No More Dorms, Same Old Damage

The shell game of abuse in Ethnos360

New names. New packaging. Same pressure. Same harm.

I still have kids at home. I’m not speaking from some distant memory—I’m speaking from fresh realizations and still-raw wounds.

When I joined Ethnos360, homeschooling wasn’t just encouraged—it was mandatory at least until a certain age. They said it was part of a new, more “family-centered” approach. No more big dorm-style boarding schools. No more sending your children away.

Instead, there were now two options:

• Homeschool your children in the tribe

• Or send them to live with another missionary family near the school

On paper, it sounded like progress. But in reality? The harm just shifted forms.

We chose to homeschool in the tribe. But with that came an unbearable pressure:

If my children didn’t meet academic expectations—if they couldn’t read fluently or do math fast enough—we would be pulled from our work. Our ministry would end. My husband’s role would suffer. And the tribal people we were serving? They might go to hell. That was the message.

I had two kids with severe dyslexia and ADHD. Smart, creative, and wonderfully wired. But none of that mattered. I was expected to make them learn on a rigid timeline as if their brains didn’t matter—as if I could simply will it to happen through enough effort.

If I couldn’t “fix” them fast enough, the implication was clear: I was failing my family. Failing the mission. Failing God.

I wasn’t just any mother on the field. I was the homeschool coordinator for their largest field. I administered the tests myself. I watched the mothers panic. I watched the kids break down. I lived in that fear, too.

Every year, no matter the context—trauma, diagnosis, transitions, loss—the same standardized tests were given. And when a child didn’t measure up? The family would likely be pulled out of the tribe and relocated to live near the school. Which means they left their friends and their homes and they lost everything because they tested poorly. The promise was help. What came was pressure and blame.

What about the other “solution”? The one they say is no longer boarding school? (on many of the fields they still use boarding schools but they don't count them because they are intermission schools)

It’s still boarding school.

They just changed the name.

Instead of sending kids to institutional dorms, they now place them with missionary families near the school. Often people who are barely acquaintances. Often at age 13. Sometimes younger.

They call it a host family.

But to a child, it still feels like being sent away. It still feels like abandonment.

So now we have two “family-centered” options:

• Homeschool in total isolation, under crushing pressure

• Or send your child to live with acquaintances and hope for the best

In the tribes, there’s something else people don’t talk about openly:

Sexual abuse.

Children were assaulted by tribal members, this happened often.

And when it happened? The response from leadership was devastating:

• “You need to go back.”

• “It’s not that big of a deal.”

• “The real tragedy would be if the Gospel didn’t go forward.”

Let that settle.

Child safety was not the priority. The mission was. Always.

Through it all, mothers were expected to hold everything together. Educate at a Western standard. Cook from scratch. Run literacy programs, medical programs, Survive malaria. Keep the house presentable, entertain and host on demand. Meet every ministry and marital need. If your child struggled, the blame came straight back to you.

There was no flexibility. No space. No acknowledgment that children develop differently, or that trauma slows learning, or that dyslexia is real and permanent and not your fault.

You were supposed to produce children who learned a specific way, on a specific timeline, no matter how their brains were built.

And if you couldn’t do it?

Your family’s future was on the line. Your housing your ministry your community might be lost. But the thing that was brought up most? Souls were on the line.

I saw mothers crumble.

I saw kids punished, shamed, shut down.. beaten for not being able to produce their math facts.

Their parents desperate. Afraid.

They were told that anything less than success meant people might go to hell.

We were taught we were the only ones doing it right. The only ones really translating the Bible. The only ones truly obeying. Everyone else? Just playing missionary. We were better than all the other missions.

That narrative—of sacrifice and superiority—kept us quiet.

It kept us trying harder.

It kept us willing to sacrifice our children.

But I see it clearly now:

This wasn’t obedience. It was a machine that destroyed children.

If you’ve read this far, you should be angry.

Because it’s still happening.

Not in dormitories.

Not with old language.

But under new names, in homes, and in tribal villages.

They say things have changed, but the harm is just better disguised.

People need to know:

Because no child should be sent to live with people they barely know and told it’s “better than boarding.”

Because no child’s trauma should be minimized to preserve a ministry.

Because no mother should be blamed for her child’s neurology—or told her child’s delay is the reason people might not hear the Gospel.

No Christian mission should require the sacrifice of children to meet its goals

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