You touch on the idea that "dignity isn't a pose we strike—it’s something we embody in the spaces we move through." This really got me thinking about the subtle art of influence. We often equate influence with grand gestures, loud pronouncements, or visible leadership roles. But what if the most profound influence comes from what we don't do, or from the quiet steadiness we bring to chaotic situations? It’s almost like influence isn’t about being the brightest light in the room, but about being the calmest center.
Consider the effect of a single, unreactive presence in a volatile discussion. That person isn't necessarily saying the most profound words, but their very composure becomes a kind of anchor. They are subtly inviting others to meet them in that space of calm, even if those others are still flailing. It’s a quiet leadership, a non-verbal sermon on emotional regulation and inner strength. This perspective shifts influence from an external performance to an internal state, radiating outward without fanfare.
This is such a thoughtful reflection, Alex—it reads like its own mini-essay on presence and influence.
I love how you put it: the calmest center, the anchor, the quiet kind of leadership that doesn’t need to announce itself. There’s something really powerful about showing up with that kind of internal steadiness—not to control the room or situation, but to shift the energy just by being grounded.
As a school counselor (elementary and now middle), I’ve seen how quickly the tone of a school year can be set—not just by staff, but by the collective energy of the adults around it. From Facebook threads to carline complaints, the drama spreads fast if we let it.
What resonated most was the reminder that kids absorb what we model. Dignity over performance. Presence over control. Repair over perfection. That’s the legacy worth aiming for.
Thank you for naming it all so clearly—and powerfully.
You said it perfectly: *the tone gets set fast*—and not just by what happens inside the building, but by the energy swirling around it. I’ve felt that so deeply as a parent and as a (former) teacher.
*Dignity over performance. Presence over control. Repair over perfection.* That’s the kind of legacy we can all work toward, one interaction at a time.
Grateful you’re in the *trenches* doing the noble work!
I'm a mom of a 5yo boy and I've been researching what we need to do for the upcoming school year. Enroll in school? Register as homeschoolers? I've joined local groups. All the while, I've been mulling over my relationship to my own village and community and how my perspective either creates a beautiful world of people already around me, or whether I choose to operate in lack and see only what I'm missing.
I've been pleasantly surprised to find all sorts of groups open to playdates and wanting to foster the village together.
In our household, we work hard to make peace with each other and with ourselves as quickly as possible, and drop the bad mood. It's hard work but so valuable. This is what I think of in times when we don't hit the mark. Make peace with others, make peace with ourselves, and move on.
I love how you're holding space for both discernment and connection—while also noticing what's *already* good and available around you. And the practice of making peace intentionally can be such a valuable tool for our kids (and ourselves). Thanks for sharing this, Amanda.
Thanks for this great article, Erin. Parenting is more like parenting us parents than parenting our kids. Kids "read our emotional weather" and mimic our behaviors. They see how we treat others, how we push through life even when it's difficult, how we adapt and restore. As you said, "Kids don’t need perfect parents. They need honest ones." Thanks for sharing the article. Really enjoyed it.
Thank you so much, Kunlun—I really appreciate your reflection. It's incredible how much of parenting is really about growing ourselves up in parallel. The more we can model adaptability, honesty, and emotional steadiness, the more we're giving our kids something real to anchor to. I'm so glad the piece resonated with you.
“What we had… kind of… except on speed” captures it perfectly. The immediacy and visibility of it all intensify everything these days. The challenge—and the invitation—feels even greater now: to stay grounded, intentional, and human in the midst of all the noise.
Erin, thank you for the shout-out—my dad will be very pleased that his advice persisted past the eye-rolling of younger me and continues to resonate. And OMG the Facebook parent groups. A friend of mine reports that the parent Facebook group for college (COLLEGE!) is not much better and in some ways worse.
I could not agree more that we could all use a reset. Or at least a deep breath and a question: am I behaving myself with dignity, or not?
Irena, I’m so grateful for your words—and for your dad’s. That one line has stayed with me in such a deep way for months.
I haven’t done a deep dive on the college FB pages yet, but I *did* see a random post last week from a mom looking for a roommate for her son entering his *third* year...
A reset and a deep breath sound about right. Thank you (and your dad) again for the gift of that phrase.
A brilliant piece, perfectly timed for another academic year…
Thank you so much, Susannah!
Im writing something similar and you just gave me a lot of inspiration.
I will be coming back to this one.
Thanks, Tommy.
I'd love to read your perspective when it's ready if you're willing to share. Feel free to comment here or share the link directly in a message.
I definitely will. 🙏
You touch on the idea that "dignity isn't a pose we strike—it’s something we embody in the spaces we move through." This really got me thinking about the subtle art of influence. We often equate influence with grand gestures, loud pronouncements, or visible leadership roles. But what if the most profound influence comes from what we don't do, or from the quiet steadiness we bring to chaotic situations? It’s almost like influence isn’t about being the brightest light in the room, but about being the calmest center.
Consider the effect of a single, unreactive presence in a volatile discussion. That person isn't necessarily saying the most profound words, but their very composure becomes a kind of anchor. They are subtly inviting others to meet them in that space of calm, even if those others are still flailing. It’s a quiet leadership, a non-verbal sermon on emotional regulation and inner strength. This perspective shifts influence from an external performance to an internal state, radiating outward without fanfare.
What a very thought-provoking article!
This is such a thoughtful reflection, Alex—it reads like its own mini-essay on presence and influence.
I love how you put it: the calmest center, the anchor, the quiet kind of leadership that doesn’t need to announce itself. There’s something really powerful about showing up with that kind of internal steadiness—not to control the room or situation, but to shift the energy just by being grounded.
As always, so grateful you shared this. 🧡
As a school counselor (elementary and now middle), I’ve seen how quickly the tone of a school year can be set—not just by staff, but by the collective energy of the adults around it. From Facebook threads to carline complaints, the drama spreads fast if we let it.
What resonated most was the reminder that kids absorb what we model. Dignity over performance. Presence over control. Repair over perfection. That’s the legacy worth aiming for.
Thank you for naming it all so clearly—and powerfully.
You said it perfectly: *the tone gets set fast*—and not just by what happens inside the building, but by the energy swirling around it. I’ve felt that so deeply as a parent and as a (former) teacher.
*Dignity over performance. Presence over control. Repair over perfection.* That’s the kind of legacy we can all work toward, one interaction at a time.
Grateful you’re in the *trenches* doing the noble work!
I'm a mom of a 5yo boy and I've been researching what we need to do for the upcoming school year. Enroll in school? Register as homeschoolers? I've joined local groups. All the while, I've been mulling over my relationship to my own village and community and how my perspective either creates a beautiful world of people already around me, or whether I choose to operate in lack and see only what I'm missing.
I've been pleasantly surprised to find all sorts of groups open to playdates and wanting to foster the village together.
In our household, we work hard to make peace with each other and with ourselves as quickly as possible, and drop the bad mood. It's hard work but so valuable. This is what I think of in times when we don't hit the mark. Make peace with others, make peace with ourselves, and move on.
I love how you're holding space for both discernment and connection—while also noticing what's *already* good and available around you. And the practice of making peace intentionally can be such a valuable tool for our kids (and ourselves). Thanks for sharing this, Amanda.
Thanks for this great article, Erin. Parenting is more like parenting us parents than parenting our kids. Kids "read our emotional weather" and mimic our behaviors. They see how we treat others, how we push through life even when it's difficult, how we adapt and restore. As you said, "Kids don’t need perfect parents. They need honest ones." Thanks for sharing the article. Really enjoyed it.
Thank you so much, Kunlun—I really appreciate your reflection. It's incredible how much of parenting is really about growing ourselves up in parallel. The more we can model adaptability, honesty, and emotional steadiness, the more we're giving our kids something real to anchor to. I'm so glad the piece resonated with you.
Thanks Erin. Always feel great and positive after reading your articles.
I was parenting before everyone had a cellphone glued to their hand,
Before Facebook arrived on the scene.
Yes, there was the necessary evil of homeroom mothers (what happened to fathers?)
and PTA...
But there was no immediate DMs and PMs and IMs,
there wasn't even texting yet.
Many of us tried to be charitable and dignified...
most of the time,
Except when we were thrusting the knife in some poor woman's back.
Raising children now seems like what we had... kind of...
Except on speed.
“What we had… kind of… except on speed” captures it perfectly. The immediacy and visibility of it all intensify everything these days. The challenge—and the invitation—feels even greater now: to stay grounded, intentional, and human in the midst of all the noise.
Erin, thank you for the shout-out—my dad will be very pleased that his advice persisted past the eye-rolling of younger me and continues to resonate. And OMG the Facebook parent groups. A friend of mine reports that the parent Facebook group for college (COLLEGE!) is not much better and in some ways worse.
I could not agree more that we could all use a reset. Or at least a deep breath and a question: am I behaving myself with dignity, or not?
Irena, I’m so grateful for your words—and for your dad’s. That one line has stayed with me in such a deep way for months.
I haven’t done a deep dive on the college FB pages yet, but I *did* see a random post last week from a mom looking for a roommate for her son entering his *third* year...
A reset and a deep breath sound about right. Thank you (and your dad) again for the gift of that phrase.
I would love to cross post this.
I'd be honored. Cross-post away. Always. 🧡