Schooled

How I Got My Own Daughter Transferred Out of My Classroom

I feel extremely ashamed to tell this story.

But I think there’s a lesson here worth my embarrassment - maybe even worth yours, if you’re willing to sit with me in the discomfort for a few minutes.

When I Became a Problem

A series of events led to me becoming the full-time assistant in my daughter Leila’s primary Montessori classroom when she was four years old. I had started as an occasional substitute, then temporary assistant, before being offered the permanent position.

It was mostly wonderful. But some moments were difficult because Leila couldn’t understand the difference between when I was her mom and when I was the classroom assistant. The tension simmered just below the surface of our school relationship.

One day, I was leading a group that included my daughter back into the classroom from recess. At the door, I had the students calm down and walk single file back inside.

That is, until Leila decided to bolt past me with reckless abandon down the path alongside the classroom that led to the school’s driveway. One of her friends gleefully followed her.

I calmly ushered the other students into the room, but under my calm demeanor I was seething, and my heart was in my stomach. There was a gate between the path and the driveway. It was probably locked. There was probably no one driving on the school grounds at that time of day.

Still, I felt a rush of fear.

Not only was my daughter disobeying instructions (I could handle that), she was potentially putting herself and another classmate’s safety in jeopardy.

As soon as I could, I rounded the side of the building, called the girls back, grabbed Leila’s hand, and before I even realized what I was doing, I gave her a couple of good smacks on her bottom.

I felt instantly sick to my stomach.

The Aftermath

Corporal punishment was absolutely against the school's policies. I completely came clean to the lead guide (which is Montessori talk for teacher) about what had happened and how I had reacted. She consulted with the head of school to get guidance on how the situation should be handled.

Long story short, I was written up with a warning, and the incident was documented in my file. The head of school decided to move Leila to a different classroom - definitely for the better, but it broke my heart because I had particularly loved that guide for my daughter.

Nothing says “winning at parenting” quite like getting your kid transferred out of your own classroom, right?

The Truth I Didn’t Want to See

Here’s the point I’m trying to make:

You can’t love someone more than you love yourself.

Think about what loving behavior actually looks like - calm, thoughtful, kind, respectful. Now think about how I acted. I was none of those things. I was frantic, impulsive, harsh, and controlling. That's because internally, that's exactly how I was treating myself. The voice in my head wasn't gentle or forgiving. It was demanding perfection and punishing failure. So when Leila stepped out of line, the way I treated her was a direct reflection of how I was treating myself internally.

In other words, I was actually trying to punish myself by punishing my daughter.

Yes, she misbehaved in that moment. Yes, that was wrong. But the truth is that if I had done more of my own healing work before that point, I wouldn’t have been so triggered in the moment. I would have handled it all more calmly, more thoughtfully.

How do I know that? Because as I’ve done my own forgiveness and healing work, and as I continue to do this work, I handle everything better. Things that used to trigger me strongly don’t pack the same punch anymore. I retain more of my logical brain, which I can use to plan my response.

Yes, I still feel emotions - I’m not a robot - but the emotions don’t rule me. I’m in charge of them. I process them on my terms.

That day with Leila? The emotions were 100% in charge. And they were running a very old, very painful script that had nothing to do with a four-year-old running with wild abandon toward a driveway.

The Space Between Feeling and Reacting

Think of yourself as a living barometer of your own healing. The reading is simple. The distance you can put between feeling an emotion and reacting to it represents the amount of healing work you’ve done.

In that moment at that school, there was zero distance. The fear hit, and my hand moved. The entire event played out in under two minutes, but decades of unprocessed pain were packed into that knee-jerk reaction.

If only I could have stopped time right then and stretched it out long enough for my brain to process every unconscious nuance of what I was experiencing, I maybe could have had some grace for myself - and for Leila.

The good news? You can learn to create that space. You can stretch those moments. You can interrupt the old scripts and write new ones.

It takes practice, awareness, and a willingness to look at the stuff you’d rather keep hidden. But it’s possible. I know because I’ve done it, and I’m still doing it.

What This Has to Do With An Abortion

Maybe you’re reading this and thinking, “What does spanking your kid at school have to do with my abortion?”

Nothing at all. Unless you've ever yelled too loudly, cried too hard, shut down too quickly, or felt emotions you couldn't quite trace back to their source. Then? It's the same story, just a different version.

Your overreactions aren’t about what just happened. They’re about something that happened before.

Maybe you snapped at your partner over something small, like how they loaded the dishwasher. Maybe you felt a wave of rage over someone chewing or breathing too loudly. Maybe you shut down completely when someone asked a simple question.

And you thought, “What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just handle normal life?”

Nothing is wrong with you. You’re just carrying unprocessed pain that’s looking for a way out. And when something - anything - brushes up against that tender spot, the reaction is bigger than the situation warrants because it’s not really about the situation at all.

It’s about the grief you haven’t fully processed. The guilt you’re still carrying. The shame that sits with you like a guest who has overstayed her welcome. It’s the decision you made under pressure that you’re still trying to make peace with.

Your Turn: The Detective Work Begins

This week, I challenge you to notice when you’ve overreacted to something. It could be from reading this blog, something that happened recently, or an event way back in the distant past.

One event probably stands out beyond all others. Pick that one. The one where your response felt bigger than the situation warranted. Where you surprised even yourself with the intensity of your reaction.

File it away. Make a mental note: “Hmm, that seemed bigger than it needed to be.”

Next week, I’ll show you the exact detective work that helped me understand why I reacted the way I did - and how you can do the same for yourself.

Because understanding is the first step toward freedom.

An Invitation to Be Brave

Have you ever had a moment where your reaction surprised even you? What happened?

I just told you something I wish I could pretend never happened. Why? Because sharing it has more value than hiding it. An incident is no more than a moment in time - it’s finished, it's done. But if you're brave enough to bring it into the light, you gain the power to examine it, understand it, and maybe shift how you show up in the future. If I can share the moment that still makes me cringe, you can too. Keeping it locked inside isn't protecting you. It's just letting it run your life from the shadows.

The only reason you might be unwilling to share is that you’re unwilling to do any work on it - and that’s totally fine. It’s just a point to consider.

Whatever you’re unwilling to visit will continue running in the subconscious background. Whatever you’re willing to take a good look at, you have the power to alter however you decide.

Drop it in the comments if you’re ready. Share the moment that still makes you cringe. The reaction that felt too big. The time you surprised yourself with your own intensity.

Save the gory details for your therapist. Just tell the highlights (or the lowlights as the case may be).

The Hope in the Mess

If you remember nothing else that I said, please remember this: The space between feeling and reacting can grow.

That moment where the fear hit and my hand moved? That space is much wider now. Not perfect - maybe never perfect - but wider. Wide enough for me to pause. To breathe. To choose a different response.

You can have that too. Knee-jerk reactions are caused by carrying weight that was never meant to be permanent. And when you set it down - piece by piece and moment by moment - you get to discover who you are when you’re not in constant reaction mode.

You get to meet the version of yourself who owns the space between the feeling and the response. The version who processes emotions instead of being ruled by them. The version who handles life’s curveballs with grace instead of panic.

She’s already in there. She’s just waiting for you to do the work that clears the path to her.

Next week, I’ll show you how to start that detective work. How to trace your overreactions back to their source. How finally to understand why you react the way you do - and how to change it.

Until then, just notice. Just observe. Just file it away.

The healing is already beginning.