Looking back on the road that led us here.
This wasn’t the path I planned. I didn’t set out to homeschool. It found me, one hard moment, one closed door, one realization at a time.
It started with preschool. Like a lot of parents here in Florida, I enrolled my daughter in VPK. The first day, she was so excited, she wanted to explore every corner of the classroom, meet the teachers, take it all in. She barely noticed when I left. I thought that was a good sign.
But when I came to pick her up, one of the assistants told me she’d had a meltdown, not because she was looking for me, but because she’d gotten overwhelmed. We didn’t know yet that she had autism.
Her time there had its ups and downs. Eventually the teachers asked to meet with us and the director. They said she needed redirection, extra attention, more than they could give with just two teachers in the room. They suggested early intervention through the school district.
My first reaction was: there is nothing wrong with my daughter. I thought she just needed time to adjust, she’d never been in a school setting before, never really spent much time around other children. It was just me and her at home most days.
We listened anyway and made the appointment. It was around October or November of 2019, and the earliest they could see her was the end of March 2020. We also saw her pediatrician, who referred us to a neurologist. That appointment was scheduled for 2020 too. She was evaluated and diagnosed in February 2020.
We told her teachers. They already suspected, but the calls to come pick her up after a meltdown didn’t stop. So I did what every autism parent does: I researched everything I could find. I looked for answers. I questioned what I’d done wrong. I searched for a different doctor, hoping for a different answer, even though I already had the one that mattered.
Then the pandemic changed everything. Early intervention got cancelled. Schools closed. Her preschool never reopened, she graduated through a car window at a drive-thru ceremony.
When the new school year came, we considered public school, but she needed an evaluation first. I had no idea how any of this worked. We’re originally from Puerto Rico, so terms like IEP meant nothing to us. I didn’t know what to ask for or who to ask.
After months of calls and emails, we were told the evaluation had to happen through our assigned school directly. But by then, virtual schooling was an option because of the pandemic, and I chose it without hesitation. I pictured what her first day would look like: social distancing, masks, rigid rules. I knew my daughter. She’s social, energetic, impulsive at times. A restrictive classroom like that would have been hard on her in every way.
We enrolled in Florida Virtual School. At first, it went well, though keeping her seated and focused on a screen was its own challenge. We also had two ABA therapists working with her at home, play-based therapy, walks to the park, mixed in with her virtual classes. We did kindergarten and first grade that way.
When we moved to a new county with an elementary school just steps from our house, we considered enrolling her, but first came the evaluation for ESE eligibility. Months of waiting later, the district said she wasn’t eligible. She’d done well on speech and language, was above average in reading, bilingual, could communicate effectively. They offered a 504 plan instead. Her time in FLVS, they said, had also worked against her eligibility.
We weren’t satisfied. We provided everything: her neurologist’s documentation, recommendations for ABA and occupational therapy. Still, by their standards, she didn’t qualify. And yet, their own records described a child who struggled socially, had trouble expressing emotions, needed redirection, and raised safety concerns because of her impulsivity.
What I experienced confirmed something I now believe deeply: school districts don’t always act in a child’s best interest, they act in the interest of funding. My daughter’s own records showed exactly what she struggled with, and she was still denied, partly because she was doing well academically, and partly, as they stated, because she is bilingual and attends FLVS Flex.
I’ve since read similar stories from other autism parents, frustrations with how public schools have handled their children’s needs. I won’t go into those, they’re not my story to tell. But my own experience was enough to confirm I made the right choice for my daughter.
Around that same time, I applied for the Step Up for Students scholarship for unique abilities, and she was awarded it. No one had told me this existed; I found it while searching for therapy services on my own. Because the funds go directly to us, she couldn’t be enrolled in public school, so we continued with FLVS, now as a private-pay student instead of free virtual public school.
We tried again for second grade, but a billing dispute, they wanted a full year’s payment upfront instead of quarterly like before, became the final straw. I was frustrated and done. I cancelled everything and started researching other options.
The scholarship, which had felt complicated at first, became a real blessing. We used it for her therapies, books, materials, sensory equipment. I found a curriculum kit with workbooks, games, and hands-on activities. It worked well at first, but because it came as a fixed bundle, it was hard to personalize to her needs. We moved on from it, but it taught me something valuable: what worked for her, and what didn’t.
That’s really what this whole journey has been: learning her, one piece at a time. No one told me how my autistic child would learn. There isn’t one way, and every child’s needs are different. No one told me she’d need sensory breaks to regroup and decompress. No one told me what would overwhelm her, or that transitions would need extra support. I had to learn all of it by watching her, adjusting, and trying again.
Now, I build her learning around her, not the other way around. We combine personalized lessons with outside activities like swimming and art, also covered by the scholarship. It’s not the path I planned, but it’s the one that fits her.
One Simple Step
If you’re early in this journey and it feels overwhelming, know this: you don’t have to have it all figured out right away. Pay attention to what works for your child, let that guide you, and give yourself room to change course when something isn’t working. You’re not failing by adjusting. You’re learning, just like I am.
