I said I could never homeschool. We went for it anyway. Here's what happened. 🎒

My neighbor — a former teacher who homeschools her own boys — recently reminded me that when we first met, I told her: "I'm not a teacher. I could never homeschool my daughter."

That was two and a half years ago. Last week, we finished our first year of homeschooling.

Last spring I told you we were going to go for it. Here's how it went.

Harper, for her part, insists I didn't actually homeschool her. And honestly? She has a point.

We found RISE Learning Studio in Lithia, Florida — technically a tutoring center, but in practice the backbone of our entire year. I introduced you to RISE last spring when we were just getting started, nervous and hopeful. Harper attended core instruction two days a week for three hours each, with a third day focused on social-emotional learning and a fourth day reserved for field trips and park outings. Class size: nine students, kindergarten through third grade, including one of her best friends from pre-k.

The teachers — experienced educators who left traditional schooling because they knew it could be better — handled curriculum, homework, and her end-of-year portfolio. That took an enormous weight off my shoulders. Her teacher in particular had a gift for reading Harper, meeting her exactly where she was, and drawing out the best in her with a patience and grace I can only aspire to.

For a complete homeschool newcomer with zero teaching experience, having that structure wasn't a crutch. It was the whole thing.

Harper has what we lovingly call a "neuro-spicy" brain. She has an autism diagnosis, though she doesn't exhibit many of the more obvious markers — she's intelligent, but comes with big emotional reactions, social struggles, rigid thinking patterns, sensory sensitivities, and a nervous system that goes into fight or flight more easily than most. A significant part of our job as her parents is keeping that nervous system as regulated as possible, every single day.

Harper has taught me over the years that a hard authoritative approach simply does not work for her. So I've learned to take a more laissez-faire approach — capitalizing on the moments when she's motivated, and not forcing it when she's not. We'd fall behind on homework for two weeks and catch up in a day or two. It went against every instinct I'd absorbed from traditional school culture, and I felt the judgment — from other moms, from society, but mostly from my own intrusive thoughts.

Slowly. Painfully. I've learned to trust my gut when it comes to my daughter.

She's on Florida's Unique Ability Scholarship, which means standardized testing isn't required for her. I knew she was happier. I knew our relationship had repaired. I knew I made the right choice, but what I didn’t know was if my low-pressure, laidback approach was failing her academically. Getting her to the test at all felt like a win — she was so anxious she didn't even sit for the reading portion at the start of the year.

So when the scores came back, I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

No pressure. No piles of homework. No long hours in a classroom. And she scored in the 99th percentile in math and 89th percentile in reading for first graders nationally.

The scores weren't what made me proud. Watching Harper become more confident, curious, and comfortable in her own skin did that. The scores simply reassured me that we hadn't traded academic growth for a slower, more intentional childhood. We got both.

The longer I've parented Harper, the more I've realized how little we know about what's happening inside another family. Every child carries a different set of strengths, challenges, fears, and needs. Most parents are doing the best they can with information nobody else gets to see.

Beyond RISE, the highlights that made our year:

Library trips, constantly. Field trips, frequently. Fostering kittens (an education in itself). Gymnastics twice a week, karate twice a week, horseback riding once a week, Farm School on Fridays. Working when her brain was primed for it, and not when it wasn't. Protein at breakfast, always.

Two standout moments were the semester symposiums through RISE, where Harper got to present her big culmination projects. Watching her show off what she'd learned — on her own terms, in her own way — was everything.

And then there was the garden.

Two years ago, Harper and I spent hours digging up our first sweet potato harvest — staying out past dark, using flashlights, calling out every time we found one hiding in the dirt. She looked up at me at some point and said, "This is fun. It's like finding treasure!"

That moment is why I garden. This year it became a real practice for both of us — growing food, cooking it, understanding where it comes from and what we're capable of doing ourselves. It's one of the threads I want to pull much further next year.

More learning games, earlier. We picked up a few at a local thrift store recently and the difference is remarkable — learning without friction, just sitting together having fun. I'd also build in more meaningful chores and contributions around the house. Limiting screens did this organically — Harper started following me around, helping with laundry, asking to do the dishes, gravitating toward the garden. But I want to make it more intentional next year.

I’ve noticed she really lights up when she gets the chance to help in a meaningful way.

Harper heads into second grade with the same teacher, which is a genuine relief. Her close friend is moving to a larger program for more social activity — and when I asked Harper if she ever wished she had more classmates, she didn't miss a beat: "Of course not."

Every kid is different. Find the fit that lets yours thrive, and don't let your own assumptions about what's possible stop you. I almost did — and I'm so glad my neighbor reminded me of that.

Next year we're leaning into real-life skills, traditions from around the world, more gardening and composting, pet care, entrepreneurship, and the scientific method. We're going to keep experimenting and I’m excited to see that spicy, silly personality SHINE! 🌞

Till next time!

xo, Alyssa

Know a parent who’s homeschool-curious? Send this to them. 💌

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