The Biggest Lie I Believed About Education & What I Learned Instead
The Biggest Lie I Believed About Education
(and what I learned instead)
For a long time, I believed that if you didn’t pass your GCSEs, your life would somehow be smaller.
That idea sits quietly underneath a lot of our education system. It creates pressure, eats away at confidence, and turns learning into something you either succeed at or fail, based on a handful of exams taken at sixteen.
And the older I get, the more I realise how little that reflects real life.
In life, paths change. Plans break. Doors close and others open somewhere unexpected. We adapt. We find another way.
Education should work like that too.
Why I Know This Isn’t True
I didn’t pass my GCSEs.
As an adult, I took an Access to Higher Education course. I went to university later than planned, with my eldest daughter in tow. She was two when I started.
It was chaotic and far from glamorous. There were hard days, tired days, and a lot of making it up as I went along.
But I finished. And I graduated with a First Class degree in Psychology.
That wasn’t something anyone expected of me. I was always seen as a bit clumsy, a bit too loud, the one who spoke without thinking. The sort of person people smiled at kindly and said, “Bless her.”
Academically, I wasn’t meant to go far.
But I did.
And that’s why I’m so certain when I say this: exams are not a deadline on your life.
They can be taken later. Or differently. Or not at all.
There are many ways forward, including:
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Access to Higher Education diplomas
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BTECs and vocational routes
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Open University and distance learning
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Professional courses with flexible entry points
None of them are failures. They’re just different paths.
How I Still Fell Into the Trap
Despite knowing all of this, I still fell into it when we began home educating.
I’d rediscovered a love of learning as an adult, and education mattered deeply to me. But the idea that school and education were the same thing was so deeply ingrained that I didn’t question it at first.
When my daughter was eight, I was already worrying about exams.
I thought if we followed the curriculum closely enough, we’d be safe. So I pushed.
We had workbooks. Full syllabuses. Subscription boxes. Craft kits with certificates. Shelves that looked impressive and a bank balance that didn’t thank me for it.
Over time, it cost thousands.
And none of it worked for long.
What we actually had was stress, tears, and learning that stayed very much on the surface. We were ticking boxes, not understanding much.
I felt like I was failing her.
It took time to unlearn the idea that the curriculum is the gold standard of education. In fact, stepping away from rigid plans turned out to be the thing that allowed deeper learning to happen.
What Works for Us Now
What works for us won’t work for everyone, and that’s fine.
Some children thrive with a strong, curriculum-led approach. Others need something far more fluid. Neither is better. What matters is whether it’s actually working for your child.
One of the gifts of home education is flexibility. If something isn’t helping, you’re allowed to change it.
For us, that looks like:
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small projects with a clear end point
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a steady rhythm of literacy and numeracy
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time outside and plenty of movement
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clubs and meet-ups
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noticing learning as it happens, rather than forcing it
We still read together, even though she’s twelve. It’s one of our favourite ways to connect, talk about characters, and share ideas without a worksheet in sight.
Some learning comes from big moments, like tackling zip wires at Go Ape. My landings were… not elegant, but we all survived.
Sometimes it’s quieter. A walk on the beach. A café in Portland run by ex-prisoners that turned lunch into a conversation about rehabilitation and second chances.
Sometimes it’s woven into travel, like our upcoming trip to Italy and Pompeii, where history won’t be something read about in isolation but something experienced underfoot.
And often, it’s the smallest moments.
Beach days with friends. Afternoons at the park. Sitting under a tree with a good pen and letting words come. Once, we wrote about a tree we were resting under, and the writing that came from it was genuinely beautiful. The tree did most of the work just by being there.
Not every family can travel far, and not everyone wants to. That’s OK.
The magic isn’t in the price tag. It’s in the noticing.
A local park, a bus ride to a nearby town, or a rainy afternoon in the library can spark just as much curiosity and connection.
A Quiet Word About Wonder & Scribble
Some families love creating their own projects from scratch. Others need something ready to go because life is busy.
That’s why I created Wonder & Scribble.
Every pack is tested by my daughter first. Hers are the biscuit-crumb versions. If something doesn’t hold her attention or spark curiosity, it doesn’t make it through.
They’re designed to feel supportive rather than overwhelming, and to give enough structure without taking over.
One is complete and ready to use, and more are slowly on the way. They take time to make, and that matters to me.
Home education isn’t about ticking boxes or racing towards exams.
It’s about building a life where learning has room to grow, wherever you are and whatever resources you have.
And that belief didn’t come from theory.
It came from living it.
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