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If you're homeless and in college, what do you do when the dorms close? She faced it.

How one young woman not only escaped homelessness and finished college but is helping others.

This is an original piece by Jessica Sutherland, first featured on Bright and reprinted here with permission. To read more pieces like this, go to Bright and hit the follow button.

The Secret Lives of Homeless Students

After years of homelessness, I graduated college and a competitive master's program. What about the other million-plus homeless students in the U.S.?

 By Jessica Sutherland


Did you know that there are an estimated 1.2 million homeless students in American K-12 schools? For many years, I was one of them. My mother and I lived in the same motel room from kindergarten through third grade; after a few years in a “real" home that ended when I was 11, we spent the next six straight years in a cycle of chronic homelessness in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio.

To many people, homelessness evokes images of bums in tent cities, or families sleeping in a station wagon. While we spent our share of time sleeping in a shelter or a car, my childhood homelessness was mostly spent doing what my mother — still, to this day — prefers to call “bouncing around": living in motel rooms, or sleeping in whatever extra space people could find for us in their homes, for as long as we could stretch our welcome. Occasionally, we'd have an apartment for a few months, but we'd never have any furniture, and we'd always get evicted.

Refusing to call our lifestyle “chronic homelessness" didn't mean we didn't keep it a secret, or feel ashamed of it. I spent most of my teen years attending school illegally in my father's sleepy hometown; I was intensely aware that I needed to seem as normal as possible to avoid detection. I didn't completely know the consequences, but I was certain that if people found out, I would get removed to foster care and end up in a new school.

 

Left: 7th grade yearbook picture. We were living with my godmother when this was taken, but by Christmas, we were in a shelter. Right: 8th grade yearbook picture. We were definitely homeless and I cut my own bangs. All images via Jessica Sutherland and used with permission.

Foster care sounded better than my makeshift life with my mother, but I refused to risk losing my school. My school was my safest place, full of friends I'd known forever — even though I had to keep secrets from them. After spending just one week in a Cleveland public school while staying at a downtown shelter in seventh grade, I was very aware of the quality of education I would lose if we ever got caught. My suburban school was the ticket to the future I knew I was supposed to have: a college education.

I was given several advantages at birth — an able body, an active imagination, a pretty face. From a young age, I developed a sense of entitlement to go with them. When a stranger drew my portrait on a bus when I was in preschool, my mother told me it was because I was the most extraordinary little girl in the world. My early elementary years were spent in a magnet school that laid a great academic foundation and cultivated big dreams. Even when my grades dropped, as homelessness became my normal existence, it never occurred to me that I might not go to college.

I was finally removed to foster care senior year, but thanks to some powerful and clever people, I didn't miss a day at my beloved high school. However, I wasn't able to take my college entrance exams until after graduating — at the top third of my class (literally, I was 101 out of 303). I took the ACT the Saturday after receiving my diploma, with none of the prep most of my friends had, and still managed to swing a 30. I was ecstatic: with that score and my decent GPA, I had a great chance of getting into college next year. I was certain that a life full of opportunity and success would follow.

 

I only got senior pictures because the photo company chose me to use in advertising, so they were free.

My foster parents made no mention of forcing me out of their home once I turned 18, but as my birthday loomed, I realized I had no plans for my life between high school and college. I began to work more hours at the 24-hour diner by the freeway, saving money and sleeping little. I knew I needed to figure out what happened next. I was about to be a legal adult, but I still felt very much like a foster kid.

A late-night TV commercial caught my notice after a long shift at the diner: the nearest state school, Cleveland State University, was still accepting applications. I dragged a dear friend on a campus tour the following week. It was weird to be choosing a college in July. My friend was going to a fancy private school a few hours away, but she validated my excitement when we toured the largely commuter school's lone dormitory, a converted Holiday Inn.

“I can see you living here," she said. And so I applied.

At my interview, the admissions officer asked me why, with stats like mine, I would ever apply there. At the time, the school was not known for high standards of admission.

I didn't tell her I was a foster kid with nowhere else to go; I didn't tell her it was my only chance to avoid a gap year; I didn't tell her the structure of the dorm seemed like a better idea than living on my own at 18. I simply expressed my desire to learn.

My acceptance letter arrived within the week. My beautiful parents allowed me to stay with them, rent-free, for the two months between my birthday and the dorm's move-in day. I checked the right boxes on my FAFSA and got grants and academic scholarships I needed to cover most of my expenses. I walked onto two sports teams, in order to cover the rest without loans.

I was going to college, without a gap year interrupting my education. But it never occurred to me that I might not graduate.

"However, a familiar panic set in: where would I live until then? I didn't want to take summer classes just so I could keep my dorm room."

I breezed through my freshman and sophomore years. Those are the days I think of fondly as my most typical college experience.

As a cheerleader for a Division I basketball team, and a mid-distance runner, I was more sheltered and supported than I realized. A small staff oversaw my medical health, while another tracked my academic performance and guided me towards graduation. Thanks to mandatory team study halls and frequent physical therapy in the training room, most of my social circle was comprised of other athletes.

 

 Getting tossed in the air as a CSU Vikings cheerleader.

I traveled for my teams, and I traveled with my friends. I spent spring break in Florida and threw up in the sink of a beachfront McDonald's (to this day, I can't hold my alcohol). I was assigned a crazy roommate who used to stand over me in my sleep, but it wasn't until she threatened to throw me out of a window, in front of our RA, that I learned that I could do something about it. I was upgraded to a large single, and my baseball-playing boyfriend began to spend the night most of the time. I worked at a ridiculously expensive clothing store in a nearby mall.

I was a normal college kid.

 

 Freshman year.

By the end of sophomore year, I was eager to keep up with my friends who felt they were too old for the dorm. I agreed to move into a house with a fellow athlete that coming fall.

However, a familiar panic set in: where would I live until then? I didn't want to take summer classes just so I could keep my dorm room. Even if I did, I would still have to move out of the dorm for two weeks between semesters. I'd spent those closures at my foster parents' house in the past, but the room where I slept had since been converted to an office.

“I have an idea," my baseball-playing boyfriend said to me one night. “You should move into my room for the summer. My mom won't care." He was headed out of state, to play in some competitive league for the entire summer.

“No way. I could never ask her to do that. She'd never say yes."

“I already asked her. She already did."

"Nobody was keeping me in line; nobody was telling me I was allowed to make mistakes."

Junior year was a disaster. My friend and I found an apartment, but she secretly decided to transfer schools mid-year, so she never signed the lease. When she moved out, I was responsible for more rent than I could afford. I soon began working at a downtown brewery more, and going to school less. There was nobody to ask for help or guidance, and my attempts to live with other roommates failed miserably.

Ultimately, I broke the lease and moved into a much cheaper and crummier apartment in a much worse neighborhood. My baseball-playing boyfriend and I fought constantly, and finally broke up. I dabbled in a different major, and my grades plummeted. I'd quit athletics that year, and my life suddenly lacked the excitement and structure it once had. Nobody was keeping me in line; nobody was telling me I was allowed to make mistakes.

For the first time in my life, I got an F on my report card. I decided I needed to take a semester off.

When I told my family about leaving school, nobody challenged me. Nobody told me it was a bad idea to drop out, that nearly half of college dropouts will never return to finish their degree. At 20, completely on my own, I needed an advocate, a mentor, a bossy guide to force me to take the harder road.

But as much as I needed a kick in the butt, nobody told me to keep going. So I didn't.

I dropped out for what became five years, before finally hitting a ceiling at my sales job that could only be shattered with either three more years of experience or a college degree. My boss had always insisted that I was too good for sales, and he strongly encouraged me to finish my bachelor's so I could have more choices.

So, at 25 years of age, I decided to finish what I had started, and returned to Cleveland State as a junior. I didn't have the support of the athletic department, but I had enough life experience to navigate the madness of choosing the right classes and filling out endless paperwork. I knew how to pay bills and keep a roof over my head.

In the meantime, Cleveland State had made vast improvements, and so tuition had tripled. I had no choice but to take out loans to offset what grants didn't cover. I took work as a cocktail waitress to pay my bills.

 

 My first Film Festival, with a film I made in undergrad.

In 18 months, I had my degree — and decided to continue my education even further. After internships and student projects at local news stations and with the Cleveland Indians, I knew I wanted to work in film and television. I had always fantasized about attending film school, but it wasn't until two of my CSU professors pushed me to apply that I thought I might actually get accepted. They were right about me: I got in everywhere I applied, and chose the University of Southern California (USC) School of Cinematic Arts for my Master of Fine Arts.

While packing to move to Los Angeles, I found a box with abandoned applications and glossy USC brochures from years past. USC had been my dream school for nearly a decade, especially while I was dropped out of college. I smiled to myself as I realized how far I'd come. That abandoned dream was about to become reality.

 By 2012, I had a master's degree from USC and a good job at Yahoo!, which I thought was everything I wanted. I always knew I would tell my story one day; now that I had a happy ending, I had the power to help other homeless kids like I once was.

 

 Graduating USC.

Eventually, I went to observe “Mondays at the Mission," a wonderful life skills class for teenagers at the Union Rescue Mission on Los Angeles' Skid Row. When a scheduled speaker got stuck in traffic, I was asked to share my story as a backup. I remember feeling unbelievably nervous. Though it was my story, there was a lot to say, and I had nothing prepared. Before I could say no, founder Christopher Kai assured me that my story was worth telling. I pushed through, speaking for 45 minutes.

I wanted those children to know they had nothing to be ashamed of, that homelessness is not permanent, and that scars heal. Most importantly, I wanted them to learn to ask for help. Once I'd learned to ask for help, to accept it, and to trust others, my life got so much better. I told them that nobody was waiting for them to fail. They had to be brave and open up to trusted adults.

My speech captivated the kids. One student asked me why I didn't cry as I told my sad story. I said that even when things hurt us, wounds heal. Scars remind us of the pain we've survived, but they themselves do not hurt anymore.

After class, a soft-spoken boy named James lingered. I only came up to his shoulders, but his shyness made him seem half my size. “Do you think you could help me get into college?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. I'd barely gotten into college myself, but…

“Absolutely."

 

 The first photo James and I ever took together.

A year later, my young friend was accepted into 9 out of the 13 schools he'd applied to. In the end, he chose Howard University. He also chose student loans, which are, with rare exception, a necessary evil when attempting to better oneself through higher education.

When his Parent PLUS loans were declined, due — somewhat ironically — to his family's poverty, I created a crowd-funder for him on Tumblr, using the hashtag #HomelessToHoward. It went viral overnight. Within two weeks, we'd raised so much money that I had to apply to start a nonprofit in order to protect the funding as scholarship, rather than income.

I had a master's degree in my dream field, from my dream school; I was on track to a decent career as a producer. While I'd always hoped to inspire young people with my story one day, I hadn't planned to give up my producing career just as it began. I was ill-equipped to run a nonprofit to help homeless kids. But by this point, I'd realized that my life doesn't always go according to plan.

"Yet somehow, when all was nearly lost, someone always saved my day, cheered me on, and pushed me forward. What if Homeless to Higher Ed could be that someone for the 56,000 homeless kids in our colleges today?"

Most nonprofits start with an idea. Planning comes next, then fundraising, and then hopefully publicity. My organization, Homeless to Higher Ed, was built in reverse: We raised money and went public before I knew what our precise mission would be.

I watched my young mentee closely as he transitioned to a college student and mini-celebrity. I quickly realized that money didn't provide everything he needed to thrive; there was so much more to it than that. So I began researching homeless students in American colleges. And I was shocked to find that I could see myself in the statistics.

There were over 56,000 homeless and aged-out foster youth enrolled in American colleges in 2014. I learned that more than 90% of them won't graduate within six years. It took me nine years to get my bachelor's.

Even in a dismal economy, unemployment rates decrease as education level rises: to wit, education is the most reliable escape from poverty. And the most consistent indicator of success in college is whether or not the student's parents attended college. I had no college-educated relatives guiding me.

I also learned that homeless college students tend to be secretive. Fiercely independent. Eager to fit in. Afraid they have no right to be in college. Ashamed of their poverty. Paranoid about what poverty says about them to others. These traits combine to make them hard to identify — and it's even more challenging to get homeless students to accept help, much less ask for it. Daresay that most of them think they don't need it.

I'd never really thought about the odds that I'd beaten to get where I was. To me, it was the only normal course for my life, and failure wasn't an option. Except, of course, for all those times when it was.

Yet somehow, when all was nearly lost, someone always saved my day, cheered me on, and pushed me forward. What if Homeless to Higher Ed could be that someone for the 56,000 homeless kids in our colleges today?

“Homeless college students? That's a thing?"

Six months after incorporating the nonprofit, I had our mission: to normalize the college experience for homeless and aged-out foster youth. This also means that we need to de-stigmatize homelessness, so students in need will self-identify and get the help they need.

I often joke that my greatest shame is now my claim to fame. It's now impossible to Google me and not know that I spent a long time homeless. It's not something I've hidden about myself; I've been open about my childhood for my entire adult life. However, homeless students in college are often quite ashamed of their background, and struggle mightily to hide it. In fact, that 56,000 number is likely just a fraction of the actual homeless and aged-out foster youth in American colleges today, since it's based solely on students' willingness to self-report.

9 times out of 10, whenever I tell someone that I am building an organization that helps normalize the college experience for homeless students, the reaction is, “Homeless college students? That's a thing?"

Yeah. It's a thing. But it doesn't have to be.

Unsplash

Students working; an empty classroom.

When talking with other parents I know, it's hard not to sound like a grumpy old man when we get around to discussing school schedules: "Am I the only one who feels like kids have so many days off? I never got that many days off when I was a kid! And I had to go work in the coal mine after, too!" I know what I sound like, but I just can't help it.

In Georgia where I live, we have a shorter summer break than some other parts of the country. But my kids have the entire week of Thanksgiving off, a week in September, two whole weeks at Christmas, a whole week off in February, and a weeklong spring break. They have asynchronous days (during which they complete assignments at home, which usually takes about 30 minutes) about once a month, and they have two or three half-day weeks throughout the year. Quite honestly, it feels like they're never in school for very long before they get another break, which makes it tough to get in a rhythm with work and career goals. Plus, we're constantly arranging day camps and other childcare options for all the time off. After a quick search, I can confirm I'm not losing my mind: American kids have fewer school days than most other major countries.

 school's out, school days, school week, work week, schedules Schools Out Fun GIF by Pen Pals  Giphy  

So, it caught my attention in a major way when I read that Whitney Independent School District in Texas recently decided to enact a four-day week heading into the 2025 school year. That makes it one of dozens of school districts in Texas to make the change and over 900 nationally.

The thought of having the kids home from school EVERY Friday or Monday makes me want to break out in stress hives, but this four-day school week movement isn't designed to give parents a headache. It's meant to lure teachers back to work.

Yes, teachers are leaving the profession in droves and young graduates don't seem eager to replace them. Why? For starters, the pay is bad—but that's just the beginning. Teachers are burnt out, undermined and criticized relentlessly, held hostage by standardized testing, and more. It can be a grueling, demoralizing, and thankless job. The love and passion they have for shaping the youth of tomorrow can only take you so far when you feel like you're constantly getting the short end of the stick.

School districts want to pay their teachers more, in theory, but their hands are often tied. So, they're getting creative to recruit the next generation of teachers into their schools—starting with an extra day off for planning, catch-up, or family time every week.

Teachers in four-day districts often love the new schedule. Kids love it (obviously). It's the parents who, as a whole, aren't super thrilled.

 school, kids, teachers, instruction time, classes, schedule Class in session Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash  

So far, the data shows that the truncated schedule perk is working. In these districts, job applications for teachers are up, retirements are down, and teachers are reporting better mental well-being. That's great news!

But these positive developments may be coming at the price of the working parents in the communities. Most early adopters of the four-day week have been rural communities with a high prevalence of stay-at-home parents. As the idea starts to take hold in other parts of the country, it's getting more pushback. Discussions on Reddit, Facebook, and other social media platforms are overrun with debate on how this is all going to shake up. Some parents, to be fair, like the idea! If they stay-at-home or have a lot of flexibility, they see it as an opportunity for more family time. But many are feeling anxious. Here's what's got those parents worried:

The effect on students' achievement is still unclear.

The execution of the four-day week varies from district to district. Some schools extend the length of each of the four days, making the total instructional time the same. That makes for a really long day, and some teachers say the students are tired and more unruly by the late afternoon. Some districts are just going with less instruction time overall, which has parents concerned that their kids might fall behind.

Four-day school weeks put parents in a childcare bind.

Having two working parents is becoming more common and necessary with the high cost of living. I know, I know—"school isn't daycare!" But it is the safe, reliable, and educational place we send our kids while we we work.

Families with money and resources may be able to enroll their kids in more academics, extracurriculars, sports, or childcare, but a lot of normal families won't be able to afford that cost. Some schools running a four-day week offer a paid childcare option for the day off, but that's an added expense and for families with multiple kids in the school system, it's just not possible.

This will inevitably end with some kids getting way more screentime.

With most parents still working five-day weeks, and the cost of extra activities or childcare too high, a lot of kids are going to end up sitting around on the couch with their iPad on those days off. I'm no expert, and I'm certainly not against screentime, but adding another several hours of it to a child's week seems less than ideal.

Of course there are other options other than paid childcare and iPads. There are play dates, there's getting help from family and friends. All of these options are an enormous amount of work to arrange for parents who are already at capacity.

Working four days is definitely a win for teachers that makes the job more appealing. But it doesn't address the systemic issues that are driving them to quit, retire early, or give up their dreams of teaching all together.

 teachers, stress, education, work, job Season 3 Running GIF by The Simpsons  Giphy  

A Commissioner of Education from Missouri calls truncated schedules a "band-aid solution with diminishing returns." Having an extra planning day won't stop teachers from getting scapegoated by politicians or held to impossible curriculum standards, it won't keep them from having to buy their own supplies or deal with ever-worsening student behavior.

Some teachers and other experts have suggested having a modified five-day school week, where one of the days gets set aside as a teacher planning day while students are still on-site participating in clubs, music, art—you know, all the stuff that's been getting cut in recent years. Something like that could work in some places.

As a dad, I don't mind the idea of my busy kids having an extra day off to unwind, pursue hobbies, see friends, catch up on projects, or spend time as a family. And I'm also very much in favor of anything that takes pressure off of overworked teachers. But until we adopt a four-day work week as the standard, the four-day school week is always going to feel a little out of place.

This article originally appeared in February. It has been updated.

@bllshfrv/Reddit, Wikipedia

Nearly two years of learning a language…something's had to have stuck.

In the age of algorithms and keywords and incredibly steep competition, people have to be more strategic and creative than ever to secure a good job. Especially when it comes to drafting a resume that stands out amongst hundreds of others.

Recently, one job recruiter was so impressed by one job seeker’s clever idea of listing their 671-day Duolingo streak—alongside a fluency in English and limited American Sign Language —under the "languages" section in their resume that he decided to share it online.

 duolingo, japanese, language learning, consistency Nearly two years of consistency says something, doesn't it?  Giphy GIF by Atrium 

According to Newsweek, the job recruiter, named Bilal Ashrafov, was pleasantly surprised, and had even considered including something similar on his own resume, “but wasn't sure if it would come across as professional.”

“Seeing someone take that first step made me reflect on its relevance,” he said, noting that “a long-standing Duolingo streak can demonstrate dedication and continuous learning,” even if the popular app only requires a minute of practice a day.

After sharing the resume onto Reddit, others seemed to agree, and commended the potential employee for their innovative approach.

from duolingo


"Imagine explaining that in an interview—'I'm not just consistent, I'm Duolingo consistent!'" one viewer quipped.

Another commented, "If I was hiring, I would definitely interview this person."

Still another said, "It got noticed, didn't it? Sounds like not too bad of an idea."

 japanese, japanese language, learning japanese, language learning Is foreign language learning on Duolingo a resume-building skill?

Considering that there are a few ways folks can keep their Duolingo streak intact without truly getting proficient in a language, like continuing to purchase streak freezes, this idea might never take on as the new resume must-have. But, on a much broader scale, this story highlights the need to bring a bit of ourselves to our resumes. As the concept of portfolio careers, or a career that includes multiple income streams, rather than a single job title, becomes more and more mainstream, we’ve seen people find great success in listing what they uniquely bring to the table, professional or otherwise.

When it comes to adding resume items that pop, and offer a true reflection for who you really are, think about including:

Soft skills:

These are personal qualities that describe how you work and interact with others, such as conflict resolution or time management, and they are not only gaining importance across the workforce, but are highly transferable across different types of work.

 soft skills, resume builders, what to put on a resume Soft skills like conflict resolution and bridge-building between people are valuable in a work environment.Photo credit: Canva

Personal projects:

Whether you got paid for these isn’t paramount here. If you led a community initiative your passionate about, or even have a long-standing blog about something that interests you, this could be included.

Technical skills beyond the job description:

Do you have a proficiency in certain programs, like coding languages, data visualization, project management, etc? Even if a job doesn’t specifically ask for these skills, they could be helpful additions.

 technical skills, computer coding, resume builders Always tout your tech know-how on your resume.Photo credit: Canva

Creative or unique hobbies:

You never know what interesting conversations your oddball pastime might inspire, if anything else. So don’t be embarrassed if you’re a wiz a Photoshopping old-timey puppy portraits or engage in recreating Scandinavian folk tunes with GarageBand.

Community involvement:

This can be your volunteering roles, and mentorship programs you might have participated in, or even charities you have close ties to.

 volunteer, charity work, community involvement Community service and charitable work helps to round out a resume.Photo credit: Canva

Academic achievements:

Include relevant published research papers or presentations, and awards or honors you received during your studies, or any significant contributions you might have made to a research project

These are just a few suggestions to get you started. Include a few, or perhaps your own impressive Duolingo streak, or something else. Just remember, sometimes it pays to think outside the box.

This article originally appeared in February

Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

It seems like most people are feeling wiped out these days. There's a reason for that.

We're more than four years past the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, and it's been a weird ride, to say the least. These years have been hard, frustrating, confusing and tragic, and yet we keep on keeping on. Except the keeping on part isn't quite as simple as it sounds.

We've sort of collectively decided to move on, come what may. This year has been an experiment in normalcy, but one without a testable hypothesis or clear design. And it's taken a toll. So many people are feeling tired, exhausted, worn thin ("like butter scraped over too much bread," as Bilbo Baggins put it) these days.

But why?

Psychologist and speaker Naomi Holdt beautifully explained what's behind the overarching exhaustion people are feeling as we close out 2022, and it makes perfect sense. Holdt is a psychologist, author, and speaker with over two decades of experience, and specializes in the emotional well-being of children and young adults. She is also the author of "How to Raise Resilient Kids and Teens."

In a post on Facebook, she wrote:

"A gentle reminder about why you are utterly exhausted…

No one I know began this year on a full tank. Given the vicious onslaught of the previous two years (let’s just call it what it was) most of us dragged ourselves across the finish line of 2021… frazzled, spent, running on aged adrenaline fumes…

We crawled into 2022 still carrying shock, trauma, grief, heaviness, disbelief… The memories of a surreal existence…

And then it began… The fastest hurricane year we could ever have imagined. Whether we have consciously processed it or not, this has been a year of more pressure, more stress, and a race to 'catch up' in all departments… Every. Single. One. Work, school, sports, relationships, life…

Though not intentionally aware, perhaps hopeful that the busier we are, the more readily we will forget… the more easily we will undo the emotional tangle… the more permanently we will wipe away the scarring wounds…

We can’t.

And attempts to re-create some semblance of 'normal' on steroids while disregarding that for almost two years our sympathetic nervous systems were on full alert, has left our collective mental health in tatters. Our children and teens are not exempt. The natural byproduct of fighting a hurricane is complete and utter exhaustion…

So before you begin questioning the absolutely depleted and wrung-dry state you are in- Pause. Breathe. Remind yourself of who you are and what you have endured. And then remind yourself of what you have overcome.

Despite it all, you’re still going. (Even on the days you stumble and find yourself face down in a pile of dirt).


 tired, exhausted, wicker chair, psychology, tired woman,  A tired woman relaxing in a chair.via Canva/Photos

Understanding brings compassion… Most of the world’s citizens are in need of a little extra TLC at the moment. Most are donning invisible 'Handle with care' posters around their necks and 'Fragile' tattoos on their bodies…

Instead of racing to the finish line of this year, tread gently.

Go slowly. Amidst the chaos, find small pockets of silence. Find compassion. Allow the healing. And most of all… Be kind. There’s no human being on earth who couldn’t use just a little bit more of the healing salve of kindness."

Putting it like that, of course, we're exhausted. We're like a person who thinks they're feeling better at the end of an illness, so they dive fully back into life, only to crash midday because their body didn't actually have as much energy as their brain thought it did. We tried to fling ourselves into life, desperate to feel normal and make up for lost time, without taking the time to fully acknowledge the impact of the past two years or to fully recover and heal from it.


 tired, exhausted, wicker chair, psychology, tired woman,  A tired woman laying on the couch.via Canva/Photos

Of course, life can't just stop, but we do need to allow some time for our bodies, minds, and spirits to heal from what they've been through. The uncertainty, the precariousness of "normal," the after-effects of everything that upended life as we knew it are real. The grief and trauma of those who have experienced the worst of the pandemic are real. The overwhelm of our brains and hearts as we try to process it all is real.

So let's be gentle with one another and ourselves as we roll our harried selves into another new year. We could all use that little extra measure of grace as we strive to figure out what a true and healthy "normal" feels like.

You can follow Naomi Holdt on Facebook.

This article originally appeared three years ago.

Modern Families

Sandra Bullock is brutally honest with her kids about race, because she has to be

“I don't care if it scares them because it’s my job to let them know that outside of these safe walls, things are different."

Sandra Bullock on 'Red Table Talks.'

Sometimes the best protection a parent can offer is presenting the world exactly as it is. In 2021, Sandra Bullock appeared on an episode of Jada Pinkett Smith’s Red Table Talk, where she discussed the realities of being a white mom to two Black children.

Bullock adopted her son Louis and her daughter Laila between 2010 and 2015. Since then, Bullock has been praised not only for being so open with her children about race, but for approaching it through their perspective, versus one of privilege. “To say that I wished our skins matched…sometimes I do. Because then it would be easier on how people approached us,” she admitted. It might make things easier, but for Bullock and her children, that is simply not the reality.

No parent wants to tell their child that the world can often be a scary and unfair place, but not having the difficult conversation is, as Bullock told BET in 2015, a “disservice."
 
 

She added:

“I can't ride in a bubble with him. I want him to know the truth…that you’ll be judged by the color of your skin rather than the content of your character. But it exists, and I want him to be safe and I want him to be aware. Once he leaves that house and I’m not with him, it’s his life and how he approaches it is his decision…I want to know that I did the best I could as his mom to educate him on the ugliness in the world, and also the beauty.”

 
 

In an interview with theGrio, Bullock reflected on a heartbreaking experience after seeing son Louis wearing a hoodie. It’s crazy to think that something as innocent as this could be life-threatening, but as the countless stories of racial profiling continue to make headlines, it is a consistently relevant and crucial conversation to have.

She asked her then six-year-old, “What does it look like you’re doing with the hoodie?”

Louis’ response: “Well, I look like I’m hiding.”

Bullock told theGrio that Louis is well aware that he would be treated differently as a white boy. She reiterated that she “doesn’t care” if that fact scares her children, because it is her “job to let them know that outside of these safe walls, that things are different.”

The responsibility of a parent is to make the children aware of potential dangers they are likely to face, to fully equip and prepare them. For parents with children of color, this includes the added weight of discussing the prejudice waiting for them outside the safety of home.

 

Though Sandra Bullock is well aware of the hardships her children face, she still says, “Maybe one day we’ll be able to see with different eyes.”

For a change like that to happen, we will need to see through the eyes of empathy and compassion. This is something Bullock embodies every day that she chooses to have transparent conversations with her children, to “protect them, enlighten them, and show them their power.”

This article originally appeared four years ago.

A toddler learning to haka dance is melting hearts everywhere

At Upworthy, we've covered a lot of stories centered around the traditional Māori war dance known as the haka. In recent years, people around the world have come to know and be enchanted by the passion, rhythm, and raw emotion that comes from these powerful performances. Many viewers are even brought to tears simply by watching.

Having a window into such a rich culture can make people curious on how cultural traditions like the haka are passed down. Surely Māori babies aren't born knowing this dance instinctively, nor is there a magic switch that flips when they reach a certain age. One family gave a little glimpse into how the culture is passed down from one generation to the next and it's beyond adorable.

In late 2024, New Zealand wife and mum Hope Lawrence uploaded a video of her 18-month-old practicing the haka with his dad in the dining room, and the little guy is surprisingly good. In the video, the baby starts off with a stomp and grunt as his dad shows him the wero, which is the trembling hand often seen in the dance. As the dad walks back and forth starting the chant along with wero, the little one tries his best to mimic his dad.

Before too long the toddler is chanting along and copying the dad's moves almost exactly, even if you can't quite make out what the little guy is saying, his haka is still powerful. This isn't the first time the baby has been caught doing the haka. Just a month before the adorable video, he was caught practicing his haka along with the New Zealand rugby team All Blacks on the family television. His tiny haka moves have taken social media by storm with over 53 million views, 7.1 million likes, and more than 53K comments.

People cannot get enough of his powerful little dance, with one person writing, "The Haka is so powerful but seeing this father teaching his baby is so much powerful. I am deeply moved."

Another person thinks the dance is just the light people need to see right now, saying, "The world has never needed the haka more than it does now."

Someone else noticed the confidence exuding from the toddler, noting, "The way y'all were in complete cadence together with the leg slap... he came in with confidence because of you, and y'all nailed it perfectly together."

One viewer appreciates the peek into another culture, saying, "I LOVE THIS!!! if it wasn't for tik tok I would've never been exposed to Māori culture. can't tell you how many Haka performances I've watched. they make me feel so empowered."

Appreciation of culture being passed down is a common theme among commenters with one saying, "This is truly beautiful to watch, not just because the father is keeping interaction and culture with child, but it's keeping a beautiful culture present... some other cultures didn't have this."

Many people who watch the haka have a deeply emotional reaction they can't explain even though they have no personal connection to the culture. The dance seems to speak to a part of humans that may be missing their ancestral connections, possibly awakening some dormant longing. There's no real way to know for sure, but the amount of people who report being brought to tears every time the dance is performed is significant. This baby will surely keep his culture alive as he grows into adulthood, likely teaching his own child as his father taught him.

And by the looks of it, the haka isn't the only piece of his heritage that this little guy is learning. Below, we see dad teaching him Mau rākau, an ancient Māori marital art that incorporates staffs.

 
 @hopeylawrence Learning Mau Rākau with dad 😍 Another awesome way to learn our culture and bond with our tamariki We were gifted these beautiful Rākau from @tekotiri who make these Rākau and have heaps of educational resources available on their youtube channel, instagram and Tik tok for those wanting to learn and dive more into their Te Reo Māori. Please go check them out and give them a follow- IG Tekotiri Follow our journey as we learn more #dadsoftiktok #hakababy #tereomaōri #viral #haka #hakadad #dadandson #maoritiktok #maurakau #maori #fyp #foryoupage #pov #dads #newzealand #trending #dads ♬ original sound - Hope Lawrence 
 
 

Learning about ourselves, where we come from, and the world around us is indeed a never-ending adventure.

This article originally appeared last year.