I am the kind of person who organizes my life around traditions. There is a joke in our community that once we do something once, we put it on the calendar in perpetuity. These traditions and rituals shift and change over time, but they still function as the glue that holds us together.
I gathered recently with a large group of families who have been taking a weekend away together for nearly twenty years. We head north in Minnesota to bundle up, sing together, play in the snow, and build shared emotional memories. For the last seven or so years, we have integrated a talent show into our weekend schedule. It is often barely contained chaos, punctuated by five-year-olds delivering jokes, acts pulled together at the last minute, and slightly unhinged renditions of “Let It Go” from Frozen. It is cute and hilarious.
This Year Was Different
This year, however, the talent show hit differently. I started crying at the first act and didn’t stop until we wrapped up with a dance party at the end.
It hit differently partly because of context. Living in Minneapolis right now, salt water is in a perpetually leaky holding tank behind my tear ducts. I have cried in rage, in grief, and in exhaustion over the last two months.
But watching those children share their talents this year, I was moved to tears for another reason, too. There was something profoundly instructive about watching children, from 11 months old (behold the incredible new skill of hand clapping!) to high school, earnestly share their skills and gifts. There was something equally powerful about watching a community reverently receive those offerings.
One sixth grader played the ukulele. One nine-year-old sang the entire song “Lost Boy” by Ruth B. They didn’t miss a note or lyric. An eighth grader choreographed and performed a modern dance in tribute to her dance instructor, who passed away this year. Two parents joined her, one a professional dancer and one learning in public.
Practicing Together
Each of these performances was uniquely sincere and delightful. But my tears were also fueled by the larger meaning of what we were practicing together: contribution. Right in front of us, children were building the skills of reflection. What do I care about? What skills do I have? They were also practicing action. How might I bring these to the world? And how do I receive the gifts of others?
The talent show had never felt so relevant, or so needed. After all, as a dear friend of mine likes to remind leaders hoping to shift culture, “How we do anything is how we do everything.”
A Movement Is a Talent Show at Scale
Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, marine biologist and author of What If We Get It Right, popularized a tool to help people plug into the climate movement by identifying personal contributions at the intersection of:
- What are you good at?
- What work needs doing?
- What brings you joy?
People in Minnesota are modeling this at scale right now. There is no single way to create safety for kids and families in a time marked by dehumanizing violence, chaos, and uncertainty. Instead, a broad swath of neighbors across the state are pausing to reflect, and choosing to act, on Dr. Johnson’s questions.
Someone’s talent is spreadsheets. Another’s is leading songs. Another’s is buying groceries. Another’s is fundraising. Another’s is delivering sambusas. Sign us up. We’re ready to step in next.
The work happening in Minneapolis, by educators, students, neighbors, and helpers of all kinds, is not exactly a talent show. I understand that. The metaphor falls apart when we look directly at the violence and abuses of power unfolding on the stage. These are not rehearsed performances, and the goal is not applause or accolades. Joy is honestly hard to come by.
But this is a time to bring our gifts and contributions, however small, to the world we are building together.
The night before the talent show, families shared what they were doing in Minneapolis to give or receive support. One insightful eighth grader shared something along the lines of: “There are so many people doing things that need to be done, and that is good and important. But there are also people inventing new things and new ideas. That feels helpful too.”
Helping Helps Us Feel Better
For parents navigating stressful events, it’s natural to focus on the question, “What should we say to our kids?” Words do matter. Talking to children can help them make sense of the experience, find reassurance, and name their emotions. But during a time of uncertainty and crisis, what we do together can be just as important as what we say. This includes extra snuggling, playing, reading, singing, cultural practices, and connecting.
Let’s add helping to the list.
We have a mountain of evidence that prosocial behavior fuels resilience. It boosts happiness, reduces stress, enhances self-esteem, and strengthens social connections. Purposeful contribution is a core ingredient for healthy development in the adolescent years.
Hardwired to Help
While we human beings are capable of cruelty, we are hardwired to help. A study of 18- and 30-month olds found that children of both ages voluntarily engaged in instrumental helping (such as helping an experimenter reach something), empathic helping (such as giving a sad experimenter a toy), and altruistic helping (such as handing over a favorite toy).
Prosocial behavior doesn’t stop in childhood. As social brain networks mature, adolescents become better able to consider the perspectives and needs of others and find creative ways to show up for them. Increased reward sensitivity fuels prosocial risk-taking, not just the negative risk-taking that dominates the headlines. These risks pay off. Teens who are seen as prosocial by their peers through caring and contribution enjoy higher status than those who attempt to gain status through bullying behaviors.
Helping is a powerful pathway to wellbeing when it is rooted in mutuality and community, not pity and saviorism. Helpful actions grow from the understanding that our health and wellbeing are inextricably linked. Helpful actions are not about rescuing or being a “fixer” but about ongoing shared responsibility.
Make it a tradition, and it becomes the glue that holds us together.
Model, Invite, and Work Together
Studies indicate that the benefits of prosocial behavior flow when people feel agency over their contributions. Pushing someone on stage is not nearly as powerful as letting people sign up themselves.
The goal is to model, plant seeds, and coach skills, not to force specific actions or shame kids into participation. Learning how to hold big emotions and translate them into helping behaviors that truly serve others is complex work. It takes maturation, coaching, and practice. It helps to learn, in age-relevant ways, about long traditions of collective care and social change.
Developmental science reminds us that helping also looks different at different ages. For a younger child, it may be offering comfort, drawing a picture, or helping gather supplies alongside an adult. For adolescents, it might include making art, being a good friend, learning from mentors, or organizing and showing up in solidarity with others.
Be patient. Some kids may feign indifference as a way to manage overwhelming feelings. Others may want to charge into dangerous situations without the experience to fully understand the context or risks. Some need encouragement to rest and draw boundaries; others need encouragement to try something. Helping behaviors are works in progress throughout early childhood and adolescence.
Raising Good Neighbors
Mister Rogers told us to tell children to “look for the helpers” during a crisis. It is our responsibility as adults to be those helpers and do everything we can to keep children and families safe. We can also gently remind children that it is not their job to take care of adults or to solve adult problems.
But Mister Rogers also believed children were capable of understanding complex, difficult, and emotional topics, and he trusted their capacity to contribute. He reminded children that, “All of us, at some time or other, need help. Whether we’re giving or receiving help, each one of us has something valuable to bring to this world.”
Ultimately, he believed in young people’s capacity to be good neighbors.
The Show Goes On
Next year during our annual tradition up north, we will likely hold a talent show again. In the meantime, we reflect. What do I care about? What skills do I have? And we act. How might I bring these to the work that needs doing? How do I receive the gifts of others?
If we keep at it, we might just invent something new, something shaped by long traditions of movement building and shared responsibility.
After all, how we do anything is how we do everything.