Emotions, Learning, and The Child's Brain

I was, for a brief time, an elementary special education teacher. While my students' test scores indicated that they were not "performing at grade level", they're participation in my class suggested otherwise. Indeed, they were all capable of doing the work. They were a very intelligent, thoughtful, and engaging group. Their home lives, however, were highly unpredictable and anxiety-provoking. How well would you do on a test if your parent was in prison, drug-addicted, or severely depressed?

I'll you: Not well, my friends. Not well.

So, that's why I'm pleased to see the topic of Seattle's Maria Montessori Language and Cultural Center's Workshop: On Emotions, Learning and The Child's Brain being offered on Saturday, 10/15 from 8:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. A highly worthy topic for our times. Hope some of you can make it.

Back to School Anxiety

Time once again to get out the backpacks, lunch boxes, pencils, and erasers. All over, students are getting ready to go back to the classroom. While some excitedly anticipate the first day of school, others look on that day with dread. Here are three strategies to help your nervous student (or yourself, all you adult learners out there!) face the first day:

1. Remember a time you faced a great anxiety-inducing task, and did it anyway.

A favorite personal example of mine was the time I jumped off the high-diving board. I was probably 8 or 9 years old, and I really wanted to jump off the high dive. I had climbed to the top of the stairs several times, each time getting a little farther down the board before turning back. After several attempts, I finally inched my way to the end of the board. It felt like my heart was beating in my stomach. The fear made me want to turn back, but I told myself: I've come this far, just jump. And I did. We can't feel brave without feeling fear first.

2. Find someone else to commisserate with.

Anxiety dislikes company. Talk to another friend or student about first-day jitters. Perhaps you'll find you're not alone. For some, hearing yourself say, "I feel anxious" actually takes away some of the anxiety's power.

3. Focus on a positive counterfactual.

I must give credit to Allison Gopnik's book, "The Philosophical Baby" for introducing me to the "counterfactual". The term "counterfactual" describes mental play where one imagines what could be or what might have been. Anxiety produces counterfactuals in which one experiences minor discomfort to horrible catastrophe. Consider other counterfactuals other than the ones anxiety would describe, such as: "This year I will make a new friend", or, "This year I will excel at math." Throughout the first day, focus on signs that your counterfactual is coming true.

Welcome back to school!

The Reproductive Gap

A while back I wrote about a column Lisa Belkin wrote for the New York Times about how caregivers of young children need to articulate to prospective employers on their resumes the skills they've attained while being stay-at-home parents and how they can bring those to bear successfully in the paid work world. Now, here comes an interesting article in The Chronicle of Higher Education where the author, Amy Kittlestrom, makes a persuasive argument for placing a "reproductive allowance" on one's vita, explaining what one might have achieved (a book, a research project, etc.) during time spent giving birth to and raising young children.

I'm curious how others who've returned to paid work have dealt with this "baby gap" issue on their resumes. Bring your comments!

Anxiety Can Be Catching, Especially if the Equation is 1 Anxious Teacher + 1 Susceptible Female Student + Math = "Yikes, Fractions!"

This article about math anxiety in young girls lines up with my "genetics loads the gun; environment pulls the trigger" hypothesis about disorders such as anxiety. I would be interested in finding out if the corollary holds true that teachers with low levels of math anxiety produce math-confident female students.

Four Steps to Becoming Fully Bully-Proofed

It occurred to me after my last post why I felt so compelled to write about bullying after my recent string of posts about dandelions and orchids. While low self-esteem and poor school performance are serious consequences of bullying--ones in which dandelions and orchids face--it's self-harm and suicidal thoughts and behaviors that are likely to affect orchids who've been bullied. Bullying for an orchid, thus, is potentially a life and death issue. I think that's why I feel so strongly about it.

I had a fantastic experience co-creating an anti-bullying stance among Ms. Courtney Humphrey's class at Dearborn Park Elementary. I'll share their story as a way to illustrate the basic principles. I'm sure every group could adapt these steps to fit their group's dynamics. And so, here are the 4 steps any group can use to bully-proof their relationships:

1. Make explicit the group's anti-bullying stance
Ms. Humphrey's students were very astute in recognizing the negative effects of bullying in their class. Kids said bullying made them feel "sad" and "not like" being at school. No one said they wanted to bullying to continue.

2. Explore what a bully-proof zone would be like
Students said they thought they'd be "nicer", would "cooperate more" and "have more fun" if bullying were no longer a part of their classroom

3. Take time to recognize anti-bullying tactics displayed by others
During group circle time, students recognized each other's good deeds performed during the day. Students cited "helping" someone with their work, "not teasing" another's gaffe, and performing other acts of kindness as anti-bullying tactics.

4. Reward the group for reaching anti-bullying goals
This last one is optional, but who doesn't love a reward? Every student in the class was recognized by another for exhibiting anti-bullying behavior at some point during their classroom bully-proofing, and for this hard work, Ms. Humphrey took the class on a field trip to a nearby island.

I can't express enough how incredibly impressively Ms. Humphrey and her class worked to bully-proof their classroom. The change was dramatic! I saw fewer outbursts from students, more time devoted to academic work, and a marked increase in cooperation and civility between students. They were a joy to work with from the start and their anti-bullying efforts were truly inspiring!

Bullies and Anti-Bullies

The other night I was watching "This Emotional Life" on PBS. I was particularly moved by the segment about bullying, in which the friends and family of a Florida boy named Jeffrey retold the story of how he was bullied relentlessly by a classmate. His mother reached out to the school for help, but the school staff was ineffective in addressing the culture of bullying. When Jeff could no longer handle the torment, he hung himself in his bedroom.

This got me thinking about children I've worked with and known who've been targets of bullies and have bullied themselves. Often, it's the same kids. The children I've known who bully often pre-emptively bully as a strategy (a maladaptive yet effective strategy) to avoid being bullied themselves. The kids I've known who've bullied/been bullied tended to be dandelions. They had low self-esteem, behavioral problems, but none were suicidal. When an orchid is bullied, are the effects of the bullying amplified? Is that the "environmental trigger" that could drive a kid to suicide?

While I was deeply saddened by Jeff's story, I was heartened to hear the outcome of Jeff's mother's saga to change the culture of bullying in schools. She was successful in pushing the Florida legislature to pass "Jeffrey's Law", which states that schools are responsible for providing safety from bullying while children are in school. Kudos to Jeff's family for taking a stand against bullying and ensuring that no family will have to go through what they did.

In my next post, I'll share an experience I had with an elementary class that took a stand against bullying and outline the steps any group can take to make their space an anti-bullying zone.

The Upside of Orchids

After reading my last two posts, one might conclude that it's better to be a dandelion than an orchid. Sure, one forgoes the shot at the particularly odd brilliance of a well-nurtured orchid, but doesn't being an intelligent, well-adjusted dandelion outweigh the risks of emotional instability that come with orchidness?

Maybe. Maybe not. In thinking about children I've known, one set of siblings stuck out immediately as a clear illustration of the upside orchids and, by extension, the risks involved in dandelion-ness.

Years ago, I was a substitute teacher in a rural New Mexican school district. I taught all grades, so I got to know several sets of siblings fairly well. In one family of six siblings I taught the eldest 6th-grade girl Shania, a second-grade boy David, and the kindergartener Brianna. Brianna and Shania were in special education. David was not. When I taught Shania, I would ask her about her work. She would answer, "I don't know" to my questions often, but with further probing, I often found she did know. She knew a lot. She lacked confidence in herself, and risking being wrong seemed a safer option than being proved wrong. Shania, I suppose, fits the dandelion mold well.

Brianna I taught in the beginning of the year, and then again toward the end. When I first met her, her teacher was drawing dots on her paper for her to trace in order to write her name. When I began teaching her special education class in late April, she sat waiting patiently as I asked the class to write their names on their papers. "Brianna, does your teacher still make the dots for you?" She nodded. "Phoney, baloney, I know you can write your own name! You may have her fooled, but you're not foolin' me!" (Okay, I didn't know if she could write her name, but it was a gamble that ended up paying off, luckily.) Brianna, in shaky handwriting wrote her name, looked up at me, and beamed. She did it!

How did she manage to go through almost an entire school year without once being asked to write her own name? I don't mean to cast blame on her very over-worked teacher, but I can see how Brianna managed to slip through in this case. First, she looks really young. She's petite, and looks much younger than the other five and six year-olds in her class. And she rarely speaks. (I remember she got pulled out by the speech therapist quite often. I often wondered if her speech pathology was a motor problem or just one of extreme shyness.) Brianna mostly sits quietly, smiles, and looks heart-breakingly cute. In an otherwise rowdy kindergarten class, she's every teacher's dream. And an unmistakable dandelion.

David is everything his sisters aren't. Prone to outbursts, tears, and frustration, I know he drove his regular teacher to fits of screaming herself. When I subbed David's class, not one minute into our day David had his first meltdown. I asked the class to take out their pencils and paper. David erupted, "I don't have a pencil! I don't have a pencil!" "Maybe you can borrow one from a friend?" I offered. "I don't have any friends. Nobody likes me! They all hate me!" "Nonsense," I said. "I know your class is very kind and helpful. I'm sure somebody here would like to be a good friend and loan you a pencil. Now, who here has a pencil they'd like to share with David?" Hands shot up among cries of "me, me! I do! I do!" David, within his family as well as his class, was an orchid among dandelions.

After reflecting on my experiences with these three siblings, it's apparent to me how Brianna and Shania tested into special education and David didn't. David, when faced with a problem he couldn't solve, would dissolve into tears and cries of "I can't do it! I can't!" And someone: a teacher, a parent, a fellow student, would come to his aid and help him solve his problem. Brianna and Shania, on the other hand, would say nothing about the difficulty, and thus, never gained mastery over tasks. Not because they couldn't do it, mind you, but because no one noticed that they needed help. And so their brother's orchidness became a cumulative advantage that determined his testing above the threshold for special education while his sisters fell below it. His orchidness expressed itself in such a way that allowed him to get the help he needed while his dandelion sisters slipped through the academic cracks.

It makes me wonder, as a parent, when do I fail to notice when my more dandelion-leaning daughter needs help simply because she doesn't express it in a way I've come to recognize in her older orchid sister? Perhaps there are other downsides to dandelion-ness that have gone unnoticed. I hope that for Shania and Brianna, someone recognized that despite quiet, good-natured ways, they needed academic nurturing just as much as their orchid brother.

Mastering Test Anxiety

It's springtime, which brings many welcome happenings. School exams, however, can be one dark spot on the season.

In a former life as a special education teacher, it was my opinion that my students were no less talented than their "mainstream" peers. I'd argue that they did not have "learning differences" so much as "anxiety differences." These differences could be explained by home-lives that would make anyone sensitive to anxiety's messages. And with the added pressure of standardized tests, I'd watch them just fall to pieces.

Here are some ideas to help your test-taker (or yourself) block out anxiety before or during the test:

1. Give reminders that this test doesn't define who you are. Your friends will still be your friends. People who love you will still love you. The test has no bearing on your past or future accomplishments.

2. Remember that you will know the answers to some questions, but not to others. This is ok. Do your best. Take your best guess. Some of your guesses will be right in the end.

3. When you feel anxiety making it hard for you to think, resort to one of your anti-anxiety tools in your toolbox. Before the test date, make a list of all the ways you can calm yourself. Drinking water, taking deep breaths, stretching, repeating a mantra (e.g. "I have good test-taking skills" or "I am best when I test" or come up with your own), or touch can be soothing. I like to massage the muscle between my thumb and forefinger to help clear my head. Rubbing temples or doing shoulder shrugs can also encourage the body to relax when the mind gets tense.

Test-taking needn't be an anxiety-producing activity. But if anxiety should choose to pester the mind while taking a test, equipping your toolbox with these test-taking tools should allow the mind to perform at its best.

Making the Parent-Track the Fast Track

Hearing the news that Caroline Kennedy had withdrawn her name as a possible successor to Hilary Clinton in the Senate reminded me of an essay I read by the fantastic New York Times work/family life writer Lisa Belkin. Belkin argues that "experience" only counts on a resume if it's "work" experience. Work done outside of a job, say, serving on a board or volunteering at a child's school is valued less when interviewing for a paid job. Inherent in this assumption is that unpaid work experiences are less valuable than paid ones. Yet, the skills gained in these volunteer experienced could prove incredibly useful to employers. A parent who starts a club or program at a school knows something about doing research, working collaboratively with other stakeholders, and responding to feedback. In organizing a fundraiser, parents learn about marketing, soliciting community members, and event coordination. To my mind, these seem like directly applicable (paid) job skills.

When parents consult with me about leaving or re-joing the (paid) workforce, I hear a great deal of anxiety in these decisions. How will this time away from paid work be viewed? Will I be considered for jobs after an extended absence?

It seems to me that we as parents need to better articulate what we've gained from parenting and translate that experience into terms employers can understand. Our parenthood can make us more efficient at work (all the better to get home to our families sooner.) We are better at hearing out differences in opinion. We can adjust to change more easily.

There are a host of intangible benefits to parenting. And some of these intangibles can have real value in the marketplace of paid work. We as parents need to start talking as our "time off" with kids as "time on." As Belkin says, "But let’s stop with this talk of inexperience when we mean a range of experiences, many shaped by motherhood. The only way work will become more flexible for everyone, for all of us, is if the untraditional begins to count."

Back to School Time Again

Since kids will be returning to school shortly, I thought I'd post this recent article I read on Salon.com about how Sandra Tsing Loh learned to love her local urban public school, and her ideas for how we can all contribute to public schools.