5 Myths About Homeschooling an Only Child (That Need to Die Already)
Inside: Worried your only child will be lonely or miss out if you homeschool? In this honest post, I break down the biggest myths and why homeschooling an only is not just enough… it can be incredible.
I didn’t set out to homeschool. When Marc was around three, I came across homeschooling online — a few blog posts, maybe a video or two — but I didn’t give it much thought. “My only child would go to school like all the other kids.” That’s what I believed. That’s what everyone around me did.
But it turns out, Marc had other plans. And slowly, so did life.
I didn’t choose this path because I was brave or visionary or had a perfect plan in mind. I chose it because my son needed something that school just couldn’t give him. And somewhere along the way, this unexpected decision started to feel like exactly what we both needed.
Still, that didn’t stop the voices, the comments, the concerns, the endless myths that seem to follow anyone who chooses to homeschool an only child. When you’re already shouldering the entire weight of your child’s education and well-being, hearing those things can hit harder than people realize. Because like all good parents… we worry. A lot. And we doubt ourselves more than we admit.
But after ten years on this path — seeing my child grow into who he is — I’ve realized those fears and myths never really held up. Not then, and definitely not now.
So let’s talk about them. One by one.
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Myth #1: They’ll Be Lonely
This is the one that comes up the most — sometimes whispered, sometimes tossed at you like a warning:
“But… won’t he be lonely?” It ranks right up there with “When will you have another child?”
I understand where it comes from. Most people imagine childhood as a constant swirl of siblings, noisy playdates, and chaotic group activities. And if you take that away — if a child doesn’t have built-in playmates or a daily classroom of peers, it must be doubly isolating, right?
But here’s the truth: loneliness isn’t about how many people are around. It’s about the quality of connection.
“Hundreds of studies indicate that the stereotypes of the spoiled, lonely only child have little, if any, validity today.”
— Susan Newman, Ph.D., Growing Up Without Siblings: Adult Only Children Speak Out, Psychology Today, May 17, 2024
Marc has always had friends, not from being stuck in a room with 30 kids his age, but from co-ops, field trips, traveling, online classes, chess clubs, group science labs, and the rare magical moment when two introverted kids find each other at a museum homeschool day. We don’t chase random interactions for the sake of it. We build community slowly, intentionally, around people he actually enjoys.
And no, he’s not lonely. He’s selective. He knows himself. He has deep friendships, and plenty of social awkwardness too (like most teens, homeschooled or not).
What he doesn’t have? Peer pressure. Cliques. Constant comparisons.
And I’m okay with that.
Myth #2: You’ll Smother Each Other
People ask this in all kinds of ways — from the well-meaning “Don’t you need a break?” to the eyebrow-raised “How does he ever learn to be independent if he’s always with you?” And I get it. From the outside, the idea of a mom and her only child sharing the same space, day after day, sounds like a recipe for codependence or burnout.
But the reality? It’s more layered than that.
Because here’s what doesn’t get talked about enough: the kind of closeness that grows when you really know each other. When you can sit in the same room for hours, doing completely different things, and feel at ease. When space isn’t something you have to fight for — it’s already there, naturally, in the rhythm you’ve built together.
Marc codes. He 3D prints things. He vanishes into his own world for long stretches. And I work. We orbit each other quietly most of the day, coming together for lunch or to rant about some ridiculous chemistry experiment that went sideways.
We’re introverts. We understand silence. And solitude. And emotional space. Homeschooling hasn’t made us clingy, it’s made us attuned.
And in case you think this is just sentimental musing, research backs it up. A comprehensive 2024 review by Singh & Pathak found that:
“A strong parent-child bond, which is fostered through homeschooling, can provide children with the emotional stability and confidence they need to thrive.”
— Singh & Pathak, “The Psychological Impact of Homeschooling on Children,” IJSSER 2024
“For children who have supportive, emotionally available parents, homeschooling can be a nurturing environment that promotes emotional growth, self-esteem, and resilience.”
That depth of connection — earned, not forced — is one of the things I value most in this journey. It’s not suffocating or stunting. It’s solid.
And honestly? It’s what makes both of us braver in the world beyond these walls.
Myth #3: You’re Being Selfish
This one cuts deep. Probably because, if I’m honest, it echoed doubts I already had in the early years.
Was I homeschooling because he needed it… or because I wanted it?
Was I isolating him? Holding him back from a “normal” childhood? Was this really about his best interest or my inability to let go?
That kind of guilt simmers quietly in the background when you’re homeschooling an only child. There’s no sibling dynamic to blur the edges of your decisions. No buffer. You feel every choice more sharply.
And society doesn’t help. People are quick to assume the mom who keeps her only child home is doing it out of fear, control, or worse — ego. As if choosing a slower, more intentional life must come from some selfish refusal to do what’s “normal.”
But I’ve learned that being intentional doesn’t mean being selfish. It means being awake to what your child actually needs.
Homeschooling Marc wasn’t about avoiding something. It was about choosing something better.
Homeschooling let him lean into his interests, ask questions without judgment, and learn at his own pace, whether that meant diving deep into chemistry or spending extra time decoding a tricky math concept. It gave him safety from peer cruelty, freedom to be himself, and space to build emotional resilience without the pressure to perform every day.
And yes, it changed my life too. But that’s not selfish.
That’s parenting.
- It’s not selfish to build a life that fits your child better.
- It’s not selfish to say no to systems that dull their spark.
- It’s not selfish to want a slow, connected childhood where presence matters more than performance.
So no, I don’t think I’ve robbed him of anything. I think I’ve given him something far more valuable: a strong foundation of self-worth, a deep connection to his own mind, and the freedom to learn without fear.
Myth #4: They’ll Miss Out on Social Development
This one gets tossed around like it’s a given. As if being in a room with 20 same-aged peers for 6 hours a day is the only way kids learn to be social.
I’ve heard it all:
“But what about friends?”
“Does he ever talk to other kids?”
“Isn’t he lonely?”
Of course he’s lonely and antisocial. We live deep in the woods, totally isolated, on a deserted island. He’s never laid eyes on another human being. And the fact that he looks you in the eye and talks like a thoughtful little grown-up? Total fluke. You just happened to stumble onto a question that didn’t bore him to death.
(Please read this with the sarcasm it’s intended to carry. I’ve been asked this so many times, even when the truth is standing right there, shaking their hand and answering in full sentences.)
I’ve written more about how we approached socializing here with science quotes and all if you want a deeper dive. Fair warning though, I also share my (possibly unpopular) take on something we parents tend to do a lot: over-socializing our homeschooled kids.
The truth is… yes, sometimes it’s harder to find social opportunities. You do have to be more intentional. You don’t just walk into community.
But let’s talk about what social development actually looks like in a homeschool setting, especially with an only.
Marc has had long conversations with adults, teens, younger kids, librarians, museum guides, extended family and yes, other homeschoolers. He’s not boxed in by grade levels. He’s not learning to follow the crowd, he’s learning to interact with people in real life.
More importantly — because I’m not trying to recreate school — Marc gets space to develop socially without the noise, the pressure, or the performative “fitting in” that often passes for socialization in traditional settings.
That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about it sometimes. It just means I trust the long game. I trust that depth matters more than quantity.
And I’ve seen the proof: my kid isn’t behind socially. He’s thoughtful. He’s observant. He connects deeply. He knows how to set boundaries and speak up when needed. I honestly think he’s ahead in many ways, just not in the ways strangers expect.
Myth #5: You’ll Regret It Later
This one hits a little deeper.
People don’t always say it out loud, but you can feel it between the lines.
“Won’t you wish you’d given him a ‘normal’ childhood?”
“What if he misses out and blames you one day?”
“Isn’t this too much pressure on one relationship?”
I’ve had those thoughts creep in, too. Usually on hard days. Or when I see big school events online like group photos, performances, and team trophies. And for a moment, I wonder: Will he look back and wish for something else? Will I?
But then I remember the quiet wins that don’t make it into highlight reels. The hours spent diving into chemistry because he loves it. The way we pause to talk about real things during our walks.
The fact that I know him — deeply — not just as his mom, but as someone who’s witnessed his learning unfold every single day.
Regret? I don’t feel it.
Yes, sometimes I get tired. Sometimes I doubt myself. But I don’t regret building this life with intention, even if it’s unconventional.
And if someday Marc tells me he wished for more of something? We’ll talk about it. We always do. I’ll be honest with him about what I chose and why and how every decision was made with love, not control.
This path won’t give you guarantees. But neither does school.
Biggest Challenges of Homeschooling an Only Child and Why It’s Still Worth It
Homeschooling an only child is different. And while the myths may not hold up, that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.
You’re everything — the mom, the teacher, the sounding board, the lunch lady, the recess monitor.
There’s no built-in buffer. No one to play with when you need a break. No one else to blame when the day falls apart. That’s a weight you carry, quietly, almost every day.
It can be exhausting… mentally, emotionally. Especially if you’re also working, managing a household, or just trying to stay sane while repeating the same math explanation for the third time.
And yes, you’ll worry. You’ll wonder if you’re doing enough. If your child’s world is too small. If your needs are too much or not enough.
But here’s the flip side:
- Your child gets a completely tailored education.
- You actually know what lights them up and you can lean into it.
- You get to pivot fast when something’s not working.
- You get to protect their spark from boredom, from bullying, from burnout.
- And you get to grow together, side by side, not apart.
Your presence, your attention, your ability to see and adjust, that’s the secret sauce.
It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being with them in the mess and the magic, fully.
And if you ask me, that’s worth every bit of the hard because homeschooling an only child is awesome!
And I’ve made a little video about this too:
And I also wrote this post a while ago with a slightly different angle if you’re curious about the practical side of our homeschooling journey.
Conclusion: Your Only Is Enough
If you’re standing at the edge of this decision, wondering whether homeschooling an only child can really work, let me gently say this:
It already is.
Because if you’re here, reading this, asking these questions… you’re already showing up in the exact way your child needs. With intention. With love. With that quiet fire only a parent has when they know their child is one of a kind.
Homeschooling an only doesn’t have to look like the big families with chore charts and group read-alouds and a minivan bursting at the seams.
It can be slow mornings. Deep conversations. Long rabbit trails through subjects that actually matter to your child. It can be peaceful. It can be powerful.
It can be enough, it can be awesome.
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