Connecticut lawmakers are considering a bill that would subject every family to a background check by the Department of Children and Families before beginning to homeschool.

Not after evidence of abuse. Not in response to a specific concern. But as a condition of carrying out a basic responsibility of parenthood—in this case choosing the best education method for your child. In effect, the state must clear you before you may begin to teach your own child.

That’s a profound shift. The US Supreme Court has described this kind of presumption as “repugnant to American tradition.”

The bill is heading to the Senate, after being amended and passed by the House Thursday night. Like many such proposals, the bill is described as a modest response to tragic cases of children being abused. Every case of child abuse is devastating and morally urgent. So any serious discussion must begin there. But it cannot end there.

The 1979 Supreme Court decision in Parham v. J.R. did not arise in the context of education. It concerned a difficult question about when a parent may admit a child for mental health treatment. Yet precisely because the stakes were so high, the Court spoke with unusual clarity about the starting point for any state intervention into parent-child decision-making.

It began with a principle older than any civil government, quoting Pierce v. Society of Sisters (1925): “The child is not the mere creature of the State.”

That line marks a boundary. The state may have interests in the welfare of children, but it does not possess children. Parents do not exercise their role at the pleasure of a regulatory scheme; they fulfill a duty that precedes the state.

Then the Court explained why the law has long trusted parents: “Historically, it has recognized that natural bonds of affection lead parents to act in the best interests of their children.”

The Connecticut proposal proceeds from a different premise. By requiring every parent to be pre-screened before they can begin homeschooling, it turns parents from trusted actors into potential risks to be managed.

The Court in Parham anticipated precisely this reasoning and rejected it. It acknowledged plainly that “some parents ‘may at times be acting against the interests of their children.’”

That is the hard reality invoked today. But the Court’s response is decisive: This fact “creates a basis for caution,” not a license to discard wholesale the long recognized governing presumption.

That is where the Connecticut bill departs most sharply from our legal tradition. It takes the exception—the rare but real examples of abuse—and uses it to justify a universal screening regime. But that move alters the relationship between family and state.

The Court drew the line in unmistakable terms: “The statist notion that governmental power should supersede parental authority in all cases because some parents abuse and neglect their children is repugnant to American tradition.” (emphasis in original).

That word—repugnant—reflects a decisive judgment about a view that is fundamentally incompatible with our constitutional tradition. A system that begins by distrusting every parent because of the misconduct of a few is not merely overbroad, it’s totally out of line.

If the bill passes, all families would be prevented from beginning to homeschool until the DCF screening was completed. It would be a barrier based on a generalized suspicion of all parents rather than specific concerning evidence about some parents, in direct contradiction to the Supreme Court’s admonition in Parham. That is the central problem.

The question, then, is not whether child abuse exists. It does. The question is how a free society responds to that evil without abandoning the freedom that makes human flourishing possible.

As we approach the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, we are reminded of a central tenet of the American experiment: that unalienable rights endowed by our Creator precede government itself—among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

The Founders saw here a life shaped by virtue, responsibility, and purpose. They saw human flourishing. And they assumed this life begins with the family, not with the state. Rather the state is charged with guarding the freedom that makes flourishing possible.

The Connecticut bill reframes that principle. Trust in parents is replaced with suspicion. Freedom is not the starting point, but a risk to be managed. Liberty must be approved before it can be exercised.

The law already provides tools to protect children where there is evidence of harm, and those tools should be used vigorously and without hesitation. But that is very different from treating every family as a potential threat to kids.

What is at stake in Connecticut is not simply homeschooling, but the meaning of liberty itself. Is it a problem to be managed—or a good to be preserved?

Is the family the starting point—or the state?

We can protect children without reversing the presumption of trust in parents. We can enforce the law without redefining liberty as a liability. And we can act decisively where evidence demands it without imposing suspicion where none exists.

That is the balance our American tradition has struck, and Connecticut should not abandon it now