Publishing this essay feels very much like opening my chest and showing the world my heart or dissecting my brain for anyone to judge. Being homeschooled is not something I’m ashamed of by any means, but talking about it makes me aware of how different I am. Ultimately, though, I’m sharing this essay because I know most people, if not all people, feel different in some sort of way and there’s no point in hiding those feelings. This is the personal essay I submitted to all the colleges I applied to, and I got into all but one, where I got waitlisted. In the fall, I will be attending Eckerd College in St. Petersburg, Florida for Marine Science.
The din of voices reached my ears as I walked into the busy cafeteria. I froze, realizing in horror that I didn’t have anyone to sit with. When I was homeschooled, there was nothing more comforting than doing my schoolwork at my dining room table over a hot bowl of pasta with my mom and siblings. Now I sat alone at the end of a table in the midst of a sea of people, nursing a soggy sandwich.
Up until 10th grade, I had been homeschooled. My mom, a teacher by profession, knew she could teach my siblings and me better than the local public school could. I loved homeschooling, especially how my mom approached it. Her rule was as long as I could tell her something I learned, it counted as a day of school. Often my school day was spent at a historical site, watching a science demonstration, or in nature.
Going into high school, it became clear my mom could not provide the instruction I needed, and private school wasn’t a viable option. For the first time I was heading off into the ‘real world’ – public school at 15. Before I started, I worried, “what if I’m not smart enough?” I knew the stereotypes of homeschoolers not knowing anything and failing out. My worry was misplaced; the hardest part of school was not the classes but the people.
The first days of school were overwhelming. It felt like I was swimming in a turbulent ocean with a million people walking in different directions while I was lost, trying to find the shore. I felt trapped in the classrooms, with my peers who were already friends, while I stared at twenty new faces and my teachers who didn’t know me.
I didn’t talk to anyone for the first two days and regretted my decision. However, on the third day, while eating lunch alone, several people sat down with me and struck up a conversation. While that was an improvement, I was still alone in my classes, where I would finish the work early and then just stare at my phone, pretending I was texting. Two weeks into school, I was paired up on a project with a girl who had just transferred back to the school. With her, conversation came naturally for the first time in what felt like forever. I don’t even remember what we were talking about; I just remember being happy to talk to someone.
Eventually, I met more people. I talked to classmates and my teachers, and joined clubs. I was moving at a snail’s pace but I was moving. I found power in being unapologetically me. My unique upbringing, which once made me feel out of place, became a lens to see what other people miss: the value of empathy, differences, and change. I can empathize with my classmates over issues like switching schools or not fitting in, and provide humor to my friends when they realize just how few TV shows I’ve watched.
Sometimes I still feel lost, like there is an invisible barrier separating me from my peers. Part of me wants to go to school with lifelong friends, and for socializing to be as effortless as some people make it appear. However, the other part of me knows that being homeschooled made me who I am and has brought so many benefits to my life. It’s made me grow to see community as a challenge and a comfort; something that can leave people behind or welcome them in. It’s not perfect, and a truly welcoming community is something that you have to work towards.
My value and strength will never come from the community, or lack thereof, that I’m in. Instead, it comes from staying true to myself and working to bridge the gap between communities and outsiders just as others have done for me.
