How to Start Homeschooling: How to Homeschool, Step by Step
Here’s how to start homeschooling, in order. First, find out how your state regulates homeschooling. Second, if your child is enrolled, withdraw in writing the way your state requires and ask for their records. Third, take a few unhurried weeks to deschool. Fourth, buy one reading and one math program, nothing else. Fifth, build a daily rhythm instead of a bell schedule, keep a simple log from the first day, and find two or three other homeschool families. That’s how to homeschool for the first month. Co-op classes, science kits and the perfect planner can wait until the plane is in the air.
I know the feeling behind the search, because “I’m so overwhelmed — where do I start?” is the oldest question on this domain, and it’s the question my own mother answered at a Wisconsin kitchen table in the ’90s with me as the test case. I was homeschooled K–12; now I’m homeschooling my own three. Having seen this from both chairs, I can tell you the overwhelm is real and also mostly optional. Let’s take it one step at a time.
Step one: learn your state’s rules (don’t skip, don’t panic)
Homeschooling is legal in all fifty states, but how you notify, what you keep records of, and what assessments look like vary a lot — and the rules change. I’m deliberately not going to summarize any state’s requirements here, because a blog post is the wrong place to get law. Instead, do what I did: look up your state on HSLDA’s legal pages, then find your state homeschool organization and read its current getting-started guide. I’ve written a longer walkthrough of exactly how to find your state’s rules — bookmark it, verify everything against current sources, and then stop worrying about this part. Compliance is usually an afternoon of paperwork, not a lifestyle.
While you’re reading, write down three answers on one sheet: what (if anything) you have to file, by when, and what you’re expected to keep. Those three answers shape steps two and seven below. If your state’s guidance is silent on one of them, write “nothing stated” rather than guessing, and ask your state organization.
Step two: withdraw properly and ask for records
If your child is already in school, the leaving is the one step with real consequences, so do it carefully and in writing. The exact sequence is set by your state, not by habit. In some places a notice of intent to homeschool comes before or alongside the withdrawal; in others there’s nothing to file at all. Follow the order your state’s own guidance gives. Don’t let the school office improvise one for you, and don’t just stop sending your child.
Three things are worth doing whatever your state:
- Put the withdrawal in writing and keep a copy, with the date you sent it. A short, neutral letter is plenty. You don’t owe anyone a critique on the way out.
- Ask for your child’s records before you leave: the cumulative file, recent assessment results, and documentation of any support arrangements. It’s much easier to collect them while you’re still a current family than months later.
- Keep a note of who you spoke to and when. If a question comes up later, a dated note settles it quickly.
If you’re leaving partway through a year, the whole sequence, including how to handle the first six weeks and the friendships, is in switching to homeschool mid-year. And if your family situation involves a custody arrangement, a support plan, or any dispute about attendance, talk to a lawyer or your state homeschool organization before you file anything. That’s a line this site doesn’t cross.
Step three: deschool before you homeschool
If your kids are coming out of a classroom, resist the urge to rebuild the classroom in your dining room by Monday. Deschooling — a stretch of low-pressure weeks with library trips, read-alouds, baking, and boredom — lets everyone shed the school-shaped expectations before you start fresh. A common rule of thumb is roughly a month of decompression for each year a child spent in school; treat that as a vibe, not a prescription.
Here’s my second-generation confession: I never deschooled, because I never went to school. But I watched friends’ families join our co-op mid-year, and the ones who white-knuckled straight into six subjects at a rented desk usually crashed by November. The ones who spent six weeks reading on the couch built something that lasted. The couch is load-bearing.
Step four: pick a method loosely, a curriculum minimally
You’ll meet the method buffet quickly: Charlotte Mason’s living books, classical education’s stages, unit studies, unschooling, and Montessori — which has a whole world of materials and philosophy best explored at a dedicated site like Montessori Bloggers Network if it calls to you. Read enough to know your instincts, then hold it all lightly. Methods are tools, not tribes; most veteran families end up cheerfully eclectic.
For actual purchases, start embarrassingly small: a phonics or reading program and a math program. That’s it. History, science and art can come from the library for the first term while you learn how your child actually works. Curriculum anxiety is the single biggest money-waster in year one, and every used-curriculum sale in America is stocked with its consequences.
Step five: set a budget before you open a catalog
Decide what you’ll spend before you browse, because catalogs are designed to be browsed. Very roughly, per child and per school year, curriculum-only costs fall into bands: close to nothing for a library-and-free-resources year, a few hundred dollars for the common “one paid math, one paid reading, library for the rest” mix, and well into four figures for a boxed all-subjects package or an online academy. Those are rough ranges, not quotes; prices move every year.
Two things the bands don’t tell you. A monthly subscription is also a decision about how many months you’ll school. And a boxed “level” can turn out to be one subject strand rather than a whole year. Read what’s actually in the box. Then add the costs nobody prices: printer ink, the extra library late fees, a co-op fee if you join one, and a little for outings. If the number makes you flinch, cut curriculum before you cut the outings.
How to homeschool week one: rhythm, not a bell schedule
School needs bells because it moves hundreds of kids through hallways. You’re moving a few kids through a kitchen. What works at home is a rhythm anchored to fixed points — breakfast, a morning lesson block, lunch, quiet hour — with the academics flowing between them. When people ask what time our school starts, the honest answer is “after the toddler’s breakfast, give or take.”
For the first real week, after deschooling, I’d aim small enough that it feels slightly silly:
| Day | Morning block | Afternoon |
|---|---|---|
| Monday | Reading lesson, math lesson, one read-aloud chapter | Outside, library, or free play |
| Tuesday | Same, plus ten minutes of handwriting or copywork | Same |
| Wednesday | Same as Tuesday | A short outing or a baking project |
| Thursday | Same as Tuesday | Same as Monday |
| Friday | Read-aloud and a review game only | Write the week’s log (step seven) |
That’s often under two hours of sit-down work for a young child, which is normal; one adult and one child move far faster than a class. Add a subject only when the week before ran without tears for at least two weeks running. If something blows up, cut back rather than push through. The goal of week one isn’t coverage. It’s proving to everyone, you included, that the day can work.
Step six: expect a wobble around week three
Almost every new homeschool hits a rough patch a few weeks in. The novelty wears off, the child tests whether you mean it, and the parent starts comparing their kitchen table to someone’s photographed one. It isn’t a sign you’ve chosen wrong. When it comes, do three things before you change anything:
- check whether the morning block has crept longer than you planned;
- move the hardest subject to whenever your child is freshest, which isn’t always first thing;
- protect one completely unscheduled afternoon a week.
Change curriculum only if the same subject is still a fight a month later. Most early fights are about the new routine, not the book.
Step seven: keep records from day one
Whatever your state asks for, keep something from the first day. A simple dated log answers your state’s requirements if it has them, answers your own “are we actually doing anything?” doubts in February, and makes re-enrolling or applying anywhere later much easier. It doesn’t need to be elaborate. One bound notebook with a line per day (“reading lesson 12, math lesson 9, read-aloud chapter 4, park”), plus a box where a few pieces of work go each week, covers most families.
Start it now rather than reconstructing it later. A log written on the day takes a minute or two; one rebuilt from memory in May takes a weekend and is never as good. My whole ten-minutes-a-week version is in homeschool record-keeping. Check your state’s expectations through the signpost post above before you decide what to keep.
Step eight: find your people
Homeschooling alone is much harder than homeschooling alongside a few other families, for the parent as much as the kids. You don’t need a big group in the first month. Two or three families you meet regularly will do more good than a full co-op schedule. Good places to start are your state homeschool organization’s list of local support groups, the library (homeschool groups often book its rooms, and librarians know who they are), and park days.
When you’re ready for something more structured, a co-op shares the teaching of some classes among parents, and the good ones are worth it. Ask what you’d be expected to teach and pay before you join. How they work, what they typically cost in money and time, and how to find one are covered in homeschool co-ops.
The worry under all the other worries
Nobody searches “how to start homeschooling” for fun. Under the logistics question is usually a quieter one: will I ruin my kids? I can only offer myself as evidence: homeschooled kid, state university, career, mortgage, normal amount of social awkwardness (locates the bathroom at parties, makes small talk at the DMV). The outcome data point sitting closest to me typed this sentence, and she turned out fine.
FAQ: starting to homeschool
Is homeschooling legal everywhere in the US?
Yes — homeschooling is legal in all fifty states, with requirements that differ by state (notification, records, assessments). Always verify your own state’s current rules through HSLDA and your state homeschool organization rather than a blog post, including this one.
How do I homeschool if I’ve never taught before?
The same way most homeschool parents do: with a teacher’s guide open beside you. Good beginner reading and math programs tell you what to say and do each lesson. You’re also teaching one or a few children you know very well, which is a very different job from managing a classroom.
How much does it cost to start homeschooling?
Less than the catalogs suggest. A focused first year can run on a library card plus a reading and a math program — very roughly a few hundred dollars, hedged generously depending on what you buy new versus used. The expensive first year is usually the panicked one.
Do I need a teaching degree to homeschool?
No state requires a teaching degree of every homeschool parent, though a few have parent-qualification rules — one more thing to verify in your state’s current requirements. Practically: my mother taught five kids through high school with a high-school diploma and a library habit.
Can I start homeschooling in the middle of the school year?
Yes, and plenty of families do. Follow your state’s withdrawal process in writing first, then treat the first few weeks as a transition rather than a term. Mid-year has one advantage: you already know exactly where your child is in reading and math.
What if I try homeschooling and it doesn’t work?
Then you re-enroll your kids, and school is still there. Homeschooling is a year-by-year decision, not a blood oath — we re-decide every spring, one kid at a time. The records you kept from day one make that re-entry smoother. Knowing the exit exists is half of what makes the entrance walkable.
