“My mother instilled in me the importance of treating people with love and respect. My father was more uncomfortable with that emotion. (backtracks to grown-up criticism). From parents or teachers, a child can write a story, and he’s told that this or that is wrong. And the teacher says you’ve got to write it this way or that. That really screws you up. I really identify with kids. I get along with them better.”

From the very beginning of life, the way we are treated by the adults around us—particularly our parents and teachers—shapes the foundation of who we become. The values we learn, the encouragement we receive (or lack thereof), and the emotional climate we grow up in can have lasting effects on our self-worth, creativity, and how we connect with others. For some, a nurturing mother may plant the seeds of love and respect, while a more emotionally reserved father might unintentionally sow confusion around how to express those same emotions. These early experiences don’t just stay in the past—they echo throughout our adult lives, often determining how we interact with the world, and in many cases, how we relate to children ourselves.”My mother instilled in me the importance of treating people with love and respect. My father was more uncomfortable with that emotion.” These words reveal a common dynamic in many families: a split between emotional openness and emotional repression. While one parent may encourage warmth and empathy, the other may struggle with vulnerability, often due to their own upbringing or societal norms about emotional expression—especially for men. This imbalance can be confusing for a child, who may receive conflicting messages about what it means to care, to feel, and to relate to others.That emotional confusion can be further compounded in school. Teachers, like parents, hold significant authority in a child’s life. When a child expresses themselves creatively—perhaps by writing a story—they are revealing not just their imagination, but also pieces of their internal world. But what happens when that expression is criticized or dismissed? “From parents or teachers, a child can write a story, and he’s told that this or that is wrong. And the teacher says you’ve got to write it this way or that. That really screws you up.” The damage done by rigid correction can be deep. Rather than nurturing the spark of creativity, such criticism often extinguishes it.Children are naturally expressive, curious, and imaginative. They don’t begin life with boundaries on how to think or feel—they learn those limits through interactions with the adult world. When a child writes a fantastical story about flying animals or speaks in metaphor, they’re not wrong—they’re exploring the world through their unique lens. But when their creativity is invalidated, they begin to doubt themselves. The message becomes: your thoughts aren’t acceptable unless they fit within the mold we’ve created. And that message can be devastating.This experience leaves a mark. Many adults carry with them the remnants of early criticism—stories they never told again, pictures they stopped drawing, songs they silenced. It’s why so many grown-ups say they’re “not creative,” when in fact, they simply weren’t encouraged to continue expressing themselves. They were taught to follow rules, not to explore possibilities.It’s no surprise, then, that some adults find themselves identifying more strongly with children than with their peers. “I really identify with kids. I get along with them better.” There’s something refreshing about being around children—their honesty, their emotional clarity, their raw imagination. They haven’t yet been boxed in by convention or fear of judgment. For those who felt misunderstood or stifled in childhood, connecting with kids can feel like reconnecting with a lost part of themselves.Empathizing with children—especially those who have been hurt, silenced, or discouraged—can be a form of healing. It allows adults to reimagine what might have been, had they been nurtured instead of criticized. It also presents an opportunity to break the cycle—to be the kind of supportive adult they once needed. This isn’t just about “getting along with kids”; it’s about understanding the fragile, powerful journey of becoming a person. And recognizing that, in many ways, that journey never really ends.One of the most powerful things an adult can do is to create safe spaces where children can be themselves. This doesn’t mean allowing chaos or avoiding correction, but it means approaching children with curiosity, empathy, and respect. It means understanding that behind every question, every drawing, every tantrum, there’s a human being trying to make sense of the world.Love and respect, the values passed down by a compassionate parent, are at the heart of this. They are the antidotes to fear and shame. When children feel loved—not for what they do, but for who they are—they flourish. When they are respected—not controlled—they learn to trust themselves. And when they are encouraged, rather than corrected, their creativity expands.Adults who struggled with emotional expression in childhood often have to relearn what it means to feel and share. They have to unlearn the fear of being “wrong” and rediscover the joy of creating just for the sake of it. And in doing so, they often find their way back to their inner child—the part of them that still believes in wonder, that still wants to play, and that still longs to be seen.Ultimately, the way we treat children matters. It matters not only for their development but for the future of our society. Children who are nurtured in love and allowed to express themselves grow into adults who are emotionally intelligent, creative, and compassionate. And the adults who choose to offer that space—especially those who once lacked it—are doing the vital work of healing across generations.It takes courage to resist the pressure to conform and to instead follow the thread of love, creativity, and connection. But in doing so, we honor not only the children around us—we honor the children we once were.