• My teenage daughter needed logistical and emotional support to thrive in her first job.
• We tried to be purposeful about helping her save some of her earnings.
• She's also learning the importance of work-life balance.

When my daughter got her first real job at 14, I was excited for her.

I had hoped getting a job at a young age would improve her self-esteem, time management, and money management skills.

While she did earn all those skills, she required a gentle push from me. Little did I know that my teen's first job would be a learning experience for me, too.

Here's what I discovered in supporting her.

She needed help with startup costs and rides

The adage, "You must spend money to make money," held true for my teenager. Before she saw her first paycheck as a server for a local catering company, our daughter needed to purchase work attire, including dress pants, a button-down shirt, and shoes. My husband and I decided to fund these startup costs, considering them an investment in her burgeoning job skills.

We also invested time in shuttling her to and from events — and soon found ourselves spending more hours in the car than we'd expected. Though most events were nearby, some were located almost an hour away. We realized our family schedule wouldn't always mesh with our teen's enthusiasm for working, which meant she had to turn down some opportunities.

Still, we tried to make the stars align whenever possible, taking turns as her Uber drivers and coordinating carpools because we saw how much our daughter enjoyed her job. She loved working a party with a tray of fancy appetizers in hand, seeing beautiful brides at weddings, and chatting with coworkers in the lull between serving and clearing dishes.

But there were stressful times, too. After one wedding during which drinks were spilled at the head table and guests were served the wrong entrées, our teen came home frazzled and upset.

"Some of those mistakes were my fault," she told us. The pride we usually saw in her face after she'd worked an event was gone, replaced by sadness and worry.

We shared some of our own embarrassing work mishaps to normalize that no one — including adults — performs their job perfectly all the time. We reminded her that mistakes happen, but what matters is how she learns from them.

We helped her establish a plan to save some of her earnings

Our daughter was excited to earn her own money and even more excited to spend it. Though we had talked with her about the importance of saving, we quickly discovered that Target, DoorDash, and Starbucks were kryptonite for our teen girl's wallet. Her first hard-earned paycheck disappeared in a flash.

Although we sometimes cringed at our daughter's impulse buys, we also recognized how hard she had worked to afford them. We wanted her to enjoy her newfound purchasing power, but without spending every last dime she'd earned.

After discussing options with our daughter, we made a deal: She got to keep most of her earnings, but a small percentage of each paycheck would be funneled into a savings account. The arrangement gave her enough money for everyday purchases using her debit card while ensuring she could build up savings over time.

She had to learn the importance of work-life balance

My teenagers will confirm that I nag them about getting enough sleep, but my well-meaning words don't always resonate. When my daughter wanted to work a last-minute shift on the same weekend she had a soccer tournament, I considered saying no but ultimately let her sign up.

After a whirlwind of soccer games, outfit changes, and lengthy car commutes, my daughter was clearly exhausted.

Now, she's more intentional about prioritizing her activities — whether she's studying for an exam, working at her new restaurant job, playing soccer, or spending time with friends — because she realized trying to do it all wasn't sustainable. Allowing her the freedom to manage her work, school, and extracurricular hours taught her more about work-life balance than my most passionate lectures ever could.

Whatever career our daughter pursues, I know that someday, she'll no longer need close support from her parents to thrive in her job. When that day comes, we'll continue cheering her on from a distance.

• In college, Wendy Altschuler studied abroad in India.
• She traveled back 20 years later, eager to bring along her husband and three sons.
• It showed her how different it feels to travel in your 20s alongside students versus exploring with kids in tow.

It was dark when I arrived in India, the air was slothful with a gluey viscosity. I was still in college and had never traveled this far away from home before.

I hadn't decided to study abroad in India on a whim. I had spent months preparing, saving, and studying. Delving deep, I was fully immersed in my classes, reading every book on the recommended list and watching every film.

I also spent a lot of time wandering along Chicago's Devon Avenue, or Little India, which was home to 15 blocks of South Asian restaurants and shops at the time.

Of course, none of this prepared me for what I experienced in Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur: the Golden Triangle.

Studying abroad in India

During my last year in school, as part of my study-abroad program, I volunteered at a children's home about 90 minutes south of Delhi. Through my work, I learned the power of Jugaad, a Hindi word — an ethos, really — which compels one to make the most of what one has, even if it's very little.

After a day of serving others, I'd return to the YMCA, my home in New Delhi at the time. I'd meet up with classmates to chat about the day's discoveries. I'd share about how generous and selfless it was for the home leaders to help. Others would discuss how difficult it was to witness families living on the street.

More than once during my first stay, a stranger welcomed me into their home, often just two rooms for their entire family. They would offer me a hot cup of tea or a bangle for my wrist. The people who ostensibly had the least seemed hell-bent on giving the most.

This was a formative time in my life, an era of tipping my toe into what might be possible for my future. The kindness and sincerity of the people I met in India, both at the children's home and also in other places I visited, made an indelible impression on me.

I returned 20 years later with my three sons

So, when I got the opportunity to bring my three boys to India two decades later, I raised my hand.

As a travel writer, I've had the opportunity to visit many countries around the world, and as a result, I've accumulated a fair amount of airline miles. My husband, who also travels for work, does the same.

We decided to cash in our miles and book a family trip to South and Southeast Asia, taking advantage of extended layovers. This included four days lighting up all five of our senses in India.

We made the most of our limited time by visiting some of Delhi's landmarks, including Red Fort, Chandni Chowk, Humayun's Tomb, India Gate, Lotus Temple, and Jama Masjid. These were all the same locales my feet had wandered through as a university student.

We hired human-powered cycle rickshaws to explore the constricted streets of Old Delhi, where hundreds of snaking power cords blocked out the sky above. I watched my sons' eyes widen as we narrowly avoided itinerant goats, men and women carrying hefty bundles on their heads, beeping motorbikes, and green and yellow tuk-tuks.

The most distinctive stop for me was the timeworn YMCA. I didn't recognize it, truly, until I saw the hallway leading to the bedrooms where I could picture myself running down the stairs, a palpable sensation where I remembered unerringly how I felt when I was young, well before the demands of adulthood and motherhood.

In a snap of a finger, so powerfully poignant that errant tears escaped down my cheeks, I was now standing there, in the exact same spot, with my husband and three children. Time is wild.

Later, we'd leave Delhi and travel to Agra, stopping off at the famous Taj Mahal. A multi-generational family of women smiled and asked to have a photo with me at Agra Fort, and each time I spotted them around the grounds, we would all wave and giggle, verifying that the warmth and adoration were mutually felt.

In Jaipur, the Pink City, my 15-year-old middle son met a man who coaxed a green bird out of a cage. The bird then selected a red card with his beak, a delightful fortune of goodwill. When the rain poured down in sheets while visiting Chandra Mahal and City Palace, my boys dared each other to step out from under the safety of the overhang and get soaked — a dare my youngest took hook, line, and sinker.

Looking at the photos that my kids had taken later — elephants walking in the road, magnified details of gems stuck in walls, garbage on the ground, and plenty of goofy selfies — I recognized that they were going through something completely different on this journey than I was, which is the magic of travel.

Sojourning in India during my 20s with other students was undoubtedly a much different opportunity than seeing the country with my family in tow. We can all wander through the same destination together, but our ages, life experiences, and circumstances will always dictate a unique, personalized adventure. It's up to us to assign meaning to what we experience.

India is fragrant smoke, turmeric powder, mustard seeds, and dangling strings of chilies; tight round marigolds, fresh jasmine, and bursting bougainvillea; raucous tuk-tuks and inert cows. It's humidity, then a deluge of rain then beams of sunshine. It's smiles under draping colorful scarves and a bob of the head. There's an effervescence that must be experienced firsthand to comprehend, to believe, to feel.

My boys will likely be unpacking their journey for years to come, just as I am decades later still; and perhaps, in 20 more years, we will meet in the country of curry, textiles, forts, and flowers once again.