In Another Lifetime, I Would Have Loved to Home Educate

There’s a version of me somewhere—maybe in a parallel universe—where I wake up slowly to the sound of birds, not alarms. Where breakfast isn’t a rush but a shared ritual, and the day unfolds in a rhythm we make ourselves. In that lifetime, I home educate.

I imagine learning through living. Reading stories under blankets on rainy mornings. Drawing fractions in flour on the kitchen counter. Watching seeds grow and calling it science. I picture slow days and deep conversations. The kind of learning that wraps itself around life like ivy—natural, winding, a little wild.

And the truth is, part of me aches for that life.

Not because I think home education is “better,” or because I want to be a perfect parent (I’ve long given up chasing that illusion). But because I love being there—for the moments, the questions, the sudden bursts of curiosity that don’t always fit inside school hours.

But this isn’t that lifetime. This is the one where we do packed lunches and school runs and make the most of the minutes between dinner and bedtime. It’s full and noisy and chaotic, and honestly, some days I’m just grateful everyone’s socks match.

Still, I sneak a little home ed in when I can. A nature walk that turns into a treasure hunt. A chat about feelings that becomes an impromptu lesson in empathy. Cooking tea together and naming the ingredients like we’re on our own version of MasterChef Junior.

That’s the thing about parenting—you’re always teaching, whether you mean to or not.

During lockdown, I got a little glimpse of that life. We didn’t have timetables or uniforms or school bells—we had messy kitchens and late starts and lessons disguised as play. We learned by baking, painting, planting things and watching them grow (sometimes). I remember reading books aloud while someone wriggled on the sofa and another built Lego in the background. It wasn’t perfect—it was hard, actually—but it was ours. And for a moment, I saw what it could look like to learn side by side, at home, in the real world. That memory has stayed with me.

So maybe I didn’t choose home education in this lifetime. Maybe I couldn’t. But I still get to be their teacher in all the little ways that matter.

And if you’ve ever felt the same—that quiet tug at the idea of something slower, softer, more connected—just know you’re not alone. You’re doing enough. You’re doing beautifully.

Even in this lifetime.