

They can wonder about your curriculum, your qualifications and whether your children have ever had a conversation with another human being.

You don’t need to defend every slow day, every change of plan or every lesson that looks different from school.

You’re allowed to choose the pace that works for your children.

You’re allowed to choose your children over other people’s opinions.

Because their opinions don’t raise your children.

You do.