Make the ordinary come alive!
“Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives…
Make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.”
– William Martin
This poem has been sitting with me as a parent and as an educator. It moves many of us because it touches a quiet grief: how easily we lose the child we once delighted in, to the fear we carry for their future.
When children are young, parents count each day as a blessing, follow every step, record every word, and revel in the ordinariness of their child’s presence. Then, as the child grows and begins to enjoy that safe space, fear enters quietly: fear of marks, careers, competition, “falling behind”. Slowly, the present becomes a mere corridor to the future. Decisions get made about the child, not with the child. We tell ourselves this is sacrifice, love, “toughening them up”. But often it is fear wearing the mask of care.
When a powerful adult regularly decides for a child “for their own good”, it may look like caring, but it feels suffocating. The child slowly learns: “My feelings matter less than other people’s plans. My life is not really mine.”
If we take William Martin’s invitation seriously, then our work as parents and educators is not to engineer an extraordinary future, but to protect and deepen the child’s experience of the present.
To let the ordinary come alive, we might ask ourselves:
Do my fears speak louder than my child’s voice in daily decisions?
Do I still make time to enjoy my child’s company with no agenda – not homework, not improvement, just being together?
Where am I using my power for my child, and where am I using it over my child?
Krishnamurti said that thinking about the future creates fear, and that fear is a form of pain. We cannot stop thought, and we cannot erase all uncertainty from our children’s lives but we can refuse to sacrifice their present aliveness on the altar of our anxiety.
Perhaps the most radical thing we can offer children is this: adults who are willing to be fully present, to respect their agency, and to delight in the ordinary life they are already living.
If we can do that, even imperfectly, the extraordinary – whatever that truly means for each child – will take care of itself.
Come join us in building a happier, ordinary childhood for our children!