We don’t “wish” kids into kindness and character; we coach, live, and back it up, so they grow into the people everyone’s glad to see coming. On a family trip, she and her husband played with their kids in a resort pool when three teenage boys came beside them. At first, it seemed harmless. Then the yelling started, swear words tossed around like pool toys, followed by roughhousing that sent them crashing into nearby swimmers. The ball they were throwing kept smacking strangers, including a man sunbathing a few feet away. There was no “sorry.” There was no awareness that small children were in the water. When the ball hit the man for the fifth time, he took it and calmly said they could have it back after they apologized.
The boys cursed at him and stormed out. Minutes later, an adult, presumably their parent, strode over, snatched the ball without a word, handed it back, and left. The boys jumped in again, louder than before. That was the moment her frustration hardened into a question: how do we raise kids who aren’t self-entitled a**holes? She doesn’t claim expert status. Like most parents, she’s improvising.
But she’s also taught teenagers for 13 years, six hours a day, most days of the school year, so she’s seen patterns. Too many kids expect instant rewards, dodge responsibility, look for loopholes, live on screens, and fold when things get hard. They weren’t born that way; they learned it from what we allow, ignore, or excuse. She believes it starts with grit. Kids need to see adults try, fail, and try again. Her kids will notice if she treats a setback as the start of learning, not the end. When a child tears after falling off a bike, the lesson isn’t “quit.” It’s “breathe, reset, climb back on.” That’s grit in real time.
Next is slowing the instant-gratification machine. She once carried her toddler around a pet store while the little one howled to be put down to poke the hamster cage. It would’ve been easier to cave, but “easy” trains kids to expect “yes” now and everywhere. Some wants need to wait, or be a firm no, because boundaries keep everyone safe and sane.
Manners still matter. “Please” and “thank you” are small words with big doors attached. When a student speaks politely on the phone, it stands out immediately. Courtesy won’t solve everything, but it changes how the world responds to you, from kindergarten to a first job interview. Hard work beats handouts. She and her husband don’t believe in the “participation trophy” mindset. If you want something, show up, practice, and push. If basketball isn’t your strength, find where your effort makes you light up, and earn your way forward. Champions in any field didn’t coast; they worked.
Excuses are the enemy of growth. If you mess up, own it. Don’t blame your classmate, your coach, or the rules. Accountability is a muscle; the more kids use it, the stronger it gets. Respect isn’t automatic; it’s built. Keep commitments. Speak to adults with composure. Manage anger without cruelty. Be humble, but don’t be a doormat. Know your roots, accept others, and learn to love yourself without tearing someone down.
And, hardest of all, parents have to mean what they say. It’s easy to threaten consequences and then count to three forever. Words shape a child’s reality only if actions back them up. When we follow through, kids learn that promises and boundaries are real, and that our language can heal or harm. A teen who swears at a stranger after smashing him with a ball. A kid who cuts in line. A student who pastes answers from Google and insists it isn’t cheating.
A player who skips practice and complains about not starting: what ties these together is not age, it’s permission. Somewhere, adults taught them, by action or silence, that this was fine. She can’t control the internet, fame culture, or every influence on her children. But she can control the daily training ground at home: modeling grit, delaying “yes,” insisting on manners, praising effort, killing excuses, demanding absolute respect, and keeping her word. That’s not perfection. That’s practice.
