As a mother and a teacher of preschool children — and as a dance teacher to people of all ages — I have come to see the importance of acknowledging distress before you can “get to the positive.” This is a vital truth, for both adults and children, and I was reminded of it recently by a young student at the school where I teach.
We all know that it can be hard for children to venture out of their familiar home environments. It’s normal for preschoolers to begin exploring feelings related to separating, however briefly, from their main caretaker. Three- and four-year-old children are just learning how to socialize with other people, and they do it by coming together for a few hours, existing in the same space, and playing and learning. The experience can be so valuable to children because it teaches them the skills they’ll need as they grow into adulthood. But the growth isn’t just a single upward trajectory. It happens in fits and starts, with many small setbacks. Getting through those setbacks means acknowledging the big negative feelings that sometimes get in the way.
One day a few months ago I walked into the preschool where I teach. It was 9:00 AM and parents were dropping off their children. As usual, two teachers were receiving the children, and as each arrived, the crowd of kids in the stairwell grew until everyone was accounted for. The routine was for the entire class to transition together to the upstairs classroom, a process which is often a bit chaotic.
On this particular morning, in the small space in front of the stairs, I noticed one little boy curled up in a “child’s pose,” with his knees tucked up under him, face down on the floor. (Child’s pose is the yoga term for this collapsed-looking posture.) In young children, this body language can signal painful emotion, and in fact as I approached, I noticed the boy had pulled his shirt off and was clearly in distress. While one teacher greeted the incoming students and their parents, the other teacher had draped the boy’s shirt over him like a blanket — it was a cold morning.
On this particular morning, in the small space in front of the stairs, I noticed one little boy curled up in a “child’s pose,” with his knees tucked up under him, face down on the floor.
I was scheduled to work in another room, but my heart broke for the little boy. I thought I could help him, and I knew the teachers needed the support. So I knelt down next to him and got into a child’s pose right beside him. I put my arm around his naked back (he had immediately thrown his shirt back off). I said, “Hi buddy, it’s Miss Lynne. Are you having a rough morning?” He gave a tiny little nod. “Are you missing mom? Are you sad you had to leave her?” He gave an even smaller nod. “And maybe a little mad, too, that you had to come to school?” A definite head nod. So often, these two feelings accompany each other. We feel sad that we didn’t get what we wanted, and angry for what we did get that we didn’t want.
I told him his teacher put his shirt over him because she wanted to keep him warm. I asked if he was cold and he shook his head no, but just a tiny bit. I asked if it would be okay if I held him in my lap. His head moved, but I couldn’t tell in which direction. I asked again, because I knew I had to respect his pace. After a few more checks, I pulled him onto my lap, snuggled his naked chest to me and just quietly held him for a moment. We very gently swayed. Then I asked if he was ready to put his shirt back on. Definite nod yes. A moment later I asked if he was ready to join his class, and he happily stood up and walked over to the stairs, able now to be fully present at school.
This whole interaction took only a few minutes. There was no pressure, no cajoling, no forcing. What the boy needed was a recognition of the painful struggle that was raging inside him. Once he got that recognition, he was ready to move on.
Children aren’t alone in struggling with feelings, of course, or in getting trapped in them. We all have inner children in us that never got that simple acknowledgement and acceptance of whatever painful experiences we had when we were young. Sometimes simply acknowledging those feelings — without judgment — is all we need to move them through our system. (Sometimes more processing is required, of course.) But we have been taught to ignore negative feelings, even fear them, and only focus on the positive. Concentrating on the positive is important, helpful and fun. But then, life happens, our past pain surfaces, and we become stuck again.
The problem with labeling emotional distress as negative is that when something is negative, we want to avoid it. But feelings we repress stay with us, even if we don’t realize it, often growing stronger. Repressed feelings affect both us and our children. As John Gray, author of Children Are from Heaven: Positive Parenting Skills for Raising Cooperative, Confident, and Compassionate Children, says, “What parents repress, their children express.” My experience bears this out, both as a teacher and a parent. I believe that when parents recognize and accept our so-called negative feelings before trying to focus on the positive, we can be more present for our children. Likewise, when we recognize and accept the so-called negative feelings our children experience, our children feel seen and can move on. This is important for parents and caregivers to remember: If a child doesn’t feel understood, they get stuck.
We’ve all just lived through a time of great social stress and upheaval, and all of us — children and adults — were affected. Each of us also encounters the everyday storms of simply being alive. I invite you to remember this little boy, and how he needed to have room for his big feelings.
We’ve all just lived through a time of great social stress and upheaval, and all of us — children and adults — were affected. Each of us also encounters the everyday storms of simply being alive. I invite you to remember this little boy, and how he needed to have room for his big feelings. He had shut down, but once I acknowledged and respected his feelings, he was able to move through his distress and get on with his day. If you are feeling out of sorts or anxious, try pausing, taking a breath, and fully accepting all that you feel. Avoid forcing or pressuring yourself, and you might just, like he did, be able to stand up and move on.
Lynne Mitchell has a degree in ballet from the University of Texas at El Paso and studied child development at Truman College in Chicago. She opened her own dance studio in Chicago in 1987, teaching tap, ballet, jazz, and tumbling, and taught dance classes at many preschools in the Chicago area. She moved to Washougal in 2000 and took over dance classes at Washougal Community Education and Recreation from her mother, Jill Mitchell, who taught dance there for eight years. Lynne also taught at DanceWorks in Vancouver and is currently teaching ballet, tap, and tumbling to children and adults at Dance Evolution in Camas. She teaches preschool at Evolutions Preschool in Camas.
Top photo: Lynne Mitchell teaching dance class to children, 2005. Courtesy Barb Seaman.
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