When my eldest daughter was in kindergarten, spring brought the highly anticipated “Book Fair Parade.” Every student selected a favorite book and created a “float” using a wagon or anything with wheels. They would parade their creations around the school as the other grades watched and cheered.
As an art teacher, I felt an unspoken pressure—my child’s float had to stand out. So, while she chose the book Scaredy Squirrel, the rest became my project.
I took over the design and execution. My daughter’s role was limited to handing me materials, gluing a few pieces, and cutting out some paper leaves. When “we” finished, the float was stunning. She was happy—but what had she learned? What had I taught her?
At the time, I thought I was helping. I wanted her to succeed. Like many “helicopter parents,” my intentions were good. I didn’t want her to struggle or feel disappointed. But by stepping in, I took away an opportunity for her to think independently, solve problems, learn from mistakes, and take pride in her own work.
The truth is, my well-meaning helicopter parenting was limiting my daughter’s growth. When we continually do the work for our children, we may unintentionally send the message that we don’t believe they can do it themselves.
More importantly, I was missing an opportunity to truly embrace my role as my child’s primary educator.
An American Classical Leadership Education®
At John Adams Academy, our model of education nurtures independent thinkers by emphasizing logic, reasoning, and critical thinking. Through structured study, Socratic dialogue, and engagement with great works of literature and philosophy, scholars learn not just what to think, but how to think.
In JAA classrooms, scholars:
- Practice the Socratic Method, engaging in thoughtful discussions and exploring multiple perspectives.
- Study formal and informal logic, learning how to construct, critique, and refine arguments.
- Develop skills in rhetoric, speaking and writing persuasively and clearly.
- Examine timeless texts that have shaped civilization, gaining insight into the moral and intellectual traditions that inform our world.
- Are guided in the development of virtue and character, learning to lead with integrity and reason.
This unique model of classical education challenges scholars to take ownership of their learning. And looking back, I realize these are practices I could have been embracing in my own home.
Simply by coming alongside my daughter and reading the book she had chosen with her, I could have created opportunities for meaningful conversation. I could have asked thoughtful questions: What did she take away from the story? Who were her favorite characters, and why? What was the moral of the story? What lessons could we learn from it?
I could have shared my own thoughts and explored with her how the story connected to our family values. In doing so, I could have created a deep and lasting bonding experience with my daughter—one grounded in virtue, meaningful conversation, and our shared love of reading—all while sharing my passion for the arts.
Instead of focusing on creating a float that would impress others, I could have asked her how she wanted to express what she had learned through art. I could have guided and encouraged her while allowing the ideas—and the work—to remain hers. Together, we could have explored how creativity can be used to share ideas, inspire others, and practice servant leadership.
The parade still would have been exciting. The float might not have been as polished. But the experience could have been about much more than creating something beautiful—it could have helped her grow in confidence, independence, and leadership.
Looking back, I wish I had understood this sooner. Fortunately, I learned from that Scaredy Squirrel float.
When my younger children participated in their own Book Fair Parades, they created their displays with minimal help from me. Their projects weren’t as polished as the one I had made years earlier, but they were theirs. They were proud of what they had created, and they had the opportunity to learn through the process.
Along the way, they also watched me model my own love of learning. Today, we share a deep love of literature and the conversations that great books inspire.
I now have the joy of teaching within an educational model that recognizes parents as the primary educators of their children. I’ve learned that supporting our children doesn’t mean removing every struggle or doing the work for them. It means coming alongside them—asking questions, modeling a love of learning, offering guidance, and giving them the freedom to discover what they are capable of becoming.