Tag Archive for: Family

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How We Learn to Hate and How We Can Stop

Recent events (both near and far) have led me to question one small little word with a big bite: “hate.”

My son’s school had to go into lockdown mode while we were having an outdoor celebration breakfast for his class. Nothing was going on at the school, but only a couple of blocks down the road gunshots were fired between people who were raging with hate towards each other. Out of an abundance of caution, we made our way into the cafeteria and had a giant dance party instead. 

Of course the kids asked all the questions, “Why did we have to come inside?”, “Are we safe?”, “Will we ever be able to go back outside?”

But they had no idea what happened only a few streets away, and they definitely didn’t feel the hate that started the whole issue.

Where does hate begin? How do regular disagreements turn into something darker? What helps us step back from that edge?

Psychologists say hate isn’t just “really strong dislike.” It’s a hot mix of anger, contempt, and disgust that can push us toward action. One brain-imaging study in 2008 even found a distinct pattern when people looked at someone they hated. Parts of their brain tied to strong emotion and action planning lit up, as if the mind were putting the body on standby.

But the slide into hate usually starts earlier. We sort the world into “us” and “them.” Then we tell simple stories about “them.” Psychologist Nick Haslam’s review of decades of studies shows how this can turn into dehumanization, which means to treat other people as less than fully human. This makes it easier to justify harsh words or worse. We don’t notice it at first; it feels normal, and that’s the trap. 

Politics turns that trap into a bear pit. A team led by Northwestern’s Eli Finkel, director of the university’s Relationship and Motivation lab, calls today’s political dynamic “political sectarianism,” othering, aversion, and moral contempt mixing into a poisonous cocktail. Their work notes that in the U.S., many of us feel more heat toward the other party than warmth for our own. That’s not just disagreement; that’s relationship acid.

Here’s a twist that sounds like every family argument ever: research from Adam Waytz and colleagues finds both sides think we act from love, while they act from hate. It’s called “motive attribution asymmetry,” and it locks conflict in place because compromise starts to feel like giving in to bad people with bad motives. 

So what actually helps? First, real contact. The human kind, not the comment-section kind. Back in 2006, a massive meta-analysis of 515 studies found that contact between groups reliably reduces prejudice, especially when people work together as equals and leaders support the effort. Translation: volunteering side-by-side beats arguing on Facebook.

Second, a bigger “we.” Social psychologists Samuel Gaertner and John Dovidio show that when we recategorize from “us vs. them” to “all of us,” bias drops. In normal life that sounds like, “We’re neighbors raising kids in the same city,” before we ever talk about policy. It’s simple and surprisingly powerful.

Third, shared goals. The classic 1954 “Robbers Cave” summer-camp study split boys into rival teams and—surprise—hostility erupted. What cooled it wasn’t a lecture; it was fixing problems together (like hauling a stuck truck) that neither team could solve alone. Families can borrow this: when a fight stalls, pick a goal bigger than the argument and push the truck together.

Fourth, better conversations. “Deep canvassing” is the term to describe 10-minute, nonjudgmental, story-sharing chats. In 2016, researchers David Broockman and Joshua Kalla found these conversations produced durable attitude change on a hot-button issue. The magic wasn’t debating harder; it was listening, reflecting, and trading personal stories.

And because our media diet shapes our mood, here’s a timely note: a 2024 University of Michigan analysis warned that rage-bait politics on social media can crank up our cynicism and hostility. If your feed makes you feel permanently itchy, that’s not a character flaw, it’s a design feature. Curate accordingly.

What does all this mean for daily life? In my house, we try to “disagree like teammates.”

We name the shared goal first (“We both want kind, sturdy kids”), we assume decent motives (“You’re aiming for safety; I’m aiming for independence”), and we take a break when we start narrating the other person as the villain. It’s not perfect. But the research backs up these small habits: contact, common identity, shared goals, and decent motives interrupt the slide from conflict to contempt and from contempt to hate.

So here’s a simple play for this week. Invite one person you disagree with for coffee. Ask three sincere questions before you share your view. Tell a short story about why you care. Then look for one thing you can do together like coach a team, pick up trash on your block, help a neighbor.

It won’t fix the internet, but it can change a relationship. And relationships are where the heat cools and the future is built.

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

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Understanding the Stories We Tell Ourselves About Our Childhood

There’s a story I tell myself about my childhood.

It goes something like this: I was a pretty easy kid. My parents loved each other. My siblings and I had some spats here and there, but nothing too out of the ordinary. We laughed a lot. There were Saturday morning cartoons, tons of playing together outside, the occasional grounding, and a general sense that life was simple and safe.

But lately, as I watch my two-year-old daughter throw bananas on our glass door for sport, and my six-year-old son asks questions that would make a philosopher sweat, I’ve started to wonder if the story I tell myself is… entirely true.

Several of my close friends and colleagues have been processing the same questions. Things like: Did coming home to an empty house everyday really not bother me? Should I have been left alone at seven-years-old with my teenage siblings and their friends? Did my mom and dad enjoy being together or did they tolerate their marriage?

Because sometimes, what we remember and what actually happened aren’t the same thing.

Memory isn’t a recording device. It’s more like a scrapbook we keep rearranging.

According to Dr. Elizabeth Loftus, a leading expert on memory and false memories, our brains are constantly rewriting the past based on new experiences, emotions, and even the way we talk about what happened. “Memory is malleable,” she says. “We can be led to remember our past in different ways.”

That means the bedtime stories we heard, the way our family framed events, and even the old photos we looked at can all shape or reshape how we remember.

And if we’ve spent decades telling a particular version of our childhood? That version starts to feel like gospel.

What happens when our story starts to crack? Sometimes, it’s subtle. You hear a sibling talk about “how chaotic things were” growing up—and you think, Wait… what? Or maybe a therapist asks a question that makes a memory pop up sideways. Or maybe, like me, you become a parent and start seeing your own upbringing through a totally different lens.

And when that happens, it can feel disorienting.

Realizing your childhood wasn’t what you thought, whether it wasn’t as happy, or it was better than you gave it credit for, can trigger a whole range of emotions: grief, anger, guilt, even relief.

But here’s the good news: This is part of growing up. Even at 35.

Dr. Dan Siegel, a clinical professor of psychiatry at UCLA, talks about the power of developing what he calls a “coherent narrative” about our lives. He found that people who can make sense of their past (especially the hard parts) are more likely to have secure, healthy relationships with their children, even if their own childhoods were rough.

In short, it’s not about having a perfect past. It’s about making peace with it.

When do memory shake-ups start to happen? Usually during what researchers call “identity-shifting moments.” Big life changes. Getting married. Becoming a parent. Losing a loved one. Moving back to your hometown. Turning 30. Turning 50. Sitting in the car after a long day and realizing… huh, maybe I wasn’t the “easy kid” after all.

One fascinating study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology found that our memories tend to be filtered through who we are now, not who we were then. As our identities shift, so does our version of the story.

Which explains why, when my toddler throws a tantrum that rattles the windows, I suddenly remember my mom closing her bedroom door a lot. I used to think she just really liked her alone time. But maybe—just maybe—she was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle my own emotional outbursts.

Here’s the truth: Our memories might not be perfect, but they’re still powerful.

Looking back with clearer eyes doesn’t mean we have to villainize anyone. In fact, it might help us extend grace to ourselves, to our parents, and to the whole messy cast of characters who shaped our early years.

It also helps us do better. Be more intentional. Choose the kind of stories we want our kids to tell themselves when they’re grown.

So if you’re ever surprised by a memory you forgot, or one you’re starting to see differently, you’re not broken. You’re evolving. And that’s a beautiful, brave thing.

Don’t be afraid to tell a new story. One that holds both the good and the hard. One that lets your past be honest and your present be hopeful.

And if your toddler ever chucks a banana at your face, just know: You have the opportunity to give them something sweet to remember (even if it’s a little mushy).

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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The Quiet Sting of Feeling Left Out (& How to Deal With It)

A few days ago, my six-year-old came home from a playdate with shoulders sagging and tears in his eyes. “Nobody wanted to play with me today,” he said. In that moment, I was catapulted back to my own grown-up version of the same sting, learning about a meeting I wasn’t invited to.

Brains of every age register that exclusion as actual pain; functional MRI studies show the anterior cingulate cortex lighting up during social rejection just as it does when we stub a toe.

We like to think adulthood vaccinates us against playground politics, yet a meta analysis of 120 Cyberball experiments (a virtual ball tossing game researchers use to simulate ostracism) finds that even brief exclusion tanks self-esteem and mood in participants well past puberty.

The long-running Harvard Study of Adult Development echoes the cost: people who nurture warm relationships live longer, are happier, and stay mentally sharper—decades of data distilled to one sentence, “Good relationships keep us healthier and happier, period.” 

So what helps? First, call the feeling by its name. Neuroscientists argue that labeling an emotion recruits the thinking parts of the brain and lowers its intensity; it’s like dimming a harsh light.

Next, treat yourself with the same gentleness you’d offer a friend; a 2025 systematic review shows self-compassion cushions the blow of social media comparisons and other modern snubs.

Then take a small risk: send the “Miss you! Coffee soon?” text. People with about five dependable friends report the highest well-being, while those averaging barely three lag behind, according to a recent Australian survey on friendship and mental health. Building (or rebuilding) those five can start with one invite.

When our kids feel iced out, the script shifts from fixing to listening. Researchers tracking online peer rejection found that children bounced back fastest when they felt supported by parents or teachers. So I sit on the kitchen floor, eye level with my son, and say, “That sounds rough. Tell me everything.” Only after he exhales do we practice what he might say tomorrow: “Can I have a turn after Jason?” or, if need be, “That hurts. Please stop.” 

Remember, modeling is powerful; when children see or hear their parents experience rejection or feeling left out, and they see a healthy, action-oriented response, they learn that resilience is an action verb.

It can be tempting to try and hide our own “negative” or “hurtful” feelings from our children. But being open with them about what’s going on in our world and how we’re dealing with certain issues can build our connection with them and boost their confidence. Of course, it’s important these conversations remain age-appropriate.

Sometimes exclusion crosses the line into bullying. If your child’s stomachaches multiply or their spark dims, loop in the teacher early and document patterns. Often, though, the remedy is simpler: genuine connection. Last night, while my toddler built block towers, my son and I drew a “friend web” on scrap paper: classmates, cousins, and neighbors. These circles and lines reminded him (and me) how many doors can swing open when one seems shut.

Feeling left out is universal, but it doesn’t have to be terminal. Name it, tend to it with kindness, and reach out, whether you’re six or thirty-five.

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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How Screen Use Can Shape Children’s Brains (and What to Watch For)

As a mom of two—I get it. Screens are everywhere. They’re helpful, entertaining, and sometimes, let’s be honest, the only reason we get to finish our coffee while it’s still warm. But as both a parent and the CEO of a nonprofit that helps strengthen families, I can’t stop talking about the effects screens have on our children and the future of our society as a whole.

In fact, new research shows that consistent screen use by children does more than just bolster a disconnect between parents and children; it actually shapes the way a child’s brain develops.

Here’s the heart of it: kids’ brains are still under construction. The early years are when neural connections are built at lightning speed. What they see, do, and interact with literally shapes how their brains grow. When screens take up too much time, other critical activities—like face-to-face conversations, imaginative play, or outdoor exploration—can get pushed aside. And that comes with consequences.

Research from the University of Cincinnati and Cincinnati Children’s Hospital found that children who use screens excessively tend to have lower development in parts of the brain responsible for language, self-regulation, and critical thinking. That means a child who’s spending hours each day swiping and tapping might struggle more with focus, finishing tasks, or expressing themselves clearly.

In fact, a National Institute of Health study showed that preschoolers who logged more than an hour of screen time a day (without parental involvement) had less white matter in their brains—white matter helps with learning and communication.

Translation: too much solo screen time can make it harder for kids to learn and connect with others.

And it’s not just about the brain scans. Pediatricians are seeing real-life effects too: increased irritability, sleep issues, delayed language development, and emotional outbursts—especially when it’s time to turn the screen off. Some even call this “post-screen tantrum syndrome.” If your toddler melts down the minute you hit pause, or your six-year-old zones out in front of the TV but bounces like a pinball after, you’re not alone. You’re seeing your child’s brain struggle to shift gears.

That said, this isn’t a guilt trip. Screens aren’t the enemy. They can be tools for learning and connection—especially when we use them together, not as babysitters. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends no screen time for kids under 18 months (other than video chatting), and about one hour a day of high-quality programming for kids ages 2–5. But even more important than the number is the how.

Watching with your child, pausing to talk about what you see, and choosing programs that encourage imagination and problem-solving can make all the difference.

At home, my husband and I are trying to create what I like to call “tech-light” habits. We’re not perfect, but we aim for screens to stay off during meals, out of bedrooms, and off at least an hour before bedtime. And we’ve noticed that when we stick to it, our kids play better, sleep better, and honestly, we all connect better.

If you’re noticing big mood swings, trouble sleeping, delayed speech, or a preference for screens over people, it might be time to scale back and reset. That might feel hard at first—but kids are incredibly adaptable. When we give them more time to play, talk, run, and imagine, their brains will thank us. So will their future teachers, friends, and—someday—their own kids.

Screens are part of our world now. But they shouldn’t take over theirs.

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

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When and How to Discuss Tragedies With Your Children

The other night, my 6-year-old son looked up from his peanut butter sandwich and asked, “Mom, what’s going on in that place called Gaza? Everybody is talking about it.” I paused, mid-bite, suddenly aware that his little ears had caught news from the TV at his grandparents’ house.

It’s a question many of us face:

When is the right time to talk to our kids about the hard stuff—the floods, wars, tornadoes, or tragedies that fill the headlines?

And just as important, how do we respond when they find out before we’ve had a chance to prepare them?

As a mom of two, and a professional focused on helping families thrive, I’ve learned that the answer isn’t always clear.

But experts agree on one thing: the best conversations start not with the what, but with the who. Who is your child? What’s their age, their temperament, their understanding of the world?

For little ones like my daughter, under age 3, less is more. They don’t need to know details; they need to know they’re safe and loved. If they catch a glimpse of something scary—an image on TV, a worried tone in our voice—we can say something simple like, “Yes, something happened far away, but we’re okay. And helpers are taking care of it.”

As kids get older, they start to absorb more than we realize—especially from school, siblings, or even YouTube ads you didn’t know autoplayed. With children between the ages of 4 and 8, it helps to start by asking what they’ve heard. “What do you know about what happened?” is a good place to begin. That way, you can gently correct any misunderstandings and address fears without offering more than they need.

And when we do explain, we should be honest—but gentle. We can say, “There was a big storm in another part of the country, and some people got hurt. It’s really sad. But there are lots of people helping.” Sharing basic facts without overwhelming them is key. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, reassurance and emotional support go much further than detailed explanations. They also recommend turning off the TV and avoiding graphic images whenever possible. Kids don’t need a front-row seat to trauma.

Another thing I’ve learned—both from research and from bedtime conversations with my own kids—is that children take their emotional cues from us. If we seem frantic, they’ll feel scared. But if we stay calm and tell the truth with love, they learn it’s okay to feel sad or confused. It’s okay not to have all the answers. In fact, “I don’t know, but I’m here,” might be one of the most comforting things we can say.

When children seem especially affected—clingy, anxious, having nightmares—it might help to create small rituals of safety. Extra snuggles at bedtime. A favorite blanket. Drawing pictures. Or, for older kids, taking action: donating toys, writing a thank-you card to first responders, or simply saying a prayer for those affected. According to Ann Masten, a resilience research professor at the University of Minnesota‘s Institute of Child Development, even young kids can grow stronger through hardship when they have stable relationships, chances to help, and ways to process their feelings.

Of course, we can’t prepare for every question, and we can’t shield our kids from every headline.

But we can be their safe place—the calm in the chaos.

We can turn off the TV and turn toward them. We can hold their hands and help them make sense of a world that, yes, is sometimes scary—but also full of helpers, hope, and healing.

So next time your child asks about the storm, the war, or the thing they overheard in the school hallway, take a breath. Sit with them. Let their questions lead. And remind them—out loud and often—that no matter what happens in the world, they are not alone.

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

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