The chronicles of a PK

  I used to think the problem was only on one side. When I saw parents pulling their children from school to live in isolated, rule-free bubbles — or following people like Michael and Debi Pearl — I wanted regulation. I still do. Homeschooling can be beautiful, but it can also be a cage. Kids need sunlight, connection, oversight, and safety. Too many families use “freedom” as a cover for neglect or control. The truth is, freedom without accountability always hurts the vulnerable first. But lately, public school has landed squarely in my crosshairs too. When I watch what my own child has gone through, and when I remember what I endured — the bullying, the humiliation, the endless testing, the hopeless feeling that no adult cared — I can’t say the system is protecting kids there either. Not even close. There is literally no one whose job is to defend the child in the middle. Teachers have unions. Legislators have donors. Parents have bills and burnout. But the child? The chil...

  “Insidious is blind inception What’s reality with all these questions? Feels like I missed my alarm and slept in Broken legs, but I chase perfection These walls are my blank expression My mind is a home I’m trapped in And it’s lonely inside this mansion.” — NF, “Mansion” NF’s words feel like they were written about me. Being a pastor’s kid was supposed to mean safety, faith, and family. For me, it meant performing while dying inside. It meant carrying secrets that no one wanted to see. It meant learning to paint over cracks because that’s what my father did. I was sexually abused for nine years. The worst part wasn’t just the abuse — it was that when I finally spoke, my father pretended it didn’t happen. He wanted to keep everything “fine,” to protect the image of a godly family. So he painted over the truth. He brushed a new coat of “forgiveness” over my pain, the kind that really means bury it deeper. He wanted the picture-perfect house. And I learned to live in...