The Secret Life of Homeschooled Kids

I loved being homeschooled.

Not in a “I sat peacefully under a tree reading classic literature while birds braided my hair” kind of way. But more because we did cool stuff that other kids couldn’t do - like going to Australia’s Wonderland on a random Wednesday for their $5 entry tickets while everyone else was at school.

Honestly, homeschooling had some serious perks.

My mum knew the social side mattered, so she made it a priority. We had friends, outings, activities and plenty of time with other kids. She also knew how to make the most of the freedom homeschooling gave us. Off-peak holidays. Empty theme parks. No lines. No crowds.

I still remember riding the Mini Beast at Australia’s Wonderland over and over again. If there was even one person in front of us, we were deeply disappointed. Our top record was 30 rides in one visit, which felt pretty impressive at the time.

But one of the biggest gifts of homeschooling was the family bond.

We were all on the same team. It wasn’t me and my peers rolling our eyes at my “weird family” or acting like Mum was the enemy. Mum was great, by the way — she was the one taking us to theme parks while everyone else was doing spelling tests under fluorescent lights.

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.

But homeschooling in the 90s was different. There weren’t endless curriculum options, online programs, beautiful workbooks or Australian Curriculum-aligned resources ready to go. My mum did a fantastic job with what she had, but when I went to school for the first time in Year 10, I definitely had a wobble.

I remember thinking, “Maybe I’m not smart enough. Maybe I’ve missed too much. Maybe everyone else knows things I don’t.”

And yes, there were gaps. The curriculum hadn’t exactly prepared me perfectly for school. But homeschooling had given me something else: independence.

I knew how to self-start. I knew how to pace myself. I knew how to set goals and follow through. Within a few months, I was in the advanced maths class and getting top grades across all my subjects.

I also felt 30 years older than everyone else. I didn’t understand the different groups, and why everyone acted as if there was some uncrossable line between them, so I found myself floating between all the groups.

I wasn’t used to being confined to just a handful of people; I had grown accustomed to afternoons playing croquet with seniors, taking community sewing lessons with middle-aged women, and teaching Sunday school classes to 3 year olds. I wasn’t about to be limited to a group of kids born the same year who were following the same fads.

The silliness of school genuinely confused me. I couldn’t understand why everyone was so immature, and I was pretty shocked by how sexualised everything was.

But I had been given a strong foundation in homeschooling so I was mature enough to realise those weren’t the people I needed to impress. I remember thinking how lucky I was to have ‘skipped the silly stage’.

So if I had to sum up what I learned from growing up homeschooled, I’d say this:

Social connection matters. Kids need friends, community and shared experiences.

Curriculum matters too. We don’t do our kids any favours by leaving big learning gaps and hoping it’ll all work out later. My mum didn’t fail me — not even close. I went on to university, earned distinctions, received an exam-based scholarship, and overall did really well — but the curriculum available at the time didn’t make that transition the easiest.

And finally, homeschooling can be an incredible gift!

It gave me freedom, confidence, maturity, independence, family closeness and some serious theme park stamina.

Thirty rides on the Mini Beast has to count for something.