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Exploring Fear: Portrayal and Impact in 'Monster Under the Bed'

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The setting

A characterization of Eddie and Angie

Point of view, the main theme, the main theme is about fear.

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Monster Under The Bed!

What if the monster under the bed was just lonely and shy? Have some spooky fun with this writing prompt to challenge your point of view. Try writing from the point of view of the monster under your bed. Maybe he isn't so scary after all!

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The Monster Under the Bed

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#311 “It Runs in the Family”

Oh, does it now?

Poetry Center

Ode to the Monster Under My Bed / Odes to Face Our Fear of the Dark

Are you afraid of the dark? When the lights go out in your bedroom at bedtime do you imagine creatures? Do you imagine a boogie monster under your bed? Or a ghoul in the closet? Many of us imagine spooky, scary creatures in the dark—you’re not the only one who is afraid of the dark. I’m afraid of the dark sometimes, too.

Believe it or not, sometimes the way to feel less afraid of the scary monsters lurking under our bed is to face them—or even talk to them! In our exercise today, we’ll be writing an ode to the spooky, scary monsters that live in the dark.

What is an ode? An ode is a poem in honor of or dedicated to a specific thing. Why would we want to honor the monster under our bed? Often the things we’re afraid of most, have the most to teach us.

Before we write our ode, let’s take a moment to brainstorm.

Step 1. Think of the monster under your bed. In our pretend poetry world, we can talk to the monster and know that we’ll be safe.  

Step 2. Brainstorm the following questions about your monster.

• What does this monster look like? What characteristics does it have? Is it big? Small? Does it have scales or fur? Brainstorm as many physical traits as you can!
• What does this monster sound like? Does this monster growl? Bark? Does it have a scary laugh?
• What does this monster want?
• Is the monster under your bed lonely?
• Could this monster be friendly?
• What do you think this monster would say if you talked to it?

Step 3. Fill out the poem below to write your ode!

An Ode to the Monster Under My Bed

Oh, monster under my bed,

You make me ___________ How does the monster make you feel?_ ____

You have ______ _ What are the monster’s physical traits. What does it look like? _____

I don’t like ______ Something you don’t like about the monster ______

When the lights go off in my bedroom at night, you ________ What do you imagine this monster does in the night?______

This makes me ______How do you feel about this?_____

Monster, I don’t always like you, but what if we were friends?

Do you have any ____Something you wonder whether or not the monster has—friends, toys, food, family. _____

Monster, are you afraid of the __What is something else you’re afraid of besides this monster?______ like me?

I would like to ____What would you would like to do with the monster—play tag, hide and go seek, bake cookies?_______

Monster, would you ____What you would like the monster to do for you? How do you want the monster to treat you? What would you want the monster to give you?______

Monster, _____What is one last thing you want to tell the monster?_____

Step 4. Read you poem out loud to a friend!

Contributor: 

Education level: , genre: , format: , time frame: , required materials: .

Helping Kids Overcome the Fear of the Monster Under the Bed

Everyone needs rest. A good night’s sleep is not just important for adults but for kids as well.

When a child fails to get enough sleep, this can affect their ability to pay attention, with consequences for their academic performance in school. Poor sleep can also cause a kid to swing between hyperactive and grumpy, with effects that mimic attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD ).

Every night, children around the world worry about the monster under the bed. This common fear prevents your little one from getting the adequate, quality sleep they need.

If your little ones are afraid of the dark and are convinced that the monster under their bed will crawl out, don’t worry. You can take steps to help your kids overcome teraphobia and get better sleep at night .

What Does “Monster Under the Bed” Mean?

Before we get to the solution, let’s first define the phrase “monsters under the bed”. Depending on the country or region, these fictional creatures are supposed to sneak in under the cover of darkness and hurt, steal or eat kids who misbehave in some way. The bogeyman, for instance, may come and kidnap children who don’t behave in a certain way or refuse to go to bed.

Dozens of cultures and countries have some variations of the bogeyman, and some are scary. Several Latin nations feature the Sack Man who steals misbehaving kids and puts them away in a sack. Russia has Baba Yaga, an old and powerful witch that eats kids. The Netherlands has the Butzemann, a shadowy, cloaked figure that hides in corners and under beds waiting for little ones to stay up past their bedtime.

What’s common with all these countries is that they share the concept of monster under the bed that can prevent your child from getting a good night’s rest.

Why are Kids Scared of Monsters Under Their Beds?

The world can be a scary place for kids. The things they hear and see are new at one point and have to figure out whether they pose a threat or not. Part of that frame of reference comes from a kid’s parents. A child will likely believe that something is scary if their mom or dad says it’s scary.

The fear of a monster under the bed, similar to nightmares, begins between four and five years of age as a kid’s imagination. This becomes more vivid, as kids start to understand more abstract concepts but still encounter difficulty differentiating fact from fiction.

This fear may also originate from the child’s quickly expanding imagination along with the lack of understanding of the world around them. Kids lack experience in mastering the art of falling asleep and coping with sounds at night. They’re particularly vulnerable to indicators or signs of threat at night.

Kids develop cognitive skills along with their ability to imagine things like scary monsters when they enter their primary school years. Their fear of the dark gets projected onto the caricature of the Sack Man, bogeyman or whatever monster is under the bed.

How to Get Rid of the So-Called Monster Under the Bed

As a parent, you need to demonstrate empathy to your child when they’re afraid of a fictitious monster under the bed. You maintain this even when your kid cries out repeatedly or gets out of bed every night.

Here are some suggestions to alleviate fears about creatures lurking under the bed:

Come up with a Calming Bedtime Routine

A good bedtime routine can help a child relax their mind before going to bed. A few things you might want to incorporate into your kid’s bedtime routine are snuggling with Mom or Dad, reading a few books or bedtime stories and taking a bath. A calming routine can help your little ones fall asleep quicker — which translates to less time worrying about the monsters under the bed.

Monitor Your Child’s Media and Gaming Console Use

Restrict your child’s access to media and games that includes violence, horror or anything that might be scary. Also, be particularly mindful of anything your little one may be confusing just before bedtime.

Use a Night Light

An additional light source in the bedroom or hallway may help alleviate a child’s fear of the dark or monsters. Just make sure you do this cautiously. Light can disrupt a kid’s circadian rhythms and keep them awake longer. When getting a night light, keep it dim and prevent it from shining your child’s face.

Practice Being in the Dark

When your child is afraid of the dark, doing something enjoyable when the lights are out can help them realize that darkness isn’t scary at all. You could, for instance, tell bedtime tales using just a flashlight. You could also look at the moon and the stars before bed and help your child find the constellations. The goal of this activity is to show that darkness isn’t a bad thing.

Look Under the Bed Together

Before you turn off the room lights, ask your child if they want to look under the bed together. Use a flashlight and tell your little one what you see. Searching the place where kids think monsters might be hiding helps them face their fears head-on.

Using a little creativity and kindness, you can help your child overcome the fear of a monster hiding under the bed. Helping them face this fear builds a foundation for working through other fears they may face in the future.

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Dr. Serena Dreamcatcher

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Contest #169 shortlist ⭐️

Monster Under My Bed

Submitted into Contest #169 in response to: Write about someone finding a monster under their bed. ... view prompt

April Mattson

Thriller Bedtime Horror

The exact details are hazy. I was in college, my junior or senior year, and it was a creative writing class. We were in the computer lab that day, working on our personal essays, but many of us were stuck. “Take a snapshot from your life,” our professor told us. “Select a good one- a hard one, a happy one. Take your pick. And then write about it. How hard can it be?” Behind the glib tone, however, a smile; he was heckling us, and we returned it with equal fervor. Mock fervor; pretend outrage. Our relationship with him was easy, comfortable. An older man, tall and slightly stooped, he occasionally read us the stories he’d written himself; and sometimes- ridiculously so, now that I think back on it- he’d pass them out for us to read, giant stacks of them, with the option of censored copies (black Sharpie streaked across whole paragraphs); and uncensored ones, rife with…I can’t remember, exactly. Sexual stuff? Gore? What else could it be? So funny how this professor, teaching a college level class, was so parsimonious, even protective. Sweet, really.   

Anyhow, it was with this sense of ease that we’d brainstormed out loud, volleying ideas back and forth, our voices clambering over each other. A snapshot then; not the curated sort with placid smiles and stiff postures. Candid ones. Microexpressions of rage or joy; the authentic ones.

With unusual brashness, I announced, “At night, my sister used to hide under my bed and grab me. She’d do it almost every night for…” I thought for a moment. “Gosh, for like a year.”

This stopped the class. They laughed and grimaced in equal measure. Every night?  

“Yes,” I said, laughing with them. “Almost every night. I’m not exaggerating.”

They asked the obvious question: But wouldn’t I expect it, night after night? 

I kept my tone light, but the attention made me feel warm; flushed. “It wasn’t only under my bed. She’d cram herself into my side table. Like really contort herself. Or she’d hide behind the clothes hanging in my closet. She once even tried to hide under my mattress, but she couldn’t manage it.” 

But why , they asked? 

“She loved to scare me. It made her laugh. And it always worked. I’d scream every time. I’d check, of course. I’d look under my bed, but I swear, I couldn’t see her. And then,” my hands reached up and clenched into fists, “she’d grab me.”

That’s crazy, someone said. Your sister was messed up. 

And then we moved on. I wrote my essay, and inspired by such a receptive audience, I titled it “Monster Under My Bed.” A facetious title, as it was all in jest. A prank on a younger sister, an endless loop until she tired of it.  

But why now, all these years later, sitting at my computer on a random Saturday afternoon, was I thinking about it now? Why did this memory awaken and move through the corridors of my mind, crystallizing into this thought: That my sister, hiding under my bed, night after night, was indeed messed up ? What provoked it, benign as it was, said by someone I can’t remember, a singular discombobulated voice?

Because my sister wasn’t the type to be messed up; such a thing was inconceivable. In fact, she was now a proper mom of three. If only my creative writing class could see her now; in fact, they could see her now- in real time; she had, to date, 354,000 followers on her Instagram and even more on the mothership, Youtube. (Or was it the other way around?) At any rate, she was a vlogger of some merit, an influencer of beige playsets, nurseries with muted colors, casually slung swaddlers reminiscent of ancient Mami’s, pointed acrylics, a sparkling rock with sliding bands on slender fingers.

Her husband was a dentist; a decent guy, devoted to college football and beer-soaked bratwurst. He shied away from the camera, but when encountered, he smiled affably, offering token words with his usual good nature; complicit to the narrative of his wife, my sister, a harried mother of two little girls, with their high-pitched voices and adorable hijinks. And yet, on their vlog- Babymoon in Hawaii!- he was, in my opinion, from the eight years I’d known him, rather disingenuous. He didn’t seem the type to…well, hold the camera, only an arm visible, wearing a white linen shirt (when had he ever worn linen?);  and my sister, gingerly stepping over rocks, a wispy sheath of white dress, hair flowing behind her, reaching for him, hand extended, laughing, her mouth wide open, rapturously happy. A filter which made it soft around the edges, plaintive music in the background, John Mayer, or perhaps Michael Buble; a husky croon.

The babymoon was seven months ago, the baby having since been delivered. A boy. The vlog- Gender Reveal!- was quite the to-do. You can see me, there in the background, rounder in width than my sister’s tight drum of a belly; I was wearing dark jeans and a sensible blouse; she was wearing a dress of indiscriminate color- a sort of urine-colored prairie dress with a simple baby-blue headband; a wink to the viewers of what she really desired. She didn’t care, of course, they both didn’t care, but she’d lean into the camera and whisper intimately to her best friends, aka her viewers, that she really hoped it was a boy. Wink, wink.   

Was I a tad bit disappointed when the giant firecracker (or whatever that tubular device was), emitted the blue powder, cloaking everything with its residue? Everyone roared with joy. Even me, I must admit- quite the dopamine hit. 

It took me a while, but I found the paper. Some digging was necessary, deep in the bottom drawer of my cherrywood desk. But there it was. I felt the old thrill of seeing the title, “Monster Under My Bed,” and the professor's faded red pen: See me .  

When I did see him, at his office the next day, he asked if I’d sign a waiver form. The university was offering a new online course, and would like, with my permission, to use my personal essay as an example. 

I was flattered, dimly wondering if my essay was to serve as a template of terrible writing. I never checked, not wanting an affirmation either way. But reading it again, with the wisdom of years behind me, I discovered that my memory belied me. It wasn’t the jocular tone I remembered; it held a bite to it. It was the proof I needed. For what, exactly? I couldn’t say. Such a thought hadn’t articulated itself, just a deep sense of being wronged. 

I took it with me to our next family gathering, which happened to be Thanksgiving at my parent’s house. Only rarely did my sister vlog there. She also never called to warn me (maintaining that vlogging was best when done spontaneously- although the bigger her daughters’ bows, and the more aesthetically pleasing her outfit, contradicted this), I took greater care, blowing out my hair and wearing jeans that would inevitably feel constricting. 

No bows on the girls. My sister in sweats, sans makeup: thus no vlogging. Was I disappointed? Goodness no. I felt miffed, however, as, once again, it would have been nice to have known beforehand. It was useless to ask my mom, as she took the attitude of come-what-may. She never cared if the house was messy or how frumpy she looked. I don’t think she ever watched the vlogs. 

The air felt heavy with the smells of turkey; oily and pungent. And there was my sister, sitting on the couch, tiredly nursing her baby. Ben was happily watching football with my dad; he looked relaxed, his scruff longer than what was normally deemed acceptable.  

Sitting next to her, I found with increasing annoyance that I could not catch her attention. Every time I started a conversation, she’d half-heartedly listen, and then: “Emmaline! Don’t touch your sister!” Or: “Addy, go grab the diaper bag for Mommy.” And so on. 

Finally, after dinner, when my mom offered to give the girls their bath, and during another round of nursing, I thrust it at her. “I wrote this about you.”

“What is this?” She looked at it dubiously. “You wrote about me?”  

I tried to sound casual. “I just found it going through my things. I wrote it back in college.” I couldn’t help myself. I added, “It was published, you know.” Ah, what a simpering fool I was! To downplay such hubris, I quickly said, “Obviously, it was forever ago.” Not even true. Was an online publication for educational purposes considered published? Hardly a matter to equivocate, as she didn’t take notice. What was being published, even to a top literary magazine, in comparison to the shiny jewel of social media? 

 “But why did you write about me?”

She took the baby off her nipple, red and shiny, before covering herself- laconically, in my opinion. I’d have been mortified. 

“Just read it,” I demanded, which made her look at me in surprise. I grabbed her warm loaf of a baby before she could protest. “I’ll burp him.” She eyed me warily at my fumbling attempts of holding him over my shoulder. 

“No,” she said, “not like that,” And then a tutorial followed: his body hunched over, his face settling into his multiple chins, staccato-like pats against his back. 

I gestured for her to read, and with a sigh she complied, her face slightly pinched. And when she was done, she put the paper face down onto her lap. 

“It was messed up, right?” I said, echoing my classmate, this voice of validation. “Hiding under the bed like that?”

“Yes, Anna,” she replied, in a clipped tone. “It was.” She regarded me evenly.

Bravely I stared back at her. I felt triumphant. My face must have glowed.

 She removed the paper from her lap and set it onto the coffee table, and then gestured for me to hand back the baby. With expert deftness, she leaned him forward and patted his back with such efficient swiftness, he promptly belched, loud and reproachful. A viscous bubble grew from his puckered mouth. We both watched until it popped. 

“So then why did you do it?” I pressed. My voice held a challenge. Now that I had an admission, I wanted more: atonement, prostration. But truly, a simple apology would have sufficed.    

To my astonishment, she asked primly, “What did I do?” She used a baby cloth to wipe at his mouth, the popped bubble now forming a drool down his chin. 

“Hiding under my bed and scaring me like that? It was weird, right?” My voice grew in provocation. “And remember, you’d hide in other places, too.” 

“Well, that’s exactly what I want to know, Anna.” She let the sentence hang for a moment. “Because it was you who scared me .” 

This I wasn’t expecting. My body surged with sudden heat. I wanted to strike her. I wanted to erase the smirk from her face. Instead I said the first thing that came to mind. A childish retort. “No it wasn’t.” 

She leaned toward me, her baby a shield (her children served as the armor she wore; or perhaps the weapons she wielded; or at the very least, the props), and said, “Yes it was, Anna. You were the one who hid under my bed and grabbed my ankles. You were the one that hid in my closet, and you were the one that hid in every corner of my room. I honestly can’t believe you would blame it on me.”

I shook my head. Now I wanted her to stop. Now I wanted her to shut up. The audacity! This was gaslighting of the worst order. She overused that word on her vlog. So-and-so was gaslighting me; but I’m too clever; I know my truth ; I have my voice . 

My thoughts skittered. Where was Ben? He’d gone to get diaper cream; my dad was snoring in the living room; my mom, by the sound of it, had finished the bath; the rush of running water through the pipes overhead had stopped.  

She continued, “It scarred me. I’m serious. Even now, when I go to hotels, I have to run and then leap onto the bed, so I don’t get too close. So someone doesn’t grab me from underneath. Ben laughs about it.” (How I burned with shame at the image; she and Ben laughing at me.) “ You were the monster under my bed, Anna. Not me.” And then mildly, “It was such a stupid thing to do. It wasn’t funny at all. I should have told Mom and Dad, but maybe I felt sorry for you. You really seemed to enjoy it.”  

And with that, she lifted the heft of her baby and walked into the kitchen. She was going to mix her formula with her breast milk for his nightcap; I knew this because it was one of the tips she offered her viewers: How To Make Your Baby Sleep Through The Night! 

I sat there, furious. I was the monster? Me? But what could I do? I didn’t know how to defend myself. I did not have the arsenal of her words. She was too clever, too malevolent; her verbal acuity would only assail me. 

And then Ben came home, and seeing my expression, asked if I was okay.  

I smiled weakly at him. “I’m fine.”

I left the couch and wandered aimlessly for a bit. A silly thing to do- wander inside the confines of a house, not take a walk outside where the air was crisp and might offer a little clarity.  At some point, I went upstairs to check on my mom and the girls. The bathroom was balmy, thick with the smell of shampoo. Addy was brushing her teeth (just a toothbrush with clear gel, safe for ingesting) while sitting on the porta potty. (My sister would not approve.) My mom was running a comb through Emmaline’s wet hair. I asked her if she needed any help, but she cheerfully assured me she did not. She had it under control. 

Fine by me. The care of toddlers was exhausting. I could only handle them in doses, and to be honest, I hadn’t quite found my footing in the role of aunt yet. I told myself that I’d do better when they were older; I’d be a safe haven, I was sure, when they needed an escape from their mother. Not mom, but mother. 

I felt unsettled, agitated. I found myself wandering the upstairs. Past my parent’s bedroom. Past the spare bedroom, with a pack n play set up in the corner, a queen-sized bed with the dingy blue quilt. Ben would drive home, as would I, as I only lived a half hour away, but my sister often slept over, she and the girls in the bed, the baby in the portable crib. And why wouldn’t she, as my mom never protested her demands, waking up early and doing the lion’s share of the work. My sister needed her rest, naturally. 

Agitated. Up and down the halls. I paced. 

And then I paused. 

Sudden movement; wildly, impulsively, without thought. I scurried. I slithered. It was tight, tighter than before. 

I pressed my face into the carpet to muffle my laughs. Yes. Yes . 

Smell cannot betray memory. And while this wasn’t the house I’d grown up in, wasn’t the room, wasn’t the bed, there would always be that smell. Slightly chemical, specific to a place that didn’t bear the traffic of shoes, of feet, of spills. A place of safety; of darkness, like a womb; a sacred place. There under the bed. 

She was right, my sister. How had I forgotten this place? Where no one could see me, invisible as I was, entombed.   

I waited, there under the bed. Waited as the springs jounced- heavier from my mom as she read the girls a story, lighter from my nieces, as they rolled to and fro. Tears streamed down my face. I shook with laughter, pressing my face, again and again, into the coarse weave of carpet. 

The anticipation, the waiting, oh the sweetness. My body thrummed with hilarity. My mom left. The girls giggled. Addy cried. Emmaline soothed. And I cackled into the carpet. 

Finally, finally, she came. All was quiet. I didn’t peek, the bedskirt did not quiver. She was murmuring; she was holding the baby. Closer now. Closer. 

I pounced. 

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39 likes 14 comments

Well done! Congratulations on the shortlist :) I love this story because it has to do with memories and our perception of them. It's intriguing to me how she remembered the monster under the bed being her sister and then only much much later realizing it was herself. We can be so good at hiding the darkest part of ourselves at times so it was super cool to read her character arc as it developed through the story.

Oh my, the writing is exquisite! And I was not expecting that ending. It is interesting to me how the MC could get the role twisted, how she could forget about her being the monster under the bed, but it is not unbelievable. We can convince ourselves of these things, make ourselves the victim or even make ourselves the monster. When she confronted her sister, I thought maybe there was a real monster that was tormenting both of them, but this ending was much more satisfying. It was a twist that you executed so well! Delightful read! Congratu...

Thank you so much!! I appreciate your thoughtful comments. It means so much to me:)

In the first layer of the story you weave us around brilliantly. The memory problems. The naughty professor that seem to Beckon his own class to be naughty. The descriptions of In-laws in love with sports. You quietly hud the meaning of the monster under the bed. But you really took this prompt in an original way. (For me, I would have broke up the first paragraph So that it speeds into the story a little more. When there are 400 stories to read each week so many excellent stories gets ignored by the first paragraph). Now on to....the WOW...

Oh my goodness- thank you!!

I felt a squeal of delight with the ending! Didn't see it coming. It was so well executed. A truly enjoyable read 💕

This is a lovely story! I was surprised by how it turned out and the development of the character. It tells you that everyone has a dark secret, some are just skilled at hiding it. I do have a few questions, however. What made you think that this was good enough to post? Have you ever thought that everyone would make fun of you if you posted this? How do you block out the hate or is that just impossible? (Sorry, I didn't pay attention to my grammar in this!)

This was so well done! I was drawn in immediately. I found it relatable because my sister and I used to try and scare each other all the time! My skin always prickles at the idea of an unreliable narrator and then there was the way you described her. Slithering. Scurried. I wasn't sure what was going to happen and the line "she was holding the baby" was such a sinister line. Thank you for sharing! I'm looking forward to the next one. :)

hello will you help me find the 1. EXPOSITION 2.RISING ACTION 3. CLIMAX 4, FALLING ACTION 5.RESOLUTION 6. CONFLICT from the story please.

I love this!! The truth and how we shape it to fit our narrative! So, so good!

Oh this was a good story! I loved the twist, and her enjoyment of being the Monster again- 'I pounced' was great!

Great story, congrats on making the shortlist. The opening scene with the professor and the story about your sister hiding under the bed is absolutely brilliant. It was so intriguing on so many levels. And the tension on how the professor and the class would react to your telling of the story out loud. And nice reveal at the end, I've had similar experiences with learning what I remembered was wrong, interesting how memory can play tricks like that. The one-liner two word ending is perfect.

Thank you so much! I truly appreciate you taking the time.

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The Monsters Under the Bed Are Real: Why Children Protest Bedtime

Forced Bedtimes: An Evolutionary Mismatch

(Image from the Monsters Inc. movie by Pixar. This article first appeared in Peter Gray’s blog in Psychology Today   and is reposted here with his permission . )

Infants and young children in our culture regularly protest going to bed.  They make all sorts of excuses. They say they are not tired, when in fact they obviously are tired. They say they are hungry, or thirsty, or need to hear a story (and then one more story)–anything to stall.  They talk about being afraid of the dark, or afraid of monsters in the closet or under the bad.  Little babies without language, who can’t yet describe their fears or try to negotiate, just scream.

Why all this protest?  Many years ago, the famous behavioral psychologist John B. Watson argued, essentially, that such behavior is pathological and derives from parents’ overindulgence and spoiling of children.[1]  Remnants of that view still persist in books on baby care, where the typical advice is that  parents  must be firm about bedtime and not give in. This, the experts say, is a battle of wills, and you, as parent, must win it to avoid spoiling your child. 

But clearly something is missing in this explanation from the experts. Why do infants and young children choose to challenge their parents’ will on this  particular issue?  They don’t protest against toys, or sunlight, or hugs (well, usually not). Why do they protest going to bed, when  sleep  is clearly good for them and they need it?

The answer begins to emerge as soon as we leave the Western world and look at children elsewhere.  Bedtime protest is unique to Western and Westernized cultures.  In all other cultures, infants and young children sleep in the same room and usually in the same bed with one or more adult caregivers, and bedtime protest is non-existent.[2].  What infants and young children protest, apparently, is not going to bed  per se , but going to bed alone, in the dark, at night.  When people in non-Western cultures hear about the Western practice of putting young children to bed in separate rooms from themselves, often without even an older  sibling  to sleep with, they are shocked.  “The poor little kids!” they say. “How could their parents be so cruel?”  Those who are most shocked are people in hunter-gatherer societies, for they know very well why young children protest against being left alone in the dark.[3]

Until a mere 10,000 years ago we were all hunter-gatherers.  We all lived in a world where any young child, alone, in the dark, would have been a tasty snack for nighttime predators.  The monsters under the bed or in the closet were real ones, prowling in the jungle or savannah, sniffing around, not far from the band’s encampment. A grass hut was not protection, but the close proximity of an adult, preferably many adults, was protection.  In the history of our species, infants and young children who grew frightened and cried out to elicit adult attention when left alone at night were more likely to survive to pass on their  genes  to future generations than were children who placidly accepted their fate. In a hunter-gatherer culture only a crazy person or an extremely negligent person would leave a small child alone at night, and at the slightest protest from the child, some adult would come to the rescue.

When your child screams at being put to bed alone at night, your child is not trying to test your will! Your child is screaming, truly, for dear life. Your child is screaming because we are all genetically hunter-gatherers, and your child’s genes contain the information that to lie alone in the dark is suicide .

This is an example of the concept of  evolutionary mismatch .  We have here a mismatch between the environment of our evolutionary ancestors, in which our genetic being was shaped, and the environment in which we live today. In the environment of our evolutionary ancestors, a child alone at night was in serious danger of being eaten. Today, a child alone at night is not in serious danger of being eaten.  In the environment of our evolutionary ancestors, no sane parent–or grandparent, or uncle, or aunt, or other adult band member–would ever let a small child sleep alone.  If a child were inadvertently left too far from an adult in the dark at night, the child’s cry would be immediately heeded.  Today, without the realistic dangers, the child’s  fear  seems irrational, so people tend to assume that it is irrational and that the child must learn to overcome it.  Or, if they read the “experts,” they learn that the child is just testing their will and acting “spoiled”.  And so, people battle their child rather than listen to the child and to their own gut instincts that tell them that any crying baby needs to be picked up, held close, and cared for, not left alone to “get over it.”

What do we do about evolutionary mismatch?  In this case, two alternatives appear.  We can do what the “experts” advise and engage in a prolonged battle of wills, or we can do what our genes advise and figure out some not too inconvenient way to let our children sleep close to us.  When my own son was small, long ago when I was a graduate student, the choice was easy. We lived in a one-room apartment, so there was no way to put him to bed separate from us.  In some ways life is easier when you are poor than when you can afford an apartment or house with more than one room.

—–

What do you do, or did you do, about your children’s bedtime? Was it a problem? How did you resolve it?  I’m especially interested in the experiences of people who have made the choice–contrary to most pediatricians’ advice–to allow their children to sleep with them.  How did you make that work?

——

Notes : 

[1] Watson, J. B. (1928).  Psychological care of infant and child . New York: Norton.  //   [2] Barry, H., & Paxson, L. (1971). Infancy and early childhood : Cross-cultural codes, 2.  Ethnology, 10,  466-508.  // Morelli, G. A.  et al . (1992), Cultural variation in infants’ sleeping arrangements. Questions of independence.   Developmental Psychology, 28,  604-613.  //    [3] Konner (2002).  The tangled wing: Biological constraints on the human spirit  (2 nd  ed.). New York: Holt.

Peter Gray is a research professor of psychology at Boston College. He has conducted and published research in comparative, evolutionary, developmental, and educational psychology; published articles on innovative teaching methods and alternative approaches to education; and is author of  Psychology  (Worth Publishers), an introductory college textbook now in its 6th edition. He did his undergraduate study at Columbia University and earned a Ph.D. in biological sciences at Rockefeller University. His current research and writing focuses primarily on children's natural ways of learning and the life-long value of play. His own play includes not only his research and writing, but also long distance bicycling, kayaking, back-woods skiing, and vegetable gardening.

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Dr. Gray, thank you for this article! It makes so much sense! I have two children, ages 1 and 4 years. Against the advice of almost everyone I know, my husband and I have always allowed them into our bed and have never let them “cry it out.” As infants they slept safely beside me. As older babies they fall asleep in my arms, are placed in a crib asleep, and as soon as they awake during the night are brought to bed with us for the rest of the night. They go to sleep when they are tired and fall asleep, not when a clock says it is time. My 4 year old goes to sleep in her bed and usually wakes up at some point, comes into our room and just climbs up into our bed, knowing she is always welcome there. Thank you for offering this fascinating evolutionary explanation!

Agreed – my 3 year old has slept beside me (first in my bed, now in her own bed next to mine) since birth (even in the hospital) and I have never had an issue with her going to sleep – and she sleeps for 12 hours without waking every night (unless she’s occasionally sick, but even then she is very calm as she knows i am right next to her, holding her hand). The thought of forcing her to sleep on her own and leave her to cry horrifies me, but I know lots of people who do that – but it seems that they are the people who have real sleep issues with their children, so why do they persist? A lot of them say its because they want their bedroom to themselves to get a better night sleep, but they seem to end up spending a lot of time sitting in the child’s bedroom trying to get them back to sleep in the middle of the night, and then getting up extremely early in the morning. We do have a set bedtime, as if she was left to stay up until she chose to go to bed she would definitely get overtired and upset, but i’ve never found that set time to be a problem – generally as soon as i say its bedtime she will happily go to bed and lie down. She is not scared of the dark – she has no reason to be as she knows I am right there if she needs me.

What an interesting thought – that children are scared of the dark as a survival tactic. I’ve never thought of that before. Our house is spread out, with two small bedrooms close together upstairs, and the master bedroom downstairs and on the other side of the house. Sending my children to bed across the house on another floor is not something I would consider doing while they’re young. And they ARE really scared up there at night! They won’t even go in their rooms alone at night to get their pajamas or something they’ve left during the day such as a blanket or stuffed animal! We started “co-sleeping” before we ever heard the term out of natural parental instincts, not really as a conscious decision. We’ve just always done what came naturally. My husband is a night owl, so my children and I fit fine in our queen size bed together. When he gets in the bed between 4 -6 am, though it’s a tight squeeze, and he sometimes moves one LO down to a matress on the floor. It’s usually not long before said little one is back up in the big bed. I get out of the bed before long though and they’re comfy again. My children go to bed when I do, between 9 – 11pm. They sleep later than I do, which gives me some quiet time in the morning to prepare for the day and even spend some alone time with hubby if I get up early enough!! My husband works from home with a flexible schedule and we homeschool, so we aren’t held to anyone else’s schedule. My children are 3 & 5, so I feel a transition coming before too long. Not sending them to a different room, but maybe a futon in the same room? Our room’s not that big, so I’m not sure. Glad to hear a doctor having regard for parents’ and children’s natural instincts instead of trying to force them to ignore them in order to force children into our culture’s ridiculous mold of normality. Thank you.

It always seemed a bit strange to me that you would have a baby then seperate yourself from it at a time when everyone is at their most vunerable, and unaware. When I had my baby daughter it wasn’t really a choice to have her sleeping with us it was just what felt right so that’s what we did.. as this was my first baby I had no other experience either way so I was just going along with what felt most natural and i just could not contemplate not having her with us. She was very little so we got one of the those snuggle beds which have soft but slightly ridget sides so that she wouldn’t roll under us and she slept on that between us until she got too big for it, then in a baby hammock above us or right next to me on a stand that allowed me to put my hand in and sway the hammock if she fussed. When she out grew out of her hammock we had a cott next to the bed until she turned 3. We never had any sleep issues at all and it was a lovely experience for all of us and something that I believe instilled a strong sense of safety and well being with my little one . Things were getting a wee bit squishy as she got bigger so when she turned 3, her birthday present was her own newly decorated room and a beautiful antique oak double bed , we decided to made it a bit of a mile stone event so she was super excited about getting her big girl room, we also decided to get a big bed so that we could sleep with her if we needed to, particularly when she was sick. She always knew that she was welcome in our bed if she wanted to come in and would often jump in with us for a cuddle and story in the morning but only ever in the morning not through the night. I used a monitor for her room to begin with so that if she cried or woke up distressed I was there pretty promptly, so she knew early on that if she needed us, all she needed to do was shout, we had that for a couple of weeks then it was taken out as it wasn’t needed anymore. I believe her being able to sleep with us for the time she did and having no real restrictions in regards to that, her being carried in a sling alot of her waking time when she was little and whenever she needed to when she was older, has helped shape this confident, secure almost 4 year old who kissed and waved goodbye to her mummy on her first day at kindy without a tear, dropped bottom lip or even a backward glance. It is what feels right and the most natural , I think all parents would agree so why do people fight such a basic instinct.

I heard a few explanations, but this one is new for me. Makes sense.

I don’t have children yet, but I see the evidence of children wanting to feel someone as they fall asleep from my family.

Thanks again, Idan.

With our first we read the books and toughed it out thinking we were doing the right thing. It tore us up listening to her cry herself to sleep. Still regret the decision to this day, but she has matured into a wonderful, happy adult with many friends and a wonderful personality. The worst thing about being a parent is you know you will make mistakes, sometimes totally unbeknownst to you, the good news is kids are pretty resilient and grow up to be wonderful in spite of that. With my son we did reversed course and never had him cry it out. Sometimes I would lay with him in his bed, sometimes he would come join us and I would transfer him later. I would have really appreciated this article then, but we managed. He is still close and we hug a lot. There was a time during Middle school that my daughter refused hugs, my son never went thru that phase. Maybe no public hugs, but in private he never stopped. My daughter came back to hugs in high school happily.

when my now 2 year old was first born we co slept with her because i couldn’t imagine her in another room all by her self and we got a lot of negative comments from a ton of people but we stuck with it till she got to big for our double bed but we set up her crib in the same room it wasn’t till very recently that we put her in her own room but before we put her to be we always look under the be and in the closet because she was so scared and then i sit in her room until she is almost asleep but before i leave i always tell her that if she gets scared to come and get her mommy or daddy and we come in and start the process again when she first started sleeping in her own room it was 6 or 7 times a night that we were in there helping her get to sleep but now its usually just the first time and then she sleeps 10-12 hours

My kids both co-slept with us in our bed until they were 2, then they shared a bed in our room for a year or so. They now have their own rooms (they are 3 and 5) and I adjusted them via a gradual gentle process of parenting them to sleep by sitting within sight between their rooms each night. For the first few months they’d both come in to our bed in the middle of the night and were welcomed without hesitation. That period was tiring but didn’t last long and now they ask for bed when they’re tired (usually before ‘bed time’) and after goodnight kisses they both happily fall off to sleep alone, then sleep all night. We’ve never had a fight over bed time and I believe both children now have the strong, positive sleep associations of love and security. It’s interesting to me that the parents who were negative about our ‘cotton wool’ approach all have kids who still fight and cry at bedtime…. It’s through articles like yours that we found the information and support we needed to stick to our instincts as parents and tune out advise to the contrary – so thank you!

You could check out monster-defense.com. We have a wonderful-smelling spray available now & a fun, illustrated children’s story coming out in Dec 2013 that tells the story of a little boy with a monster in his room, and how he overcame his fear of monsters. In researching online prior to writing the book, we read many articles from child & adolescent psychologists and parents about recommended methods for dealing with fear of monsters, and interpreted this into a fun, rhyming story which gives parents direction on how to help & gives kids the tools necessary to overcome their fear.

We are not prisoners of our instincts; we can make choices to manage old instincts that no longer apply to human life much of the time. While those instincts are not entirely obsolete, they are mostly no longer useful to us. For example, in the developed world we no longer fight others for food, fight off animals, or “spread the seed” far and wide to ensure continuation of your genetic line (for males). So why must we continue the instinctual need to sleep in large groups for safety from animals or weather? To each his own, but I disagree with your particular reasoning. I did not have my child until I was late 30’s, 5 years after graduate school, so I feel my thoughts and opinions on this are based on my own life experience and education prior to having children, as well as a few years afterward. My child is nearly 4 now.

Thank you, excellent article. I think you are spot on about fear of the dark and monsters under the bed. It is universal, I have studied it.

I am Terry Sachetti, the inventor of the Force Field Cloak, and I like to explain it like this. “Remember when we were kids and afraid of the dark unable to fall asleep for fear of monsters under the bed or in the closet? We would hide under our blankets because we believed they had the power to protect us, right? Millions of children, every night, experience fear of the dark, and parents, like me, struggled to find a solution. The Force Field™ Cloak visually reinforces that protective power children believe in already, and they know what a Force Field is. Now they can have their very own personal Force Field to protect them from whatever they may be afraid of.” If they are or are not afraid of the dark, it is just a ton of fun to play with. Making Nighttime Fun Time.

I am not encouraging kids to believe in Monsters or whatever fears they may have. However, with all that is going on in the world today, what kids are seeing and hearing, it does cause anxiety in many forms. This is just something to help them through some tough times. Most kids go through this period and some never grow out of it. Over 24% of adults are still afraid of the dark. I bet you know one. At the very least, this is just a ton for fun to play with. You can see it for yourself by going to our site ForceFieldFun.com I have written a book with characters that represent children’s most common fears, so they can better deal with them. It is a lot easier to deal with a fear if we can put a face on it.

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The monster under the bed: a short story, sometimes monsters aren't what kids are afraid of..

What the hell am I supposed to do? I think to myself as I sit at my desk. Jennie Miller has yet again rejected another monster assigned to her.

I read through her file with my tentacle fingers, and see that she has had 56 monsters total, all having been brought back to headquarters because she wasn’t afraid.

Are my men not scary enough? That’s impossible, we have the best training to prepare our monsters for the human world. But what five-year-old can be capable of rejecting so many monsters consecutively?

I decide to assign myself to little Jennie Miller.

That evening, I make myself comfortable under her bed. She has the room to herself along with a closet conveniently placed directly in front of her bed.

I poke my head out from underneath the bed and see bright green numbers on the ballerina clock on the bedside table, next to a lit lamp that read 9:30 PM. She should be coming to bed soon. I slither back under and stare at the bed frame above me.

A closet in plain sight like that would be easily used to scare a child by reaching out and slowly opening the doors. The blankets hang over the edge of the bed so much that one could simply tug at them to spook the child in the bed above.

How could she have rejected 56?

My thoughts are interrupted by the door opening, and little Jennie Miller running in with her over-sized T-shirt and stuffed bunny. She closes the door and jumps onto her bed.

I keep quiet.

I hear her sigh before the light of the lamp is turned off, and the bed shifts while she lays on her side to get comfortable to sleep.

I slowly slither my tentacle up the side of the bed. I can feel her sheets and her pillow before I gently, but noticeably, poke her nose.

I hear her stir and quickly bring my finger back down below. All I get in return is what seems like a frustrated exhale, and the bed shifts again as she flips to her other side.

I use my other arm to reach up the other side. I feel her hand at the edge of the bed, so I decide to slither my tentacle fingers up her arm to her shoulder, and then to her cheek, where I run my fingers along her cheekbone.

I feel her face scrunch up, and she slaps my hand away.

“You are NOT going to scare me, monster!” she yells.

Many children her age know there are monsters under their beds; it makes it all the more fun and simple to get our jobs done.

The number 56 continues to repeat in my head. It still doesn't make any sense.

I move to the foot of the bed and slide both my tentacle arms up either side to grab her feet. I use more force, as my fingers search for her skin, to make a slithering sound loud enough for her to hear.

Just as I begin to grasp her skinny little ankles, she brings her knees up to her chest and her feet out of my reach.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” she yells again. This is when I hear fast and angry footsteps, followed by the bedroom door barging open.

“Why the fuck are you yelling, you little shit?!”

The woman is wearing skinny jeans and a very low-cut shirt. She pushes her messy hair out of her face. A nearly empty bottle in one hand, and the other grabs the door frame for balance.

She's drunk.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry, mommy,” little Jennie replies. I can hear the cowering in her voice.

“I have company over, you ungrateful baby,” the woman spits, “That could be your new daddy out there. Don't you want a daddy?”

“Yes mommy,” I barely hear Jennie whisper over the loud swig the woman takes from the bottle in her hands.

“You look at me when I’m talking to you,” there’s more anger in her voice, and she takes a step toward the bed, “I am your mother, God dammit, you need to show me more respect.” Her voice raises and I hear Jennie begin to cry.

“You’re such a little baby. Five-year-olds don’t cry like you do, or yell at nothing and interrupt their mothers’ important meetings. You’re such an embarrassment.”

Jennie begins to cry harder, and the woman takes a few more steps towards the bed while rolling her eyes.

She throws the bottle to the floor, the glass shattering as it crashes against the hardwood.

Jennie screams.

I see the woman clench a fist at her side, and lift her other hand up as if she’s going to… no.

I shoot out from underneath the bed and stand between Jennie and the woman. I hear them gasp, and the woman begins to step back. I tower over her and narrow my eyes.

“Who the fuck are --“

“Leave her alone, she’s mine, ” I snarl. I stretch my tentacle arms out to block the bed even more.

“I will always be here, with her. If you ever lay a hand on her, I swear, I will make you regret it.” Purple sweat oozes from my skin out of anger, and the woman begins to tremble.

For every step I take towards her, she takes two back until she's out of the room and in the hallway.

Yellow liquid runs down her leg.

“She’s mine ,” I repeat in a hiss, as I shut the door in her face. I turn around to see little Jennie climbing off of her bed and running towards me.

She hugs my leg, barely wrapping her small arms all the way around. She says nothing, and just cries.

I pick her up and carry her back to her bed. She brings the covers up to her chest, and I use my tentacle finger to sweep her hair to the side of her face and wipe away her tears.

“You’re safe with me,” I smile at her. She gives me a small smile in return and closes her eyes.

I crawl back to my place under her bed.

We aren’t the monsters she’s afraid of.

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25 beatles lyrics: your go-to guide for every situation, the best lines from the fab four.

For as long as I can remember, I have been listening to The Beatles. Every year, my mom would appropriately blast “Birthday” on anyone’s birthday. I knew all of the words to “Back In The U.S.S.R” by the time I was 5 (Even though I had no idea what or where the U.S.S.R was). I grew up with John, Paul, George, and Ringo instead Justin, JC, Joey, Chris and Lance (I had to google N*SYNC to remember their names). The highlight of my short life was Paul McCartney in concert twice. I’m not someone to “fangirl” but those days I fangirled hard. The music of The Beatles has gotten me through everything. Their songs have brought me more joy, peace, and comfort. I can listen to them in any situation and find what I need. Here are the best lyrics from The Beatles for every and any occasion.

And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make

The End- Abbey Road, 1969

The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful and so are you

Dear Prudence- The White Album, 1968

Love is old, love is new, love is all, love is you

Because- Abbey Road, 1969

There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be

All You Need Is Love, 1967

Life is very short, and there's no time for fussing and fighting, my friend

We Can Work It Out- Rubber Soul, 1965

He say, "I know you, you know me", One thing I can tell you is you got to be free

Come Together- Abbey Road, 1969

Oh please, say to me, You'll let me be your man. And please say to me, You'll let me hold your hand

I Wanna Hold Your Hand- Meet The Beatles!, 1964

It was twenty years ago today, Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play. They've been going in and out of style, but they're guaranteed to raise a smile

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band-1967

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see

Strawberry Fields Forever- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Can you hear me? When it rains and shine, it's just a state of mind

Rain- Paperback Writer "B" side, 1966

Little darling, it's been long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it' s been here. Here comes the sun, Here comes the sun, and I say it's alright

Here Comes The Sun- Abbey Road, 1969

We danced through the night and we held each other tight, and before too long I fell in love with her. Now, I'll never dance with another when I saw her standing there

Saw Her Standing There- Please Please Me, 1963

I love you, I love you, I love you, that's all I want to say

Michelle- Rubber Soul, 1965

You say you want a revolution. Well you know, we all want to change the world

Revolution- The Beatles, 1968

All the lonely people, where do they all come from. All the lonely people, where do they all belong

Eleanor Rigby- Revolver, 1966

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

With A Little Help From My Friends- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967

Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better

Hey Jude, 1968

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday

Yesterday- Help!, 1965

And when the brokenhearted people, living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be.

Let It Be- Let It Be, 1970

And anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders

I'll give you all i got to give if you say you'll love me too. i may not have a lot to give but what i got i'll give to you. i don't care too much for money. money can't buy me love.

Can't Buy Me Love- A Hard Day's Night, 1964

All you need is love, love is all you need

All You Need Is Love- Magical Mystery Tour, 1967

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. all your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird- The White Album, 1968

Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life, I love you more

In My Life- Rubber Soul, 1965

While these are my 25 favorites, there are quite literally 1000s that could have been included. The Beatles' body of work is massive and there is something for everyone. If you have been living under a rock and haven't discovered the Fab Four, you have to get musically educated. Stream them on Spotify, find them on iTunes or even buy a CD or record (Yes, those still exist!). I would suggest starting with 1, which is a collection of most of their #1 songs, or the 1968 White Album. Give them chance and you'll never look back.

14 Invisible Activities: Unleash Your Inner Ghost!

Obviously the best superpower..

The best superpower ever? Being invisible of course. Imagine just being able to go from seen to unseen on a dime. Who wouldn't want to have the opportunity to be invisible? Superman and Batman have nothing on being invisible with their superhero abilities. Here are some things that you could do while being invisible, because being invisible can benefit your social life too.

1. "Haunt" your friends.

Follow them into their house and cause a ruckus.

2. Sneak into movie theaters.

Going to the cinema alone is good for your mental health , says science

Considering that the monthly cost of subscribing to a media-streaming service like Netflix is oft...

Free movies...what else to I have to say?

3. Sneak into the pantry and grab a snack without judgment.

Late night snacks all you want? Duh.

4. Reenact "Hollow Man" and play Kevin Bacon.

America's favorite son? And feel what it's like to be in a MTV Movie Award nominated film? Sign me up.

5. Wear a mask and pretend to be a floating head.

Just another way to spook your friends in case you wanted to.

6. Hold objects so they'll "float."

"Oh no! A floating jar of peanut butter."

7. Win every game of hide-and-seek.

Just stand out in the open and you'll win.

8. Eat some food as people will watch it disappear.

Even everyday activities can be funny.

9. Go around pantsing your friends.

Even pranks can be done; not everything can be good.

10. Not have perfect attendance.

You'll say here, but they won't see you...

11. Avoid anyone you don't want to see.

Whether it's an ex or someone you hate, just use your invisibility to slip out of the situation.

12. Avoid responsibilities.

Chores? Invisible. People asking about social life? Invisible. Family being rude? Boom, invisible.

13. Be an expert on ding-dong-ditch.

Never get caught and have the adrenaline rush? I'm down.

14. Brag about being invisible.

Be the envy of the town.

But don't, I repeat, don't go in a locker room. Don't be a pervert with your power. No one likes a Peeping Tom.

Good luck, folks.

19 Lessons I'll Never Forget from Growing Up In a Small Town

There have been many lessons learned..

Small towns certainly have their pros and cons. Many people who grow up in small towns find themselves counting the days until they get to escape their roots and plant new ones in bigger, "better" places. And that's fine. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought those same thoughts before too. We all have, but they say it's important to remember where you came from. When I think about where I come from, I can't help having an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for my roots. Being from a small town has taught me so many important lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

1. The importance of traditions.

Sometimes traditions seem like a silly thing, but the fact of it is that it's part of who you are. You grew up this way and, more than likely, so did your parents. It is something that is part of your family history and that is more important than anything.

2. How to be thankful for family and friends.

No matter how many times they get on your nerves or make you mad, they are the ones who will always be there and you should never take that for granted.

3. How to give back.

When tragedy strikes in a small town, everyone feels obligated to help out because, whether directly or indirectly, it affects you too. It is easy in a bigger city to be able to disconnect from certain problems. But in a small town those problems affect everyone.

4. What the word "community" really means.

Along the same lines as #3, everyone is always ready and willing to lend a helping hand when you need one in a small town and to me that is the true meaning of community. It's working together to build a better atmosphere, being there to raise each other up, build each other up, and pick each other up when someone is in need. A small town community is full of endless support whether it be after a tragedy or at a hometown sports game. Everyone shows up to show their support.

5. That it isn't about the destination, but the journey.

People say this to others all the time, but it takes on a whole new meaning in a small town. It is true that life is about the journey, but when you're from a small town, you know it's about the journey because the journey probably takes longer than you spend at the destination. Everything is so far away that it is totally normal to spend a couple hours in the car on your way to some form of entertainment. And most of the time, you're gonna have as many, if not more, memories and laughs on the journey than at the destination.

6. The consequences of making bad choices.

Word travels fast in a small town, so don't think you're gonna get away with anything. In fact, your parents probably know what you did before you even have a chance to get home and tell them. And forget about being scared of what your teacher, principle, or other authority figure is going to do, you're more afraid of what your parents are gonna do when you get home.

7. To trust people, until you have a reason not to.

Everyone deserves a chance. Most people don't have ill-intentions and you can't live your life guarding against every one else just because a few people in your life have betrayed your trust.

8. To be welcoming and accepting of everyone.

While small towns are not always extremely diverse, they do contain people with a lot of different stories, struggle, and backgrounds. In a small town, it is pretty hard to exclude anyone because of who they are or what they come from because there aren't many people to choose from. A small town teaches you that just because someone isn't the same as you, doesn't mean you can't be great friends.

9. How to be my own, individual person.

In a small town, you learn that it's okay to be who you are and do your own thing. You learn that confidence isn't how beautiful you are or how much money you have, it's who you are on the inside.

10. How to work for what I want.

Nothing comes easy in life. They always say "gardens don't grow overnight" and if you're from a small town you know this both figuratively and literally. You certainly know gardens don't grow overnight because you've worked in a garden or two. But you also know that to get to the place you want to be in life it takes work and effort. It doesn't just happen because you want it to.

11. How to be great at giving directions.

If you're from a small town, you know that you will probably only meet a handful of people in your life who ACTUALLY know where your town is. And forget about the people who accidentally enter into your town because of google maps. You've gotten really good at giving them directions right back to the interstate.

12. How to be humble .

My small town has definitely taught me how to be humble. It isn't always about you, and anyone who grows up in a small town knows that. Everyone gets their moment in the spotlight, and since there's so few of us, we're probably best friends with everyone so we are as excited when they get their moment of fame as we are when we get ours.

13. To be well-rounded.

Going to a small town high school definitely made me well-rounded. There isn't enough kids in the school to fill up all the clubs and sports teams individually so be ready to be a part of them all.

14. How to be great at conflict resolution.

In a small town, good luck holding a grudge. In a bigger city you can just avoid a person you don't like or who you've had problems with. But not in a small town. You better resolve the issue fast because you're bound to see them at least 5 times a week.

15. The beauty of getting outside and exploring.

One of my favorite things about growing up in a rural area was being able to go outside and go exploring and not have to worry about being in danger. There is nothing more exciting then finding a new place somewhere in town or in the woods and just spending time there enjoying the natural beauty around you.

16. To be prepared for anything.

You never know what may happen. If you get a flat tire, you better know how to change it yourself because you never know if you will be able to get ahold of someone else to come fix it. Mechanics might be too busy , or more than likely you won't even have enough cell service to call one.

17. That you don't always have to do it alone.

It's okay to ask for help. One thing I realized when I moved away from my town for college, was how much my town has taught me that I could ask for help is I needed it. I got into a couple situations outside of my town where I couldn't find anyone to help me and found myself thinking, if I was in my town there would be tons of people ready to help me. And even though I couldn't find anyone to help, you better believe I wasn't afraid to ask.

18. How to be creative.

When you're at least an hour away from normal forms of entertainment such as movie theaters and malls, you learn to get real creative in entertaining yourself. Whether it be a night looking at the stars in the bed of a pickup truck or having a movie marathon in a blanket fort at home, you know how to make your own good time.

19. To brush off gossip.

It's all about knowing the person you are and not letting others influence your opinion of yourself. In small towns, there is plenty of gossip. But as long as you know who you really are, it will always blow over.

Grateful Beyond Words: A Letter to My Inspiration

I have never been so thankful to know you..

I can't say "thank you" enough to express how grateful I am for you coming into my life. You have made such a huge impact on my life. I would not be the person I am today without you and I know that you will keep inspiring me to become an even better version of myself.

You have taught me that you don't always have to strong. You are allowed to break down as long as you pick yourself back up and keep moving forward. When life had you at your worst moments, you allowed your friends to be there for you and to help you. You let them in and they helped pick you up. Even in your darkest hour you showed so much strength. I know that you don't believe in yourself as much as you should but you are unbelievably strong and capable of anything you set your mind to.

Your passion to make a difference in the world is unbelievable. You put your heart and soul into your endeavors and surpass any personal goal you could have set. Watching you do what you love and watching you make a difference in the lives of others is an incredible experience. The way your face lights up when you finally realize what you have accomplished is breathtaking and I hope that one day I can have just as much passion you have.

SEE MORE: A Letter To My Best Friend On Her Birthday

The love you have for your family is outstanding. Watching you interact with loved ones just makes me smile . You are so comfortable and you are yourself. I see the way you smile when you are around family and I wish I could see you smile like this everyday. You love with all your heart and this quality is something I wished I possessed.

You inspire me to be the best version of myself. I look up to you. I feel that more people should strive to have the strength and passion that you exemplify in everyday life.You may be stubborn at points but when you really need help you let others in, which shows strength in itself. I have never been more proud to know someone and to call someone my role model. You have taught me so many things and I want to thank you. Thank you for inspiring me in life. Thank you for making me want to be a better person.

Waitlisted for a College Class? Here's What to Do!

Dealing with the inevitable realities of college life..

Course registration at college can be a big hassle and is almost never talked about. Classes you want to take fill up before you get a chance to register. You might change your mind about a class you want to take and must struggle to find another class to fit in the same time period. You also have to make sure no classes clash by time. Like I said, it's a big hassle.

This semester, I was waitlisted for two classes. Most people in this situation, especially first years, freak out because they don't know what to do. Here is what you should do when this happens.

Don't freak out

This is a rule you should continue to follow no matter what you do in life, but is especially helpful in this situation.

Email the professor

Around this time, professors are getting flooded with requests from students wanting to get into full classes. This doesn't mean you shouldn't burden them with your email; it means they are expecting interested students to email them. Send a short, concise message telling them that you are interested in the class and ask if there would be any chance for you to get in.

Attend the first class

Often, the advice professors will give you when they reply to your email is to attend the first class. The first class isn't the most important class in terms of what will be taught. However, attending the first class means you are serious about taking the course and aren't going to give up on it.

Keep attending class

Every student is in the same position as you are. They registered for more classes than they want to take and are "shopping." For the first couple of weeks, you can drop or add classes as you please, which means that classes that were once full will have spaces. If you keep attending class and keep up with assignments, odds are that you will have priority. Professors give preference to people who need the class for a major and then from higher to lower class year (senior to freshman).

Have a backup plan

For two weeks, or until I find out whether I get into my waitlisted class, I will be attending more than the usual number of classes. This is so that if I don't get into my waitlisted class, I won't have a credit shortage and I won't have to fall back in my backup class. Chances are that enough people will drop the class, especially if it is very difficult like computer science, and you will have a chance. In popular classes like art and psychology, odds are you probably won't get in, so prepare for that.

Remember that everything works out at the end

Life is full of surprises. So what if you didn't get into the class you wanted? Your life obviously has something else in store for you. It's your job to make sure you make the best out of what you have.

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