“I was a homeschool poster child. When proponents tell skeptics about homeschool alums with soaring test scores, stellar credentials, and successful careers, I’m one of the examples they cite. After being home educated K—12 in California and Idaho, I pursued my passion—history—at an Ivy League college, graduating with highest honors and moving on to a Ph.D. program in the same field.”
I was a homeschool poster child. When proponents tell skeptics about homeschool alums with soaring test scores, stellar credentials, and successful careers, I’m one of the examples they cite. After being home educated K—12 in California and Idaho, I pursued my passion—history—at an Ivy League college, graduating with highest honors and moving on to a Ph.D. program in the same field. My always-homeschooled younger sister also excelled, getting a fine arts degree from a respected liberal arts college and using her skills to launch her own business. As children, we were both featured in more than one pro-homeschooling article, and I have heard from hometown friends that my story is sometimes still cited to defend homeschooling.
There is no real “however” to my personal narrative, no hidden dark side that I am about to disclose. I’ve identified some minor problems with my homeschooling experience, but overall, I’m immensely grateful for the supportive upbringing and solid academic foundation my parents gave me.
I support basic legal oversight of homeschooling precisely because I know what it took to make my experience a positive one. Growing up, I watched my mom spend her days planning lessons, scouring curriculum catalogues, piling our sagging shelves with books she purchased and borrowed, gleefully unveiling the latest math games and science experiments she’d found, organizing elaborate learning activities and field trips for us to do by ourselves and with other homeschooling families. She also found outside enrichment options for my sister and me, including choir, dance, figure skating, piano lessons, and volunteering. When I hit high school, she recognized her own limitations. Despite her B.A. in child development and my dad’s master’s degree in communications, she knew they couldn’t teach me everything—nor could I self-teach in all subjects—so she outsourced much of my later home education. I took the SAT in eighth grade to qualify for correspondence courses through Johns Hopkins University; learned French and calculus from co-op tutors; took online AP courses in English, history, and economics; and self-studied for other AP exams using prep books my parents purchased. All this demanded my parents’ patience, knowledge, dedication, financial resources, labor, and time. Even when I personally chose to go the extra mile—writing plays and short stories in my free time, self-studying for tests, painstakingly polishing college application essays—it was because my parents gave me the right resources and created the right environment, one in which learning seemed possible and lofty goals seemed reachable.
The law required my parents to do none of the things I’ve described. In California, we filed a yearly affidavit as a private school and made sure we completed a minimum number of “school” days (a rule no one outside our family enforced, and which we interpreted loosely). We knew other homeschooling families who did neither of these things and faced no consequences. In Idaho, one of the least regulated states for homeschooling, we didn’t have to notify anyone that we were homeschooling and didn’t have to meet any standards. In other words, my sister and I were invisible. All of my parents’ planning, researching, and resource acquisition—and all their efforts to make sure we were on grade level by having us take yearly standardized tests—were voluntary.
If all homeschooled students had the same experience that I had, then oversight would be unnecessary—though it still would not be detrimental, since my parents went way beyond anything that basic oversight would require. Indeed, growing up, I met many homeschooled peers with parents just as caring and competent as mine. Unfortunately, I also met families in which this was not the case. I knew bright homeschooled peers who struggled with basic math and spelling well after they should have mastered these skills, others who thrived in their younger years but in high school could not either be taught by their parents or self-teach and lacked the external support that I got, still others whose parents denied them college opportunities because of extremist ideologies. It’s only more recently that I’ve begun learning about the truly horrific cases of homeschool abuse (which tends to be well-hidden when it’s happening), but even as a homeschooled student, I sensed that I was one of the lucky ones.
My support for basic oversight stems not only from having known poorly-homeschooled peers, but also from the zealotry and lack of introspection I saw in many corners of homeschooling culture. During my teen years, I often represented or defended homeschooling to outsiders, which included being coached on anti-regulation arguments that I now recognize as specious (and found dubious even back then). At an annual lobbying event where homeschoolers visited our state capitol building, I steered legislators toward shiny bar graphs that showed homeschooled students outperforming their public schooled peers, even though I knew the sample was incomplete and self-selected. (I also had seen parents darkening the penciled-in bubbles on the answer sheets, assembly-line-style, after the annual voluntary testing, and occasionally correcting students’ answers.) When legislators asked whether some homeschooled students did not thrive the way our lobbying contingent clearly did, I deflected by bringing up failing public schools, as I’d been advised. (This was a red herring fallacy, as I’d learned through homeschool logic lessons.) As I chatted with one friendly and thoughtful legislator, a local homeschool leader pulled me aside and warned me in hushed tones that this politician was “anti-homeschooling,” meaning she did not support unchecked parental rights. This puzzled me—how could basic oversight of homeschooling be “anti-homeschooling” if speed limits and seatbelt laws were not “anti-driving”?—but I noted the warning and resumed my conversation with a warier attitude. I now thoroughly regret these interactions—the way I served as an unwitting weapon against protection for my more vulnerable peers—but, as I reflect on them, they also help clarify how my experience differed from others’. Even as my own family emphasized adventure and curiosity about the world, we moved in circles that embraced extremism, paranoia, and a willful blindness toward the possibility that homeschooling could ever fail. This was a culture deeply unequipped to self-police.
When I was in my late teens, an obscure magazine named me one of “America’s Top Ten Outstanding Homeschool Students.” The article’s headline read “Homeschooling Works!” I now find that headline misleading. More accurately, it would have indicated that the way my family homeschooled worked—for me. The choice to homeschool, in itself, guarantees nothing; in some cases, it is deeply damaging. Oversight won’t fix all of those damaging cases, but it will help stop some instances of abuse and give basic structure to families who need it. Additionally, I’m optimistic that oversight could help foster a culture of accountability in some homeschooling circles and temper the culture of fear. (As my fellow legal historians like to note, law and society shape each other!) Most of all, I hope that one day all homeschooled children will receive an education like the one I had, preparing them to flourish and reach their full potential in a world they’re ready to explore.
Arielle G. was homeschooled in California and Idaho. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni, see our Testimonials page.
Last Updated: 16 May, 2016 by CRHE
Jennifer P.: “My parents broke the state’s homeschooling laws knowingly”
“Upon settling in Pennsylvania, which has regulations that are generally seen as “stringent,” my parents refused to report, having not reported previously. I met other homeschooling families who followed the laws and their children usually participated in a co-op or other activities with other homeschoolers. . . . I was not aware of any educational shortcoming in my friends—even the large families used evaluators and spent a lot of time DOING school.”
I was homeschooled in the United States from 2004 to 2008. My family moved around Maryland, New York, and New Jersey, finally settling in Pennsylvania in 2006. My parents homeschooled all their children. They were drawn in by various seminars as young people and newlyweds, especially by Raymond and Dorothy Moore, whom they heard of via Focus on the Family.
Upon settling in Pennsylvania, which has regulations that are generally seen as “stringent,” my parents refused to report, having not reported previously. I met other homeschooling families who followed the laws and their children usually participated in a co-op or other activities with other homeschoolers. Other homeschooling parents griped constantly, but followed the laws and each year got their mandatory evaluations “out of the way,” trading “terrible evaluator” horror stories and sharing the ones they had proven to be lax (or just less demanding or thorough). I was not aware of any educational shortcoming in my friends—even the large families used evaluators and spent a lot of time DOING school.
All of the families I met and knew were religious. Most were some form or Protestant, but a handful of Catholics in the northwestern part of the city often got together, having theater productions and classes together. Religion was one of the main reasons cited by all of the families for homeschooling, academics coming in a short second.
My education was stellar, as my mother was very specific about her subject matter and spent hours putting together lesson plans and correcting and grading our work. My younger siblings had less time (decreasing with each additional sibling), and while she reused many of her lesson plans some of them will definitely not get the time, effort, and attention that I and my older siblings received. However, they have received much more outside activity participation, as my parents are now allowing them homeschooled (gender segregated) soccer, volleyball, and even church-sponsored events.
A family we knew who had 14 kids, who had defected from another state because they had been reported by family members for failures in homeschooling and because their family didn’t support them homeschooling, were also not following the laws. The older boys worked to help support the family and the older daughters did so much child care that they literally did no school. They were 15 times more strict than my family, but not religiously so. My mom lent them schoolbooks. The oldest daughter (then 14) had a passion for math and had done only up to multiplication. My mom gave her an old copy of our Saxon 7/6 and pre-algebra and she acted like she had been handed the moon.
I and my siblings suffered mainly from religious, psychological, and emotional abuse. We were constantly chastised for our failing and spanked as children following the methods of Michael and Debi Pearl. As we got older the punishments became less physical and more psychological. We were made to write essays about our faults or failings, derided for hours, or made to find, copy, and recite bible verses that highlighted our sins. Eventually, removal of computer and internet privileges and grounding from any or all outside activities became the chosen method of punishment. The younger siblings are still spanked, but other punishments are also doled out such as added chores or a special, shameful chore like scrubbing the trash cans.
I think increased oversight for homeschooling in the state of Pennsylvania has already been accomplished. Unfortunately, they are considering adding a “religious exemption” clause (like Virginia has) allowing parents to opt out of all requirements.
My parents broke the state’s homeschooling laws knowingly. I think outsider participation on our homeschooling would have caught my brother’s dyslexia faster, would have given my mother accountability when her curriculum was not all that superior, and would have integrated us with our community and state much sooner. Following laws is not an option, and I think that having contact with the children is vital for families as cloistered as ours. I believe that increased oversight would have lessened the religious abuse that gave us PTSD. In our home, my father was God, and God doesn’t have to follow orders. Seeing an evaluator in a position of power and authority over him would have definitely put his attitude into check and had a significant affect on all of his children.
Jennifer P. was homeschooled in Maryland, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni, see our Testimonials page.
Last Updated: 16 May, 2016 by CRHE
Arielle G.: “I was a homeschool poster child”
“I was a homeschool poster child. When proponents tell skeptics about homeschool alums with soaring test scores, stellar credentials, and successful careers, I’m one of the examples they cite. After being home educated K—12 in California and Idaho, I pursued my passion—history—at an Ivy League college, graduating with highest honors and moving on to a Ph.D. program in the same field.”
I was a homeschool poster child. When proponents tell skeptics about homeschool alums with soaring test scores, stellar credentials, and successful careers, I’m one of the examples they cite. After being home educated K—12 in California and Idaho, I pursued my passion—history—at an Ivy League college, graduating with highest honors and moving on to a Ph.D. program in the same field. My always-homeschooled younger sister also excelled, getting a fine arts degree from a respected liberal arts college and using her skills to launch her own business. As children, we were both featured in more than one pro-homeschooling article, and I have heard from hometown friends that my story is sometimes still cited to defend homeschooling.
There is no real “however” to my personal narrative, no hidden dark side that I am about to disclose. I’ve identified some minor problems with my homeschooling experience, but overall, I’m immensely grateful for the supportive upbringing and solid academic foundation my parents gave me.
I support basic legal oversight of homeschooling precisely because I know what it took to make my experience a positive one. Growing up, I watched my mom spend her days planning lessons, scouring curriculum catalogues, piling our sagging shelves with books she purchased and borrowed, gleefully unveiling the latest math games and science experiments she’d found, organizing elaborate learning activities and field trips for us to do by ourselves and with other homeschooling families. She also found outside enrichment options for my sister and me, including choir, dance, figure skating, piano lessons, and volunteering. When I hit high school, she recognized her own limitations. Despite her B.A. in child development and my dad’s master’s degree in communications, she knew they couldn’t teach me everything—nor could I self-teach in all subjects—so she outsourced much of my later home education. I took the SAT in eighth grade to qualify for correspondence courses through Johns Hopkins University; learned French and calculus from co-op tutors; took online AP courses in English, history, and economics; and self-studied for other AP exams using prep books my parents purchased. All this demanded my parents’ patience, knowledge, dedication, financial resources, labor, and time. Even when I personally chose to go the extra mile—writing plays and short stories in my free time, self-studying for tests, painstakingly polishing college application essays—it was because my parents gave me the right resources and created the right environment, one in which learning seemed possible and lofty goals seemed reachable.
The law required my parents to do none of the things I’ve described. In California, we filed a yearly affidavit as a private school and made sure we completed a minimum number of “school” days (a rule no one outside our family enforced, and which we interpreted loosely). We knew other homeschooling families who did neither of these things and faced no consequences. In Idaho, one of the least regulated states for homeschooling, we didn’t have to notify anyone that we were homeschooling and didn’t have to meet any standards. In other words, my sister and I were invisible. All of my parents’ planning, researching, and resource acquisition—and all their efforts to make sure we were on grade level by having us take yearly standardized tests—were voluntary.
If all homeschooled students had the same experience that I had, then oversight would be unnecessary—though it still would not be detrimental, since my parents went way beyond anything that basic oversight would require. Indeed, growing up, I met many homeschooled peers with parents just as caring and competent as mine. Unfortunately, I also met families in which this was not the case. I knew bright homeschooled peers who struggled with basic math and spelling well after they should have mastered these skills, others who thrived in their younger years but in high school could not either be taught by their parents or self-teach and lacked the external support that I got, still others whose parents denied them college opportunities because of extremist ideologies. It’s only more recently that I’ve begun learning about the truly horrific cases of homeschool abuse (which tends to be well-hidden when it’s happening), but even as a homeschooled student, I sensed that I was one of the lucky ones.
My support for basic oversight stems not only from having known poorly-homeschooled peers, but also from the zealotry and lack of introspection I saw in many corners of homeschooling culture. During my teen years, I often represented or defended homeschooling to outsiders, which included being coached on anti-regulation arguments that I now recognize as specious (and found dubious even back then). At an annual lobbying event where homeschoolers visited our state capitol building, I steered legislators toward shiny bar graphs that showed homeschooled students outperforming their public schooled peers, even though I knew the sample was incomplete and self-selected. (I also had seen parents darkening the penciled-in bubbles on the answer sheets, assembly-line-style, after the annual voluntary testing, and occasionally correcting students’ answers.) When legislators asked whether some homeschooled students did not thrive the way our lobbying contingent clearly did, I deflected by bringing up failing public schools, as I’d been advised. (This was a red herring fallacy, as I’d learned through homeschool logic lessons.) As I chatted with one friendly and thoughtful legislator, a local homeschool leader pulled me aside and warned me in hushed tones that this politician was “anti-homeschooling,” meaning she did not support unchecked parental rights. This puzzled me—how could basic oversight of homeschooling be “anti-homeschooling” if speed limits and seatbelt laws were not “anti-driving”?—but I noted the warning and resumed my conversation with a warier attitude. I now thoroughly regret these interactions—the way I served as an unwitting weapon against protection for my more vulnerable peers—but, as I reflect on them, they also help clarify how my experience differed from others’. Even as my own family emphasized adventure and curiosity about the world, we moved in circles that embraced extremism, paranoia, and a willful blindness toward the possibility that homeschooling could ever fail. This was a culture deeply unequipped to self-police.
When I was in my late teens, an obscure magazine named me one of “America’s Top Ten Outstanding Homeschool Students.” The article’s headline read “Homeschooling Works!” I now find that headline misleading. More accurately, it would have indicated that the way my family homeschooled worked—for me. The choice to homeschool, in itself, guarantees nothing; in some cases, it is deeply damaging. Oversight won’t fix all of those damaging cases, but it will help stop some instances of abuse and give basic structure to families who need it. Additionally, I’m optimistic that oversight could help foster a culture of accountability in some homeschooling circles and temper the culture of fear. (As my fellow legal historians like to note, law and society shape each other!) Most of all, I hope that one day all homeschooled children will receive an education like the one I had, preparing them to flourish and reach their full potential in a world they’re ready to explore.
Arielle G. was homeschooled in California and Idaho. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni, see our Testimonials page.
Last Updated: 16 May, 2016 by CRHE
Caitlin T.: “In New Jersey, things fell apart”
“In New Jersey, things fell apart. Without oversight, there was no need to think about compiling a portfolio. Without state standards, there was no benchmark for my progress. We still tried to follow the Pennsylvania guidelines for high school (3 years of math, 3 of science, 4 of English, etc.), but no one was there to check up on us or offer help as I entered harder subjects.”
I was homeschooled from kindergarten through twelfth grade, from 1991 through 2005. I’ve experienced both regulated and unregulated homeschooling, and the differences are profound. From kindergarten through eighth grade, I lived in Pennsylvania and was subject to state regulations: annual reviews by an evaluator, periodic standardized tests, and basic curriculum standards. In 9th grade, however, my family moved to New Jersey. There were no formal requirements for homeschoolers. As far as the state was concerned, we didn’t exist.
My kindergarten through eighth grade experience provided me a mostly balanced, interesting, and engaging homeschool program. We switched math books until we found one that suited me, and I learned verbal skills through voracious reading and daily writing. Every year, we submitted a portfolio to our licensed evaluator and she interviewed me. She was a retired schoolteacher, so she was able to compare my progress with her former students realistically. The portfolio consisted of tests (graded by my mother), samples of my written work, and photos of field trips. There was no question of falling behind in grade level, because homeschooling produced competitiveness in most families I knew. We were all obsessed with being ahead of public schooled kids, and the best measure of that was taking on material meant for older kids. In every subject but math, I frequently studied a year (sometimes two) ahead of my grade level. We interpreted the state standards as minimums that we had to beat.
In New Jersey, things fell apart. Without oversight, there was no need to think about compiling a portfolio. Without state standards, there was no benchmark for my progress. We still tried to follow the Pennsylvania guidelines for high school (3 years of math, 3 of science, 4 of English, etc.), but no one was there to check up on us or offer help as I entered harder subjects. I spent one entire academic year with my geometry book propped up on my dresser, open to the same page. By this time, our homeschooling friends had sucked us into a culture that told us girls’ education wasn’t valuable anyway, that I should be learning homemaking skills and preparing for a life of obedience to my husband. (We would never have been exposed to these ideas if we hadn’t joined a homeschooling group—we were ordinary, moderate Christians when I was in kindergarten.) Homeschooling had become a moral mission for my mother, such that putting me in public or private school was no longer an option—even if it meant I did nothing instead. My expected graduation date passed and I became suicidal. I was convinced that I was stupid and a failure for not being able to teach myself geometry or chemistry out of a book.
My break came when my mother decided to have me enroll in community college for the last credits of high school. I thrived on the classroom environment. It was almost comical how eagerly I approached the remedial math class the college taught out of a trailer in the parking lot. I took philosophy, psychology, earth science, American literature, and that remedial math, and, with those credits, graduated the following summer (a year late, which embarrassed me for many years).
The basic regulations in Pennsylvania gave my mother and me a yardstick for measuring our progress and a sense that we weren’t going it alone. I looked forward to visiting my evaluator and being praised for working above my grade level. The state framework fostered ambition and provided rewards. The absence of regulation in New Jersey, however, meant that I was cut adrift. There was no one to ask for help with geometry, no one to give my mother realistic warnings about my declining performance. Had we stayed with the evaluator, she might have helped us find a solution so I didn’t spend a year paralyzed in fear and depression about my inability to tackle difficult subjects.
More profoundly still, oversight might have kept me thinking about the rewards of performing well in school. Between ninth grade and my year in community college, I received no encouragement to pursue further education or a career—every single adult in my homeschooling group worked against the idea that women should be full participants in society. When my mother mentioned something I’d done in school, I watched other women bristle and talk over her about their sons’ achievements. It wasn’t until I was a junior in college that I started to believe I was actually smart, that my ideas mattered.
I am the only girl in my circle of friends who has graduated from a four-year college. Most have never worked and are now married with several children whom they are also homeschooling. They are raising their daughters to be homemakers, to believe their education only matters as practice for homeschooling the next generation. This is not what a revolutionary, high-achieving population looks like. Groups like HSLDA convince parents that government regulation holds children back from their full potential. From what I’ve seen, the absence of regulation does that far more effectively. It was only under the supervision of my evaluator, regular testing, and the close mentorship of my professors in college that I realized I had any potential at all.
Caitlin T. was homeschooled in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni, see our Testimonials page.
Last Updated: 16 May, 2016 by CRHE
Jerusha Lofland: “Ignorance leaves people vulnerable”
“I support oversight of homeschooling because every child deserves a good education in all subjects. I received a great education in English grammar, and I could recite entire chapters from the Bible. But my parents gave up teaching me basic algebra, my textbooks viewed history through a primarily anti-Catholic lens, I was warned against studying the humanities, and I have spent a decade unlearning much of the “science” I was taught.”
I support oversight of homeschooling because every child deserves a good education in all subjects. I received a great education in English grammar, and I could recite entire chapters from the Bible. But my parents gave up teaching me basic algebra, my textbooks viewed history through a primarily anti-Catholic lens, I was warned against studying the humanities, and I have spent a decade unlearning much of the “science” I was taught. My parents chose to homeschool in large part so that they could control the influences on their children, and they certainly did that. I was not taught facts so much as a belief system. I reached adulthood almost entirely isolated from both popular and mainstream culture. This has hampered me socially my entire adult life.
I support oversight of homeschooling because I grew up in a physically and psychologically abusive home. I had no relationships with adults who would not have defended my parents’ choices and their right to make those choices for us. Oversight would not have prevented the abuse in itself, but it could have given me and my siblings the idea that someone else wanted to know what went on behind the façade of a model religious family. As it was, no one ever asked. As far as I could tell from my homeschooled peers, our home was normal. Looking back, I realize that my mother had untreated psychological issues that terrorized her children, who had no respite from her moods. Oversight of homeschooling would not have helped her, but perhaps they would have made it more difficult for my parents to conceal her troubles.
I support oversight of homeschooling because I have been a homeschooling parent in a state without oversight and I believe that children should have adults besides their parents checking on their welfare. I know children who can drive motor vehicles or hunt with guns, but are basically illiterate. The family claims to be “homeschooling” and since their state makes no demands beyond notification of intent, there is nothing anyone can do, even when concerned relatives call CPS to investigate. Learning to read affects the very development of a young brain, and while those children may remedy some of their educational deficiencies as adults, they may never be able to recover all the ground lost.
I support oversight of homeschooling because today we know so much about the development of the child’s brain, about the benefits of early education, and about how children learn. It is unfair to any child to give parents complete freedom to conduct their own educational experiments on him/her, to allow them unlimited freedom to ignore a century of research and to decide what, in their opinion, their child needs to know and what will not be “useful” to his or her future. It may turn out well, but it may turn out badly. Ignorance leaves people vulnerable, and no child should be willfully subjected to that risk.
Jerusha Lofland was homeschooled in Michigan from 1983 to 1993, from 2nd grade through 12th grade. She homeschooled her own children in Kansas from 2007 to 2013. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni and homeschool parents, see our Testimonials page.
Last Updated: 16 May, 2016 by CRHE
Amethyst Marie: “The students most affected … were girls”
“I believe that the education I received through homeschooling was likely better than what I would’ve gotten in my local public school districts. But I can’t say this for all the homeschoolers I grew up with. I knew teenagers who weren’t being given a complete high school education, particularly high school math and science. The students most affected by this were girls.”
I knew teenagers who weren’t being given a complete high school education, particularly high school math and science. The students most affected by this were girls. “She’s not going to college anyway.” “How is she going to use algebra as a housewife?” “Why does she need to know pi? Is she going to decorate a round room?” “It’s better to use these years to prepare to be a wife and mother.” These are all things I heard my friends’ parents—their homeschool teachers—actually say. Eventually some of my friends started saying these things about themselves.
We hear about girls like Malala Yousafzai who have to fight for their right to be educated, and we pat ourselves on the back for fighting the Taliban and bringing American freedom to those girls, over there. But it’s not just over there. It’s not just the Taliban. There are plenty of Malalas right here in America. In your state. In your city. Maybe next door. How many are there? We can’t know, because many states don’t collect any kind of data on homeschool students, or even basic records that show whether or not these girls and boys are actually receiving an education of any kind.
I was homeschooled in Missouri, Kansas, and Texas, all three states with little in the way of oversight for homeschooling. I am in favor of oversight for homeschooling because I don’t want even one American girl to hear that she doesn’t need a complete education because she’s a girl.
Amethyst Marie was homeschooled from 1987 to 2000 in Missouri, Kansas, and Texas. For additional thoughts and experiences from other homeschool alumni, see our Testimonials page.