Why I Chose to Homeschool My Autistic Children (And No, It Wasn't Because of a Crisis)

"There was no meltdown moment, no scandal, no emergency. Just a deep knowing: my children deserved more than what was on offer."

Let me begin by setting the record straight: I didn’t pull my children from school because of some dramatic or catastrophic event. There was no final straw, no furious march into the principal’s office, no system collapse.

I chose to homeschool my autistic children simply because I believed they deserved better.

And by “better,” I don’t mean more worksheets, stricter routines, or louder bells. I mean better in the sense of humanity. Better in compassion. Better in flexibility, in understanding, in room to breathe and be.

A System Not Built for My Children

My children, like many autistic kids, don’t fit into a neat little box. They don’t respond well to rigid schedules or abstract rules enforced without context. They’re deep thinkers, feelers, creators—and the school system wasn’t designed for that.

Sure, there are well-meaning teachers out there—heroes, really—but even the best of them are working inside a system that, in many ways, simply doesn’t work for children like mine.

“I believe children aren’t meant to be controlled; they’re meant to be guided—with patience, love, and a whole lot of grace.”

In traditional classrooms, kids are told when they can speak, when they can eat, when they can think creatively (spoiler: usually just during 'art' time), and when they're allowed to use the toilet. And if they don’t conform? They’re labeled. Disciplined. Sometimes even medicated.

I looked at that reality and said, “Not for my babies.”

The Real Reason: Love, Not Lack

It wasn’t fear that drove me to homeschool. It was love.

I didn’t want strangers—no matter how qualified—determining what was “normal” or “acceptable” for my children. I didn’t want their self-worth tied to grades or their creativity squeezed into standardized test bubbles.

Most importantly, I didn’t want them growing up thinking they couldn’t ask questions. Or that their imagination was a liability. Or that respect is only reserved for those who hold a clipboard.

“Respect goes both ways. And I’m here to teach my children that they can still be respectful—even when they are disrespected.”

Raising More Than Students: Raising Good Humans

As parents, we’re not just raising students—we're raising citizens, leaders, listeners, and lovers of life. It’s our responsibility—not the government’s, not the district’s, not a textbook’s—to model what that looks like.

In our home, learning isn’t separate from life. Cooking turns into a math lesson. A walk in the garden becomes a science class. Story time is a dive into empathy, language, and imagination. And every moment becomes a chance to model kindness, courage, and character.

"In our homeschool, creativity isn’t confined to one hour a week—it’s the atmosphere we breathe."

I teach my children that it's okay to feel deeply. It's okay to pause. It's okay to ask why—even if the answer isn’t obvious. Especially then.

I also teach them that respect isn’t conditional. It’s a principle we uphold, even when others don’t. Especially when others don’t.

A Safe Space for Authentic Growth

Homeschooling has allowed us to build a rhythm that suits them, not the other way around. No shame. No rush. No comparisons.

We celebrate progress, not perfection. We give space for meltdowns and victories alike. And we honour who they are now—not just who the world wants them to be someday.

“Autistic children don’t need fixing. They need freedom. They need understanding. They need parents who believe in them.”

There’s something incredibly sacred about watching your child discover their passions without pressure or judgment. About seeing them thrive not in spite of their differences, but because of them.

Final Thoughts: It's Not the Easy Way, But It's the Right Way (for Us)

This path isn’t easy. Some days are hard, chaotic, and exhausting. But every day is worth it. Because every day I get to witness growth—not just academically, but emotionally and spiritually.

There are moments of doubt, sure. But not once have I regretted choosing this life. Because it is a life full of intention, freedom, and love.

And in a world that often tells our children they must earn their worth, I want mine to know this:

You are already worthy. You are already enough. You are already loved—just as you are.