Episode #8 - Go Slow to Go Fast

What happens when childhood becomes rushed, pressured, and focused on always getting the “right” answer?

In this episode, Lisa reflects on curiosity, creativity, and the incredible potential children carry within them before the world begins narrowing their thinking. Drawing from her years as a Reading Recovery teacher and her own experiences as a mom, she explores the importance of slowing down, protecting wonder, and helping kids recognize their inner lights.

This conversation is a gentle reminder that some of the most meaningful parts of childhood happen quietly—in moments where nobody is rushing. ✨

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Transcript

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Hello, friends, my amazing family and friends that are family, you know who you are. I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to episode eight titled Go Slow to Go Fast. My name is Lisa, and this is the Inner Lights Podcast, a space where we slow things down, think a little deeper, and learn how to support our kids in building strong, confident inner voices from the inside out. If you're a parent who's ever felt like there has to be more than just getting through the day, more connection, more meaning, more intention, and you're in the right place. You know, I've begun thinking about this work full time. That's not a complaint at all. I'm fascinated by how many little life happenings seem to line up perfectly with this inner light's work on a day-to-day basis. It helps me to firmly believe that what I'm doing is what I'm supposed to be doing. It brings me such joy and curiosity and a drive to keep going with it. I'm constantly watching for things that I can talk about, things that are important to helping kids and families identify their inner lights. I've been sitting with something lately, watching kids, listening to conversations, noticing patterns, and I can't quite shake it. Have you ever looked at a child and wondered, who are you going to become? Not in the simple way, not in the what job will you have someday kind of way, but really wondered, what is inside of you? What are you capable of? What kind of mark will you leave on this world? Because the truth is, when we look at our children, we're not just looking at who they are today, we're looking at the endless possibility, at limitless potential. And when I think about that word, possibility, it takes me back to what we see in children before anything starts to shape or define it. Before children ever walk into a classroom, something really beautiful is happening. They're curious, they're imaginative, they ask questions constantly, sometimes hundreds a day. They try things, they experiment, and they don't worry about being wrong. What a gift that truly is. Think about it. They are in so many ways wide open. And if you picture a child you love for a moment, you can probably see exactly when that shows up for them. And then slowly over time, something begins to shift. Not all at once. It's not necessarily dramatic. It's gradual. It might even sneak up on you. You begin to notice that your child starts to look for the right answer. They begin to hesitate and they're afraid to be wrong. They become more aware of how they're being perceived. They see people judging them, so they stop raising their hands as quickly, and they start measuring themselves. When I really sit with that shift, we don't necessarily see children losing something, but we see them adapting, adapting to others' expectations, adapting to the structure of life we've all fallen into, and adapting to a world that values being right. That idea of children slowly learning to narrow their thinking isn't just something we feel. There's actual research that supports it. One researcher, for instance, George Land, studied children using the same kind of creative thinking tests that were originally designed for NASA engineers. What he found was striking. Young children scored incredibly high in creative thinking, and over time those scores dropped. Not because they were becoming less capable, but because they were becoming more cautious, more aware of expectations, and more focused on getting it right. And that brings something else back to mind for me. Years ago I had the opportunity to hear Sir Ken Robinson speak in person at a professional development academy in our district. And if you've ever heard him, you know he had this way of helping you see children very differently. One of the things he said that stayed with me was that children are not afraid of being wrong. And because of that, they're willing to try. They're willing to imagine, willing to create. But over time we begin to teach that out of them. We begin to teach them that being wrong is something to avoid. Just think about that in terms of report card grades at school, or when they get into a spat with a friend. We often treat those things as wrongs rather than learning lessons, or rather than opportunities to ask questions and dig a little deeper. And when that happens, we don't just lose mistakes, we start to lose originality. When you think about your own child, you can probably see both sides of that beginning to show up. That's where something I've held on to for years starts to make even more sense. There was a leader in my district who used to say we must go slow in order to go fast. At the time it felt a little backwards because everything around us says the opposite. Move faster, learn more, get ahead. But when you really watch a child learn, the deepest learning is never fast. It's slow and layered and full of wonder and wondering. If you catch yourself this week in one of those moments when your child is taking their time, asking questions, or lingering a little longer than you expected, it might be worth asking, what are they working through right now? When we take the time to notice moments like this, that's us beginning to recognize their inner lights, their strengths and their gifts. When we recognize these moments in our kids, we can celebrate them with them, and we can help them begin to own their strengths and the gifts that they have and that they are made to share with the world. That part just excites me so much. It also takes me back to something very personal. Takes me back, in fact, about 25 years, and I can't believe that's even true, but it sure is. At the time I was working as a reading recovery teacher, sitting elbow to elbow with children who were struggling to learn how to read. And at the very same time, I was a mom of a toddler. My son Austin, he talked all the time, and in fact he asked endless questions. His two favorite questions were mommy dunin and why? Dunin, by the way, just meant what are you doing? It was his cute little way of saying it. But when I tell you he asked that question a lot, I mean it was pretty constant. And I'll be honest, there were times that it drove me crazy. Because sometimes curiosity doesn't feel magical in the moment. It feels a bit exhausting. I can remember, in fact, we would get in the car and I just needed a little peace and quiet. And I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I would tell him, Austin, you're in talking time out. You cannot talk while the music is playing. Anybody feel me here? Surely I'm not the only one that's experienced moments like this. But back to my story, every day I would go to work and sit next to children who didn't ask any questions at all. They were struggling learners, and they were children who were passive, children who didn't know how to wonder. And when I was moving between these two worlds with the kid at home who never stopped asking questions, and the kids at work who never asked a single question, something became very clear. The very thing that overwhelmed me sometimes at home was the exact thing missing at school. That actually changed me. Those questions Austin asked weren't interruptions. They were indicators. They were signs of thinking, of engagement, of a mind at work. And I remember making a quiet decision during that time. I didn't ever want to be the person to shut that down. I wanted him to stay curious. I wanted him to keep asking. And I wanted him to feel like his questions mattered. And maybe that's something we can all just gently notice. How we respond in these kinds of moments. Not perfectly, just a little more intentionally, perhaps. Before we keep going, I want to pause for just a minute. We'll call it a little commercial break or a brief intermission. Because if something in this conversation is resonating with you, if it's making you think differently or notice something in your own child, I really would love to hear it. This podcast isn't meant to be a one-way conversation. It's meant to be a space where we can think together, learn from each other, and share what's actually happening in our real lives. So if you've had a moment like the one I was just talking about, a moment where you saw something in your child differently, or maybe something shifted for you as a parent, I really would love for you to reach out. You could send me a message, share your story, ask a question, and who knows, your story might be something we bring into a future episode. I'm always open, in fact, to a little collaboration because sometimes the most powerful thing we can realize is this. So let's share them. Alright, back to the program. Let's keep going. When I ask kids what they want to be when they grow up, a large number of them say they want to be a YouTuber. You probably know the other big call outs, professional sports, doctor, whatever they think is gonna make them the biggest paychecks. And I don't say that with judgment. Maybe a little. I actually do pause though, because what I hear underneath that answer is something deeper. I hear a child who hasn't yet been shown or seen the full landscape of what's possible for them. Instead, it's a narrow view of a very wide world. It's like they're looking at their future through a straw, when in reality, their life is meant to be a wide open horizon, and there's so much potential. Which brings me back to another question we've asked for generations. What do you want to be when you grow up? The more I sit with that question, the more it feels like it might just be a little too small. Again, it limits kids to certain things that we may have preconceived for them. And our world is changing right now so very quickly. It reminds me of something Fred Rogers used to say, look for the helpers. Maybe that's where we can guide our kids, not just toward what they'll be, but toward how they're gonna show up. Instead of asking, what do you want to be? Maybe we could begin asking, How do you want to help? Or how do you want to be in the world? And just listen for what comes up for them. I've been listening to an audiobook titled The World Is Waiting for You by Edwina Findlay Dickerson. And there's this idea that has stayed with me, that each of us is like a star, and that we carry light, not just for ourselves, but for others. And when I think about children in that way, it shifts everything because maybe our role isn't to shape them, but to help them recognize what's already there, to help them see their light. All their lights, in fact. There's not just one, you see. We want to teach them to trust what's inside and to use each and every gift they have to make the world a better place. And that's where inner lights comes in for me. Helping children know who they are, so they don't have to shrink, so they don't have to fit into something too small for them. Because if children don't begin to see possibility in themselves, the world will be more than happy to define that for them. So I want to leave you with this, not as pressure, but as possibility. We don't have to do everything, but we can slow things down. We can protect their curiosity, and we can make space for wonder. And maybe just once this week you can pause long enough to follow your child's lead, just for a moment. And maybe in the middle of everything else, you give yourself permission to turn down some of the noise and to be with your child fully, to notice what they notice, to wonder alongside them, to let things be a little slower than the world tells you they should be. Maybe that looks like playing a family board game instead of everyone disappearing to separate screens. Games like Boggle or Scrabble are wonderful for flexibility with language, vocabulary development, and helping kids learn to think creatively with words. And honestly, they often lead to really good conversations and laughter too. Or maybe it's taking a walk together and noticing things you normally pass right by. The shape of the clouds, a bird building a nest, or the first flowers beginning to come up, and the way seasons slowly change over time. Maybe it's reading together or letting your child simply see you reading independently too, because modeling matters. Maybe it's growing a few vegetables in pots outside your door, even something simple like cherry tomatoes or herbs. Children learn so much from watching something grow slowly over time. Maybe it's cooking together, listening to music together without multitasking, sitting outside at sunset, or simply allowing a little boredom to exist instead of filling every second. Because some of the most meaningful parts of childhood happen quietly, in ordinary moments, in moments where nobody's rushing, because this world is moving fast. But I also believe this the world is also waiting, waiting for thinkers, waiting for helpers, and waiting for light. And maybe the most important thing we can do is help our children remember they already carry it, and just as importantly, to lead them with our light too. Thank you for being here with me today. If something stayed with you, I'd love to hear it. And as always, keep noticing, keep wondering, and keep letting your lights and theirs shine.