What real learning looks like: letting go of school-like expectations

Learning doesn’t follow a straight line

What I used to think learning should look like: Workbooks. Steady progress. Timetabled ‘learning’. Educational apps. A clear beginning, middle, and end. What does it actually look like? Messy bursts of curiosity. Half-finished projects. Sudden leaps after long lulls. Ideas that spark, fade, and sometimes return months later - or not at all.

Growth isn’t linear - and neither is learning. It loops and meanders. It looks like playing, daydreaming, wandering off-topic. It looks like nothing’s happening… until suddenly, something clicks. Letting go of what I thought it “should” be has been one of the hardest, and most freeing, parts of home ed. I still catch myself wanting the tidy version, the measurable outcome, the proof. But more and more, I’m learning to trust the process. To see value in the quiet stretches. To recognise that deep learning often looks chaotic on the surface. Because it’s not about ticking boxes - it’s about building a life full of questions, exploration, and self-trust.

But if I’m really honest?

It’s not easy to trust this slower, less structured path - especially when his peers are sitting GCSEs, collecting grades, planning college, and following more traditional routes. Meanwhile, my teen just wants to game, draw, and read. He’s curious, creative, full of ideas… but he’s not interested in exams, schedules, or ticking off targets. And that keeps me up at night, anxiously overthinking it.

What if I’m getting it wrong?

What if we’ve missed something vital?

What if I’ve failed to equip him for what comes next?

These fears creep in - especially around maths (my own weakest subject). It's easy to feel like everything hinges on those darn numbers, those ‘Key Stage’ milestones, that "evidence" of progress. And I do try. I look at the national curriculum, revisit plans, wonder if I should be doing more, doing it differently, doing it right.

But then I remember:

Learning doesn’t only happen when it’s measured.

Readiness can’t be forced.

And rushing out of fear never leads to deep understanding.

So we keep going. I support his interests, slip in maths where I can, and stay open to creative ways of meeting those needs, in his time, not mine.

I remind myself: there are many ways to build a future. GCSEs are one path, not the only path. And a child who is learning is never “behind”.

What would shift if we saw readiness as a window that opens later - not a train that’s already left?