A small but growing portion of American children were home-schooled before the pandemic hit — almost 1.7 million children, according to the most recent national data. Families choose to home-school for a diverse and highly personal array of reasons, from a disenchantment with mainstream academics, to a desire to pass on specific cultural values. Here are nine families from across the United States (and one in Canada) with their home-schooling stories.
What home-schooling looks like:
- A co-op for Black and multiracial families ‘de-schools’ children.
- With few public school options, a mom of five home-schools.
- Frustrated with a school, a mother turns to home-schooling.
- A Brooklyn collective teaches pro-Black and African-based lessons.
- A program allows for a flexible schedule for a child actor.
- Home-schooling keeps her kids safe from shootings, a mother says.
- A family reconnects with their values by exposure and experience.
- Worldschoolers tap into their natural curiosity.
- A Mennonite family wants to keep kids away from bad influences.
Cambridge, Mass.
A co-op for Black and multiracial families ‘de-schools’ children.
When her son was 4, Ashley Herring stopped sending him to the Montessori program near their home in Cambridge, Mass. The academics at the school weren’t an issue, but Herring worried that her son, Lamont Herring Seidel, wasn’t learning enough about himself. “The teachers looked at you with glassy eyes when you said ‘What’s the antiracism work? How are you talking about queerness and ableism?’ It was all masked in love and kindness,” Herring said. “That’s not helping Lamont be safe in the world.”
Herring, 43, is a teacher, with two decades of experience in elementary and middle school classrooms. Around that same time, she was questioning her own role as an educator. In the Boston charter school where she worked, the culture prioritized conformity and obedience, she said. “Straight lines, silent hallways, detentions for breathing,” she said, describing the place.
Last summer, Herring and Rhea Gibson, a former elementary-school music teacher who has three Black sons, began planning their own home-school co-op, which they called Blackyard Learning Community. Herring left her job and now works full-time as a co-facilitator of learning alongside Gibson. They don’t use the word “teacher” and eschew hierarchies typically found in schools. The co-op includes six boys from four Black and multiracial families. One child is 11 and the others are between the ages of 5 and 8; Lamont is the youngest.
Herring uses “deschooling” to describe the co-op’s philosophy. They are rethinking what and how young people learn, and the pace at which they do it. “We wanted to make it clear that we were on a different path, and we were getting away from ‘math hour,’” she said. Instead, Herring and Gibson emphasized the math skills needed to build a complex structure with Legos or make a purchase at the neighborhood store.
Before the stay-at-home orders, the group took weekly field trips on “Worldly Wednesdays.” They spent two days a week in Herring and her partner’s home and two days at a nearby church that offered space for free. On Fridays, they did chores, such as washing the linens they had used that week. They also spent the day preparing a meal and eating it together. “Things they should know for life,” Herring said.
The boys take turns leading each morning’s group check-in, then some might construct and play with a marble run, while others do online reading and math programs using laptops.
The co-op follows Cambridge public schools’ calendar. With the first year complete, Herring is happy with the results. “I see him living much more radically,” she said of Lamont. He asks peers if he can hug them, and he asks new friends for their preferred pronouns. Herring appreciates that the families involved share the same values. “We can talk through things with dignity and a different kind of love and respect because of what we decided on together,” she said. “We’re accountable to each other. We’re accountable to the young people, to Black folks.”
The hardest part is trusting herself, she said. She’s wondered whether they’re doing enough science, and if the reading curriculum is appropriately rigorous. She’s had to remind herself to focus on the learning that is happening rather than on what’s not yet developed, Herring said. “The way he is able to tap into treating people in their fullest dignity is just as important to me as him being able to form his letters.”
— Dani McClain
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Portland, Ore.
With few public school options, a mom of five home-schools.
Karen Young, who lives in Portland, Ore., with her five children, started home-schooling in her search for, of all things, freedom.
She first began home-schooling her oldest son, now 20, when her family lived in Sicily, Italy, in 2004. Her then-husband was in the military and there was only one school on the base. They wanted to travel, so they decided to home-school and have “the freedom to take school on the road.” Because her son was only in kindergarten, she remembers thinking, “Let’s home-school and kind of play by our own rules.” They did that for about a year.
As the years passed, and one child turned into a brood of five, Young, 43, found herself returning to home-schooling off and on when she wasn’t satisfied with the public school options in her district. When she was living in Lexington Park, Md., in 2009, she opted to do things her own way again with her second and third children, who were 10 and 8 at the time.
“Originally, I had them in a Montessori school, which I was fairly happy with, but we got to the point where it wasn’t financially feasible anymore, and I didn’t like our one public school choice,” Young said. With her eldest happy in public high school, she pulled her third and fourth-graders out to home-school for a couple of years until they got into the local charter school. “We were happy with that option,” she said.
Her last experience with home-schooling happened when her family moved to Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn in 2018. “Everyone went back to school because I went back to work. It was not feasible for me to school the little ones,” she said.
Her 14-year-old daughter had a hard time transitioning from “the rest of suburban America to going to an inner-city school.” Young said her daughter was bullied and physically attacked in seventh grade, and although “her grades were great,” it was time for a change.
She decided to home-school her for eighth grade during the 2019-20 school year, even though she was working. Because her daughter was “self-motivated and self-directed,” Young said she could rely on her to guide herself. Young enrolled her daughter in Oak Meadow School, a virtual school, and paid extra so that her daughter could have the support of a teacher who she could email throughout the year.
“Oak Meadow was all books — there was no online. It was not what we’ve been doing for the last few months, with remote learning, which I hated,” Young said.
In March, Young lost her job as the manager of a cinema department for an independent theater in Brooklyn. The family relocated to Portland this month.
Young has mixed feelings about her time home-schooling. She remembers taking fun car rides, learning history via audiobooks on the road, and having the flexibility to drive her daughter back and forth to “this really intense ballet school” an hour and a half away, which otherwise would have been impossible. But she also remembers “a little bit of a grind aspect to it.”
“I got to enjoy my kids in a way that I wouldn’t have gotten to had they gone to school, but I was also up till 1 in the morning grading and planning for the next day, a good four days a week,” she said. “You’re always on. That can get a little grinding.”
— Alex Van Buren
Port St. Lucie, Fla.
Frustrated with a school, a mother turns to home-schooling.
When Diana Fox was working as a student teacher in college, she met plenty of teachers whom she admired. In different systems, she recalls thinking, they might have provided great educations for kids. She remembers one of her mentors saying to her, “They don’t pay me to educate. They pay me to graduate.”
After Fox, 38, had children herself, she knew she would keep them out of Florida’s public schools. For elementary school, she sent them to a small Christian private school where she also taught. The setting was intimate, but Fox quickly became wary of the administration; a new principal didn’t seem quite up to the task of planning and hiring in the thoughtful ways she had hoped for, and she grew frustrated with the inconsistency of the curriculum, she said. When her kids, now 16 and 14, were in fifth and fourth grade, she decided to home-school. Her husband works 12-hour shifts and this would become her full-time job.
Fox said she loves home-schooling. “Ten out of 10,” she rated it. She and the kids make their own schedule. Her son, a late sleeper, often doesn’t start on schoolwork until lunchtime. Her daughter is usually done by then. They foster newborn kittens that often require round-the-clock care, which Fox has embedded into the curriculum schedule; some weeks they’re up every hour to feed the kittens and can take time off during the days to recuperate. And particularly since the Parkland shooting, Fox has felt relieved that “if anyone has to take a bullet for my kids, it will be me.”
On Mondays, Fox drives them 45 minutes to their private music lessons; Fridays are math days; and on Wednesdays they go to a co-op school, populated mostly by a religious group. Fox, who is no longer religious and considers herself a progressive, has taught her kids to respect the opinions of others but not be afraid to express their own, too.
Her kids do science labs and take history and literature classes at the co-op school. They do this for three and a half hours on Wednesdays. They complete most of the work assigned on Thursdays. They seldom do more than two or three hours of schoolwork most days and are able to easily finish the curriculum they find online each year between early September and late May.
If the kids have questions, Fox often searches for the subject online until she finds a tutorial she likes, then offers it to them. Her son still has the same three friends he met in his elementary school. Her daughter, who is much more social, has friends from the co-op school as well as from a dance class.
As a child, Fox said she had a handful of teachers growing up who really made a difference in her life. When she first set out to become a teacher, she wanted that same impact “on at least one kid.” She’s managed instead, she said, to have it on two.
— Lynn Steger Strong
West Orange, N.J.
A Brooklyn collective teaches pro-Black and African-based lessons.
The school search process can be one of the most grueling and confusing journeys for a parent, particularly parents of color. The ghosts of redlining and segregation, as well as biased and incomplete curriculum models, present real problems for parents who would like to rest assured that their children are being offered a complete and culturally responsive education. A broad swath of factors — district zoning, family income, accessibility, commute times, to name just a few — can shut students out of an institution where they might otherwise thrive.
Six years ago, Kendall Albert, 38, a father of six in West Orange, N.J., decided to take matters into his own hands.
Originally from St. Lucia, Albert grew up in an Afro-centric, majority Black educational system, which made his move to the United States in 2001 and enrollment in master’s program in education at New York University much more difficult than he had anticipated. He said that assimilating to a society he found to be rife with racism and issues of identity constituted culture shock, particularly as a father and high school science teacher to mostly Black public school students. Albert said he found the educational system in New York “demeaning.”
“After being in the school system, watching the young Black men, inspiring them, talking to them, seeing their issues,” Albert said he decided to create his own curriculum.
He founded the Light and Peace Learning Center, a home-school collective in Brooklyn in 2013.
Albert said he was not satisfied with the curriculum and the disciplinary model at the public school that his then 5-year-old son attended, so he pulled him out. It was crucial to Albert that his son be exposed to the kind of positive, pro-Black and African-based curriculum that he had grown up with as a child.
Before the pandemic, Light and Peace, run cooperatively with about 15 other families at its height, offered the kind of teaching he felt was sorely missing from neighborhood schools. “I would plan classes and teach them from an African perspective,” Albert said. The collective offered languages such as Amharic, the official language of Ethiopia, and Kemetic yoga, from ancient Egypt. The collective, he said, “focused more on the ideology of kinship and origin from creation from Africa, and knowing history from there.”
Before making the transition to remote learning because of the pandemic, Light and Peace ran its collective out of a building in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn, where the students would gather every day for instruction that Albert had planned. Albert, some parents of the students and members of the community taught the lessons and shared their knowledge or special skills, such as African dance and creative writing. He also offered after-school homework help for children in the community who attended other schools nearby. Along with activities like martial arts and chess, Light and Peace also ran a daily “eco-adventures” summer camp in which Albert would take students and parents on botanical tours of the city, where students would learn to identify different plant species.
Now, Light and Peace is run exclusively online. Albert tutors and teaches chess to the kids. But the collective mostly serves as a resource for parents, offering them webinars on how to effectively develop their own academic curriculum and how to work with local community organizations to enrich the children’s learning at home. Albert moved to New Jersey in 2018 and is pursuing a doctoral degree in education leadership at North Central University. His graduate course load has required him to step away from teaching full time, he said. He still works with four students online, in addition to teaching his own six children, whose ages range from 2 to 11.
Most of the families learned about the Light and Peace collective because they were already connected to Albert in some way, either as a friend or a friend of a friend. “It was more like a personal type of home-schooling collective,” Albert said. “Because my children were involved, I kept it real personal.”
When Albert completes his doctorate, he plans to move away from the home-school collective model and establish Light and Peace as a school for African-centered learning.
— Carla Bruce-Eddings
Los Angeles
A program allows for a flexible schedule for a child actor.
For some parents, school shutdowns have been a crisis. For Amy Anderson, it’s just a return to what she’s done for almost a decade. Her daughter, Aubrey Anderson-Emmons, 13, better known as Lily on the ABC sitcom “Modern Family,” is one of hundreds of show business kids who have to get creative with education.
Some child actors are schooled by on-set tutors paid for by their production companies, some go-to special schools and others are home-schooled by their parents. Anderson has tried many kinds of schooling for Aubrey since she was first cast at age 4.
“You name a type of schooling and she’s done it,” Anderson, 47, said. Aubrey was in a private preschool, then did part-time studio schooling, then entered a public school in first grade, but it didn’t work with her schedule. “It was just too hard to miss a third to a half of a school day,” Anderson said.
She heard from other on-set parents about Oak Park Independent School, or O.P.I.S., a public school with an independent home-school program in California designed for “kids who work,” often child performers or athletes. The program is free for any student in the wider Los Angeles area.
Curriculum in hand, Anderson home-schooled her daughter over the dinner table when she wasn’t on set. They followed the traditional school year and she hired tutors a few hours per week.
Because “Modern Family” would wrap production each spring, Anderson and Aubrey traveled when most schools were in session. “We can go to Disneyland in the middle of the week. We can do all the work early, and do special things together.”
A full school day for Aubrey was about three hours. “Because you’re not spending part of the day commuting and eating lunch and changing clothes for gym class, it’s pretty efficient,” Anderson said.
Still, the school has a science fair, field trips, writing and math labs for the older kids, and even a student council. As the years went on, Aubrey worked more independently — participating in writers’ workshops over video chats with classmates. She competed in horse shows and did ballroom dancing.
The online teachers were accommodating. “They know that many of their kids are working in extraordinary situations — on location as actors, training for international sports competitions, on tour as performers,” Anderson said. “So they give them as normal of a school experience as they can.”
Both Anderson and Aubrey sometimes found schoolwork challenging. “I did fine, but I didn’t enjoy school,” said Anderson, who is a comedian and actress. She and her daughter struggled with algebra and multiplication tables. “There was this light bulb — that we have the same brain.”
“Modern Family” finished shooting its final season last year, and last fall Aubrey enrolled in an in-person private school. Now, in seventh grade, she was eager to have peers and friends — and it went smoothly for the four months until the pandemic hit. Now Anderson is back at the dining room table, writing a review of a music album to fulfill a reading and writing module.
“It’s been a turbulent year for everyone,” Anderson said. “But at least I knew what I was getting into.”
— Katharine Gammon
Boston
Home-schooling keeps her kids safe from shootings, a mother says.
Sending our kids to school this fall has become inextricably tied to a fear of what they may be exposed to. But for many parents, safety concerns were top of mind even before the pandemic.
The National Center for Education Statistics asked parents of home-schooled children in 2016 to identify the most important reason for educating their kids at home. The most popular was “a concern for the school environment, such as safety, drugs or peer pressure.”
When Elisabeth Miller, 38, decided to home-school her kids in 2018, she considered a lot of reasons. Among them was her ability to limit their exposure to dangerous situations — one in particular.
“It’s frightening how common school shootings seem to have become,” said Miller, who lives in a suburb of Boston. Since 1970, researchers have recorded a total of more than 1,300 cases of gunfire at K-12 schools in the United States, according to an analysis by The New York Times last year.. In 2018, The Washington Post calculated that in the two decades since the Columbine High massacre in 1999, more than 240,000 children at primary, secondary and college campuses had experienced gun violence at school.
But along with reducing their threat of danger, Miller said, home-schooling puts her in charge of how her children, ages 7, 5 and 3, are confronted with that threat. Nearly all U.S. public schools — 95 percent in 2015 and 2016 — conduct regular active shooter safety drills, which can often be traumatic for students.
“I hate the idea of kindergartners doing lockdown drills,” she said. “I don’t want my kids going to school every day worried that someone’s going to bring a gun into class.”
Home-schooling allows her to help calm that worry, by controlling how her children are made aware of the possible dangers.
“There are hard things to talk about, but I want to talk about them in my home, on my terms,” she said. “It’s not that I’m scared. It’s that I don’t want school to feel like a scary place for my kids.”
As part of her children’s home-based curriculum, Miller incorporates frequent lessons on personal safety, including what to do in the event of a fire or an intruder. “If something happens, I want my children to feel like they’re in control and know what to expect,” she said.
Miller said fear is not the main reason she home-schools. “I don’t keep my kids home to shelter them. I know they have to be able to live in the real world and they’re going to be exposed to scary things wherever they are.”
But, she said, if she can reduce anxiety around that exposure, it helps “open up more space for learning and creativity and play.”
Miller, who was home-schooled through eighth grade, added that the decision to home-school “was just a really logical, non-intimidating solution.”
Though she and her husband plan to assess the decision on an annual basis, for now they’re happy having their children at home
“Obviously, I don’t think you ever eliminate all risk,” she said. “But the one thing kids don’t need in their education is worry.”
— Holly Burns
Sooke, British Columbia
A family reconnects with their values by exposure and experience.
Karissa Parish wasn’t raised in the tradition of her people, the Haida nation. Her grandmother, who attended a government-funded cultural assimilation boarding school like so many other Indigenous children in Canada, married a white man and her family lived a nontraditional life off the reservation. But Parish’s generation has reclaimed its Indigenous Haida identity, which is a big part of how and why she home-schools in the small coastal town of Sooke, British Columbia.
Home education allows her family to embrace Haida values, Parish, 39, said. “I let my kids ‘unschool’ or learn through experience and exposure for the first 10 years,” she said. “That’s a traditional Haida method.”
Parish’s curriculum is also multigenerational, since Haida children are raised collectively by extended family. In Haida, which only a few dozen people still speak, the word for “mother” and “maternal aunt” is the same. Her mother, a keen gardener and local expert in native plants, passes that knowledge on to her grandchildren.
Parish’s journey into home-schooling began in 2008, when she was pregnant with her second child and her eldest was entering kindergarten. She looked at the steep hill between her house and the school and thought of the winter ice and the baby to come. “I didn’t think I could handle it,” she remembered. Home-schooling seemed a better option.
That simple decision blossomed into a 12-year career as she raised five children, now ages 7 to 17, navigated a messy divorce and launched a business as a divorce coach. When I met Parish on my own maternity leave in 2012, she was known as a “super mom” in our community, giving advice on everything from breastfeeding to sleep. Being a home educator only cemented her expertise in our eyes.
“Once I dipped my toe into it, I found home education gave us an incredible amount of freedom,” Parish said. Her kids can learn about what excites them independent of the “one point of view from a government published textbook,” she said. “We can explore issues like Black Lives Matter, Indigenous issues, from a broad place.”
Parish enrolled her kids in the Heritage Christian Online School, or H.C.O.S., which offers a support teacher to guide parents in creating curriculums and evaluating students. The school had particularly appealing resources for her child with special needs, Parish said.
On a typical day, Parish’s kids rise between 9 a.m. and 10 a.m. After a few hours of piano, reading, writing and math in the morning, they often explore nature and science through projects like bird watching. She said the kids appreciate the freedom of just a few hours of formal instruction. Her eldest opted for a traditional school starting in seventh grade. Another tried school for a year in fifth grade but was overwhelmed and frustrated by the chaos in the classroom, and returned to home-school.
Parish also takes advantage of community-based programming and online classes, particularly for specialty subjects, like languages, visual arts and science. She said this variety is particularly useful for “reluctant learners,” who would rather whine and evade than buckle down.
“The most wonderful thing is that you’re home with your kids all the time. And the worst thing is that you’re home, with your kids, all the time,” Parish laughed. “A lot more parents may understand that now.”
— Nicola Jones
Vancouver, Wash.
Worldschoolers tap into their natural curiosity.
Angela Maguire had no problem with her sons’ education back in 2017. Her two boys were going to a progressive, independent school with no grades and plenty of outdoor time in their hometown Vancouver, Wash. — a suburb just north of Portland across the Washington-Oregon border.
It was her life she couldn’t stand.
“I had been a yearbook rep for a publishing company and I was working tons, 60-hour weeks, and the kids were always complaining that they never saw me,” Maguire, 45, said.
This chronic stress was business as usual until, one day, it occurred to her that she could stop. In 2017, Maguire quit her job of 17 years as a yearbook rep and began pursuing an evergreen fantasy: What if her family left everything behind and traveled the world?
By August 2019, the family had sold their house and many of their possessions, and set off to be both unschoolers and worldschoolers.
Unschooling is an educational movement based on the idea that children learn best when their education is self-directed. Worldschooling works from the belief that the best way to learn is by interacting with the world. Many worldschoolers also unschool, allowing families to travel to tap into their kids’ natural curiosity.
The Maguires started worldschooling in La Herradura, Spain, where Angela discovered that her new approach to education conflicted with her instinct to structure their days. Before long, this structure became a burden.
“It somehow turned into me making these check boxes,” Maguire said, and it wasn’t going well. Her sons, Oliver and Jamison, then ages 9 and 7, “resisted doing their work with groans, and my relationship with them started to look like what it did at home.”
Maguire decided to make Mondays “choice day” and her kids loved it, she said. Her kids had full control over what they were learning. If there was a mutually appealing historical site nearby, they could decide to spend a whole day there.
Choice Monday soon became every day, and breakfast is now followed with “How do you want your learning to look today?” Her husband, Christopher, a software developer who has continued to work while they’re abroad, joins in when he can.
So far, the Maguires have traveled to the Netherlands, Spain, England, Bulgaria and Morocco. School tends to include a mix of creative projects, reading, math and board games, mixed with video games to socialize with friends back home. Some outside-the-house activities are more structured, like visits to the British Museum, and some are more informal, like trips to the park.
Maguire said that even simple activities, like navigating the local playground, come with lessons in “socializing and cooperation and perseverance.”
The cost of worldschooling — a couple of tablets, online subscriptions, plane tickets and Airbnbs — are less than their old mortgage and car payments, Maguire said. Emotionally, the kids are “so happy!”
The hardest part of unschooling for Maguire has been getting out of her kids’ way.
“I’m having to completely transition my approach with them — to not just focusing on getting something done, which was the essence of our relationship at home, but to stepping back and watching and supporting and encouraging them,” she said. Maguire said she’s convinced her sons are getting a good education based on research and the boys’ responses.
Still, the expectations of their old life, the one they may or may not return to depending on their desires and the state of the world, continue to creep up.
“It’s hard, but I just have to remember to trust, and let go of my fear.”
— Elissa Strauss
Myakka City, Fla.
A Mennonite family wants to keep kids away from bad influences.
For many parents, schooling is about exposing their children to the wider world. For Marilyn Byler, a Mennonite from the conservative heartland of Lancaster, Pa., home-schooling her three sons is about protecting them from the world’s unwanted influences.
In 2009, Byler moved with her husband to Sarasota, Fla., where a vibrant Amish and Mennonite resort community, called Pinecraft, lives. They later moved to Myakka City. But Mennonite schools are harder to find there, she said. The only school run by her church was an hour away.
And the nearby public school was out of the question for her. Secular schools would lead to unwanted influences, including teachings about evolution, and entertainment, such as secular music and video games, that might contradict their Christian beliefs, Byler, 40, said.
A child is “like a tender plant,” she said. “We would prefer to keep them in a more sheltered environment and be able to teach them and help them to grow properly before they’re faced with a lot of big things in life that they have to decide against.”
Like the Amish, conservative Mennonites maintain a separation between themselves and the rest of the world. Notably, they dress differently. Women in more orthodox groups, like the one Byler belongs to, wear dresses and head coverings; women in more liberal groups wear pants.
Unlike the Amish, conservative Mennonites can have electricity in their homes, drive cars and use modern amenities. Mennonites often have their own private schools that teach a curriculum that aligns with how they interpret the Bible.
Byler is in her fifth year as a home-school teacher. She said one of her biggest reasons for avoiding public schools is because the theory of evolution is taught.
To embrace evolution is to say that humans descended from something apelike, rather than by the hands of God, she said. That’s an irreconcilable problem for Byler. And she has taught her sons, ages 9, 7 and 5, accordingly.
“We’re OK with them knowing that stuff and knowing what people think about it,” Byler said of evolutionary theory. “But in the context of the safety of our teaching.”
Byler uses a combination of DVDs and personal teaching for her sons. Her family doesn’t watch TV in their home, though they indulge on occasion in Christian-themed movies (Mennonites avoid entertainment such as non-Christian music, TV and video games.)
Home-schooling, she said, also helps ensure her sons spend time with friends who share their values.
“We’re not against befriending our neighbors,” Byler said. “But the day-to-day influence — there are things like video games, videos, TV, those things that a lot of the kids in public schools would be exposed to, the kind of games, the kind of things that they talk about — that we don’t want ours to be exposed to.”
So they gather with families who share their values.
Every other week, Byler’s children play kickball or softball with other home-schooled Mennonite children. On alternate weeks, they join a Mennonite-led singing group.
There may be less personal time for her and her husband but the benefits of teaching their children at home outweigh the challenges, Byler said.
“We’re building a strong foundation,” she said. “We would love if they stay in the Mennonite circle, and the most important thing for us is their relationship with Jesus.”
— Steve Fisher
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