There comes a point in every homeschooling mother’s life when she realizes that she cannot live to meet the expectations of everyone around her. For me, that moment came quietly, somewhere between managing lessons, washing dishes, and explaining fractions to my child for the third time that day. I realized that as a Pakistani woman, a wife, and a homeschooling mother, I don’t have to please anyone except the ones who matter most, my children and my husband.
The Constant Pressure of “Log Kya Kahenge”:
In our society, the words “log kya kahenge” echo louder than our own voice. From the way we dress to how we raise our children, opinions never stop coming. When I chose to homeschool, it felt as if I had announced something shocking. Relatives called it “too modern,” others thought it was “too extreme.” Friends questioned how my children would “socialize,” and even well-meaning elders advised me to send them to school for a “normal” upbringing.
But deep down, I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was choosing a path that allowed me to give my children time, faith, and values that are often lost in the rush of school life. I wanted learning to be joyful, not pressured. Still, facing constant questioning from others used to make me doubt myself. Until I realized that those people weren’t living my life, I was.
Understanding My Real Responsibility:
As mothers, we are already stretched thin, emotionally, physically, and mentally. We take care of our children’s education, meals, character, and emotional well-being. Then, as Pakistani women, we’re also expected to keep extended family happy, maintain appearances, attend every gathering, and smile through every judgment.
So one day, I asked myself: Who am I trying to please? Am I teaching my children for others’ approval, or to build a loving, balanced home? The answer was clear. My responsibility lies within my own walls, with my husband, my children, and the home Allah has blessed me with. The rest is just noise.
The Guilt Trap Pakistani Mothers Fall Into:
There’s a silent guilt that follows many of us. When we say no to unnecessary social visits, people assume we’ve become antisocial. When we choose not to follow what “every other child” is doing, they say we’re overprotective. And when we dedicate our lives to homeschooling, they call it “too much control.”
At first, I felt that guilt deeply. I’d stay up at night wondering if I was isolating my kids or depriving them of something. But then I began to notice something beautiful. My children were learning peacefully, without competition. They were growing in faith, kindness, and curiosity. They weren’t learning just to pass exams; they were learning to understand life. That’s when the guilt started to fade. I realized the only people whose opinion truly mattered were those who sat at our dinner table every night.
The Reality of Family and Friends’ Opinions:
In Pakistan, extended families are often deeply involved in each other’s lives. That’s a blessing in many ways, but it can also be overwhelming for homeschooling mothers. Every visit brings comparisons: who’s studying what, who’s getting top marks, whose child got into which school. It takes courage to sit in those conversations and know your path looks different, but still feel proud of it.
Friends, too, can sometimes make it harder. When everyone discusses school admissions, uniform shopping, or parent-teacher meetings, you may feel left out. But remember, you’ve chosen something extraordinary. You’ve chosen to be your child’s first teacher, their emotional anchor, and their guide in faith.
Finding Peace in My Own Home:
Once I stopped trying to please everyone, I noticed a change in my home’s atmosphere. The stress of trying to “prove” my decision was gone. My children saw a calmer mother, and my husband felt more connected to the vision we shared for our family. We began to function as a team, not a family trying to impress others, but one focused on building love, learning, and faith.
Homeschooling taught me that peace doesn’t come from validation; it comes from knowing your intention is pure. When your actions are for your family and for Allah’s sake, that is enough.
A Message to Other Pakistani Mothers:
If you are a homeschooling mother in Pakistan feeling misunderstood or judged, know that you are not alone. You don’t need to fit into a mold created by others. You don’t have to attend every gathering or explain your decision at every corner. You are allowed to set boundaries. You are allowed to protect your children’s peace, and your own.
Your home is your world, and your children are your legacy. Let your focus stay on them, not on people who will talk regardless of what you do. Please yourself by pleasing the ones who truly matter, your children and your husband, and watch how beautifully everything else begins to fall into place.
What I have learnt is that I no longer feel the need to prove anything. I don’t homeschool to appear “different” or “better.” I homeschool because it aligns with who I am and what I want for my children. My home is my classroom, my children are my students, and my happiness lies not in what others say, but in the laughter, growth, and peace that fill these walls.