What Legacy Will We Leave in the School Year Ahead?

Five Mindset Shifts to Bring Dignity Back to Daily Parenting

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Last October, I reluctantly joined my daughter’s school parent Facebook group.

Three days later, I wrote this Substack Note:

“Everything wrong with society today can be found in two minutes on a school’s parent Facebook page. Lord have mercy.”

And today, not a single school bell has rung, and the same FB Group is already on fire: parents cheering the departure of an administrator they (very publicly) didn’t like, furious about upcoming carline logistics they haven’t even faced yet. It’s petty. It’s contagious. And it tells us exactly what kind of school year we’ll have—if we let it. Because left unchecked, that kind of energy becomes the blueprint.

But what if we didn’t drift back to the default this year?
What if we used this moment to choose something better—more generative, more constructive?

A reset—not of the calendar, but of how we carry ourselves. In our homes. Our texts. At appointments. In the pickup line. The everyday moments that quietly set the vibe.

Whether we like it or not—and whether we accept it or not—the only thing we truly have control over is us.
The energy we bring.
The stance we take.
The standard we uphold—not just when things feel easy, but when they don’t.

Dignity Over Drama

Over the years, I’ve tried to “keep it classy”—in how I approach situations, and in what I model for my girls.

But when I read Irena Smith’s post Make Good Choices, We Say to Our Small Children last November, something came into focus. She recalled a line her father would say, in Russian, when she was a teenager heading out with friends:

“Vedi sebya s dostoinstvom”—(roughly translated) “Behave yourself with dignity.”¹

That line didn’t inspire a change.
It gave language to something I’d been circling for years.
It elevated a loose parenting goal into something more meaningful.

“Classy” always felt a little performative.
But dignity?
That’s different.
It doesn’t suggest status. It reflects substance.

Dignity says:
I don’t need to be loud to be clear.
I won’t match what’s broken just to feel strong.
I won’t trade integrity for approval.
I lead myself before I try to lead anyone else.

And like all real strength, it spreads.
Kids absorb what we embody.
Other adults take their cues from what we normalize.
The energy in a space shifts—because we showed up differently.

What if we stopped feeding the negativity and focused instead on how we respond to it?
What if we stopped mirroring what frustrates us and led with what strengthens us?

Where Presence Becomes Influence

Dignity isn’t a pose we strike—it’s something we embody in the spaces we move through.
And that begins with presence.

Not symbolic. Not reactive. Intentional.

When grounded in clarity, we lead without announcing it.
We influence without pushing.
We create a compassionate confidence that shifts the room—without taking it over.

Our kids learn from that.
So do the adults around us.
Not because we demand it, but because we’ve shown them what it looks like to move through the world with composure and care.

So here are five mindset shifts—simple, powerful, and entirely within reach—to bring dignity to our everyday spaces, our role as parents, and how we move through the world this school year:

1. Assume our presence changes the room.

Whether we realize it or not, we distribute our energy to everyone around us—in the kitchen, the carline, the school meeting, the group chat. And that energy either steadies the space or stirs it. (Read more about this in my post Are You a Life Breather or an Oxygen Sucker?)

It’s easy to underestimate our impact, especially in a sea of strong opinions or louder voices. But how we enter, stay, and leave—calm or chaotic, centered or spinning—shifts the dynamic for everyone nearby.

Kids especially read our emotional weather.
Not just our words, but our tone. Our pauses. Our sighs.
They feel the undercurrents we never say out loud.

That’s not something to fear—it’s something to harness.

Because the moment we realize we’re setting the temperature, we can choose the climate we want to create.

2. Treat (almost) every interaction as culture-setting.

Every text we send, every question we ask, every face we make in the front office—it’s all shaping the culture around us.
Not in a big, legacy-making way.
But in the small ways that accumulate.

When we vent before we verify, criticize before we consider, or complain without context, we’re adding to the very noise we say we’re tired of.

Culture isn’t shaped by statements. It’s formed in choices:
The phrasing of an email.
The body language in a meeting.
The way we show up when things don’t go our way.

It’s built by what we tolerate, normalize, and echo.

Want to raise kids who speak up with thoughtfulness and care? Exemplify it.
Want spaces to feel less combative and more collaborative? Be what’s missing. Bring what’s needed.

We don’t have to agree with everyone. But we do have to decide: Am I feeding what’s broken, or reflecting what could be?

3. Replace defensiveness with curiosity.

Defensiveness is a reflex. It shows up fast—especially when we feel judged, misunderstood, or out of control. And parenting gives us daily chances to feel all three.

Curiosity, on the other hand, is a choice.
It slows the spin. It opens up the view.

When our kid melts down over something that feels irrational, curiosity asks—
What’s underneath this?
When the teacher sends an email that stings, curiosity wonders—
What pressure is my kid carrying?
When a parent in the group chat comes off sharp, curiosity considers—
What’s behind that edge?

Curiosity doesn’t mean excusing bad behavior. It means choosing not to mirror it.
It makes space for empathy.
It stretches our lens beyond the version our ego wants to tell.

We teach our kids to “use their words” when they’re upset.
This is how we use ours—with questions that soften, not statements that shut things down.

4. Speak from values, not from moods.

We all get tired. Annoyed. Pushed past our edge.
And in those moments, it’s easy to let our feelings do the talking.

But emotions pass. Values guide.

And in the moments that test us, our values are what make us dependable.

When we act from our mood, we parent reactively.
When we speak from our values, we parent with clarity.

This doesn’t mean bottling our emotions. It means grounding our response in something steadier than the current frustration.

Our response becomes a measure of who we are under pressure—and the kind of behavior we hope to invite in others. It builds credibility. And when kids (or adults) see us respond with consistency, they don’t just feel safe with us—they learn how to be steady themselves.

5. Lead like we’re being learned from.

Our kids aren’t just watching. They’re absorbing.
How we speak to service workers.
How we talk about teachers.
How we handle being left out, misunderstood, or corrected.

They’re tracking how we navigate pressure, tension, and discomfort.
They’re learning what power looks like—by watching how we use ours.

They internalize our posture. Our reactivity. Our restraint.
Our ability to stay grounded when things get loud.

Our kids are building their internal compass from our external choices.

So the real question isn’t, “What kind of parent do I want to be?”
It’s: “What kind of person do I want my child to believe is worth becoming?”

What we’re demonstrating isn’t perfection.
It’s possibility.
Not control, but congruence.
Not fear, but steadiness.

And When We Fail… Because We Will

Even with the best intentions, we slip.
We snap.
We mask.
We lead from ego instead of calm.

It happens to all of us.

But dignity doesn’t dissolve in those moments. It reveals itself in what we do next.

Do we double down—or step forward with humility?
Do we shift blame—or take responsibility with accountability?

Kids don’t need perfect parents. They need honest ones.
Those who take ownership.
Who clean up the mess without self-protection.
Who show that repair isn’t weakness—it’s leadership in motion.

Because how we recover teaches them how to return to themselves—and others.

So when we miss the mark, let’s not perform perfection. Or disappear.

Let’s regroup. Re-engage. Restore.

Leave It Better

This year will unfold in ways we can’t predict.
There will be tension.
Disruption.
Moments that test our patience and press every button we’ve got.

But every space we enter is an opportunity to lead—whether or not the role is assigned to us. And the way we move through those spaces leaves a mark—for better or worse.

We don’t control the system.
But we control the signal we send through it.

So let it be steady.
Let it be thoughtful.
Because what we model isn’t just being watched.
It’s being inherited.

And nothing leaves a more profound imprint than dignity in action.

1. Irena Smith is a former Stanford admissions officer, independent college admissions counselor, and author of The Curmudgeon’s Guide to College Admissions and Personal Statements. A Soviet émigré and mother of three grown children, she writes with sharpness and soul about parenting, culture, and college admissions. Her books include The Golden Ticket: A Life in College Admissions Essays and Art in the Time of Unbearable Crisis.