The Importance of Belonging

I always say, “Growth doesn’t happen inside of your comfort zone.” It just doesn’t.

So I try to push myself from time to time and put myself in new or uncomfortable situations.

Yesterday, a new friend invited me to a local event that happens monthly, where people come together to share their writing and poetry with all attendees. After reading your piece, you receive feedback from the crowd. I’ve never presented my work like that aside from my English classes in college. So I was nervous, yet excited.

When things got started, I was entranced. Instead of feeling like I was outside of my comfort zone, I felt right at home. The group was so diverse in age, ethnic background, and experiences. Some pieces were intriguing and soulful, and others created smiles and laughing. It was so enchanting. As I sat in those moments, I thought, “Wow. I could really belong to this community that wants to think creatively and support others in their craft.” I felt a sense of belonging.

Some say that all any human wants is to be loved. I can see that. But honestly, I believe that all any human wants is to belong.

Why is Belonging Important?

I think we are a more communal species than we realize. Thanks to capitalism and the creation of the nuclear family, we have been conditioned to believe that we can, and should, always do it on our own. In reality, we need each other. We crave connection. We need cheerleaders! This life is way to messy to go without a few good cheerleaders in our lives.

Look at those who don’t have connection to a community. What do they do? They join something more dangerous and unsafe like a gang or a cult, desperate for any sort of belonging. Look at veterans after they leave the service. They struggle transitioning back to civilian life with what they have experienced along the way for sure, but they also miss that sense of brotherhood and knowing that every other person had their backs. Now they don’t know who has their backs in a crowd.

Even going to a concert I feel more connected and heart filled being in a giant room of others who share the same musical tastes as me. I walk through life assuming I’m the only one who likes Kacey Musgraves, but when I go to her concerts, I am in awe of how many other fans there are! It’s so fun!!

Or when I’m walking down the street on vacation in a different town wearing a Cubs hat or shirt, and someone says, “Go Cubs!” Immediate connection to a complete stranger.

Belonging.

So … What Does This Have to Do with Parenting?

Maria Montessori understood that people have a need to belong. Children at a young age can’t go out and join clubs or sports at their own fruition. And besides, they shouldn’t have to in order to feel a sense of belonging. The first place they can belong, is at home, with their families.

How is that done? First, consider the environment.

I often share the story of when my husband and I first started dating. He had a townhome and I was ALWAYS over. A month or two into us dating, I dropped a plate on the floor and it shattered. I went to get the broom and dustpan, but he shooed me away, saying, “I got it. Don’t worry about it.”

You would think, “Oh how chivalrous of him!” Wrong. I got upset.

No, I’m not a Karen. I got upset because his gesture made me feel like I didn’t belong in his home. Like I was still a guest in this space. And I wanted to be a part of his space.

Belonging matters.

When a child has the opportunity to contribute to the care of their home, it provides a sense of belonging.

Every August, we sit down as a family and decide what new household care my daughter will take on that is hers. This year, as she is 11 going on 12, we decided that she will plan and cook dinner for the family every Wednesday.

But this didn’t start recently. We have been building up since she was 2 years old. It started with her first helping me with laundry, folding washcloths and sorting out her underwear. I would fold them but she would find them all. Over time it has come to include dusting, cleaning the cat litter box, feeding the pets, emptying the dishwasher, making her own lunch for school, and doing her own laundry completely.

What I want for my own daughter, and for all children, is to experience and learn life skills, and in turn make them feel like they belong and are a contributing member to the family, so that they can become contributing members of society. Always play the long game.

In my next post, I’ll talk more about how we can create belonging beyond the home. But home is where it begins. If you can create a secure, safe, healthy foundation at home, where your child knows they belong, you will only grow their pride and confidence, which will give them a huge leg up once they venture outside your doors.

What Shaped My Parenting Style

My Own Childhood

The first experience that shaped my parenting style was my own childhood. Because I never really experienced failure until my early twenties — when it came crashing down on me all at once — I knew that when I had a child, I wanted her to experience small failures along the way. My hope was that, as an adult, she’d have the skills to cope. I wanted her to learn the art of the struggle: pushing herself outside her comfort zone, but not so far that she’d be overwhelmed.

Well, I was in for an extra challenge, because God gave me a perfectionist. (I still don’t know where she gets that from.*) Let me tell you something about bright perfectionists: a lot comes naturally easy to them. Struggling is an even more foreign feeling for them than for others, and when they inevitably do experience it, they try to avoid it at all costs. I often see learned helplessness or avoidance of challenging work in my bright perfectionist students — work they are more than capable of doing.

Example: When my daughter Julia learned to ride a two-wheel bike, we got her a new one. The following summer, she pulled it out again. On day three, she fell. Hard. We didn’t see that bike leave the garage for the rest of that summer… or the next. No amount of encouragement could get her back on it. She hated the feeling of messing up and wanted no part of it.

The other piece I was intentional about was building a true connection and relationship based on mutual trust. Throughout my own childhood, I was often criticized for being “too emotional.” By the time I was a teenager, I not only tried to suppress my emotions, but I also didn’t feel comfortable sharing the ones I did acknowledge with my parents. I didn’t want that for Julia and me.

My goal with her has always been that, as a teenager, she’d feel comfortable enough to tell me big things like if she was thinking about having sex, and that as an adult, she’d choose to keep me in her life.

When Julia was 17 months old — and again at 3.5 years old — I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Both my mom and my mother-in-law cautioned me not to share too much with her. I couldn’t comprehend keeping something this big from my child. Of course she was going to notice differences — not only in my appearance, but in my energy. I shared everything with her in an age-appropriate way because I wanted to provide her with context. If I started lying to her at such a young age about something so profound, what kind of foundation of trust would I be building? I needed to tell her. And I’m so glad I did, because I always describe our love as fierce, and I believe our openness and honesty are a major part of that.

My Education and Love for Learning

I’m a teacher at heart. As a child, my sister and I would play “school,” and I was ALWAYS the teacher. In third grade, for career day, I dressed up as my teacher and was thrilled when she let me sit at her desk for the day. Everything I do tends to turn into a lesson — not in a condescending way, but because I love learning and want to share it with others in a way that’s easy for them to understand. So naturally, I went to college to become a teacher.

I attended Truman State University, which was an amazing time in my life. Their education program is a five-year master’s program in which you earn a BA in a core subject and a master’s in your preferred level of education. I majored in English and focused on elementary and middle school levels.

Sometimes I find myself frustrated, feeling like I’m repeating the same parenting education information over and over. “Why don’t they get this?!” Then I check myself and remember: I’ve never been a parent without my background in education and child development. Most parents don’t have that. They went to school for finance or nursing or business or no education at all. It’s MY job to teach them. Suddenly, the frustration melts away.

I also have a deep desire to learn. I get frustrated because I can’t consume information fast enough. Naturally, I also have a love for books and reading.

When Julia was a baby, I knew how important it was for her to hear a variety of words — and that to encounter vocabulary beyond normal conversation, you have to read to children. So, I would read her picture books, but I also read children’s chapter books like Matilda to her as I rocked her to sleep. I remember laying her on a blanket and reading her the entire bound collection of Beatrix Potter’s works.

For me, education is a major priority because, as cliché as it sounds, knowledge is power. Do I demand perfection in her school performance? Absolutely not! Remember, I have a perfectionist, and we’ve worked a LOT on developing a growth mindset. My expectation is simply that she does her very best. The result matters less to me — the journey toward that result is what I care about most.

Mr. Rogers

As a young girl, and throughout my childhood, I adored Mr. Rogers. I loved his slow, calming voice. I loved his cadence and the way he never rushed to explain a concept. I loved that he was musical. I loved that he acknowledged emotions and taught children what to do with them.

Fred Rogers saw television growing in popularity and noticed the niche of children’s programming. What he saw was that it was becoming louder, more violent, and more chaotic. He wanted to slow things down and teach what he believed was important in a gentle but impactful way. That’s how Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was born.

I remember one time, feeling particularly like an outsider for expressing my emotions, crying in a corner while my family laughed. I shouted, “Mr. Rogers likes me just the way I am!” And indeed, he did.

Just last year, Julia and I flew to Pittsburgh for the sole purpose of seeing his actual set pieces, sweaters, shoes, and puppets. We also drove to his hometown and visited his gravesite to pay our respects.

Mr. Rogers’ favorite number was 143. Why? Because it stood for “I love you.” I = 1 letter, love = 4 letters, you = 3 letters. 143. I’ve tattooed 143 on my wrist, and when Julia and I are apart, we hold up 1 finger, then 4, then 3, to say “I love you.”

When I get hot-headed, I try to channel his calm. I used to have a shirt that said, “Be the person Mr. Rogers always knew you could be.”

He was groundbreaking in speaking to children respectfully on such a large scale. But he wasn’t the first to recognize that children deserve the same respect adults do.

The Montessori Philosophy

That honor goes to Maria Montessori. She was an Italian trailblazer — one of the first women in Italy to become a doctor. When she was assigned to create a school in a Roman slum so the landlord wouldn’t be frustrated by unsupervised children while their parents worked, she had the courage to think outside the box. She observed the children, keeping what worked and abandoning what didn’t — regardless of tradition.

Ultimately, she concluded that we had always expected children to adapt to an adult environment, when instead, adults should adapt their environment to fit the needs of children. Fun fact: she was the first to create child-sized tables and chairs. When asked how she created the Montessori philosophy, she said, “I did not invent the method. I have simply given the children a chance to show me what they can do, and they have done it.”

When I was studying at Truman State, the focus was on traditional public school. We touched on other philosophies, including Montessori, but it was never the focus. It wasn’t until Julia was born that I really began exploring it. I loved its emphasis on independence, peace, and the importance of the environment. As I learned more, I realized I was already practicing much of it — and it felt incredibly natural to me. My husband once complained, “Our house looks like a preschool.” My response? “Good. That’s the point.”

I enrolled Julia in a Montessori preschool when she was two, and we both felt right at home. My orderly toddler experienced freedom within limits, and I continued to grow as a Montessori parent.

At the time, I worked at a nonprofit that helped resettle refugees and immigrants, managing all programs involving children from birth through 18. It was my dream job — until it wasn’t. That’s when the director of Julia’s school offered me a position there. I jumped at the chance.

Over the past seven years, I’ve been an assistant teacher, head teacher, manager, and now director. I love the school as if it were my own. I love sharing Montessori with others, and I adore our families and students — some of whom we’ve known for most of their young lives. Every year at our alumni event, I can’t help but weep for the first half hour as former students return taller, brighter, and more mature, yet still holding us in their hearts enough to come back.

So much has shaped how I parent and how I teach. But these topics above are the big jewels in the treasure chest. I can’t wait to share more, to help others define and refine their parenting style, and to offer tried-and-true ideas for raising independent, confident people.

*Sarcasm

The Purpose of the Blog and My Own Childhood Story

I’m a parent educator. I’m the director of a Montessori preschool. I have a Masters degree in elementary education. Do I know a heck of a lot about parenting? You bet! Do I know ALL the answers? Nope!

Now, I don’t say that to undercut myself, but I have always had a difficult relationship with the word, “expert.” To me, it gives off an air of a know-it-all, and I believe in growth mindset. I delight in learning and I gobble up information whenever I can. I also realistically don’t have ALL the answers.

But that’s where you and I working to problem solve together comes in handy. I do have a lot of experience and education in raising children, and I want to be someone who has a solid foundation to support you and feel as though you aren’t alone in this journey. Because you aren’t.

The purpose of this blog is to share my personal journey in parenting , including the wins and losses, because I’m human, too. As a parenting coach or parenting educator, I am wise, but also flawed and still learning. I will also be utilizing this blog to write reflections about articles, opinions, or situations I may have encountered that I’d like to share.

To start with my personal side…

I will start with my own childhood, because I believe our parenting styles are shaped by the way we were parented—whether we admired it, experienced trauma and want to avoid repeating it, or fall somewhere in the grey (as most of us do).

I just turned 40 and am an elder millennial. I grew up in an age where I still wrote bibliographies and used encyclopedias to write reports in school, but by high school was utilizing the internet to feed my research. I didn’t have a cell phone until late into high school, so my friends and I would go the dunes in Michigan for a day trip with no tether attached to our parents. There was a certain freedom that looking back we didn’t even realize we had.

Even with that freedom though, I was raised by helicopter parents. To be fair, they both grew up on the south side of Chicago across the street from one another in the Bridgeport neighborhood. They witnessed violence relatively often, and when they had me and my sister, they knew they wanted to move to the suburbs.

Off we went to Downers Grove when I was 5 years old, right before I started kindergarten. I remember seeing our backyard for the first time and saying that we had a park in our backyard. My parents decision to move us to the suburbs was one of many that indicated that they wanted better for us than what they had. They also were both working full-time but each made it their mission to spend time with us, something their parents never did with them.

My dad would come home from a long, physically tiring day of work, change his clothes, and immediately come outside to play baseball, hide and seek, or soccer with us in the backyard. My mom took the train into the city every day, but would take at least one day off a year to chaperone a field trip for each my sister and I. She was also the fall product sale mom for our Girl Scout troops. She wasn’t the playmate like my dad was, but she was always steady, organized, and dependable.

What I didn’t receive though, was the emotional support that I needed. Again, to be fair, it was a different time. Mental health was just emerging thanks to the likes of Princess Diana, but at the time anxiety was a little known word. I absolutely had and have anxiety and struggled all of my life until just a few years ago when I was finally diagnosed and started getting support for it.

Still, the common phrases I heard were:

“You’re too sensitive.”

“You’re too emotional.”

“You’re too much.”

I’d get laughed at for being compassionate towards others or crying. For Christmas one year, my parents even gifted me a Dairy Queen t-shirt that just said, “DQ” on it, and they explained that, for me, it stood for, “Drama Queen.”

I don’t think I was abnormal for expressing emotions, but in the time I grew up, it seemed we weren’t allowed to have emotions. And that was the status quo. So my thought was that I was inherently wrong or bad for experiencing these various emotions. I thought I needed to change and become different to fit into others’ boxes and to make others more comfortable.

I also have a mother who is particularly opinionated and critical. So I was often criticized on my appearance and told that all first impressions are based on how you look. I was always bright in school and my sister struggled with academics. But my sister was taller, thinner, prettier, and in my family it was clear that beauty was valued over intelligence. I felt less than.

In contrast, I learned that I did get praised when I performed well, so like Pavlov’s dogs, I did all that I could to achieve academically since it was clear that I wasn’t winning anyone’s hearts, including those of my parents, based on my appearance.

I don’t share this to bash my parents, but to simply share my perspective and truth. I think they had the best of intentions when raising us, but the tools and resources at the time were limited compared to what is available to us now. Parenting has evolved. Just like how car seats from the 1980s would never pass today’s safety standards, our understanding of child development and emotional needs has also progressed.

Walking into Adulthood…

In my twenties, I recognized a few lessons:

1. My parents never allowed me to fail and I was now unprepared to handle failure on my own.

   The bumpy road of life was paved for me. My parents, like many others, wanted us to be happy. To them, that meant making everything easier for me. If I forgot my homework, it would be run to school so I didn’t get a zero. If I got homesick at camp, I was picked up and taken home.

   Also, because I was bright, a lot when it came to academics came easily to me. I played it safe and life was pretty easy.

   However, when I graduated college in the beginning of a recession, life was no longer easy. I struggled to even get a job out of college and was working at a children’s museum part-time with a Master’s degree. Umm…excuse me? My pride took a hit, and the sting of rejection was new and raw.

2. I didn’t need to dim my light. My emotions and how I express those are a part of who I am.

   I learned about friendships with women in my twenties, and one of those revalations was that we are stronger together. That being a feminist isn’t just about our status compared to men and whether we’re equal or not, it also has to do with how we treat other women.

   Along with this newfound value of female friendships, came an understanding of authenticity, my highest regarded value. I admired women who were unapologetically themselves. To be honest, they even scared me at first. I was so accustomed to trying to smush myself into this tiny little box (literally and figuratively), that I was stunned by women who threw the box out entirely. It was like staring at a fire on the side of the road. You know it’s real and happening, but it shouldn’t be, and I couldn’t look away.

   After more of these interactions and more observations of others, I started to realize that I no longer needed to dim my light. That while I am the black sheep of my family because of my ability to express emotions, it is that piece exactly that is what makes part of my light shine.

   So I stopped dimming my light. I became more and more confident through my thirties, learning so many more lessons along the way, a huge part of which was learned after fighting breast cancer when I was 29 and 31. I am more committed every day to live life as my truest self. I understand that I am not everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s ok. That doesn’t make me bad or them wrong. What matters is that I am committed to being and becoming the best version of myself that I can be, and I continue to learn.

Soooo…What Does This Have to Do with Parenting?…

As stated before, I really do believe that our own childhoods are essentially the materials given to us to build our own homes for our children. Some of us get really shitty, weak sticks that are tarnished and broken. Others of us get a beautiful, strong, mahogany set of blocks. Most of us get a mixed bag.

But here’s the good news: you can exchange what you have for what you want. You also get to choose what materials get passed on and which end with you. In my next post, I’ll be sharing how I’ve exchanged my broken sticks, what mahogany blocks I’ve kept, and how I build my house for my daughter. Is it perfect? No. But it doesn’t have to be. And I hope that somewhere along the way, I can help you exchange some broken sticks for some mahogany blocks for your home.