There is a quiet wisdom in the way a child watches the world.

Their eyes are wide and not yet clouded by the cynicism of adulthood.

Their hearts are constantly open, always believing in a way that most of us have forgotten how to do.

Questions come tumbling out of their mouths like marbles spilled across a hardwood floor.

But for some reason, we tend to take that precious innocence for granted. Instead, we spend so much of our time hurrying them toward the next milestone in life.

We are continually preparing them for standardized tests, college applications, their future career, that we far too-often overlook the one thing that truly matters.

We forget to teach our children how to live.

We forget to teach them how to live life with a sense of purpose or a spark of joy.

Sure, we are diligent in ensuring that they can multiply fractions. But I wonder if we are equally dedicated to teaching them how to multiply kindness.

We help them as they learn to navigate the family car in the hopes of getting their driver’s license. But do we ever sit down and help explain to them how to navigate a broken heart?

Do we instill in them the quiet strength that is required to overcome some crushing disappointment?

Or do we ever stop and try to explain that bittersweet, heavy ache that comes with simply growing up?

Life, as we all eventually learn, is not a subject that can be found between the covers of a textbook.

It is never found inside a lecture hall or on a college syllabus.

Life is learned in the silence of those ordinary moments.

Moments when a parent chooses to love unconditionally through any mistake.

Moments when a teacher pauses the clock and truly listens to a disheartened child.

Moments when a friend offers forgiveness even before it has been asked for.

Life is learned in the way we model grace through the daily pressures.

It is learned in how we choose to find laughter in the middle of domestic chaos.

It is learned in how we cling to hope whenever the weight of the world feels absolutely unbearable.

If we stop and be honest with ourselves, we will see that our world has become a place that is often unrecognizable.

It can be cruel, unsympathetic, impatient and alarmingly indifferent.

Yet despite our fiercest instincts to build a fortress around our children, our grandchildren, our great grandchildren, we simply cannot shield them from the world.

So, how exactly can we protect them and what exactly is it that we should be teaching them?

Perhaps we should begin by showing them that failure is not the end. Rather, it is the very beginning of wisdom.

We should teach them that storms do eventually pass. And they often leave behind a sky that is decorated with the most beautiful of rainbows.

We need to teach our children that their worth is never measured in the weight of a trophy.

Nor is it measured by the letter grade found at the top of their report card.

No, we need to remind our children their worth is measured in ways that include how they choose to treat a stranger when no one else is watching.

We need to let them know how valuable they truly are. And we need to keep whispering it to them until they truly believe it.

We need to teach our children how to locate the hidden beauty in the mundane.

We need to instill in them the understanding that “perfection” is just a hollow, made-up word. That there is no such thing as a perfect life. Nor is there a perfect person. That is a mantle held by God alone. And it is perhaps the most vital lesson of all.

We need to teach our children about him … the one who provides the ultimate blueprint for our soul.

We are living in a world that moves at an excessively high rate of speed.

It demands more of our time, more of our spirit each day. And rarely does it pause to check to make sure if we are OK.

No, if we want our children, our grandchildren, to truly succeed rather than merely get by, we need to teach them.

It is not the job of a professor or a stranger on the internet. It is ours.

It is up to us to teach them the sanctity of self-respect and the necessity of respecting others.

We need to teach our children the importance of possessing a heart of gratitude for what they have, instead of wishing and wanting for what they lack.

We need to ingrain in our children the importance of honesty, the quiet dignity of integrity and the transformative power of empathy.

Because in the end, the most important lessons will not be about what they know.

They will be about who they have become.

And that is a curriculum that is certainly worth writing.

(Stenger is the community editor of the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times newspapers. She can be contacted at jstenger@heraldstaronline.com.)