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“But how will they compete with others?”
“Won’t they be left behind?”
“What about college?”
“Aren’t you keeping them away from the real world?”

These are the questions I hear repeatedly when people learn that I homeschool my children. Their eyes widen with concern, as if I’ve made a decision that might somehow limit my children’s potential or hide them from opportunities.
But what many don’t understand is this: My goal is not to raise children who race to stay ahead. My goal is to raise hearts that care, minds that think deeply, and souls that know their purpose.

I Chose a Different Path, On Purpose:
I didn’t choose homeschooling out of fear or because I think schools are all bad. I chose it because I believe children are not seeds to be thrown into the wind and expected to grow tall just anywhere. They are delicate, unique creations of Allah, and they need a space that truly understands their individual rhythm.

In a world where children are taught to compete before they are even taught to feel, I chose a path that teaches connection before comparison. My children are not projects. They are people. And I’m not raising them to beat others, I’m raising them to be their best selves.

Success Doesn’t Mean Stepping Over Others:
When people say, “They need to learn how to compete,” I gently smile. And I say, “I’m not raising them to compete with others. I’m raising them to compete with who they were yesterday.” The kind of success I dream for my children doesn’t come with medals or applause.

It’s found in the quiet strength of a child who shares when no one is looking. In the courage of a young soul who chooses honesty even when it’s hard. In the purity of a heart that finds joy in someone else’s success without jealousy. The world may value loud success, but I’m teaching my children the power of silent strength.

Entrepreneurship Over Dependence:
When people ask me about college, I tell them it’s not a command in our house, it’s a choice. If one of my children dreams of becoming a doctor, a teacher, or an engineer, I’ll help them work toward it. But I also believe in something more rooted: empowerment.

I want to raise entrepreneurs, not necessarily in the business sense alone, but in the truest form: creative thinkers, problem-solvers, independent hearts. I want them to know that their hands and minds are enough. That they can earn a living, serve their community, and create goodness in the world without waiting to be chosen by someone else.
I want them to understand their skills are gifts from Allah, not to be buried under someone else’s expectations, but to be used in ways that please Him and benefit people.

Keeping Them Away From the World? Yes, That’s Exactly Why:
When people say I’m keeping them away from “the real world,” I say, “Yes, I am.” Because the “real world” they’re referring to is filled with noise I don’t want in their hearts. It’s a world where bullying is brushed off as part of growing up. Where children are praised for being clever, even if they are cruel.

Where wealth is worshipped, and kindness is seen as weakness. Where children are taught to win, not to care. Why would I rush to throw my children into that? No, I don’t want them to grow up thinking that their worth lies in beating someone else. I want them to grow in an environment where they are safe to be soft. Where love is not a reward but a constant. Where values are not taught once a week but lived every day.

Our Home Is Their Garden:
I’ve created a home where my children can ask questions without shame. Where they can make mistakes without fear. Where their voices are heard. Where Qur’an isn’t a subject, it’s our guide. Where we speak about Allah, not just when we’re scared, but when we’re grateful, when we’re confused, when we’re happy.

We begin our mornings with du’as, and end our days with stories of the Prophets. We talk about kindness as strength, and humility as beauty. We teach that giving is better than taking, and that our worth is not decided by others, but by our Lord. They are learning math and science, yes, but also how to serve their elders and neighbours, how to stand up for justice, and how to choose love in a world full of cruelty.

I Want Their Childhood to Be Pure, Not Pressured:
I want them to remember these years not as a time they were pushed to perform, but a time they were allowed to grow. Not in a box, not under pressure, but with light, air, and hope. I want them to build character, not ego. To build connection, not competition.

I’m not raising them to be the best in the room. I’m raising them to be the best for the room.
And if that means they take longer to bloom, let them. If it means they walk a quieter path, let them. Because I know where they’re going is more important than how fast they get there.

This Is Not Just Homeschooling, It’s Heart Schooling:
So no, I’m not raising future toppers. I’m raising future givers, builders, healers. I’m not shielding them from the world. I’m shaping them “for” a better world.

One where empathy is more important than ego. Where a strong identity in Islam is their anchor. And where they know that their success is not in beating the rest, it’s in becoming their best. And that, to me, is worth every bit of this journey.