The Classroom of Life: What Our Children Teach Us
Lessons from the Little Ones: How Parenting Reveals Our True Character and Capacity for Growth
"You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance." Franklin P. Jones
There's something about this quote that hits home for any parent who's ever found themselves taking a deep breath in the cereal aisle while their toddler stages an impromptu meltdown. Jones captured a universal truth that resonates from the oil fields of Western Pennsylvania to the bustling streets of Philadelphia: our kids are our greatest teachers.
The Patience Paradox
When I first became deeply involved in education advocacy, I thought my role was to be the teacher—to educate parents about navigating school systems and standing up for their children's needs. But what I've discovered through Candy Apple Advocacy is that the most profound lessons often flow in the opposite direction.
Children don't just test our patience—they reveal it. They show us exactly how much we have, where our breaking points lie, and most importantly, they give us countless opportunities to build more.
In Franklin, where I grew up, there's a certain blue-collar stoicism that sometimes masks the emotional labor of parenting. We don't always talk about the moments when we're pushed to our limits by the very people we love most. But these moments are universal, crossing all socioeconomic, geographic, and cultural boundaries.
The Education System's Mirror
This reality extends beyond individual parent-child relationships into our broader educational institutions. When school boards face angry parents, when teachers confront challenging behaviors, when administrators balance competing needs with limited resources—patience becomes the invisible infrastructure supporting the entire system.
What I've observed in my years advocating for education reform is that our school systems often reflect exactly how much collective patience we have as a society. Are we willing to stay at the table when conversations get difficult? Can we listen to perspectives that challenge our own? Do we have the endurance to pursue solutions that might take years to implement?
Small Victories, Big Growth
During a recent conversation for Candy Apple Advocacy, a parent shared how her son's learning differences had stretched her patience beyond what she thought possible. "Before Jimmy," she told me, "I thought I was a patient person. Now I know I wasn't—but I'm becoming one."
Her words capture the transformative journey that children invite us to take. They don't just test our existing patience; they create the conditions for developing more. Each difficult moment offers a choice: react from limitation or respond from growth.
This is why parent advocacy matters so deeply. When we support parents in finding their voice and standing up for their children's educational needs, we're not just changing school policies—we're affirming the profound growth journey that parenthood represents.
The Patience Ripple Effect
What's particularly powerful about the patience we develop through parenting is how it extends outward. The parent who learns to take a breath before responding to their child's tenth "why?" question becomes the community member who can listen thoughtfully at contentious school board meetings. The teacher who develops strategies for managing classroom challenges becomes an agent of change within rigid institutional structures.
Here in Western Pennsylvania, where communities have weathered economic hardships and industrial decline, patience isn't just a parenting virtue—it's a survival skill. The ability to persevere, to work for change that might not arrive immediately, to believe in possibilities beyond current realities—these are the same qualities that build both stronger families and more resilient communities.
Learning Together
At Candy Apple Advocacy, we're creating spaces where parents can acknowledge both their struggles and their growth. Where the parent who's mastered one challenge can support another who's just beginning a similar journey. Where we recognize that advocacy requires not just knowledge and passion, but also the patience to persist when change comes slowly.
Franklin P. Jones's simple observation opens the door to a profound truth: our children don't just need our patience—they create it. They call forth capacities we didn't know we had, revealing strengths that were dormant until they arrived in our lives.
And in that revealing, they prepare us for the work that matters most—building educational systems and communities that serve all children well, even when that work requires more patience than we ever imagined we'd need.