Twenty Years In: What Homeschooling Has Taught My Heart

After twenty years of homeschooling, I still don’t feel like an expert—but I do feel rich in experience. Not the kind you measure in test scores or perfect lesson plans, but the kind gathered slowly, like pearls hidden in the everyday. This road has been both beautiful and messy, full of missteps and unexpected grace. And from that place—of tender learning and deep love—I offer a few of the treasures I’ve gathered.

The Whole Child Matters

If there’s one truth that has gently but firmly taken root in me, it’s this: my child is more than a student. They are a whole person. And that whole person matters more than any worksheet.

Yes, I’ve cheered for academic milestones—but I’ve cried more tears of joy watching kindness take root, watching curiosity bloom, watching my children find courage to speak up, try again, and care deeply.

No test can measure the kind of learning that shapes the soul. But those are the moments that leave me in awe.

Discovering, Not Solving

I used to think that when something wasn’t working—when a subject was hard or emotions ran high—I needed to fix it fast. But over time, the Lord began to whisper something different: “This child is not a problem to solve—they’re a person to discover.”

What freedom that brought. Their quirks weren’t signs of failure; they were clues to who God made them to be. When we stopped trying to fit a mold and instead built learning around them, joy returned to our days.

The Privilege of Learning Together

One of the most surprising gifts of homeschooling has been how often I’ve had to say, “I don’t know—let’s find out together.” And you know what? That’s holy ground.

There is power in walking humbly beside our children, not ahead of them with all the answers. Some of our most precious memories were born in these simple, side-by-side moments of discovery.

I’m convinced now that lifelong learning begins when we model curiosity and vulnerability.

Tools, Not Taskmasters

For years, I thought curriculum had the final say. If we skipped pages, I felt guilty. If we didn’t finish the book, I felt like I failed.

But grace began to peel that pressure away.

Curriculum is a tool—not a taskmaster. It’s there to serve the learning, not control it. Our homeschool came alive when I started asking, “Is this serving my child’s heart?” instead of “Are we on track?”

Sometimes the best learning happens when you set the book down and follow the spark instead.

Embracing Our Weaknesses

I used to worry that my gaps—math anxiety, messy handwriting, inconsistent planning—would hurt my kids. But something unexpected happened: in those very places of weakness, their strengths started to shine.

When I said, “I’m not good at this—can you help?” they stepped in with joy. When I failed, I modeled repentance and resilience. That’s not failure. That’s formation.

God isn’t asking me to be perfect—He’s asking me to be faithful. And that includes letting my children see my need for Him.

Living, Not Just Schooling

I used to think I had to “make everything educational.” But now I know: life is the curriculum.

The best learning has come in the garden, on the trail, over dinner, during breakdowns and breakthroughs. It’s in whispered prayers, spontaneous baking, library stacks, and quiet car rides.

Those are the moments they’ll remember. Those are the ones I treasure, too.

The Heart of What Matters

If I could choose only one outcome, it wouldn’t be Ivy League admissions or a stellar transcript. It would be this: that we still want to be together.

Because love is the soil where all true learning grows. And if, at the end of this long road, we’ve built a home where hearts are safe and seen—that’s the greatest success of all.

What I Wish I Could Tell My Younger Self

I wish I could sit beside my younger self—all anxious and eager and trying so hard—and whisper gently:

You don’t have to prove anything.

You’re not behind. You’re not inadequate. You’re building something beautiful, one ordinary day at a time. Trust the Lord. Trust your child. Trust the process.

Learning is not a race. It’s a relationship. And His timing is always kind.

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Join a Community That Gets It

If any of these words felt like a balm to your heart, I’d love to invite you into our Rooted Minds Learning Community.

It’s a place for families like yours—families walking this sacred, sometimes stumbling path of home education with grace, vision, and flexibility. For $15/month, you’ll have access to family-centered courses, gentle support, and resources that fit your life, not control it.

We’re not here to tell you what to do—we’re here to walk with you as you discover how God is shaping your family through learning.

Whether you’re just beginning or deep in the middle, you don’t have to walk alone.

Come grow with us at Rooted Minds.
Let’s keep learning, laughing, and leaning into grace—together.