What’s in a Name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” –Shakespeare

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Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

The sweetness of this day is inspiring me to honor the sweetness our children inspire in us.

I was leafing through my childcare journal and found this entry from a few years ago. I’d like to share it with you on this Valentine’s Day, to focus on the creativity, silliness, and love our families experience with each other!


The 4s class welcomed a new addition today, a little boy with long blonde hair, and the roundest, cutest face I ever saw. I asked his teacher about him.

She took a deep breath, “His name is Sawyer, but he goes by Wallie.”

I was surprised at the jump from name to nickname, and asked if Wallie wasn’t his middle name. She confirmed it was Wallace, and that his parents asked her to call him “Wallie” because that’s what he’d come to be called at home. She seemed to disagree with us calling him by the nickname, so I asked her why.

She answered with real conviction, “Well his real name is Sawyer, but they’re not going to call him by his real name. I don’t want to encourage that.”


This has been a recurring topic lately in my experience.


My friend enrolled her three-year-old in a preschool. He told everyone there his name was “Alvin Wilson,” though his given name is Alden. She explained to his teachers that, through the years, Alden was shortened to “Al,” and “Al” morphed easily into “Alvin,” and “Alvin” had a nice rhythm when followed by “Wilson.” Therefore, he came to be called by his family, “Alvin Wilson!”

The teachers at his school were concerned by this, and refused to call him Alvin, and encouraged his family to call him Alden instead. His parents had to agree: he should be able to know his name is Alden, and at school, he should go by his given name. So, they worked on helping him to know the difference between his name and his nickname.


But “Alvin Wilson” and “Wallie” worked together to start the wheels turning in my head. Why did some teachers jump to the point of disapproval upon hearing nicknames outside the home? What’s the cause for concern? What is in a name?!

Memories of accounts of names and nicknames flooded my head as I considered this point:

  • My cousin is named Sahara, but her brother couldn’t pronounce her name as a toddler. He got so fed up trying to pronounce it that he gave up entirely, and took to referring to her as “That.” Sahara loved it, so her parents allowed him to call her “That.” Eventually, he outgrew calling his sister by a pronoun, and was mature enough to pronounce her name, so he retired “That.” Sahara was heartbroken, and urged him to keep calling her by the nickname, but he never picked it back up.
  • My father’s given name was Douglas Daniel, but the very day his parents brought him home from the hospital, they determined he didn’t look like a Douglas, so they immediately called him “Daniel.” When he was old enough, he legally switched his name to “Daniel Douglas.
  • I have a friend who was dubbed “Scooter” at the young age of three months on account of his scooting motions when sitting in his mother’s lap. His family called him “Scooter” exclusively his whole life: the whole church knew him as “Scooter,” and all his school friends called him “Scooter.” As an adult, his friends, co-workers and in-laws call him by his given name, but those who knew him intimately through him childhood continue to use the sentimental reference.
  • A little boy in my 3s class has a baby sister named Peighton. He was unable to pronounce it correctly when she was first born, and his attempts sounded more like “Penguin.” So now he calls his sister by “Penguin,” and family members have picked up the name for her, too!
  • My husband’s first name has many syllables, and doesn’t fit in casual situations. A comical incident arose when we were dating that led me to begin calling him “Buck,” and he nicknamed me “Doe” to match. Five years later, we seldom call each other by our first names around the house.

My long-in-coming point here is that names seem to be naturally fluid; nicknames are an opportunity for us to bond with our loved ones. It’s a symbol we have a specific and special connection with the person who calls us by a different name than the rest of the world calls us. Names and nicknames are an opportunity for us to tell a story of our most important or amusing relationships.

“That” was a symbol to Sahara of the relationship she had with her brother; no one else would ever have that role in her life.

“Penguin” will explain to her friends on the playground one day, “My brother couldn’t say ‘Peighton’ when we were little. He could only say ‘Penguin.’ So, that’s what my family has called me ever since!”

“Alvin Wilson” knows when he hears that name, someone in his Inner Circle is calling to him. Only the people who know him intimately and love him dearly call him by that name. It is the sound of safety and love.

When my husband calls me “Doe,” and I call him “Buck,” I feel closer to him, and it’s fun getting to explain to people the long story of how that started!

Sometimes, one’s given name doesn’t quite fit them, so their loved ones find a new one that does! As is the case with “Wallie,” and “Daniel,” and even “Scooter.”

Sure, we need to make sure they know to respond to, and introduce themselves by, the name the rest of the world will be calling them. And of course, allowing a child to believe her name is “Rainbow Dash” or “Super Girl” or “Ariana Grande,” or to request others to address her as such, would be unhealthy.

But I don’t think there’s even the remotest chance of damaging a child by calling them a name that makes them feel safe and loved and special. Names and nicknames can be celebrated! They have the potential to strengthen bonds, and to forge relationships.


So, what’s in a name?

The stories of our origins, and the symbols of our most important relationships: the summaries of who we are.


Let me know in the comments below, or on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram, what great nicknames have come about in your families!

And have a rosey, sweet Valentine’s Day!

Today and always, I wish you well!


How to Keep Your Cool Through This Season of Snow Days

Keep Your Cool

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope 2017’s holiday season brought joy to you and your families! And I hope 2018 has already delivered some great memories.

As we enter a new year, we are faced with a lot of typical winter challenges as Carers. Here in Ohio, we have already had several snow days, problems with school pipes and heaters, and all kinds of illnesses passed around… lots of reasons to keep the children home from school. All this time stuck indoors with our children, combined with the long winter break, the busyness of the holidays, new toys to fight over, and colds and flus, we sometimes find our patience wearing very thin!

It isn’t easy on our children, either, as they so often need routine and structure to feel truly safe. They let us know they’re struggling with all this down-time, too, by acting out and pushing limits, which thins our patience even more.

When we are feeling overwhelmed, and our patience is already thin, it is too easy to lose our tempers. When we do, we often regret the things we said or did in our anger, and find that—in addition to being stressed and exhausted and overwhelmed—we now feel guilty, too.

In these times of high stress and low patience, it’s important to remind ourselves of ways to manage our own emotions.

We can usually detect our waning self-control when we feel that first wave of heat wash over us: our muscles tighten- maybe we clench our fists or jaw, or furrow our brow- our chest starts to pound with our racing heart-beat, our cheeks may feel hot, and our breathing becomes quick and shallow. This is the sign that fight-or-flight neurotransmitters (the same chemicals released when you see your child fall and hit his head, or when your car is rear-ended in a traffic jam) are surging through the nervous system. These hormones and neurotransmitters are designed to keep us safe in emergencies, but when we are dealing with our child’s difficult behavior, we are not in the middle of an emergency.

When we are interacting with our child, and we feel the physical symptoms of those fight-or-flight hormones flooding our bodies, we know we are beginning to lose our cool. Call it anger, call it patience-running-out, call it mad, sad, upset, irritated, aggravated, annoyed, exasperated… but whatever we call it, we must recognize that the chances we’re going to be able to react constructively at this point are very low.

Before we proceed in dealing with our child, we must return to a state of calm:

Be honest with your child. Take a deep breath and say, “I’m feeling way too mad to talk about this right now. I need to take a time-out and calm down.” Resist the urge to express anything beyond your intention to calm down; it won’t be helpful. This doesn’t mean your child has “won,” or gotten away with anything. In fact, it’s just the opposite. It means your child gets to see firsthand how a mature person exercises self-control. Since it’s a guarantee our children will experience anger in their lives, too, it’s a valuable contribution to their own development when we can model for them healthy emotional regulation. You can finish the discussion when you’ve cooled off.

Find a way to calm down. Splash some water on your face, take some deep breaths, do some jumping jacks (research shows physical activity releases the tension in your body), stand on one foot (this allows your brain to focus on keeping you upright, rather than maintaining your upset), or repeat a calming phrase. (My personal favorite mantra—learned from Dr. Becky Bailey, creator of Conscious Discipline—is “Keep breathing. I am safe. I can handle this.”)

Despite the commonly given advice that you should express your anger while you’re angry, so you can “vent” it or “let it out,” the truth is that talking about your anger while you’re angry actually escalates it further. So, while it’s tempting to call your best friend or your mother to vent your rage, don’t. It will only make it harder to calm down. If you need advice or support, wait to ask for it until you’ve come back into emotional balance. You’ll be better able to find ways to solve the problem when you’re calm, anyway.

All behavior is a form of communication. Remind yourself, “my child is using this behavior to send me a message. She needs my help.” She may simply need a snack, or she might need a longer nap today. She may need you to set a limit so she feels safe, or she may need some time to herself, away from her siblings. It may just be that some one-on-one time with you is needed. Whatever your child might be trying to communicate, you’ll be better tuned in to hear it when you are calm.

Don’t discipline while you’re mad. The actions you take while you’re still worked up will never be what’s best for your child, and will likely worsen the original situation. If you’ve taken five or ten minutes to yourself and you still aren’t calm, tell your child, “I want to take some more time to think about what happened. We will talk about it later.” Then follow through: continue doing what you must to calm down. Then think through the situation, and talk to your child about it.


Give your child the same respect you would expect to receive. When you are calm enough to discuss the situation with your child constructively, approach him gently and ask, “is now a good time to talk to you about what happened earlier, or should I come back in five minutes?” This lets him know the conversation can take place with mutual respect, and gives him an opportunity to prepare himself for it accordingly. When he is ready to talk, use a gentle tone to express your needs and acknowledge his, and work the situation out together. When you can use a calm tone of voice, it helps you to relax. And when your words and tone are calm, your child will begin to relax too, and the tension will dissipate.

Above all, prioritize self-care. If you aren’t allowing your own needs to be met, it is impossible for you to meet the emotional needs of your children. Sometimes it dawns on us, “It’s not my child who is cranky from not getting enough sleep. It’s me!” Give yourself permission to put the kids to bed early so you can get enough sleep, too. Or leave the dishes in the sink tonight so you can unwind with a cup of tea and that book you’ve been wanting to read. Find someone to babysit so you can go grocery shopping alone sometimes or grab a coffee with a friend. You can’t love your children well if you aren’t loving yourself. And if you make it a priority, you will find the time to make it happen.


Our commitment to emotional regulation makes a powerful impact on our children as they watch us model self-control! Let me know how it goes for you during these winter weekends, sick days and snow days.

I wish you well, dear friends, as you power through the joys and challenges of this season!


(These words were inspired by the wisdom of Dr. Laura Markham, author of Peaceful Parents, Happy Kids: How to Stop Yelling and Start Connecting, and of Dr.’s Dan Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson, authors of The Whole-Brain Child.)

Can I Get a Flag?

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[photo credit: Hector Alejandro]

It has been a long-established habit of mine to stand back when children argue; to support them both as they work toward a solution, but to refuse to tell them what they should do. Recently I was asked why I won’t just tell them what’s fair and put an end to the bickering. Most of us were raised in homes and schools where this was commonly an adult’s response to children’s arguments. As we entered parenthood, the classroom, or the field of child care, most of us naturally used the same strategies on our children which were used to rear ourselves.

Yet it’s important that we re-examine our strategies from time to time when we are working with children, to remind ourselves of our true intentions, and to confirm that we are leading children to the place we desire them to reach. When I was questioned about this particular strategy of mine, I was thankful for the opportunity to check in with my motives that way. So the next time such an argument arose, I evaluated my own response and the traditional response:

Allison and Jaylin were playing soccer near the playground. Jaylin saw an old water bottle left in the grass. She called out, “Look!” but Allison was faster and beat Jaylin to the prize. They came to me with the timeless conflict, “I had it first!” both with compelling reasons it should be theirs.

The traditional standard response from the teacher/parent would be, “Jaylin saw it first. It wasn’t nice of Allison to run ahead and grab it before Jaylin could. Allison, give it to Jaylin. It’s only fair.”

And here’s what would typically follow: Most likely, Allison would refuse to hand it over, and the teacher would probably have to take it herself to give to Jaylin. However, even if Allison accepted the verdict and surrendered the prize, Jaylin would walk away feeling triumphant. She would be thinking something like, “The teacher took my side. I convinced her I was right and Allison was wrong,” with smug satisfaction. Allison would walk away feeling defeated and thinking something like, “The teacher is so mean and unfair. I deserved to keep it. Jaylin is a mean bully and a teacher’s pet,” with bitter resentment. The girls would probably spend the rest of recess either fighting or avoiding each other, and maybe even going to their friends to brag or vent. The next time they had an argument, Jaylin would come tattling to the teacher, hoping she would take her side, and Allison would believe the teacher would rule against her, resenting the teacher before Allison even told her side of the story.

So instead of using the traditional response, I summed up their dilemma for them, “You both feel you deserve the water bottle because, Jaylin, you saw it first, and Allison, because you touched it first. So far you’re not agreeing on who should get to keep it, but I have total confidence you can work together to find a new solution that makes you both happy.” As I walked away, I heard,

Jaylin: “We could throw it away so no one gets it.”

Allison: “No, because I really wanted to use it to collect flowers.”

Jaylin: “We can collect flowers to put in it and then give it to someone.”

Allison: “Let’s give it to Miss Sheryl.”

Jaylin: “I don’t want to give it to her. Let’s give it to Miss Jackie.”

Allison: “Okay!”

They spent the rest of recess happily collecting dandelions, clovers, and fallen leaves together. They brought them inside and worked to arrange the items into a bouquet, and decorated the bottle with sharpies. They were so proud to give it to their teacher.

This interaction and its result illustrates the three main reasons I choose not to make the calls for my children and instead encourage them find solutions on their own:

  1. To discourage tattling.

Let’s be honest. As a parent, teacher, or carer, (second to tantruming,) tattling may be the most obnoxious sound we hear throughout the day. The most effective way to minimize tattling is to refuse to referee. Teach children to resolve their own conflicts. Once they realize you are only going to encourage them to find a solution on their own, they will be less likely to come to you for a quick verdict, and more likely to attempt the process by themselves.

  1. To avoid rivalry and polarizing, and to foster positive peer relationships

When a call is made for them, one child is often the clear winner and the other the clear loser. It can be interpreted by the children as a statement of where they each stand with the authority figure, leading to assumptions of favoritism or neglect, and causing feelings of jealousy or pride surrounding the relationship with the parent/teacher/carer. It can easily breed negative feelings between the children, causing them to rival and scheme against each other, rather than conspiring for cooperation.

  1. To give them opportunities to practice

The ability to resolve conflicts is an important life skill still very necessary in the adult world. If children don’t have the opportunity to practice this skill in their day-to-day lives, they will be severely handicapped and frustrated when they reach young adulthood and realize they no longer have a personal referee, nor know how to resolve conflicts with fellow adults. For this reason alone, we do them a great disservice to insist on making the calls for them as children.

It’s never too late to instill the skills of conflict resolution in your children and students. If this is a new strategy for them, it may take some practice and support to get the hang of it. It often helps to summarize the conflict, express your faith in them to solve it on their own, and then walk away. For example, (summarize) “Neither David nor Sam want to walk the dog.” (express faith) “That’s a tough one. I have complete confidence the two of you can come up with a solution to this problem that you both can live with.” And walk away to let them figure it out by themselves.

If you hear voices beginning to rise, you can interject something like, “It sounds like you’re having a hard time finding a good solution,” and mediate their efforts. And it’s always okay to suggest a break, “I can tell by the volume of your voices that you could use some time to clear your heads. Let’s take a break and finish talking about this after dinner.”

Just take care to let the solution be one of their own creation! They’ll probably come up with some that really impress you! And they will be more willing and able to work together toward a solution next time if they’ve already had a victory.

Today and always, I wish you well.

Shut Up and Listen

It doesn’t cease to fascinate me that problem-solving and conflict resolution are lost skills these days, and not considered a priority by many teachers, parents and carers. I wonder if they were never valued skills, or if we just got off track somewhere along the way.

I admit that most of the time, it seems faster and easier to play the role of the almighty wise Adult in Authority; to just intervene, give the children answers, direct their actions, or distribute consequences when difficult behavior arises.

I have been there: The kids are whiny and constantly pushing each other’s buttons and mine. I’m at the end of my rope and it’s not even lunch time yet. Child A commits some atrocity against Child B, and they come screaming to me for help, telling me their sides of the story at the same time. I make a judgement, and dole out a consequence… preferably something that provides a moment of peace and quiet (but more likely, something that initiates a tantrum). I do not have the emotional energy to sit them down and guide them in deep breathing and listen to both sides in turn and lead them toward peace and reconciliation.

I’ve been there when I’m trying to get a fussy toddler diapered and dressed, and Sister is relentlessly bending my ear about a mean girl in her class. I don’t have time to pause and play counselor. So I distribute a “sounds like she’s not a girl you want as a friend,” and let the conversation end.

I’ve also been there when I have 36 schoolagers to keep track of on a busy playground, and focusing on facilitating a moment of self-occurring wisdom for warring children is honestly just not my top priority.

But over the last several years of my career of working with children, I have been learning and appreciating more and more… Kids already possess the capacity for conflict resolution. They already have naturally developing wisdom.  They already know when they messed up, and they can feel guilty and fix it. They are full and complete (yet small) human beings, just in need of experiences and opportunities to practice.

I’m realizing that I’m making this harder than it is.

In Faber and Mazlish’s book How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk, they discuss, among other brilliant topics, the many challenges of the simplest idea: Shut up and listen.

It initially seemed so self-condescending to put into practice. It’s hard to let go of the thoughts, “But I have so much wisdom to offer!” “But I have the most perfect points for a great lecture!” “But I could solve this problem with one sentence, and then we’d be done with it!” “But this kid made a terrible decision, and I need them to know it!”

But in reality, if I followed through with any of those trains of thought, I’d be making more work for myself, and denying the child the opportunity to gain some experience and insight on their own.

When I started listening instead of talking, I discovered what seemed like a whole new dimension in my students. It is so hard to learn to resist the urge to respond with more than “Oh?” or “Hmm.” but it is hilariously wonderful what a difference is made when I don’t.


This is my favorite story about this method:

My class was in the woods for recess and Lyla, seven years old and hopelessly in love with all living things, found a toad. Violet wanted to see the toad, but Lyla wouldn’t let her. She walked away with it still in her hands and Violet followed with an incessant chorus of “Just let me see it. I won’t touch it. Please just let me look.” Even I was starting to get tired of hearing her repetitive pleas, as she followed Lyla everywhere through the woods. Finally the trees shook with Violet’s screams and sobs as she ran to me, “Lyla killed the frog!” I heard her story and consoled her through her devastation and trauma. Lyla just watched us from afar, and I left her alone.

I carried on the supervision of my class, but I noticed Lyla walking huge, slow circles around me, which shrunk with each round. Eventually, she was just walking methodically around me, kicking up dust with the toes of her cowgirl boots.

Me: “Hi Lyla. How’s it going?”

Lyla: “Good.”

[moment of silence/ kicking dirt]

Lyla: “Miss Bailey… Violet thinks I killed that toad.”

Me: “Yes, she does.”

Lyla: “I didn’t kill it. She just kept following me everywhere I went, and she wouldn’t leave me alone. I knew if I put it down in a safe place, she’d go pick it up, and he needed to be left alone.”

Me: “Hmm.”

Lyla: “She wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t know how to get her to leave me alone!”

Me: “She kept following you.”

Lyla: “Yeah! It was so annoying! She wouldn’t go away! So I threw the toad into the swamp grass. Toads are like cats. They always land on their feet. It was probably okay.”

Me: “Hmm.”

Lyla: “…It probably wasn’t good for the toad… But I had to do it! She wouldn’t leave me alone!”

Me: “She just wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Lyla: “It was so annoying. I didn’t know what to do!… But next time I think I would just hide it. I wouldn’t throw it again. It might have hurt it. And I feel really bad that I might have hurt it. I don’t want to do that again.”

And she ran to play with her friends.


And that was it! All my boxes checked, and I didn’t have to come up with anything.

She realized she shouldn’t have thrown it.

She felt guilty for throwing it.

She decided she didn’t want to feel that way next time.

She decided she wouldn’t make that same choice again.

She felt better, maybe even forgave herself (I hope!), and returned to play.

Everything I would have lectured her on, everything I would have tried to get her to say, everything I wanted for her. And she realized and verbalized it all by herself.


Though it’s tough to keep our wisdom to ourselves, and it’s tough to be patient while the wheels of their mind turn, our children need us to give them space and time to practice these important life skills.

And I’d argue that more valuable to them than our wisdom is empowerment:

Empowerment to make mistakes and learn from natural consequences. Empowerment to find solutions on their own, and adjust them when they don’t work. Empowerment to grow at their own pace. Empowerment that they are capable of using their own wisdom.

And when its time to send them off into the real world on their own, they’ll be ready.


(more on learning to listen still to come)