So you "Unschool"?

“You Unschool? So… Is That Like, You Don’t Do School?”

We’ve heard it countless times—and usually with a puzzled expression:“You unschool? So, like… you don’t do school?”

It’s a fair question. The word unschooling is loaded with assumptions, especially in a world so conditioned to associate learning with classrooms, textbooks, tests, and bells ringing every hour on the hour. But the truth is, unschooling isn’t the absence of education. It’s the restoration of it.

At its core, education is meant to be a way of life—woven into the rhythm of the family, the heartbeat of daily living, and the wonder of the world around us. That’s why we unschool—or as we prefer to call it, lifeschool.

What Lifeschool Really Looks Like

Yes, we use textbooks.Yes, our kids read—sometimes for hours, deep in the corners of the house or out in a hammock, lost in the pages of a novel or flipping through encyclopedias out of pure curiosity.And yes, we even tackle Algebra (shocking, we know!).

But we are not confined to a rigid 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. schedule. We don’t try to recreate a public school classroom in our dining room. We don’t chase gold stars or report card approval. Instead, we lean into a simple but radical idea: learning can happen anytime, anywhere, through everything.

Our children learn through their senses. They see and hear, taste and smell, touch and do. They’re learning through the conversations we have in the car, the meals we cook together, the trails we hike, the museums we wander through, and the questions they ask before bed. For us, knowledge is the motivation—not grades, not tests, not external praise.

One of our students recently quoted Jordan Taylor, saying:

“You spend eight hours a day in a specific classroom at a specific time, and I’m the one who has no life?”

That sentiment captures it all. When education becomes a box you sit in, you miss the wild, expansive world just outside the window.

From Mimicking the System to Creating Our Own

When we first began homeschooling, I did what many new parents do: I tried to recreate the traditional classroom at home. Desks, chalkboards, bells, schedules—the whole bit. And while that can certainly be comforting and even effective for some families, it didn’t take long before we realized something profound:

We don’t want to just recreate school. We want to rediscover learning.

So we embraced a more organic, free-flowing rhythm—what we lovingly call a “Gypsy-style” approach to learning.That means letting curiosity lead the way. Following our interests. Leaning into real-life experiences instead of checking boxes.

We don’t just read about cars—we work on them.We don’t just study plants—we grow them, photograph them, visit botanical gardens, and inhale their sweet fragrances.We don’t just look at pictures of animals and habitats—we go find them, watch them, and step into their worldwhenever we can.

It’s not rocket science—unless, of course, you’re actually building rockets. (And yes, we’ve done that too.)

Start Where You Are. Use What You Have.

If I could offer one piece of encouragement to families just starting this journey, it would be this:

You only need to be one day smarter than your children.

You don’t need a grand plan or an elaborate curriculum to get started. You don’t need Pinterest-perfect project bins or matching planners. All you need is a willingness to explore with your children. To learn alongside them. To say, “I don’t know—let’s find out together.”

Children are naturally curious. They’re wired for wonder. They find joy in the smallest things. And if you’re excited—about dissecting an eyeball or building a bridge out of popsicle sticks—they’ll catch that excitement. Enthusiasm is contagious.

Don’t wait for the “right moment” or the “perfect project.”Start with what sparks their interest today.

Train Up a Child… According to Their Bent

There’s a well-known verse:

“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” – Proverbs 22:6

When you dig into that verse, it’s not just about discipline or routine—it’s about nurturing a child according to their bent. The way they were uniquely designed. What makes your child come alive? What causes their eyes to light up? What do they wake up excited to do?

Our job as parents isn’t to mold them into a one-size-fits-all graduate. It’s to tie heartstrings along the way. To encourage them in their passions. To notice what delights them, and then give them space and tools to pursue those very things with their whole heart.

Presence Over Perfection

The days can be long. The laundry piles up. The math lesson doesn’t always go smoothly. And some days, it’s easy to wonder if you’re doing it “right.”

But this journey isn’t about raising perfect kids. It’s not about being perfect parents. It’s not about measuring up to the world’s expectations, which change every few years anyway.

It’s about presence.

Presence over perfection.

It’s about showing up, day after day. Listening well. Laughing often. Getting muddy together. Reading just one more chapter. Watching the stars. Baking the cookies, even when the flour spills everywhere.

Because the truth is—the years are short. And what our children will remember most is not whether we followed the best curriculum or finished every workbook. They’ll remember how we made them feel. That they were seen. That they were heard. That they were loved.

Create Your Own Path—Together

In the end, unschooling isn’t about what we’re leaving behind. It’s about what we’re walking toward: a life of learning, of connection, of freedom. It’s about remembering that education doesn’t just happen between the hours of 8 and 3. It happens when we live with intention and pay attention.

So when someone asks, “You unschool?”—we smile and say,“Not exactly. We lifeschool.”

We’re building something that works for our family and our community as a whole. We’re discovering the joy of learning in everyday life. We’re creating our own path—and we’re doing it together.

And that, friends, is the most beautiful kind of education there is.