This Homeschool Year Tried to End Me: A Recap of Chaos, Courage, and Core Subjects
This homeschooling year felt like running a marathon… uphill… in the rain… while carrying emotional baggage. But we made it. In this honest, sometimes funny, and deeply personal post, I share our journey from diagnoses and meltdowns to breakthroughs and blessings. From school struggles and hard labels to discovering what actually works for my neurodivergent son—and for me as a mother. Spoiler alert: I became an athlete, a fighter, and a better version of myself. This one's for every parent who's ever felt like giving up, but didn’t.
Rand El Jarrah
5/5/2025
This Homeschool Year Tried to End Me: A Recap of Chaos and Courage
The school year is almost over—and this one has felt like the longest year of my life. If I’m exhausted, I can only imagine how my son feels. Still, I’m so proud of him. And of myself. There really are no words. But here's my attempt at a recap anyway—bullet-point style, because my brain is too fried for full paragraphs:
Our Journey in a Nutshell (or maybe a walnut, because it’s been that tough):
My son went to an Islamic school from preschool to 2nd grade. Smart as a whip. Grades? Top-notch. Focus? Nonexistent.
Halfway through 2nd grade, things started spiraling—he was constantly moving, eloping from the classroom, triggered easily, and struggled with emotional regulation.
Despite all that, he was acing tests and answering questions like a little professor. The issue? Traditional schools weren’t built for kids like him.
We moved to public school mid-year. On Day 1, I got an email: “We did a science experiment, and your son stood up and spun like the spinner.”
On another day: “He’s pretending to talk on a phone, bouncing around the classroom.” The teacher said, “I know he understands, but he doesn’t listen.”
I felt helpless and judged—again. Just like before.
Eventually: ADHD + High-Functioning Autism diagnosis. Relief? Yes. But also: Stigma, confusion, and an emotional punch to the gut.
Started 3rd grade with accommodations and ADHD meds. New issue: meds helped focus, but led to irritability and aggression. We were now in table-flipping territory.
To the school’s credit, they brought in a specialist who recommended special education placement + ABA therapy.
4th grade started with both. Disaster. He’s cognitively advanced and couldn’t understand why he was separated from the "regular" kids.
Pulled him out two months in. Enrolled in online school. Boom—Gifted & Talented class.
Found an ABA center that actually gets him. Major difference.
If you met him now, you’d think he’s just a regular kid. And in many ways, he is.
What This Year Taught Me:
A diagnosis is not the end of the world. It just reroutes your GPS.
Society—including schools and educated adults—still doesn’t know how to support neurodivergent kids.
I’ve been told by principals:
“It’s normal for other kids to call him crazy.”
“We don’t expect much from these children.”
(No comment. Actually, lots of comments. But another time.)
Things will get worse before they get better. You may feel alone, even in your own home. Keep holding on. You are doing your best.
Don’t judge a parent by their child’s behavior. I’ve raised three kids—same roof, same love. All different. Kids inherit more than your eye color.
Schools are built for certain kinds of learners. If your child isn’t one of them, you may need to build your own lane.
I struggled in school too. It was traumatic. So I see him, and I get him. And that’s the foundation of everything we’re building now.
I was meant to go through this—to break down so I could be built back up, piece by piece. Stronger. Wiser. More resilient.
I’m grateful for it all. I truly believe Allah ﷻ wanted this for me. It is shaping me, my character, and my future in the best way.
This journey turned me into an athlete—literally. I pour my stress and rage into lifting weights, running races, and now I’m picking up archery too. Who knew parenting would unlock this side of me?
I’ve learned that growth looks messy. It often involves tears, therapy, Googling things at 2 AM, and unexpected plot twists.
I’ve stopped chasing “normal” and started chasing peace. Our home looks different, and that’s okay.
I’ve met some of the most genuine, compassionate people on this path—people who get it, even if they don’t live it. That’s rare. And I’m thankful.
I’ve learned to celebrate small wins: a calm morning, a completed worksheet, a real smile. These things are gold.
To all the parents out there fighting invisible battles—I see you. I salute you. And I hope you get some summer naps soon. 😅
