I was raised on a farm in Nebraska, where everybody knew your name—and any trouble you got into was sure to be shared within minutes over the party line phones, and certainly the next day at the local beauty shop, the corner store, Bertie Lou’s Diner, the Feed and Grain Supply, and finally at the Sit ‘N’ Bull Saloon that evening!

Like the day I was driving out of our neighbor’s driveway, lighting up a cigarette to take the edge off my anxiety before getting home. I dropped it on the floor, reached down to pick it up, drove straight into a deep ditch—and had to be pulled out!

Or another time when I was driving home, frantically flipping ashes out the open window so my mother wouldn’t smell smoke on me or in the car. I parked, turned off the ignition, and walked into the house—only to hear the town fire truck screaming up our driveway to put out the fire in my backseat!

Not to mention the moment early in my senior year that I will never, ever forget.

I came home carrying the unmistakable scent of smoke, so my mother immediately demanded I unlock my gym bag, fully prepared to bust me for smoking. I can still see the sheer, unadulterated shock on her face when, instead of a pack of Marlboro’s, she pulled out a small container of contraceptive foam.

I don’t know what shocked her more—the foam or the realization that cigarettes were the least of her worries that day!

Her immediate parenting response was to ground me from driving to school—and from seeing my boyfriend—until hell froze over. Seeking a little sympathy, I vented to a classmate I thought was a friend, only to watch the entire scandal spread through our small town like brushfire. Publicly humiliated (again!), I received a crash course in energetic resilience, teenage drama, and the art of surviving high school. 

“When we are our most vulnerable, we are our most powerful.”
-Page 246, Energetics Of Behavior

Small-town life teaches an unspoken lesson about surviving scrutiny: the one thing you never do is brag about yourself. That’s why writing this page comes with a bit of trepidation, a lot of humility, and just enough real-life experience so you know you’re in good hands!

Early on, I learned to hide my light under a bushel basket—just so I wouldn’t stand out or risk someone not liking me. But over time, I realized something critical: if I let the fear of being judged, mocked, or disliked keep me hidden, I can’t help you step into your light.

Every morning, my 6th graders would burst into the classroom shouting, “Ms. R, Ms. R! Guess what I figured out last night!” or “Guess where I got to go!” I caught myself thinking: everyone should know about this good news.

That’s how our morning Brag & Blab routine was born. Early in my teaching career, we started every single day by cheering about even the smallest successes and happiest moments with each other.

It wasn’t long before even the shyest students were eagerly stepping into the spotlight at the front of the room to share their victories. We celebrated our hits and our misses together, learning to laugh at ourselves—and with each other—safely.

We built ever-changing learning teams—switching groups daily so every child connected with everyone—and created a strong community that followed them right out onto the playground, where they watched over one another entirely on their own.

Together, we learned a valuable lesson about true prosperity: there is enough greatness in each of us to celebrate one another’s gifts, with plenty to go around.