Bloom Where You’re Planted (And Water Often!)
April is National Garden Month—a time when those of us who live in the northeast are craving warmth and outdoor color. We think about what we’ll grow, what we’ll nurture, and what we hope will bloom this year! It has me reflecting on something I’ve come to see as deeply connected: parenting.
I’ve shared before about when my daughter was diagnosed with dyslexia at a young age, I cried—not from worry, but from utter relief. I had known in my gut for so long! I knew how bright she was, but the public school kept insisting nothing was wrong. The diagnosis brought clarity, calm, and a path forward.
What I didn’t know then was how much my children would teach me about persistence, adaptability, and the quiet courage it takes to grow in your own way, in your own time.
Parenting has changed me. It tuned me into the truth that growth isn’t always linear or visible. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it requires digging deeper. Sometimes it surprises you after a long dormant season.
This spring, I decided to grow ranunculus for the first time—flowers I’ve always loved for their layered petals and have always dreamed of having in our garden. But nearly everyone I’ve spoken to has warned me how notoriously tricky they are to grow. “They’re delicate… fussy… they need protection,” I’ve heard again and again. Still, we planted the seedlings with hope, carefully tucked them under their covers—and then, this past Saturday, we woke to two unexpected inches of snow. In mid-April. Now what?
It’s a question I’ve asked myself in parenting, too. When things don’t go as planned—when progress is slow or conditions change—how do we respond?
I’ve learned to meet it with tenderness, flexibility, and trust. And that trust didn’t come easily. After all we’d been through—the doubt, the dismissals—it took time to rebuild. But my kids showed me how. They helped me find a quiet belief in what’s possible.
And I’m lucky—I get to witness that same transformation in the students I work with. Many families come back to me with younger siblings, which means I get to watch their children grow and thrive in the right-fit schools we chose together. How fortunate am I as I get to see the once-nervous student become confident, curious, and rooted!
They bloom.
They blossom.
They grow into themselves.
And every time, I’m reminded: the right environment, the right care, and a little trust can make all the difference. As for those ranunculus—I'll be waiting and watching, just like I do with the students and families I support.