Our Story
When we first started talking about home education, we imagined it would begin when our daughter reached Year 7. That always felt like a natural point to transition — when children start to crave more independence, more autonomy, more say in how they spend their days. But in reality, our journey began much earlier than we expected.
By the end of Year 3, we knew something wasn’t quite aligning. The kind of freedom that school offered didn’t match the kind of freedom we wanted for our family. We’re both self-employed, so our lives already operate outside the traditional 9–5 rhythm. Our daughter is the same — curious, energetic, full of ideas, always learning but never still. She learns on the go, thinks out loud, and questions everything. School just couldn’t offer the space or pace that she thrives in.
We’re not anti-school. It absolutely has a place and serves so many children well. But for us, we wanted something closer-knit. More intentional. More adaptable to the child in front of us, rather than the system around her. So we made the decision to start our home education journey sooner than planned.
And almost immediately, we noticed a gap.
There were amazing forest schools and home-ed meetups and outdoor adventures. But we were looking for something that offered calm, structured support in a supervised setting. Not tutoring, but a space to learn away from home. A where she could be dropped off for a few hours, work on something she loved, feel supported — and where we, as parents, could have a few hours to ourselves. To work. To catch up on life.
That’s when we started hearing the quiet, unspoken message that many home-ed parents know all too well:
“You chose this. So now you’ve got to be with your child 24/7.”
That subtle judgment — the “you made your bed, now lie in it” tone — didn’t sit well with us.
Because here’s the thing: choosing to home educate your child doesn’t mean choosing martyrdom. It doesn’t mean sacrificing every moment of personal space, or being expected to hold the entire emotional, educational, and financial load alone.
Home-ed families need breathing room, too. To work. To rest. To book a dentist appointment. To sit in silence for 10 minutes with a hot coffee. That time isn’t selfish — it’s essential. For our wellbeing. For our families. For the kind of learning experience we’re trying to create.
So when we couldn’t find a space that supported that balance, we created one.
We built a business around our daughter — and by extension, around families just like ours.
That’s how You Can Sit With Us was born.
We called it that because it felt right. Warm. Inviting. Inclusive. It might change one day, but for now, it reflects exactly what we want every child — and parent — to feel the moment they step through the door. Whoever you are, whatever your background, you’re welcome here. No child is left out. No bullying. No cliques. Just a calm, creative environment where everyone is included.
And something magical happens in that space.
An 8-year-old helps a 12-year-old with a drawing technique. A 13-year-old explains a maths problem to a 9-year-old in a way that finally makes it click. The barriers between age, ability and stage start to blur — and what’s left is a room full of curious young minds, working together in a way that’s organic, respectful and completely unforced.
It’s learning, without the pressure.
And for parents — it’s trust.
Trust that their child is not only looked after, but genuinely respected.
That they’ll be treated with kindness.
That they’ll be safe, listened to, and supported.
And that they’ll be able to learn in the way that makes the most sense for them.
The families who attend You Can Sit With Us come from all over Torbay and South Devon. Many are self-employed or working flexibly, trying to make home education sustainable while still juggling work, life, and everything in between. They love being part of their child’s education — but they also need support to make it work long-term.
And that’s what we’re offering.
We didn’t launch this with a big business plan. We simply asked, “What do we need? What does our daughter need? What might others need too?” And then we built something from that place of honesty and care.
We’re not trying to recreate school. We’re not trying to replace parents. We’re just holding a space. One that supports learning, values autonomy, and gives both children and grownups the chance to thrive — not just survive.
YCSWU is our way of saying: yes, you can home educate.
Yes, you can have structure and flexibility.
Yes, your child can be supported, seen, and safe — without you having to do it all on your own.
We’re proud of what we’ve created. And we’d love for you to sit with us.