I have suffered with imposter syndrome for the last 15 years; feeling like I have somehow lied or tricked my way into getting a seat at the tables where I find myself seated, not being able to feel truly proud of my own social, academic and career accomplishments despite my childhood and upbringing.
Content Note: This testimonial contains detailed descriptions of physical and emotional abuse, and instances of ableism and queerphobia.
I was raised and homeschooled by fundamentalist Christians in south Louisiana for the majority of my childhood, later ‘graduating’ in Texas. Louisiana law required yearly submission of coursework to prove you are educating your children, but this information can easily be fabricated, and often was. I recall knowing other homeschooled children in my church who were 10-12 years old, and they did not yet know how to read or write, but they could recite the Christian Bible.
The quality of our education was contingent on whether our mother was naturally good at that subject or not, resulting in my strongest subjects being English and Grammar and my weakest being Science and Mathematics. In fear of disappointing our mother and incurring her wrath and frustration, we would find the answer books in the house and cheat. This resulted in physical and verbal abuse from our mother, and physical abuse later by our father who was forced to belt us through his own tears.
The emotional, physical, and psychological toll this took on my sister and me runs deep.
We moved to Texas in what should have been my junior year, but due to my mother wanting to get on with her life, she made it my senior year. She failed to research Texas homeschool laws and brought whatever textbooks and subjects we had from the prior year. Three months before my sister and I were to be “graduating”, she read that the state of Texas requires Chemistry, Health, and a few other classes. I did not take those classes and my sister who moved back to Louisiana with her then-boyfriend did not take those classes, but our grocery store notarized transcripts that listed these subjects, along with some fudged grades from tests and subjects that were never taken.
The ‘beginning of the end’ for me was when I got tricked into going to community college (another story for another time). I sat in classes with kids two years younger than me and learned about internment camps, evolution, actual ancient history that was not a bible story, and that remedial math was mostly full of people who had forgotten how to do math or had a learning disability, not very often filled with kids who never learned it. I learned what a GPA was, and that a room number like 202 or 404 meant it was on the second or fourth floor. I learned my worst fear was true – I did not know as much as the other kids my age and I had a long road to self-love, compassion, and pride.
I had to drop out after a year because my father had been laid off. I went back a year later, but the week before class I broke my knee. I was already deeply fearful that kids would find out I was uneducated, but being in a wheelchair made me physically more noticeable and I could not handle that. Also, the campus and classmates were not very wheelchair-friendly.I once sat outside an elevator for 30 minutes in a building that was only two floors, so I went home and convinced my parents that the school wasn’t wheelchair accessible and that I was in too great of pain to go to school. Really, I was afraid of failure and deeply depressed. I had come out to my mother in 2009. For a fundamentalist Christian Conservative family, it went as well as you can imagine.
I didn’t go back to school until 2013 after I had moved to Kalamazoo, MI, to be closer to the girl I had been dating for some time. My first semester there was what the news called a “snowpocalypse”. A young girl pulled out in front of me resulting in my car being completely totaled. I had to drop out of school again.
In 2015 I found myself in smaller town in Michigan where no matter where you lived, you were basically within walking distance to the university. I used to say, “It would take a piano falling out of a window to stop me from graduating.” I graduated with an undergraduate in Political Science and Public Policy in 2018.
I have suffered with imposter syndrome for the last 15 years; feeling like I have somehow lied or tricked my way into getting a seat at the tables where I find myself seated, not being able to feel truly proud of my own social, academic and career accomplishments despite my childhood and upbringing.
Homeschooling resulted in psychological, emotional and, at times, physical abuse and neglect, and there was no one outside of the homeschool community to help us. I want in any way I can to be the person I needed to advocate for me.
Declan was homeschooled in Louisiana from 1995-2007. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni, see our Community Voices page.
Declan: “I want in any way I can to be the person I needed to advocate for me”
I have suffered with imposter syndrome for the last 15 years; feeling like I have somehow lied or tricked my way into getting a seat at the tables where I find myself seated, not being able to feel truly proud of my own social, academic and career accomplishments despite my childhood and upbringing.
Content Note: This testimonial contains detailed descriptions of physical and emotional abuse, and instances of ableism and queerphobia.
I was raised and homeschooled by fundamentalist Christians in south Louisiana for the majority of my childhood, later ‘graduating’ in Texas. Louisiana law required yearly submission of coursework to prove you are educating your children, but this information can easily be fabricated, and often was. I recall knowing other homeschooled children in my church who were 10-12 years old, and they did not yet know how to read or write, but they could recite the Christian Bible.
The quality of our education was contingent on whether our mother was naturally good at that subject or not, resulting in my strongest subjects being English and Grammar and my weakest being Science and Mathematics. In fear of disappointing our mother and incurring her wrath and frustration, we would find the answer books in the house and cheat. This resulted in physical and verbal abuse from our mother, and physical abuse later by our father who was forced to belt us through his own tears.
The emotional, physical, and psychological toll this took on my sister and me runs deep.
We moved to Texas in what should have been my junior year, but due to my mother wanting to get on with her life, she made it my senior year. She failed to research Texas homeschool laws and brought whatever textbooks and subjects we had from the prior year. Three months before my sister and I were to be “graduating”, she read that the state of Texas requires Chemistry, Health, and a few other classes. I did not take those classes and my sister who moved back to Louisiana with her then-boyfriend did not take those classes, but our grocery store notarized transcripts that listed these subjects, along with some fudged grades from tests and subjects that were never taken.
The ‘beginning of the end’ for me was when I got tricked into going to community college (another story for another time). I sat in classes with kids two years younger than me and learned about internment camps, evolution, actual ancient history that was not a bible story, and that remedial math was mostly full of people who had forgotten how to do math or had a learning disability, not very often filled with kids who never learned it. I learned what a GPA was, and that a room number like 202 or 404 meant it was on the second or fourth floor. I learned my worst fear was true – I did not know as much as the other kids my age and I had a long road to self-love, compassion, and pride.
I had to drop out after a year because my father had been laid off. I went back a year later, but the week before class I broke my knee. I was already deeply fearful that kids would find out I was uneducated, but being in a wheelchair made me physically more noticeable and I could not handle that. Also, the campus and classmates were not very wheelchair-friendly.I once sat outside an elevator for 30 minutes in a building that was only two floors, so I went home and convinced my parents that the school wasn’t wheelchair accessible and that I was in too great of pain to go to school. Really, I was afraid of failure and deeply depressed. I had come out to my mother in 2009. For a fundamentalist Christian Conservative family, it went as well as you can imagine.
I didn’t go back to school until 2013 after I had moved to Kalamazoo, MI, to be closer to the girl I had been dating for some time. My first semester there was what the news called a “snowpocalypse”. A young girl pulled out in front of me resulting in my car being completely totaled. I had to drop out of school again.
In 2015 I found myself in smaller town in Michigan where no matter where you lived, you were basically within walking distance to the university. I used to say, “It would take a piano falling out of a window to stop me from graduating.” I graduated with an undergraduate in Political Science and Public Policy in 2018.
I have suffered with imposter syndrome for the last 15 years; feeling like I have somehow lied or tricked my way into getting a seat at the tables where I find myself seated, not being able to feel truly proud of my own social, academic and career accomplishments despite my childhood and upbringing.
Homeschooling resulted in psychological, emotional and, at times, physical abuse and neglect, and there was no one outside of the homeschool community to help us. I want in any way I can to be the person I needed to advocate for me.
Declan was homeschooled in Louisiana from 1995-2007. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni, see our Community Voices page.