Goodness not Greatness: Raising Good Kids In A World Obsessed With Power

For our sons, it’s the possibility of homicide and suicide that haunt me most.

Everything else—the risk of brain cancer, broken legs, broken hearts, grades, sports, screens—I can handle. But those two? They rattle the cage of my soul.

These numbers come from the CDC’s vital stats. After the first year of life, the three leading causes of death for kids in Michigan are:

1. Accidents (7.2 deaths annually, per 100k)

2. Suicide (4.3 deaths annually, per 100k)

3. Murder (4.0 deaths annually, per 100k)

Even if the numbers are “low” statistically—15.5 per 100,000—they’re real. And if it’s my kid, even a low-probability event is worth preparing for.

So I keep coming back to this:

What are we actually trying to do as parents?

Every parenting decision we make—whether we realize it or not—is moving us in one of two directions:

• Path 1: Raise kids to be wealthy, powerful, and comfortable

• Path 2: Raise kids to be capable of caring for themselves and other people

These two paths can overlap. But often, they don’t. And when they come into conflict (and they do), we have to choose which way we’re heading.

Power might shield my sons from pain. But only goodness prepares them to handle life—and show up for others in it.

That wasn’t just a philosophical shift for me. It was personal. And it started in a tough stretch with our oldest son.

When It Got Real

A couple of years ago, he was in a class with a few kids who were really struggling—kids who were acting out in ways that scared others. It got physical. The teachers did their best, and eventually things got better. But for a while, the whole class was walking on eggshells.

At home, my son was clearly carrying it. He was angry, out of sorts, lashing out. It was intense. And honestly, kind of scary at times.

That’s when it clicked: I can’t control everything that happens to him. But I can help him build the tools to handle it.

I had read the books. I thought I understood this stuff. But this was the moment where theory turned into real change. I started parenting less like a protector and drill sergeant, and more like a coach. I had to let go of control, and start helping him figure things out for himself—even when it was messy.

It’s not fast work. It’s not easy. But I believe in it. And it’s why I choose Path 2. We can’t shield our kids from the world—but we can prepare them to stand in it.

OKRs for Parenting Goodness

I think about parenting like I think about strategy—aspiration, objectives, key results.

Aspiration: Raise kids who are good people—who can take care of themselves and others.

Here’s how I break that down:

• Love them unconditionally

• Be a role model—we become good people too

• Help them become lifelong learners

• Raise them in a community where people care for themselves and support others

This post is about that third one—learning. (For thoughts on how we actually become role models for goodness, I wrote this book: Character by Choice (Link).

Yes, school matters. Teachers matter. But especially as our kids get older, we have the most influence. The most time. The most moments. If we don’t step into that, even the best schools can’t fill the gap.

Here’s what I try at home—key results that help build lifelong learners.

🧠 Be There, Literally

If I’m not there, I can’t influence them.

Keep moving toward the exit.
A colleague once told me, “Don’t stop moving on your way out of the office.” Whether I’m working remotely or in person, that line helps. There’s always one more thing. But every extra minute at work is a minute I’m not with my kids—and the window’s short.

I’ll take you with me.
There’s this Luke Combs song with that line, and I think about it every time I run errands. I ask the kids if they want to come. Usually they don’t. But sometimes they do. And those little trips lead to unexpected conversations, random laughter, and small moments that matter.

Have them help.
Our five-year-old made scrambled eggs the other day. I didn’t need help, but he offered. So I said yes. These little “can I help?” moments add up. They learn by doing, and they get to feel useful—and that’s a good feeling.

Be a parking lot parent.
My wife talks about how her mom was always around the school, helping out in small ways. Not necessarily running the PTA every year—just showing up. We do that now. Not superstars, just present. It lets our kids know we’re paying attention, and we care, even from the sidelines.

💬 Be Fully Present

If I’m not truly there, I can’t reach them.

Emote and express.
When I’m anxious or angry and I don’t deal with it, it leaks out. Journaling is how I keep track of what’s going on inside. It doesn’t fix everything, but it gives me enough clarity to show up for my kids with more calm and attention.

Timebox.
I literally put family time on my work calendar for a while—dinner, bedtime, even Saturday mornings. It helped me draw boundaries between work and home. I started saying: “If I’m not going to solve this now, I’ll set it down and come back to it later.” It took practice, but it worked.

Get on the floor.
The world my kids live in doesn’t move fast. It doesn’t follow a schedule. Sometimes I have to literally get on the floor and let them climb all over me. That’s when I stop giving them attention and start letting them take it. That’s presence.

🧩 Make Them Think

If I think for them, how will they learn to work it out themselves?

Turn the question around.
When they ask me “what’s 13 + 3?” or “is that a train?” I try to flip it: “What is 13 + 3?” It makes them pause, think, guess. And it gives them practice in saying something out loud and standing by it.

No baby talk.
Never been into it, honestly. But over time, I’ve come avoid baby talk for reasons beyond just finding it irritating. Speaking to them like real people has created space for more back-and-forth, more curiosity. They ask deeper questions. They answer more fully. There’s less distance between us.

You try first.
I’m a fixer by nature. I want to jump in and do it for them—whether it’s wiping yogurt off a face or getting a book off a shelf. But now I say, “You try first, then I’ll help.” Most of the time, they figure it out. And that builds confidence I can’t manufacture.

🎓 Make Them Teach

Teaching builds mastery—and confidence.

Would you teach me?
I didn’t grow up Catholic, and my oldest has religion as part of his school day. One day, I asked him to teach me what he’d learned—and he lit up. Now I ask all my kids to teach and show me how to do things. They love it, and honestly, I usually learn something too.

What did you get better at?
I used to do full debriefs after soccer practice—like I do with teams at work. It wasn’t working. Now, I just ask: “Did you have fun?” and “What did you get better at today?” It opens up space without judgment. And sometimes, they teach me how to improve.

Can you show your brother?
With siblings, we get this beautiful opportunity to turn learning into leadership. If one kid figures something out, I’ll say, “Can you show your brother?” It reinforces what they’ve learned—and reminds them that we learn best by giving it away.

🙏 Please Share Your Wisdom

Being a Path 2 parent is an uphill climb. The patience of it is really hard. And, though I share these tactics with good intent, I don’t really know what works. None of us do.

But I figure this: we each know something that works.

So please consider sharing what’s worked for you. What you’ve tried. What’s been messy, and what’s been beautiful. Your story might be exactly what another parent needs to hear right now (namely, me!).

The road of Path 2 parenting is hard—but it’s less hard when we walk it together.