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What Will This Generation Not Hear from Their Parents?

A friend recently posed a question to me that I have not been able to shake. He said that for many Boomers, the phrase they rarely heard growing up was, “I love you.” For many Gen Xers and older millennials, the missing phrase was often, “I’m sorry.”

Then he asked: What will this generation say they did not hear from their parents?

It is such a smart question because every generation tends to correct the mistakes of the one before it. And, being human, every generation also manages to create a few fresh ones of its own.

In many families, earlier generations were not especially verbal with affection. Love was often present, but it was shown through sacrifice, duty, provision and perseverance more than spoken aloud. Then many of us came along determined to become more emotionally fluent. We wanted our children to know they were loved. We wanted them to identify their feelings, name their struggles and feel seen.

That is not a bad correction. In many ways, it is a very good one.

But I wonder if the phrase this generation may not hear enough is this: I believe in you.

Maybe even more fully: I believe in you, and I will support you while you do hard things.

Parents today hear a great deal about helping children identify and process emotions, and that matters. Children should absolutely learn to recognize fear, disappointment, anger, embarrassment and anxiety. They should know that feelings are real and that they are not shameful. But somewhere along the way, many families seem to have absorbed a second message that is less helpful: that feeling uncomfortable is itself a reason not to proceed.

It is not.

A friend told me recently about a family vacation where her 8-year-old son (a rambunctious, brave, beautifully wild little boy in most settings) froze at the idea of doing a high ropes course. He got scared and immediately said, “I’m not doing it.” His mom, to her credit, did not instantly rescue him from the challenge. She told him he could choose the ropes course or the rock wall, but one way or another, he was going to face a fear that day.

He protested. He resisted. He did not feel ready.

But what mattered most was not simply that she pushed him. It was that she stood beside him with the clear message: I believe in you. She was not mocking his fear, dismissing his feelings or throwing him to the wolves. She was supporting him through something difficult and telling him, in word and deed, that he was capable of more than his fear was telling him in that moment.

And he did it.

That is such an important message for children to hear.

Because emotions are important, but they are not dictators.

Fear can be real without being right. Anxiety can be loud without being wise. Discomfort can be intense without being dangerous. Children need help learning that they are not helpless in the presence of strong feelings. They can feel afraid and still move forward. They can feel embarrassed and still try. They can feel unsure and still begin.

Usually, they do that best when a steady adult is nearby saying, “I believe in you.”

That is how resilience is built. Not by shaming children for being afraid, and not by removing every obstacle before they have to face it, but by helping them discover that they can survive challenges and come out stronger on the other side.

Of course, this takes wisdom. Parenting is not about pushing children harshly, humiliating them or ignoring genuine limits. It is about refusing to let a child’s first impulse of fear become the final authority. It is about teaching them that courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to act in spite of it, especially when someone loving is there to help steady them.

Maybe that is one of the great parenting assignments of this era: to care deeply about our children’s emotional lives without raising them to believe that their emotions should run their lives.

Yes, help them name their feelings. Yes, sit with them in their struggles. Yes, be a safe place.

But also tell them the truth: I believe in you. You can be scared and still be brave. You can feel deeply without being ruled completely. You can try, fail, recover and try again. And I will be here to support you as you do.

That may be one of the most loving things a parent can say.

Because what children need is not just protection from hard things. They need a parent who believes they are capable of facing them.

And in a world increasingly tempted to treat discomfort as danger, that may be one of the most necessary messages of all.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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When Your Adult Child Hasn’t Launched

There is a particular ache in parenting adult children: they are old enough to vote, drive, and ignore your excellent advice, yet sometimes not quite old enough to stop making decisions that make you want to stare at the ceiling and reconsider every permissive moment since preschool.

The job has changed, but the love has not.

Psychologists call this season “emerging adulthood,” a stretch of life, often from the late teens through the twenties, marked by freedom, instability, and uneven progress. Temple University psychologist Dr. Laurence Steinberg has noted that the path to adulthood now takes longer than it once did, and that many parents and grown children are trying to build a new relationship while the old one is still rattling around in the trunk.

That helps explain why so many parents feel confused. We were trained for bedtime, broccoli, and booster seats. Nobody really prepared us for a 22-year-old with a fully formed opinion, a half-formed plan, and a habit of making choices that leave the family group text one message away from combustion.

The research is surprisingly clear on one point: love helps, but over-control does not.

In a 2016 study in the Journal of Child and Family Studies, Kayla Reed and colleagues found that helicopter parenting was linked indirectly to worse outcomes for emerging adults through lower self-efficacy, while autonomy-supportive parenting was linked to better life satisfaction and physical health. A newer review in Youth likewise found that parents still matter a great deal in this stage, but the healthiest approach balances warmth, expectations, and autonomy support.

The more troubling findings involve psychological control, using guilt, intrusion and manipulation tactics, or treating a grown child’s mind like it is still your rental property. Developmental psychologist Brian Barber famously described psychological control as parenting that “constrains, invalidates, and manipulates” a child’s emotional and psychological experience. In real life, it sounds like: “After all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?” or “If you loved this family, you wouldn’t do this,” or “I guess you just don’t care about us anymore.” The key difference is this: behavioral guidance says, “If you live here, you need to follow these rules.” Psychological control says, “I will make you feel guilty until you think and feel what I want.” Research has long distinguished those two forms of control because psychological control is more strongly tied to internal distress, while healthy behavioral limits are a separate thing altogether.

That distinction matters when an adult child has not launched well, or is making decisions that are harmful to themselves or others. Parents are still allowed to have standards. In fact, they need them. But a boundary is not a guilt trip in pearls. “You may not live here rent-free if you are using drugs,” is a boundary. “You are breaking your mother’s heart, and good children do not do this,” is emotional pressure wearing a church hat.

If you are in this season, the research points toward a hard but hopeful middle path: support without rescuing, honesty without humiliation, and love without emotional takeover.

Bowen family systems theory, developed by psychiatrist Murray Bowen, warns that in anxious families, the person who does the most accommodating can end up absorbing everybody else’s anxiety. That is a helpful reminder for parents who have become full-time fixers, financiers, or emotional paramedics. Steinberg makes a similar point in gentler language: the task is not to dominate your adult child, but to learn how to resolve conflict and build a strong adult relationship.

Which is another way of saying: your grown child may still be on the runway, but you do not help the plane take off by tying yourself to the landing gear, screaming directions along the way.

Love them dearly. Tell the truth calmly. Set boundaries you can actually keep. Refuse to confuse rescuing with helping.

That is not giving up on your child. It is making room for them to become an adult, which, in the end, was the assignment all along.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org

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When “I Don’t Want to Parent” Goes Viral, Kids Still Have to Live There

Every few weeks, social media serves up a new kind of honesty: parents saying they love their kids… and also don’t want to be around them.

Not “I need a break,” but “I only have about 10–15 minutes in me a day,” or “I don’t want to play,” or “My kids irritate me nonstop.”

I believe parents should be able to say out loud: This is hard. We should be able to confess the parts that feel boring, repetitive, loud, sticky, and mentally exhausting. We should be able to admit that sometimes we do not want to build the Lego city, host the 17th tea party, or hear one more dramatic retelling of a playground injustice.

But here’s the line I don’t want us to cross: normalizing the feeling is healthy. Normalizing the withdrawal is not.

Because kids don’t experience our disengagement as a trendy hot take. They experience it as their home.

And right now, families are carrying a lot. In 2024, the U.S. Surgeon General released an advisory focused on parents’ mental health and well-being, pointing to high stress levels among parents and calling for stronger support systems. That doesn’t surprise anyone who has ever tried to answer work emails while cutting grapes into legally safe sizes.

That same advisory highlights something else that matters: many parents are not just tired, they’re lonely. When you parent in isolation, every normal challenge feels like a personal failure. And when parenting starts to feel like constant failure, emotional distancing can start to feel like relief.

Psychologists even have a name for a pattern that includes this kind of chronic exhaustion and “backing away” emotionally: parental burnout. Researchers describe it as intense exhaustion related to parenting, emotional distancing from your children, and feeling like you’re not the parent you used to be. And here’s the part that should sober all of us: studies have linked parental burnout with higher risks of neglectful and harmful parenting behaviors, not because most parents want to hurt their kids, but because overwhelm can erode self-control and compassion. 

So when the internet shrugs and says, “It’s fine to check out,” I want to say, gently but clearly: it may be common, but it’s not harmless.

Now, about that “10 minutes a day” idea.

Focused time matters. A short window of undistracted attention, phone down, eyes up, child-led, can be powerful. But it’s not a magic spell that covers the other 23 hours and 50 minutes.

Even research on parent-child time tends to land in a nuanced place: quantity of time isn’t the only ingredient. In some studies, the amount of time moms spend with children isn’t strongly tied to every outcome people assume it is, especially once you account for the bigger picture of resources and family context.

But nuance is not the same as permission to disappear.

Kids don’t only need “connection time.” They also need availability through a parent who is emotionally reachable enough to notice, respond, repair, and guide. In early childhood especially, Harvard’s Center on the Developing Child describes “serve and return” interactions (those back-and-forth exchanges between a child and a caring adult) as a key building block for healthy brain development. 

That doesn’t require you to be Mary Poppins all day. It does mean your child should not feel like they have to audition for your attention.

So what do we normalize instead?

Let’s normalize saying: “I’m maxed out.”
Let’s normalize saying: “I feel irritated.”
Let’s normalize saying: “I need help.”
And then let’s normalize doing the next part, the part social media rarely films:

Finding a safe place to tell the truth without making your child pay for it.

Sometimes that safe place is a friend who won’t judge you. Sometimes it’s a parenting group, a faith community, a coach, a therapist, or a support circle where people can say, “Me too,” and then move toward skills and support, not just venting and resignation.

Because here’s what worries me: we are raising kids in a culture that already preaches individualism like a religion. “Protect your peace.” “Choose yourself.” “Do what’s best for you.” Some of that language has helped people escape truly toxic situations. But applied carelessly to parenting, it can turn into something ugly: My comfort is the highest good, even when I’m the adult and you’re the child.

Parenthood changes your identity. Not because you stop being you, but because you become you-with-responsibility. Love isn’t only a feeling; it’s a practice. And kids can’t thrive on a practice we only do when we feel like it.

If you’re reading this and thinking, “I relate a little too much,” I’m not here to shame you. I’m here to name what might be true: you may be depleted, depressed, anxious, unsupported, or burned out. And you deserve help.

But your child deserves something too: a parent who doesn’t just normalize the urge to check out, who learns how to come back.

Not perfect. Not performing. Just present.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org.

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Honoring Where You’re From While Building What Comes Next

The first time you pack a home to start a new one, you realize you’re not just moving furniture, you’re moving a culture.

I found that out the year my husband and I wrapped and packed our new dishes next to his large trunk of travel souvenirs and my grandmother’s floral music box. On paper, that box held a smorgasbord of fragile things. In practice, it carried a thousand little “we always…” and “we never…” statements that would follow us wherever we went.

Starting a family has a way of bringing those scripts to the surface. Holidays arrive, and suddenly there are three ideas of when and where to celebrate, as well as four opinions about what type of food should be on the table. Bedtime comes with a debate: two stories and a song? A quick goodbye or a slow cuddle? We inherit so much: our values, stories, jokes, grudges, and the choreography of everyday life.

The trick isn’t to erase what came before; it’s to honor it while shaping a culture that fits the people we are becoming.

Research gives us permission to take that work seriously. Decades of studies point to something deceptively simple: families who build steady routines and meaningful rituals tend to function better. Kids are more secure, parents report lower stress, and couples feel more satisfied, not because life gets easier, but because those small, repeated touchpoints stitch everyone together. The Gottmans would say these rituals are part of how couples “create shared meaning,” the sturdy beams of the Sound Relationship House. It’s not just the big traditions; it’s the goofy goodbye at the door, the nightly five-minute check-in, the Sunday call to Nana. Tiny things, done on purpose, turn into the grammar of “us.”

Still, none of us starts with a blank page. The way we handle conflict, money, faith, chores, and affection often echoes our family of origin. Attachment researchers have shown that early relational “templates” have a way of hitching a ride into adulthood. That can be a gift. Maybe warmth around the dinner table comes naturally. It can also be a challenge. Maybe we flinch when voices rise because that never ended well in our childhood home.

Naming those patterns doesn’t dishonor our parents or grandparents; it gives us the agency to decide what we’ll carry forward and what we’ll set down.

Marriage researcher Scott Stanley has a phrase I love: “decide, don’t slide.” He uses it for big transitions, but it fits family culture, too. It’s easy to slide into what’s familiar: we host because we always have, we drive six hours because that’s what’s expected, we serve the dish no one eats because it’s “tradition.” Deciding looks different. It sounds like, “We’re grateful for that, and here’s how we’ll do it now.” Intentional choices beat inertia every time.

Of course, our families of origin don’t stop being our families just because we start a new one. Therapist Esther Perel talks often about boundaries, not as walls to keep people out, but as guardrails that keep relationships safe. In practice, that might mean you send the holiday schedule to both sets of parents at the same time so no one is surprised. It might mean you ask that certain couple of conversations remain just that—between the two of you. It might mean expanding the table some years and narrowing it others. Boundaries make room for generosity because they reduce resentment.

I saw all of this come to life on the holiday we tried to please absolutely everyone. We committed to two Christmas meals, the long drive between them, and the “quick stop” at a third house that turned into a three-hour detour. By dessert, we were smiling for photos and privately exhausted with each other. The next year, we did it differently. We sat at the kitchen table with coffee and made four little lists, not as a manifesto but as a conversation.

First, we asked what we wanted to keep exactly as it was. Then we looked at what to tweak so it fit our season: the marathon holiday drive became a huge no. We decided one year we’d host, one year we’d travel, and one year we’d keep it small and invite anyone who wants to join us. We chose one thing to start that felt like us: a quick “rose, bud, thorn” check-in at dinner where each person shares a highlight, a hope, and a hard thing. And finally, we retired one tradition that had quietly stopped serving our family. We didn’t bury it; we gave it a grateful goodbye.

None of that made our family perfect. But it did make us more deliberate. We tied our choices to values we wanted to grow: gratitude, hospitality, playfulness, faith. Our rituals weren’t just busywork; they were habits of the heart. We put the small things on the calendar, because meaningful traditions rarely survive on good intentions. And we gave ourselves permission to laugh when the beautiful plan met the very real toddlers.

If you’re wondering whether any of this matters beyond feeling cozy, the answer is yes. Scholars like Brad Wilcox and others have shown that, on average, children do better (academically, emotionally, and financially) when they grow up in stable, committed two-parent homes. There are wonderful exceptions, and every family constellation can be loving and strong.

But it’s fair to say that investing in the culture of your home is not just sentimental, it’s one of the most practical ways to give kids a secure base. Rituals and routines are how love puts on work clothes.

So maybe this is your season to sift the heirlooms. Keep what is unmistakably good. Sand and refinish what needs adapting. And be brave enough to build a few pieces of your own. It might be Friday night pizza on the floor, a monthly family service project, a standing date night, or a once-a-week FaceTime with the cousins. It might be the boundary that says, “We’ll join you Saturday morning, but we’ll sleep in our own beds Friday night.” It might simply be the quiet promise that your partner gets the benefit of the doubt, even when the day goes off the rails.

Years from now, your children may not remember what you served or whether the napkins matched. They’ll remember the feeling around the table. They’ll remember that in your home, people showed up, stories were told, forgiveness was normal, and love was practiced on purpose. That’s what it means to honor where you’re from while building what comes next.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org.

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Key Adult Milestones Are Not Being Reached: What That Means for Everyone

Here’s the truth about “adulting” in 2025: it’s a moving target.

As a 35-year-old CEO of a family nonprofit—and a mom to a fearless two-year-old and a six-year-old who just discovered the magic of school lunch pizza—I think a lot about what our kids are growing up into. The U.S. Census Bureau’s latest look at milestones of adulthood gives us a clear signal: the path most young adults take today is different from the one many of us expected.

For decades, four milestones often stood in for “made it”: move out, get a job, marry, have kids. In 1975, nearly half of 25- to 34-year-olds had checked all four boxes. New Census data reveals that in 2024, less than one-quarter did. The most common pattern now? Young adults living on their own and in the labor force—but not necessarily married or parenting (about 28%). In short: economic steps are outpacing family steps. 

Census researchers also updated how they measure adulthood by adding a fifth marker—finishing education—and examined 2005 to 2023. In 2005, about 26% of young adults had reached all five milestones; by 2023, that share fell to about 17%. At the same time, labor-force participation remained the most common single marker (about 86% in 2023), and living independently dipped slightly (84% in 2005 to 81% in 2023).

We also see shifts inside the family story. Fewer young adults are married than three decades ago. In 2023, just 29% of 25- to 29-year-olds were married (down from 50% in 1993), and 51% of 30- to 34-year-olds (down from 63%). Among 18- to 24-year-olds, only 7% were married in 2023, according to the Pew Research Center.

Where young adults live has shifted, too. A majority of 18- to 24-year-olds (57%) currently live in a parent’s home, up from 53% in 1993. Housing costs, longer schooling, and a desire for financial stability are all part of the story. 

Remember, milestones aren’t just boxes on a list. They shape identity, purpose, and well-being.

The 2024 Census story notes that young adults are prioritizing economic security before starting families—understandable when housing, food, and gas take bigger bites of the budget. But when family formation lags, it can ripple into community life: fewer volunteers at schools and parks, later grandparent support, and smaller social safety nets built through extended family ties. 

At the same time, it’s worth remembering: Americans are increasingly comfortable saying there isn’t one “right” age to hit life goals. Many still see the ideal window for marriage, first child, and buying a home as 25-34, but a Pew Research Center survey reveals a large share now say there’s no best age at all. That cultural shift matters; expectations can either weigh young adults down or give them room to grow. 

For parents and families worried about whether or not their children will be a prime “failure to launch” situation, here are practical, research-backed ways to help young adults reach those milestones, on a timeline that fits real life.

1) Build the relationship before the résumé.

Strong, steady connections with caring adults protect mental health and help young people handle transitions such as college, first jobs, and new housing. Make regular check-ins a habit (text, coffee, a Sunday call). Ask good questions and listen more than you advise. Connectedness is protective.

2) Coach for independence, not control.

Think “scaffolding”: offer structure and encouragement while they practice making decisions around budgeting, reading a lease, setting up auto-pay, and making a doctor’s appointment. These are executive-function skills (planning, focus, self-control). They don’t magically appear at 18; they’re built with practice and feedback. 

3) Normalize starter steps.

Milestones are often reached in stages: roommates before solo rent, certificate before degree, internship before career. Praise the step, not just the finish line. This mindset reduces shame and keeps momentum going. (It also matches how today’s young adults are actually sequencing adulthood.) 

4) Open doors (your network counts).

Who you know still matters. New Census information shows young people who start at a parent’s employer earn 24% more at their first job and are still ahead three years later. You don’t need to be a CEO to help; introductions to managers, union halls, faith-community leaders, or small-business owners can be rocket fuel.

5) Talk about money early and often.

Help your young adult build a basic budget, check their credit report, and compare rent-to-income ratios. If you can’t contribute cash, contribute wisdom: how to avoid junk fees, negotiate a phone plan, or read a pay stub. Small money wins build the confidence that precedes bigger steps like moving out or buying. (Again, the data shows economic milestones are leading the pack.)

6) Respect different timelines and keep hope high.

Lower marriage rates in the early and late 20s don’t mean “never.” Many catch up later, and plenty thrive on these flexible timelines. Your belief in their future matters, whether they’re 19 or 29. 

7) Watch well-being.

Transitions are stressful. Notice changes in sleep, mood, or motivation. Offer help finding a counselor, campus support, or community group. Solid mental health makes the rest of adulthood more reachable. 

The bottom line is today’s young adults aren’t failing at adulthood; they’re re-sequencing it. The new Census data shows fewer are doing everything at once, and more are securing work and housing first. Our job as parents, mentors, and neighbors is to help them build skills, find opportunities, and keep connections strong so the other milestones—marriage, parenting, homeownership if they choose them—are within reach.

My two-year-old thinks adulthood means getting to pick her own snack. My six-year-old thinks it means staying up past bedtime. Honestly? Some days that still tracks.

But with our steady support, our young adults can do more than “adult.” They can thrive.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org.

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The Low Down on Mental Health, Stress and Family Genetics

My brother and I had a lengthy conversation this week about mental health. We both work in what I’ll call “high-impact” jobs, though they seem worlds apart.

Some days, coping and processing the stress can feel like mental gymnastics, flipping and stretching the capacities of our mental health. 

According to a 2016 meta-analysis on mental health and families, the way we feel and deal with stress is part genetically inclined and part learned behavior. Does this mean we’re doomed from the start? 

Not at all, but the more you recognize your actions and identify thoughts and behaviors you’d like to shift, the more likely you can transform the cycle for yourself and others.

First, the genetics.

Think of genes like a blueprint, not a verdict. As I mentioned before, research on twins shows that depression and many anxiety disorders are partly inherited; roughly a third to a half of the risk comes from our DNA. That sounds scary until you remember the other half is about life, habits, and help. Genes can load the dice, but they don’t decide the roll.

Now, the relationships.

Kids learn how to “do” emotions and deal with stressful situations by watching us. When we name feelings, stay steady, and coach them through tough moments, kids tend to have fewer symptoms of anxiety and depression. When we’re harsh, dismissive, or always rush in to rescue, it can keep worries alive. One recent study even showed that a parent-only program where moms and dads learned how to respond more supportively and stepped back from “over-accommodating” reduced children’s anxiety as much as traditional child therapy. Parents matter (which is equal parts empowering and humbling, I know).

Stress can echo across generations, too.

Adverse Childhood Experiences, things like abuse, neglect, or living with a parent who’s seriously struggling, raise the risk for anxiety and depression later on. That doesn’t mean a child is doomed. It does mean safe, stable, nurturing relationships are medicine. The more we can make home predictable, warm, and firm-but-kind, the more we turn down the volume on risk.

And yes, the body keeps the score.

Here’s a simple illustration of how our genetics affect our mental health: life can act like a dimmer switch on our genes. Chronic stress can nudge some genes “brighter” or “dimmer” without changing the DNA code itself. That sounds heavy, but there’s hope in it—healthy routines, supportive relationships, and good skills to cope can move those dimmers back to bright.

So what do we do with all this?

If you’re struggling, start with you.

When a parent gets effective care, kids benefit. Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) has a strong track record for both depression and anxiety. If in-person sessions are hard to manage, ask your doctor about guided online CBT options. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about getting access to tools and using them.

Make feelings part of normal life at home.

Use simple, honest language: “My chest feels tight. I’m going to take three slow breaths—want to try with me?” Regular check-ins on a daily basis are helpful. Ask for one high, one low, and one gratitude at dinner and turn the conversation into a tiny support group. Programs that help parents talk openly about a parent’s depression or anxiety have been shown to improve how families function and how kids feel. Silence is scarier than the truth.

Help anxious kids by changing how you respond.

It’s natural to “save” a worried child from hard things: you email the teacher, cancel the sleepover, skip the tryouts. Sometimes that helps short-term, but it can feed anxiety long-term. A supportive stance sounds like, “I see you’re scared, and I know you can do hard things. I’m here to help you practice.” Step by step (and yes, sometimes with tears), kids build courage.

Protect the basics: sleep and movement.

Tired brains are cranky brains. Consistent bedtimes, phones out of bedrooms, and a calm wind-down routine help everyone. And regular movement like walking, biking, and dance parties in the kitchen, has real, measurable benefits for mood. You don’t need a gym membership to help your nervous system breathe.

Parent with warmth and structure.

The parenting style that research suggests works best is called authoritative: clear rules, consistent follow-through, and plenty of warmth. Think steady schedules, predictable consequences, and lots of affection. You can be kind and firm at the same time. (Honestly, that’s the secret sauce.)

If your family is in a hard spot today, please know help is available. For everyday support, reach out to your primary care clinician, your child’s pediatrician, or a trusted counselor. First Things First would love to help you through coaching and family support. You are not alone in this.

Here’s the heart of it: mental health issues such as anxiety and depression can echo through families, but echoes fade when we change the dynamics of the room. Awareness first. Skills help. Routines soothe. Relationships heal. Start small. Keep it kind. And celebrate every tiny win. Those are the bricks that create a stronger foundation in you and build a healthier next generation.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org.

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7 Stress‑Saving Steps for a Smooth Back‑to‑School Launch

If you listen closely, you can already hear it—the zip of fresh backpacks, the crinkle of notebook wrappers, and the collective gasp of parents realizing the days of “popsicles for lunch” are numbered. Whether your child is brand‑new to kindergarten or a seasoned locker‑door slammer, a little prep now will save everyone tears.

Here are seven research‑backed ways to welcome the 2025‑26 school year:

1. Shift the Sleep Schedule…Tonight

Summer bedtimes have a way of sliding faster than a Slip ’N Slide. But sleep isn’t just beauty rest—it’s brain rest. The American Academy of Sleep Medicine recommends 9–12 hours for 6‑ to 12‑year‑olds and 8–10 hours for teens. Start rolling bedtime back by 15 minutes each night until you hit the target. Consistent bedtimes aren’t just good for grades; studies show they boost emotion regulation and behavior.

2. Reboot the Morning Routine

Practice makes peaceful. Do a “dry run” of the school‑day routine this week: set alarms, pack lunches, even drive the route. Younger kids love a timer challenge (“Can we get teeth brushed before the countdown ends?”). 

3. Meet the Teacher  Early

If your child’s campus offers an open‑house night or “popsicle on the playground,” go. Nervous systems calm dramatically when hallways morph from the unknown to the familiar. Snap classroom photos so younger kids can study them at home and build excitement.

4. Muscle‑Memory Academics: 20 Minutes a Day

Dust off library cards and math‑fact card decks. Twenty minutes of reading or a quick “grocery‑store math” game in the cereal aisle reactivates neural pathways dulled by the summer months. Think of it as stretching before the marathon—you’re preventing first‑week brain cramps.

5. Build a Homework Landing Zone

Pick one spot for backpacks, chargers, and permission slips—preferably near an outlet and far from the refrigerator. A simple cubby or wall‑mounted hook system turns “Mom, where’s my tablet?” into a non‑issue. Pro tip: post the year’s school calendar right above it so field‑trip forms never disappear.

6. Talk Feelings, Not Just Supplies

Back‑to‑school butterflies are real. Over dinner, try the three‑word check‑in: “Name one thing you’re excited about, one thing you’re nervous about, and one thing you’re curious about.” Normalize mixed emotions and brainstorm coping plans—deep breaths, doodle breaks, or a worry stone tucked in a pocket. When children feel heard, their cortisol falls and their confidence rises.

7. Celebrate the First Week—Whatever Happens

Plan a “High‑Low‑Buffalo” pizza night that first Friday. Everyone shares a high (best moment), a low (toughest moment), and a buffalo (random surprise). Rituals like this turn school into a family team sport and remind kids that mistakes are just detours on the learning road. 

Parents, your calm is contagious. If the crayons aren’t color‑coordinated or the monogrammed lunchbox never arrived, your kids will still learn, laugh, and grow this year. Model flexibility, keep humor handy, and remember: every August is a fresh invitation to shape not just scholars, but resilient human beings.

Lauren Hall is the President and CEO of First Things First. Contact her at lauren@firstthings.org.

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