O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?” The crowd assembled on the bleachers, wrapped in blankets and coats, heartily applauded as my friend finished singing the national anthem up in the field house. Our DIII college team was playing their final game of the season and there was a great turnout—the college president and his wife sat in the center of the bleachers, the new dean of students walked along the outside of the field and other various directors and deans mingled among the crowd of students and their families.

This small, suburban liberal arts college has been my stomping ground for the last two-and-a-half years. The president, deans and directors have become my regular contacts. As the news editor of our college newspaper, I’m always bumping into different members of the administration. And, every so often, my past comes up: I was homeschooled. Yes, all the way, I explain. The only reason I ever went to our local high school was for driver’s ed one summer, I’ll elaborate for my often somewhat-surprised audience.

It seems to astonish and intrigue them that someone they’ve spoken with multiple times in the last few years could have such a different upbringing than them or their children yet still be successful or even “normal” in a college setting. They’re rarely hostile encounters, but in some cases I just don’t think they’ve ever known a homeschooler and don’t quite know what to expect.

Being homeschooled isn’t something I am embarrassed of, or try to hide, but neither do I wear a sign around my neck advertising it or use it as a tag-line when I’m introducing myself. Starting a conversation with, “Hi, I’m Sarah, I was homeschooled. It’s nice to meet you,” is just not my style.

However if the subject does come up, it is very much my style to provide as many details as they show an interest to know, vouch for homeschooling as a legitimate means of obtaining an education, while also honestly admitting that it may not be the ideal solution for every child.

I believe it was a wonderful opportunity for me and, thanks to my parents’ and others’ dedication, they prepared me well for college. There was a transition stage—everyone must go through that whether they’re coming from a public high school, a private one or their kitchen table—but it was a smooth one. I got to know new people and people got to know me, the real me, the homeschooled me. I’ve had multitudes of chances to confront stereotypes, answer questions, put ungrounded fears to rest and build up a positive reputation of homeschoolers at my college.

My college. The one that has informally told me to bring all my homeschooled friends to their school. The one whose professors have bragged to me about their top students, little knowing they were homeschooled friends I’d grown up with. The one with a crowd of dedicated people on freezing metal bleachers cheering our team and singing with sincerity about the land of the free and the home of the brave. I sing as sincerely as the rest: because of this free land I can proudly stand alongside them—as a homeschooler.