Slay the Slang: Harness the Power of Positive Language

Being a mom to a teen in 2026 is… wild.

The other day, my daughter was chatting with her friends, and I found myself listening in (as moms do). I heard a lot of comparing, judging, and retelling of drama—who said what, who did what, who looked like this or that.

It stopped me for a moment.

So I gently shared a quote I’ve always loved:
“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”

It opened the door to a deeper conversation—not about being “right” or “wrong,” but about awareness.

Back when I was teaching yoga teacher trainings (2009–2015), one of the foundational teachings was this: energy follows thought. And what we speak? That’s thought made audible.

Our words carry energy. They shape our thoughts, influence our emotions, and ultimately help create the reality we live in.

It’s easy to forget that words are more than just sounds. They are vibrations. They either uplift, inspire, and heal… or they hurt, limit, and bring things down.

And when I really started paying attention, I noticed something—so much of the slang today carries a harsh, even violent tone. It’s subtle sometimes, almost normalized, but it’s there. And it seeps into how kids see themselves, each other, and the world.

The truth is, words don’t just float away after we say them. They land.
They land in our bodies.
They land in our relationships.
They shape the atmosphere around us.

Positive words—like love, gratitude, hope, and joy—have a completely different effect. They lift the energy of a conversation. They soften people. They open connection. They even shift our own mental and emotional state.

On the flip side, negative or careless language can create tension, comparison, and disconnection—often without us even realizing it.

That’s why this idea of “slaying the slang” isn’t about control or correction. It’s about consciousness.

It starts with simply noticing.
What am I saying?
How does it feel?
What kind of energy am I putting into this moment?

From there, small shifts happen naturally.

I’ve already seen it with my daughter. Just a few months after we started talking about this, she began weeding certain words out of her vocabulary—on her own. Not because I told her to, but because she could feel the difference.

And I think that’s something we all share: a natural ability to recognize what resonates and what doesn’t.

When we choose words that uplift and empower, we’re not just “speaking nicely.” We’re actively shaping a more harmonious, supportive, and inspiring environment—for ourselves and for those around us.

Imagine conversations filled with encouragement instead of comparison.
With kindness instead of criticism.
With intention instead of habit.

That kind of world is possible. And it begins in the smallest, most everyday moments.

So maybe this is your gentle invitation to tune in.
To listen a little closer.
To speak a little more intentionally.

Because the power of words is real.

And when we harness it with awareness, we don’t just change how we speak—
we change how we experience life.

Loving Authority and the Child’s Need for Containment

Part 1 of a 5 Part Series on Education

One of the quiet tensions in modern childhood is the question of authority.

Who is leading?
Who is deciding?
Who is holding the structure?

In recent years, many parents have moved away from traditional authority models — often for very good reasons. Harshness, control, and fear-based discipline have harmed generations of children. It makes sense that families want something different.

But in stepping away from domination, we must be careful not to step away from leadership.

Children do not need authoritarian control.
But they do need authority.

There is a difference.

Authoritarian control is rigid, ego-driven, and rooted in power.
Loving authority is calm, consistent, and rooted in stewardship.

A child’s nervous system relaxes when the adult is clearly in charge.

Not in charge of their personality.
Not in charge of their thoughts.
But in charge of the container.

When adults hesitate, over-negotiate, or defer to children in matters of structure, something subtle happens. The child feels the absence of ground. And in that absence, they often step forward — not because they are ready, but because someone must.

This creates pressure.

When children become the authority over:

• Whether they participate
  
  

• Whether they practice
  
  

• Whether they cooperate
  
  

• Whether they engage
  
  

They are carrying decisions their nervous systems are not designed to carry.

Freedom without containment does not create empowerment.
It creates anxiety.

A child testing boundaries is not always resisting authority.
Often, they are searching for it.

They are asking:
“Is someone steady here?”
“Is someone holding this?”
“Can I relax yet?”

In my classroom, I have always worked to create a firm and loving structure. Clear expectations. Clear rhythms. Clear boundaries.

Not as punishment.
Not as control.
But as orientation.

When the adult holds the edge of the circle, the child can stand safely within it.

When that edge is porous or constantly negotiated, the energy of the group becomes unstable. Social friction increases. Emotional reactivity rises. Academic focus dissolves.

Children thrive in clarity.

They thrive when expectations are known.
When consequences are predictable.
When the adult remains steady, even when the child is not.

Loving authority says:

“I am responsible for the structure.”
“You are responsible for your participation within it.”
“I will not shame you.”
“I will not abandon you.”
“But I will lead.”

This kind of authority is deeply respectful. It does not collapse into the child’s emotional weather. It does not compete for power. It does not humiliate.

It anchors.

In group learning environments especially, this containment becomes even more essential. One child’s lack of boundary affects the nervous systems of all the others. Cooperation, teamwork, and shared responsibility are not optional extras — they are the foundation of collective growth.

When children resist teamwork and say, “This isn’t academics,” I hear something deeper.

I hear discomfort with shared responsibility.
I hear unfamiliarity with mutual regulation.
I hear a culture that prizes individual preference over communal rhythm.

But education, at its heart, is relational.

Even the most brilliant academic mind must eventually collaborate, negotiate, listen, and contribute.

Authority, held well, makes this possible.

It is my belief — shaped by years of observing children — that when adults reclaim loving authority, children soften. Their behavior stabilizes. Their confidence grows. Their academic engagement strengthens.

Because they are no longer trying to run the room.

They are finally free to be children within it.

The Art of Being Before Doing

Part 2 of a 5 Part Series on Education

Over the years, many parents have asked me about academics.

More writing.
More math.
More visible output.

These questions are understandable. We live in a culture that measures progress through production. We are surrounded by benchmarks, standards, and timelines. It is natural to wonder whether a child is “keeping up.”

And yet, from the beginning of my work, I have held a different priority.

Academics have always been last on my list.

Not because they are unimportant — but because they are not foundational.

The foundation of education, in my understanding, is the human being.

Before a child can write well, they must feel safe.
Before they can think clearly, they must feel regulated.
Before they can collaborate intellectually, they must experience belonging.

In the stream of developmental thought influenced by Rudolf Steiner, learning does not begin with abstraction. It begins with rhythm, imitation, relationship, movement, and beauty.

A child who cannot cooperate in a group will struggle to collaborate on a written project.
A child who is emotionally dysregulated will resist cognitive challenge.
A child who feels socially unsafe will guard themselves rather than stretch into growth.

We often try to apply academic pressure to what is actually a developmental need.

If a child struggles with writing, we assign more writing.
If a child resists teamwork, we remove the teamwork and focus on worksheets.

But sometimes resistance is not laziness.
Sometimes it is information.

In my classroom, when we focus on cooperation, on listening, on patience, on resolving conflict — this is not a detour from academics. It is preparation for them.

The ability to:

• Wait for your turn

• Hear another perspective

• Manage frustration

• Repair after conflict

• Contribute to a shared task

These are cognitive capacities rooted in social and emotional maturity.

True academic strength is not merely output. It is stamina, focus, adaptability, and relational intelligence.

These qualities cannot be rushed.

In fact, when we rush them, we often create anxiety — and anxiety blocks learning more effectively than lack of instruction ever could.

I have always believed that education is not primarily about producing skilled performers.

It is about cultivating whole human beings.

Human beings who know how to be in their bodies.
Human beings who can work in community.
Human beings who can tolerate discomfort long enough to grow.
Human beings who experience themselves as capable from the inside out.

Writing and mathematics are beautiful expressions of cognition.

But cognition rests upon the nervous system.
And the nervous system rests upon safety and belonging.

So when I prioritize social cohesion, rhythm, emotional literacy, and shared responsibility, I am not neglecting academics.

I am tending to the soil.

Because when the soil is healthy, growth happens naturally.

And when the soil is depleted, no amount of extra worksheets will compensate.

This has been the guiding principle of my classroom:
Being before doing.
Relationship before rigor.
Regulation before performance.

It is slower work.

It is quieter work.

And sometimes it is invisible.

But in my experience, it is the work that lasts.

Why Social and Emotional Development Is Academic Work

Part 3 of a 5 Part Series on Education

One of the most common misunderstandings in education today is the belief that social and emotional development is separate from academics.

It is often treated as enrichment.
A supplement.
Something we address after “real learning” is finished.

But in my experience, this division is artificial.

Social and emotional development is not outside of academic work.

It is the ground from which academic work grows.

A child who cannot regulate frustration will struggle with complex math.
A child who cannot tolerate correction will resist writing revision.
A child who cannot listen to peers will struggle in collaborative inquiry.
A child who collapses under comparison will avoid challenge altogether.

These are not academic deficits.

They are developmental thresholds.

Cognition does not float above the body. It lives inside a nervous system.

When a child feels unsafe — socially, emotionally, or relationally — the brain shifts into protection. Protection is efficient for survival. It is not efficient for abstract thinking.

This is why we see bright children underperform.
This is why resistance increases when pressure increases.
This is why more worksheets rarely solve the deeper issue.

Learning requires vulnerability.

To attempt a new math problem is to risk being wrong.
To share writing aloud is to risk being seen.
To work in a group is to risk disagreement.

Without emotional resilience, these risks feel threatening.

So when we practice:

• Listening without interrupting
  
  

• Resolving conflict respectfully
  
  

• Waiting for a turn
  
  

• Repairing after a mistake
  
  

• Taking responsibility for impact
  
  

We are not pausing academics.

We are building the architecture that makes academics sustainable.

Executive function — the ability to plan, focus, shift attention, and manage impulses — develops through lived relational experiences, not through isolated drills.

Group work is not just about cooperation.
It is about cognitive flexibility.
Perspective-taking.
Emotional stamina.
Delayed gratification.

These are advanced intellectual skills disguised as social ones.

When a child says, “I don’t want to learn about being a team — that’s not academics,” I hear how deeply our culture has narrowed the definition of intelligence.

True intelligence is not only the ability to calculate or compose.

It is the ability to:

• Stay present in discomfort
  
  

• Integrate feedback
  
  

• Adapt to complexity
  
  

• Contribute meaningfully to a collective
  
  

These capacities require inner work.

And inner work takes time.

In the classroom, when we pause to address group dynamics, emotional reactivity, or relational rupture, it may appear that we are losing instructional minutes.

But what we are actually doing is strengthening the learning field.

When a classroom is emotionally stable, instruction flows more efficiently.

When the nervous system is regulated, cognition deepens.

It is slower in the beginning.

But it is stronger in the long arc.

There is a difference between producing output and cultivating capacity.

Output can be manufactured through pressure.

Capacity develops through experience.

My commitment has always been to capacity.

Because capacity endures beyond any single lesson, assignment, or grade.

And ultimately, that is what education is for — not the completion of tasks, but the formation of human beings who can think, feel, collaborate, and persevere in a complex world.

Social and emotional development is not a detour.

It is the work.

The Cultural Acceleration of Childhood

Part 4 of a 5 Part Series on Education

There is a speed in our culture now that children were not designed to metabolize.

It is not only the speed of technology.
It is the speed of expectation.

Children are expected to:

Read earlier.
Write earlier.
Perform earlier.
Decide earlier.
Self-direct earlier.
Self-advocate earlier.
Self-regulate earlier.

In many ways, we have compressed childhood.

What once unfolded across stages is now hurried forward in the name of preparedness.

But preparedness for what?

A faster world?
A more competitive system?
An increasingly anxious adulthood?

We rarely stop to ask whether acceleration is development.

They are not the same.

Acceleration pushes forward.

Development unfolds in sequence.

When we rush a child into abstraction before their body is ready…
When we demand independent executive function before relational maturity…
When we treat childhood as a résumé-building phase rather than a formative one…

We create strain.

This strain does not always look dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like irritability.
Sometimes it looks like resistance.
Sometimes it looks like apathy.
Sometimes it looks like perfectionism.
Sometimes it looks like “I don’t want to.”

But beneath it is often a nervous system carrying too much.

Children today are exposed to:

Adult conversations.
Adult anxieties.
Adult media.
Adult decision-making frameworks.

They are given choices that feel empowering on the surface —
but that quietly transfer responsibility downward.

When a child must decide whether school is worthwhile…
Whether teamwork matters…
Whether effort is necessary…

They are navigating philosophical terrain far beyond their developmental horizon.

And this is not empowerment.

It is displacement.

A child’s task is not to determine the value of the structure.
It is to grow within it.

When we accelerate childhood, we create two outcomes:

Externally capable children who are internally fragile.
Or externally resistant children who are internally overwhelmed.

Both are signals.

The pace is not neutral.

When everything is fast, reflection disappears.
When everything is measured, wonder diminishes.
When everything is optimized, relationship thins.

And yet, human development remains rhythmic.

The body still needs repetition.
The nervous system still needs predictability.
The heart still needs belonging.
The mind still needs time to gestate before it can articulate.

No amount of cultural urgency can override biology.

In education, I have chosen slowness on purpose.

Not as nostalgia.
Not as avoidance.
But as protection.

Protection of depth.
Protection of sequence.
Protection of the child’s right to unfold rather than perform.

There is courage required now to resist acceleration.

It is easier to comply with pressure.
It is easier to provide visible output.
It is easier to quiet anxiety with measurable productivity.

It is harder to say:

“We are building foundations.”
“We are tending to the whole.”
“We are honoring sequence.”
“We are not rushing.”

But if we do not protect childhood, who will?

A culture that accelerates everything will not slow itself for our children.

Adults must do that.

Deliberately.

And sometimes, counterculturally.

Childhood is not a race toward adulthood.

It is a sacred apprenticeship in becoming human.

And that apprenticeship cannot be hurried without cost.

The Art of Meaningful Academics

Part 5 of a 5 Part Series on Education

Over the years, one of the most common questions I have received from parents is: “What about academics?”

It is natural to ask this. Academics — literacy, mathematics, and measurable knowledge — are highly valued in our culture. They are tangible and visible ways to gauge progress.

Yet in my experience, the most lasting learning does not arrive from speed, drills, or pressure. It arrives from life. From experience. From grounding in the rhythms of growth.

True academic capacity is not built by rushing children through worksheets or forcing abstract concepts before they are ready. It is cultivated slowly, over time, in a way that allows children to digest, reflect, and integrate.

In my classrooms and nature-based learning experiences, academics emerge naturally from life itself:

• A story that I’ve personalized and shared becomes a springboard for deep comprehension.

• A walk in nature, an observation of plants or animals, becomes a prompt for reflection.

• An imaginative exercise or group conversation becomes a doorway to written expression.
  

From these experiences, children are invited to tell the story in their own words. They recall, interpret, and then translate that reflection into writing. This is not a mechanical task; it is a deeply human process of making meaning.

Over time, this slow and steady approach develops:

• Memory and recall

• Comprehension and insight

• Voice and self-expression

• Confidence in sharing ideas

And perhaps most importantly, it cultivates a grounded connection to life. Children learn to anchor their thoughts in real experience before shaping them into abstract ideas, ensuring that knowledge is integrated, not fleeting.

Mathematics as the Body

Mathematics is often misunderstood as abstract, distant, or rigid. But in my experience — and in alignment with Steiner’s philosophy — mathematics is profoundly embodied. It begins in the body: in rhythm, movement, and spatial awareness.

Counting begins with clapping hands, stepping along a path, or arranging objects in space. Geometry is discovered in drawing, measuring, or shaping forms with one’s hands and whole body. Even arithmetic arises naturally when children feel relationships and balance — not only with numbers but with movement, pattern, and proportion.

In this sense, mathematics is the body learning its own structure and flexibility. The child learns balance, symmetry, proportion, and sequence — first in experience, then in abstraction.

When approached this way, mathematics is not a separate “subject.” It is an expression of life’s order, of patterns in the natural world, and of the body’s intelligence. It integrates the senses, attention, and cognition.

Through slow, grounded, life-based approaches, children come to understand math as a living, bodily experience, not just a set of rules on a page. They learn to move with numbers, feel with patterns, and perceive the world through structured flexibility.

Math becomes an art of the body — as much as writing is an art of reflection and expression. Together, these practices cultivate children who are literate in thought, movement, and life itself.

Slow academics are also relational. When a teacher observes, listens, and guides, children learn the rhythm of attention — how to stay present, how to notice detail, and how to honor their own developmental timing.

Reading, writing, and mathematics in this way become an art of presence. They are not about performance. They are about reflection. They are about forming a bridge between experience and expression.

This method does not produce instant measurable results. But it produces something far deeper: children who know how to engage with life fully, reflect thoughtfully, and express themselves authentically.

In many ways, this is the essence of education: not the speed at which information is acquired, but the depth with which it is understood.

When we offer academics this way — grounded, slow, and drawn from lived experience — children are not simply learning subjects. They are learning life.

And through this, they gain the capacity to meet the world with attention, clarity, and care.

beauty or Beauty?

In a recent conversation with a dear teacher, Katharine Kruger creator of JOY Journey of a Young Woman, we were discussing how we demonstrate to girls the of value Beauty.

I really loved how she described beauty.  She says,“beauty with a small b is often seen on billboards or magazines to sell products to girls with the fear that they won’t be accepted without looking a certain way.

Beauty with a big B is Beauty all around us, inside us - it is the way we connect with the Earth and each other.”

How can we change the conversations with girls?

By saying something other than “you are so pretty” every time you see a girl can really shift her perception of how she is valued. If this is the main compliment she hears, it is easy to build beliefs that it is her job to be pretty and please others with her body.  

We can easily shift the language to compliment her Beauty, her uniqueness and the way she connects with the world around her.

Another common phrase girls hear often is “it’s what’s on the inside that matters.” Girls will be the first to see that for many people this is not reflected in their actions. People are judged and promoted by their looks and girls pick up on this quickly. It is so important to have an honest conversation and acknowledge that these different value systems do exist. We can share that we all have the choice of how we value Beauty in the way we live our lives. Letting girls know that how you show your inner light and through your actions is true Beauty.

We can invite girls to have positive experiences by noticing the Beauty around them, the Beauty within them and their direct actions and connection to the Earth. By modeling acts of kindness to those around us, honoring the Earth cycles and observing the Beauty in the places and people all around us we can redefine what Beauty means to girls. Let's open our vision so we can give them a feel for how they can weave the threads of their Beauty in the world.

May I walk in Beauty
Beauty behind me
Beauty in front of me
Beauty above and below me
Beauty all around and within me
-Navajo prayer

An Invitation to Fathers

A father’s presence is so important during a girl’s coming of age process and can shape how she sees herself in the world. Between the ages of 8-21 is the time when daughters greatly benefit from supportive caring fathers / male role models.

Many women have shared with us that they remember their fathers becoming distant as they were going through puberty. This is the time when they needed to know they were supported and loved more than ever. The words and actions during this time in a girl’s life can affect her self-esteem and how she views her value in the world.

Now is the time for fathers to be welcomed to share a part of this journey with their daughters. 

"Fathers can model good female-male relationships and respect for women in a wide variety of roles. Fathers can change the narrow definitions of their daughters worth and support their wholeness. They can teach their daughters that it is okay to be smart, bold and independent.

Supportive fathers have daughters with high self-esteem and a sense of wellbeing.  These girls were more apt to trust men, to feel confident in relationships with the opposite sex and to predict their own future and happiness. They described their fathers as fun, deeply involved and companionable.” Reviving Ophelia - Mary Pipher

Fathers who are emotionally available to their daughters give a sense of comfort, security and a space where she can explore who she is authentically becoming. 

How can you be a part of your daughter's journey into womanhood?

• Reflect on how women and girls are viewed in society and question how we can change our language as a culture to empower girls
• Build intentional relationships with your daughter and her mom by being emotionally available
• Focus on her strengths
• Showing her acceptance and letting her know you value her for how she is in this moment
• Meet her where she is at and get involved in activities she enjoys
• Empower her through letting her make choices
• Cheer her on, no matter how long it takes for her to find her path.  She may slam doors, roll her eyes and say unkind words and when she sees you still holding space for her, you are giving her permission to believe in herself.
• Modeling values you wish to see in the world for your daughter. The words and actions you share are the memories she will carry with her. This is the reflection of how she sees herself in the world.
• Connect with other fathers and groups to talk about this transitional time - No one is perfect and we can all learn from one another

Please connect with us if you have a daughter in the Central Florida area to find out more about the programs we are offering to support girls and their families through coming of age programs.

Are We Preparing Girls For Their Voyage Into Puberty?

Are we preparing girls with the tools to feel supported on their journey into puberty?

In “The Seven Rites of Menarche”, Kristi Meisenbach Boylan writes about the journey of a young girl moving into womanhood. She is being called on a voyage from the home she knows well to a mysterious island. A place that keeps keeps calling to her. In this book she explores the process of preparing girls for the journey through the waters of puberty that lie ahead. 

“It is so important for the guardians and parents of a young girl to make sure that she has all the safety belts, life rafts and other protection devices available before she sets out on her first voyage. For the ebbing and flowing of estrogen in a woman’s body is synonymous with mood swings, alternating periods of energy and fatigue and spiritual high and lows. As the rise and fall of hormones over the next five years begins to peak, the ups and downs become more dramatic. Thankfully, the onset of hormones are only released in tiny amounts and the ebbing and flowing are relatively mild for a few years before she begins her moon cycle.” The Seven Rites of Menarche

Pre-puberty is the time  3-4 years before a girl begins bleeding where she begins to experience small amounts of hormones being released. This is her body’s way of slowly helping her transition into the new growth that comes with puberty.  It is normal for girls at age 7 or 8 to have be extremely needy and affectionate one moment and then throw an intense tantrum the next moment. These are moments of her growing. Through these increased emotions and hormones she is getting ready to break through the tender green shoot with the beginning of a rose blossom.  

By assuring her that her feelings and wide range of emotions are all okay to feel. Letting her know through actions and words that she is supported and loved will be a great tool for her to use in her vessel as she journeys into the waters of puberty.

Tools to add to a girls toolkit during the First Rite of Menarche:

• Normalize emotions - talking with girls and letting them know that it is okay to feel all emotions
• Make it easy to check in with their emotions - create a How I feel today chart or wheel that she can use to show how she is feeling in the moment
• Outlets - Giving girls creative outlets to express their emotions
• Get out in Nature - giving her a way to connect with the natural rhythms happening all around her 
• Connect with the cycles of the moon and journal or check in with her emotions and learn how they change with each phase of the moon
• Join a girl's circle or program where she can connect with other girls and be supported by women mentors that share tools to help her prepare for her journey

Please connect with us if you have a daughter in the Central Florida area to find out more about the programs we are offering to support girls and their families through coming of age programs.

May Day a Holiday of Kindness

                                                       May Day Basket of Kindness 

The traditions of May Day over the past few generations have slowly started to disappear. If you ask your Grandparents they may remember a time when May Day was celebrated in their community or even in school. They would wake up early on May 1st to collect flowers to place in a basket on an unsuspecting neighbors door knob and run before they were discovered. A Maypole would be constructed with a rainbow of colored ribbons for the children to dance around. 

May Day is a celebration of flowers, fertility, life and the welcoming of Summer. The history of May Day can be traced back to the Northern Hemisphere in Europe. In pre-Christian times it was called Floralia, the festival of Flora, honoring the Roman goddess of flowers. 

Beltane is a Pagan Celtic holiday which means "The Return of the Sun" and is celebrated to welcome the beginning of Summer. They believe that the Sun was held prisoner by the Winter months. On Beltane the Sun was released and they would celebrate with huge bonfires and a feast to mark the occasion.

As Europe became Christianized, May day became known as a secular holiday that was celebrated with the dancers of the Maypole. This colorful dance of winding and unwinding the rainbow of ribbons symbolizes the lengthening of the days as Summer begins. It is said that the dance is a way to give thanks for life and the pole acts as a giant magic wand in the celebration of Summer.

At the Rose Tent, we held a May Day celebration for women and girls. The response was incredible. We connected with the Earth in the garden while we harvested greenery and flowers to create flower crowns. We guided the girls to start a dialog with the plants. They practiced asking the plant if it is okay to have branch or a flower, listening to their intuition and then harvesting. We talked about offering corn meal back to the Earth as a symbol of being thankful. The girls loved giving the corn meal back to the Earth as much as harvesting the flowers.

It was such a joy to create May Baskets with this community of women and girls. They colored cards, created lavender sachets and picked packets of seeds to add to the baskets. On May 1st they are encouraged to add flowers from their yards and hang these beautiful baskets as an act of kindness on someone's door. 

Happy May Day!