Being considerate of others will take your children further in

The words of Marian Wright Edelman — “Being considerate of others will take your children further in life than any college degree.” — carry the quiet power of ancient wisdom disguised in modern simplicity. They speak not of worldly ambition or academic triumph, but of the heart’s education — the sacred schooling of empathy, kindness, and moral strength. In an age that worships achievement, Edelman reminds us of a truth that the wise have always known: that character is the foundation upon which all true success must stand. For without compassion, even the most brilliant mind becomes hollow; but with it, even the humblest soul becomes great.

Marian Wright Edelman, founder of the Children’s Defense Fund, has spent her life fighting for the voiceless — for the poor, the neglected, the young. Her quote arises not from theory, but from experience, from years spent witnessing that education alone cannot heal the wounds of a society lacking in care. She saw that the greatest measure of a person’s worth is not the diploma they hold, but the kindness they extend. Her message, therefore, is both moral and prophetic: that no system of schooling can replace the simple, divine art of treating others with dignity. To be considerate is not a weakness, but a strength more enduring than intellect — a force that builds bridges where arrogance builds walls.

The ancients, too, held this truth as sacred. The philosopher Confucius taught that benevolence — ren — was the highest virtue, the heart of all moral action. He said that “to love others” was the root of wisdom and harmony in society. Likewise, in the teachings of Christ, love of neighbor stands as the ultimate commandment, greater than all knowledge. Edelman’s words flow from the same eternal river — the understanding that the essence of humanity lies not in what we know, but in how we care. To be considerate is to remember that every person we meet carries unseen burdens; it is to act not from pride, but from compassion.

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, a man whose formal education was minimal — barely a year of schooling — and yet whose wisdom and moral courage reshaped a nation. What lifted Lincoln above others was not academic pedigree, but empathy — his ability to feel deeply for both the enslaved and the oppressor, to imagine the pain of others as his own. His kindness did not make him weak; it made him steadfast. His greatness was born not in lecture halls, but in the crucible of compassion. And so Edelman’s words find their echo in history: it is not the degree, but the heart, that determines the measure of a life.

There is a profound humility in her message. In saying that kindness takes one “further in life,” she does not reject education — she sanctifies it by placing it in its proper order. For knowledge without goodness is a sword without a hilt — sharp, but dangerous to the one who wields it. A college degree may open doors, but only consideration for others keeps them open. The truly wise know that success built upon selfishness is fragile, but success grounded in empathy endures, for it is sustained by the trust and love of others.

In these words lies a call to parents and teachers alike: teach compassion as diligently as you teach intellect. Let your children learn equations and languages, but also teach them to listen when another speaks, to notice when someone is hurting, to share when they could hoard. Show them that no diploma will matter if they lack the grace to uplift others. The world may value credentials, but it is moved — and healed — by kindness. To raise a child who is considerate is to gift the world with a healer, a leader, a builder of peace.

So let this be the lesson, O listener: wisdom begins with compassion. Seek education not as an ornament, but as a tool to serve. When you walk among others, remember that greatness is not measured by the titles behind your name, but by the tenderness of your heart. To be considerate of others is to walk in harmony with life itself — to carry light into the darkened places of the world.

For in the end, Marian Wright Edelman’s truth stands as both reminder and prophecy: that the measure of a civilization is not in its universities or its wealth, but in the kindness of its people. If your children learn to be considerate, they have already surpassed every degree. For empathy, once rooted in the soul, will carry them not only further in life — but higher toward the eternal good. And in that ascent, they will not only find success; they will bring the world along with them.