Posted on March 12, 2026 by confidentparentsconfidentkids
Lessons from the Classroom I’m Relearning as a Father
By Ari Gerzon-Kessler
“Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” — Rumi
More than three decades before I became a father, I discovered something that would shape my life: I loved connecting with young children.
I was 11-years-old when my middle school sent us to volunteer at a local preschool. What began as a simple school project sparked a passion that stayed with me for years. As an adult, I continued working with children. This involved four years volunteering at Head Start during college, seven years as an elementary school teacher, and nine years as a school leader. During much of that time, I poured my desire to become a parent—and my natural connection with kids—into my professional life, learning everything I could about supporting a child’s holistic development and becoming the most effective educator possible.
At 45, I was finally blessed with my daughter, Selah. Because I waited and hoped for so long to become a parent, fatherhood has been my deepest priority since her very first day.
Now, more than three years in, I’m struck by how many lessons from the classroom continue to shape my journey as a father. The best parents and the best teachers are engaged in the same essential work: helping young people feel safe, comfortable in their own skin, and curious about the world. While parenting is a different role, some lessons I learned in the classroom have turned out to be highly relevant at home.
Through trial and error, intuition, reflection, and often letting my daughter lead the way, I’ve rediscovered several lessons that first took root in my years as an educator. Here are five lessons that continue to guide me through the delights—and challenges—of parenthood.
The Deep Value of Rituals
I remember decades ago as a teacher how meaningful rituals could transform a classroom community. Examples include building in a minute of mindful breathing and silence after recess ended and starting the school day on Monday with a sharing circle centered around each student’s greatest hopes or goals for the week.
Similarly, I’m discovering with Selah how special and connective it is to have steady rituals. For instance, a few weeks ago we started celebrating Shabbat together. Selah emanates a vibrant sense of delight and excitement as we light candles, recite a blessing, and talk about what makes Shabbat distinct from the rest of the week. I feel how her energy calms and transforms. I also notice a part of her spirituality beginning to surface in these moments, as well as a connection to our ancestry that feels timeless for both of us.
On a more regular basis, I am discovering the power of sharing what we feel grateful for at the start of each dinner. We’re a couple months into this ritual, and while Selah, to this day, still starts her turn adorably with, “I am great for…,” I continue to marvel at how this one minute practice is propelling the development of her character and emotional intelligence. She will convey gratitude for nature, our home, that “Grandma is feeling better now,” and all it requires on my end is a little intentionality.
The Gift of Being Fully Present
I reflected recently on the busy mornings I consistently experience as a single father. In the window between waking up and taking my daughter to school, it is very easy for me to remain task-oriented the entire time, as I prepare breakfast and lunch for both of us and play traffic cop between her and our two dogs.
Since I only have Selah half-time, sometimes when I say goodbye to her at drop off, it means I don’t see her for a couple days. This prompted me to reflect that I want the two of us to feel deeply connected each and every morning, which led me to commit to sitting beside her as she eats her breakfast regardless of how much needs to be accomplished.
Selah and I had one poignant moment this past week that reminded me how often she is the one teaching me about presence. We were hustling out the door to get her to school, and for the first time in several weeks, snow was falling. As we stepped into the garage, she noticed the snow and ignored my request to hop into the car so that I could buckle her in. Instead, she walked out of the garage, stared up at the sky, and opened her mouth to take in the large flakes of descending snow. I was in the internal mindset of “we have about two minutes to get out of here before we’ll truly be late for school.”
When I saw her delight though, I caught myself, and realized she was meeting the moment with deep awareness of joy, while I was robotically locked in an unproductive mindset. I walked outside and joined her for a minute of eating the snow in a spirit of both glee and connection. I need to make more choices like this one – even when the impulse is ingrained to keep her on track or stay on schedule.
Letting Children Lead the Way
I remember when Selah was two, I got into the bad habit of trying to generate her next activity instead of giving her choices. Our aim was to keep her engaged, but it dawned on me that I was not letting her lead, which she was capable of.
When I’d say something like, “Do you want to read or play with blocks next?” I could see from her body language that she wasn’t interested in either option.
I then caught myself, and remembered how empowered students felt when they had greater choice and autonomy beyond some binary set of options. As I had often reminded my own father when he spent time with Selah, I told myself, Why not simply ask her what she wants to do? Moments later, the two of us were happily drawing together.
As a colleague of mine put it,
“Parenting is about guiding your children to discover their own paths, not paving the way for them.”
The Power of Storytelling
My daughter has loved stories from her earliest days. In fact, they were the key to her being collaborative and patient during diaper changes when she was a one-year-old.
Whether we are in the car, she’s taking a bath, or we’ve just finished reading books and have turned out the lights, Selah wants a story. There is something captivating and nourishing for the soul about stories.
Every night, when we’ve finished the nighttime routine of bath, brushing teeth, and reading books together, I turn out the lights. Like clockwork, Selah’s final request is a story.
I remember the awe and wholehearted engagement I observed in my students whenever we read stories together, and since Selah revealed her natural draw to stories I’ve used them with greater intentionality to meet an array of purposes (i.e. giving greater meaning to the day behind us, helping her learn from actions she took that were detrimental to another kid, sparking her imagination, etc.)
As a bilingual teacher supporting my students’ English language development, one of the most effective tools I encountered to develop their writing and speaking abilities was an activity that asked them to narrate a portion of the day that had already transpired. I now regularly support Selah’s vocabulary and storytelling skills by simply inviting her to tell me stories from earlier that same day that are still resonating with her.
Humor as a Bridge in Challenging Moments
When Selah is whiny, disregulated, or resistant to whatever we are set to do next – similar to my experience in the classroom – the default response to her outbursts would be engaging in a power struggle by telling her to stop what she’s doing.
In many moments, I’ve found it very effective to resist this natural response (which I still engage in all too often) and disrupt the moment with playful intensity or humor. For instance, if she is complaining about something, I will first echo her complaint and empathize. But if she persists, I sometimes exaggerate it to the point that it becomes comedic. Dramatizing the moment is often positively disruptive and leads her to laugh and let go of and shift her energy. In other moments, I might use a silly voice or draw on a word that I know will make her laugh.
A quick caveat – having spent 15 years training teachers, I’m mindful that humor shouldn’t be used to dismiss a child’s feelings. Often the right response is to acknowledge her feelings, ask questions about what she needs, or simply offer her affection. I remember from my teaching days the wisdom of “connection comes before correction,” and using humor often brings us quickly from tension to connection.
Conclusion
While parenting and teaching are very different roles, both ask us to slow down, listen deeply, and nurture curiosity, connection, and joy. In that way, the lessons that shaped me as an educator continue to deepen through the greatest classroom I’ve ever known: raising my daughter.
In the end, effective teaching and effective parenting are not separate crafts. They are variations of the same deeply human practice: showing up, again and again, with the belief that children are worthy of our time, our care, and our best selves.
For the last twenty-five years, I have worked to build a stronger bridge between families and teachers because it is a proven strategy for improving students’ learning and raising the odds that they will flourish in life. But now personally, I see that the connection is even stronger than I realized. We are all “on the same team” (to cite the title of my recent book). Kids do better when we learn from each other and act together in their best interest.

Ari Gerzon-Kessler is a speaker, trainer, and coach working with schools and districts committed to forging stronger school-family partnerships. He is the author of On The Same Team: Bringing Educators and Underrepresented Families Together, which won the Gold Medal for best education book of 2024. See his website to learn more about how he supports schools and communities or to receive his monthly newsletter.




















