Tag: parenting

“I’m Not a Teacher” — Why Your Children Still Need You, Not Just the School.”

It’s a phrase I hear often from parents: “I’m not a teacher. That’s what schools are for, my children need to be taught by the school.”

On the surface, it makes sense. Schools have trained teachers, curriculum, and classrooms set up for learning. But here’s the truth: while schools play an important role, they are not the only place where children learn and they are not the most influential place either.

Parents Are Their Child’s First and Lasting Teachers

Before any school ever enters the picture, children learn from their parents. They learn how to talk, how to walk, how to share, and how to handle frustration. Long after graduation, they continue learning by watching how parents manage relationships, money, handle conflict, and pursue goals.

So even if you don’t see yourself as a “teacher,” your children are constantly learning from you. In fact, they’ll remember your example more than most school lessons.

Schools Teach Academics. Parents Teach Life.

Yes, schools cover math, reading, science, and history. But some of the most important lessons like patience, kindness, resilience, integrity are all taught at home. These values are caught, not taught, and kids pick them up by watching how you live.

Your words, your tone, your actions these all combined becomes part of their education.

Learning Doesn’t Stop at the School Door

Even if your children attend school, your involvement matters. Research shows that when parents stay engaged in reading at home, asking questions about schoolwork, showing interest in their child’s progress. Those students perform better academically and socially.

One study found that students with involved parents were more likely to earn higher grades, have better behavior, and graduate on time compared to peers whose parents were less engaged. (U.S. Department of Education)

You Don’t Have to Be “The Teacher” to Teach

The good news? You don’t need to run a classroom or give lectures. Teaching at home often looks simple:

• Reading a bedtime story.

• Letting your child help cook dinner and measure ingredients.

• Talking through a tough decision and explaining your thought process.

• Praising effort, not just results.

These little moments shape who your children become, just as much, if not more, than a formal lesson at school.

Final Thought

Schools are important, yes. Teachers do an incredible job, yes. But your role as a parent is irreplaceable. You don’t need a degree to teach your kids. You just need to be present, intentional, and willing.

So the next time you think, “I’m not a teacher. My children need to be taught by the school,” remember this: schools may teach lessons, but you teach life. And that is the kind of education your child will carry forever.

The Quiet Strength: A Father’s Sacrifice

As we celebrate Father’s Day, I find myself thinking not only about the love fathers give but the sacrifices they make in silence. This poem is for every father who traded dreams for duty, comfort for care, and ease for effort, all without asking for recognition.

The Quiet Strength

(A Poem on a Father’s Sacrifice)

He wakes before the morning light, While dreams still dance in silent flight. His coffee cool, his back is sore, Yet still, he steps outside the door.

He wears a smile, though bills run deep, He holds his doubts and never weeps. With every mile and every chore, He gives a little then some more.

That coat he wore was from last year, His boots are cracked from wear and tear. But still, he saves for shoes and books, while hiding pain behind soft looks.

He mends the bike, he paints the wall, He answers every late night call. And though his hands are rough and worn, They are gentle when his child’s heart is torn.

He won’t speak much of dreams denied, Of youthful hopes that slipped or died. He gave them up without a sound, To keep his family safe and sound.

You’ll never hear him boast or plead, He simply sees a growing need. And fills it with a steady grace. A quiet strength, a selfless face.

A Father’s Love, Measured in Silence

A father’s sacrifice isn’t always poetic at first glance. It’s in the unnoticed things: staying late at work, fixing what’s broken, missing the game to work overtime, saying “I’m fine” when he’s not. It’s in the choices he makes without applause, every one a brick laid in the foundation of his children’s future.

So today, may we honor that quiet strength.

Not just with gifts or cards, but with understanding. Not just with words, but with presence. And not just today but every day.

Happy Father’s Day.

— Written with gratitude, and for my own father too.

Imperfect Motherhood, Unshakable Love

There are days when I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything I said and did as a mom and it’s not in a proud, gold star way. I think about the raised voice, the rushed goodbye, the forgotten snack, the missed moment. Some days, motherhood doesn’t feel like the beautiful, magical experience it’s supposed to be. It just feels like failure.

No one really prepares you for that part. We hear so much about the joys of motherhood, the miracle of it, the unconditional love and yes, all of that exists. But so does the exhaustion, the doubt, and the guilt that creeps in when you feel like you’re not getting it right.

For me, failure in motherhood doesn’t come with big dramatic moments. It’s more like a slow drip. It’s the pile of laundry I keep stepping over. It’s the eye roll from my child that stings more than it should. It’s the forgotten permission slip, the long screen time, the short temper that surprises even me. It’s those tiny cracks that make me wonder if I’m doing enough or worse, if I am enough.

And then there’s the comparison game. I scroll through social media and see perfect bento box lunches, spotless homes, calm smiles. I see moms who seem to be thriving, glowing, doing crafts at 8 a.m. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to survive the morning routine without losing my patience. It’s hard not to feel like I’m falling behind, like I’m the only one fumbling through this.

I think what hurts the most on those hard days is how lonely it feels. Like I’m the only mom yelling into the void, wishing I could rewind the day and be gentler, more present, more of everything. But I know I’m not alone. I know there are other moms out there who sit in their cars after drop-off and cry. Who love their children deeply but are drowning in the mental load. Who wake up determined to do better, only to fall into the same cycle.

Sometimes I ask myself, Why does this feel so hard? Shouldn’t love be enough? But the truth is, love isn’t the issue. I love my children fiercely. The problem is the pressure of external and internal to be perfect. To never mess up. To raise kind, brilliant, happy kids while also maintaining some version of my own identity, career, relationships, and sanity.

But here’s what I’m learning: Feeling like a failure doesn’t make me one. It means I care. It means I want to be better. It means I’m aware of my impact, and I’m trying even if I stumble.

On the days when I feel like I’m failing, I remind myself that motherhood isn’t about getting it all right. It’s about showing up. It’s about apologizing when I get it wrong. It’s about listening, even when I’m tired. It’s about loving through the mess, the tantrums, the awkward growing pains (mine and theirs).

Some of the most powerful moments I’ve had as a mother came not from doing it perfectly, but from owning my mistakes and trying again. From sitting beside my child and saying, “I’m sorry I yelled. I was overwhelmed. I’m working on it.” And watching them respond with no judgment, but with understanding. Because kids don’t need perfect moms. They need real ones.

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve had one of those days (or weeks, or months), let me say this: You are not alone. You are not a bad mom. You are human. And your imperfect, messy, real love is more than enough.

Motherhood will never be flawless. But maybe that’s not the goal. Maybe the goal is to be present, to grow, to forgive ourselves as much as we forgive our children. And to remember that even on the days we feel like we’re failing, we’re still showing up. And that matters more than we think.