“To bring change we cannot go alone; our world faces huge challenges which are complex and difficult. They cannot be solved in isolation.”
– from Community blog part one
In Part One I shared some of my own journey into community. I reflected on how our culture leans toward individualism, competition, and disconnection. Inspired by the work of Brené Brown, I highlighted the longing in many of us for deep belonging – for a place where we can lay down masks, where our brokenness is welcome, where we can both receive and give.
But longing is not enough. For community to live, it must be embodied. It must be local (in some sense). It must have structures, rhythms, and practices that reinforce trust, vulnerability, mutual care, and shared purpose.
This is one of the joys of home education: we are a diverse community. As we step out into the unknown world of home education, we discover community – as Brené Brown articulates so well:
“Standing on the edge of the wilderness is bone-chilling because belonging is so primal. … Choosing the wily outpost over the security of the city gates takes a true act of courage. The first step can take your breath away.
But I have discovered something beautiful: the loneliest steps are the ones between the city walls and the heart of the wilderness, where safety is in the rear-view mirror, new territory remains to be seen, and the path out to the unknown seems empty. But put one foot in front of the other enough times, stay the course long enough to actually tunnel into the wilderness, and you’ll be shocked how many people already live out there – thriving, dancing, creating, celebrating, belonging. It is not a barren wasteland. It is not unprotected territory. It is not void of human flourishing. The wilderness is where all the creatives and prophets and system-buckers and risk-takers have always lived, and it is stunningly vibrant. The walk there is hard, but the authenticity out there is life.”
Once you find your community and connect with the “creatives, system-buckers, and risk-takers”, extraordinary things can happen. As we created and grew our own home-education community in Bristol, the vision of the Hub was conceived.
The idea of a Hub did not emerge fully formed. It came from many conversations, longings, experiments, and failures. It was the connection with two courageous women who caught the vision and chose to join the team that enabled it to become a reality.
Some of the early seeds:
• We saw many home-educated young people yearning for a place to gather, to explore, to belong outside conventional school settings.
• We sensed that a community hub could act as a bridge between home and the wider world – a space of belonging, of growth, of experimentation.
Early stumbling blocks were many: finding a suitable venue, securing funding, aligning schedules, navigating local authority rules, and getting enough people willing to try something new. At times it felt like building a plane in midair; at times we asked, “Are we crazy?” But the conviction that community matters kept us pressing on.
Today, the Streams Learning Hub is a part-time learning community for teenagers where creativity, STEM, arts, languages, projects, and social rhythms intersect. We rent a space in central Bristol and enable workshops for young people, along with socials for young people and for parents. We are providing more than a curriculum – we are a living culture of collaboration, belonging, and exploration.
What makes the Hub more than just another extracurricular programme? Our challenge is this: how can we be community, not just have community?
Intentional rhythms: We have a weekly rhythm of workshops, with some extra pop-ups along the way, and we sit to enjoy lunch together.
Co-designing with learners: We don’t dictate everything; our young people help shape projects, select themes, and participate actively in sessions.
Low barriers, high trust: We try to keep fees low, enable subsidised rates, and welcome parents, volunteers, and community input with a heart to co-create and learn together.
Embracing vulnerability and mess: Community isn’t tidy. We expect mistakes and misunderstandings. We commit to grace, apology, and repair.
Shared responsibility: Community members are not passive recipients; we invite people to host a session, help create the physical space, and contribute where they can.
These practices don’t guarantee community, but they create soil in which it can germinate.
We live in an era of fragmentation – of families under pressure, of rising mental health struggles, of communities unravelling, of social media replacing real connection and actively dividing. But broken systems, isolation, and despair don’t have the last word.
If education is more than content delivery – if it’s about forming people, cultivating agency, imagination, and resilience – then it requires community. We cannot shape souls in isolation. We cannot sustain transformation alone. We cannot lean on individual journeys and determination forever.
Community is not a luxury for the few who “have time.” It is foundational.
If this resonates with you – if you feel the ache for belonging, for a creative space, for connection – here is how you can step in:
• Contribute to and join a local home-education group.
• Join or start a local pod, micro-community, or learning circle.
• Tell your story – even your small, ordinary story matters. We must change the narrative and show that community is rich, positive, and real. It is a healing balm in a fractured world.
• Be willing to risk; be vulnerable; open your home; share your time and creativity.
Let us not just long for community. Let us show up – with courage, with failures, with real hearts – and create it. May our next chapter be richer than we dare hope.
For those interested in starting your own hub and learning with others, visit educationstartups.org/community – a growing community of people creating learning communities, learning and growing together.