A different way to think about big behaviour.

Big behaviour happens because in that moment, your child doesn’t have the resources or skills to deal with the situation or meet an important need in a more polished way.

Big behaviour doesn’t come from ‘bad’. It comes from ‘unskilled’ (an unskilled attempt to meet a need, to regulate, to be seen) and/or ‘under-resourced’ (given the demands of the moment, and that the rational, calming, clear thinking part of the brain won’t be fully developed until their 20s). 

When a young person’s behaviour is out of control, it’s ‘out of their control’. They don’t have the emotional or physiological resources to deal with the situation in more polished ways. Big behaviour is like an emergency beacon. Think of it as your child sending out a message to let you know, ‘I can’t deal with this right now! I need your help!’ (And yes, the message will often shouty, spicy, full-force, ‘undelicate’, and uncomplicated. It will rarely involve the banning of Christmas.)

Big behaviour is a sign that the thinking part of the brain at the front has shut down and handed over control of the brain to the impulsive, instinctive back of the brain. The back of the brain will get the job done – it will give your young one (or you – we’ve all been there!) the energy and the ‘I don’t care what happens next’ to let everyone know things aren’t okay right now – but geez it can be messy. The back of the brain doesn’t care about niceties. It just wants what it wants, and it doesn’t care about the consequences.

But they know not to do that!

Of course your child or teen knows spicy words aren’t okay. Of course they know big behaviour isn’t okay. This isn’t about not knowing what to do (which is why reminding them in the moment that they shouldn’t hit/ yell/ swear often falls short). It also isn’t about being a bad kid. It’s about the demands of the situation, in the moment, outstripping the skills or emotional or physiological resources they need to deal with the situation with finesse. 

The lack of skills or resources doesn’t make the behaviour okay. Part of the job of growing up is learning how to handle big feelings and situations in ways that don’t cause breakage. This will take time though. In the meantime, we need to recognise that when a child is out of control, their behaviour is ‘out of their  control’. They are being driven by the impulsive, instinctive part of the brain that just wants a result, and doesn’t care how bumpy things get along the way.

Ok. So what’s the shift?

When young people are in the midst of an emotional storm, we need to shift focus away from what we need them to do (manage their behaviour), and on to what we can do to keep everyone safe and bring the situation back to calm. We don’t have an option, because at that moment they don’t have the capacity or the skills to steer the ship back to shore, so we’ll need to take the lead.

This means shifting the focus from their behaviour (what we want them to do), to our behaviour (what we can do to take charge of the situation). The problem with focusing on their behaviour is that we’re putting them in charge of leading themselves out of the situation. They can’t, so we need to manage the situation to bring their nervous systems back to calm and felt safety.

Rather than focusing on what we want them to do, which, in the moment, they can’t control and neither can we, we need to take the lead. This means focusing on what we can control – our behaviour, our capacity to bring them back to calm and felt safety, and our capacity to lead, guide, teach (which can only be done when they are calm).

What if they’re hurting someone, or me?

Whenever big behaviour is ‘bigging’, the priority is to keep everybody safe. This is going to fall to the adult in the room. Rather than asking your young person to do something they don’t have the skills or resources to do right now (such as ‘don’t hit’), we need to take over.

This might sound like, ‘No. I’m not going to let you hurt their body’. Then, we move the child who is hitting, or the child who is being hit, away. We then quickly turn our attention to preserving the connection. ‘I’m right here. We’ll get through this together.’ 

When the storm passes, separate them from their behavior, and make space for repair. ‘You are such a great kid. I know you know it isn’t okay to hit. How can we put this right? Do you need my help with that?’

The questions to ask ourselves to guide the ship to shore.

The questions we need to be asking ourselves are along the lines of:

• ‘How can I keep everyone safe right now?
• ‘What does this child need from me to feel safer, more seen, more cared for right now?’
• ‘How can I respond so this child doesn’t feel threatened, or as though I’m about to disconnect from them, or that they’re about to get into trouble?’ 

When we shift our lens, we widen our capacity to respond.

The key is to recognise that this is not a bad child, but a child whose nervous system isn’t feeling ‘safe’ and calm right now. Everything they are doing is to bring themselves back to regulated. The shouting to be heard, the defiance to assert independence, the tantrum because they aren’t ready to stop playing – these are all valid needs and unskilled, under-resourced attempts to meet them.

The skills and resources (including strong neural ‘self-regulation’ pathways) will come over many years of co-regulation and conversation. Co-regulation builds the neural pathways for self-regulation. The conversation opens up options and choices they can take – eventually.

None of this is about permissive parenting. Absolutely not. It’s about steering the situation through the storm and waiting until you’re on solid, safe ground to teach and talk about different choices and repair.

The post This one shift can expand your response to big feelings and behaviour. appeared first on Hey Sigmund.

The research is so clear – and there’s plenty of it. Students who genuinely feel cared for by their teachers do better at school. When children feel safe, cared for, and valued, the learning part of the brain opens wide up. Learning and engagement increase, anxiety is reduced, and critical incidents of big behaviour decrease. On the other hand, without felt relational safety, the brain will focus on getting ‘safe’ rather than learning.

Why relationship matters.

The part of the brain that is in charge of learning, self-regulation, making deliberate (good) decisions, thinking through consequences, and connecting can only open up when physical safety and relational safety are fully felt. This isn’t about what is actually safe or not safe, but about what the brain perceives. It’s about felt safety.

How children do, will always come from how they feel. Children and teens are no different to adults in that way. The reason we want to be with certain people, or be in certain places, often isn’t as much about the intrinsic nature of those people or places, but about how we feel when we are with those people or in those places.

But what about academics?

Of course academics matter, but relational safety has to come first. It’s a condition for doing well academically. Children don’t feel good at school because they do well. They do well because they feel good. Rather than prioritising the outcome – grades – we have to prioritise building the strong foundations all kides need to be the best they can be.

When we prioritise academics over relationship, it’s like building the walls before fortifying the foundations.

This is why too many kids are falling down at school – not because they aren’t capable, but because the necessary foundations for them to do well haven’t yet been laid.

Rather than focusing on what kids are doing,

‘How do we get better results?’

‘How do we make them behave better?’

‘How do we make them engage more?’,

we need to shift the focus to how they are feeling,

‘Exactly what can we do to make sure each child feels welcome, cared for, wanting, important?’

How to build relationship. What teachers can do.

Here are some small things that can make a big difference.

• Exactly what happens to make students feel welcome when they walk into school/ the classroom? Of course all students are welcome, but exactly what little things are done to let them know that?
• What is their role in the classroom? Research shows that, according to students, one of the things that helps them feel cared for is when teachers give them jobs to do.
• Are they invited to share their opinions?
• Are they given opportunities to make decisions that affect them?
• Do they feel like the adult in the room believes in them and wants them to be there?
• Name similarities, ‘We both have a dog. Can I see pictures of your dog?’ ‘We both wear glasses.’ ‘Yeah. I feel anxious sometimes too, especially when I’m doing something new. It’s okay to feel anxious.’
• Ask them, ‘What are the things that adults do that help you feel cared for?’
• Let them know, ‘It’s my job to help you do well this year. What does ‘doing well’ look like for you? What might make that easier? What might get in the way?’
• Ask them to finish this sentence, ‘I want my teacher to know …’
• Let the parent know you like their child, or let them know anything positive that happens involving their child. Parents will pass this message on to their children. It’s always lovely to hear that someone has said something nice about us to the people we care about. Sometimes it can land harder than telling a child directly. 

So much of my work is about supporting schools to implement practices and procedures that build felt relational safety in students, increase engagement and learning, and reduce critical incidents of behaviour. I see the difference this makes.

What parents can do.

What a parent decides a child will follow. One of the best things parents can do is to let kids know they (the parent) trusts the teacher to care for the child and like the child. It’s okay not to feel this straight away – trust takes time – but until you feel it, your child won’t either. 

If you trust your child’s teacher, let your child know: ‘I really like Ms Smith. You’ve got a goodie there. I’ve heard such great things about her. I know she’s going to love you,’ or, ‘I’m excited to get to know Mr Jones. I’ve heard good things about him.’

When your child’s teacher says anything positive about your child, let your child know. If you haven’t heard anything positive, ask the teacher to let you know something your child has been doing well or is improving on. If the teacher can’t name anything, your child might not feel as ‘seen’ as they need to. That’s okay – teachers are managing so many things and they don’t want your child to feel unnoticed either. A gentle conversation can just help channel attention towards helping your child feel more seen and cared for. 

If you aren’t sure about the teacher yet, that’s okay, but if you aren’t sure, what has to happen to help you feel more certain that your child is in strong, loving hands? Do you need a conversation with the teacher? An email occasionally? Anything you can do to support your child’s teacher is going to add to building a strong, beautiful foundation for your child.

And when the resources already feel stretched too far …

We are asking way too much of our teachers and our schools at the moment. We have been for too long. The truth of it though, is that for learning to happen and for engagement to increase, we have to focus on relationship first. It can’t be any other way.

Schools and teachers are spending the time and resources anyway, on managing behaviour and trying to increase learning and engagement. If we can channel those resources towards building relational safety, so young people feel more seen, valued, and cared for, rather than less capable or less clever, there will be less need to spend those precious resources managing big behaviour, disengagement, and reduced capacity to learn.

First though, we need to value the relationships and the way kids feel at school, even more than how they do at school. All kids are capable of their own versions of greatness, but unless they feel safe and cared for at school, we just won’t see what they are capable of, and neither will they.

I’ve seen the difference this makes. Teachers are superheroes. The ones who value the need for relational safety, and who do what they can to build in practices or micromoments to build relationship change lives. They really do.

Our teachers need relational safety too.

Of course, this isn’t just about students. When adults don’t feel safe, valued, or cared for, those adults will also be more likely to act from a survival state. This isn’t about personality or character. It’s about being human. No human can be the best version of themselves, and no human can keep giving when they are feeling depleted, unsupported, or as though what they are doing doesn’t matter.

The time teachers put into building relationship matters. It matters so much. It matters more than academics or grades because they are building the strong, beautiful foundations needed for those academics and grades.

The effects of relationship building won’t always be visible straight away, but it will always make a critical difference. It’s like drops in a bucket. Sometimes we don’t see the drops until the bucket is overflowing. Some children have bigger buckets than others. Some have smaller buckets but those buckets are running dry. This might be because of their particular needs (and we all have things we need, but we don’t always need the same things in the same way), their history, their circumstances today, this week, this year. This means it might take longer to see that bucket fill – but know that however slow that bucket is filling, those drops matter – every single one.

We need to make sure our teachers feel seen, safe, cared for, valued. Our kids can’t be the best they can be without them.

The post How to Build Relational Safety at School – And why it’s so important. appeared first on Hey Sigmund.

I often go into schools to speak to groups of kids or teens about anxiety. I’m always so warmed and overjoyed by their openness when they realise it’s safe for them to speak or ask questions.

This is what happens when we make anxiety safe. When we turn a conversation about anxiety into a conversation about courage, when we normalise anxiety and speak to the human-ness of it, we strip away any shame story or deficiency story and we make it easy for young people to show up, to be brave, to grow and stretch themselves at their edges. We strengthen them. 

The two things I hear most from kids and teens about anxiety.

When I speak to kids or teens about anxiety, there are two things I hear almost every time.

The first is, ‘I thought it was just me.’ Anxiety can be so isolating. This in itself will drive more anxiety about the anxiety, and fuel the deficiency story that can often come with anxiety.

If only every young person could know that anxiety is one of the most human of the human experiences. And it happens to all of us. If only that could happen, they’d feel less alone in their symptoms, less broken because of them, and more comforted by the human-ness of them.

The second thing I hear is, ‘I didn’t know who to talk to.’ My response is, ‘Talk to an adult you trust, because I promise you, at some point in their lives – probably many points, maybe even today – they would have felt the way you do. If that adult isn’t sure what to say, that’s okay – we adults don’t always have the words we need to make sense of things – find another adult. We’re there. And we get it. Sometimes the hardest thing is knowing where to start. If this happens, try, ‘I’d like to talk to you but I don’t know what to say,’ – and let the adult help you find the words that come next.’

We’re all in this. Let them feel the human-ness of their symptoms, so they don’t feel the isolation of them. ‘Anxiety can be tough can’t it. I get it. I’ve felt that way too before. I want you to know it’s a sign that you’re doing something hard – not that you can’t do hard things. How can I help?’

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When we have conversations that can change the way they think about courage and the way they expect to feel when it’s time for them to be brave, we open the way for a different response.

‘Let me prove it to you.’

It can be hard for our kids to believe that courage comes with anxiety, so let’s show them …

Ask them, ‘Can you think of something you’ve done that was brave?’

Maybe it’s doing something new, maybe going down the big water slide, going to school, going for a sleepover – if it feels brave, then it’s brave. This will be different for everyone.

Then ask, ‘How did you feel just before that brave thing you did?’

They’ll have their words – scared, anxious, terrified, nervous. Explain to them,

‘These are all words for the feeling of anxiety. This is because your amygdala (the magnificent part of your brain responsible for keeping you safe) can’t tell the difference between things that are scary-dangerous (things that might actually hurt you) and things that are scary-safe (things that feel scary, but which are safe – new, hard, brave, growthful important things, things that matter). It’s why going to school or speaking in front of a group of people can feel like you’re getting barrelled by a wave. It’s great that your brain warns you that there might be something tricky ahead of you, but it’s important that you stay in charge of what happens next. Ask yourself – ‘Is this a time for me to be safe and avoid, or is this a time for me to be brave.”

Let’s be clear about what ‘courage’ is about.

Courage is about handling the discomfort of anxiety while moving towards brave. It’s about reading anxiety as a sign that they’re about to do something hard, important brave, not as something to be avoided.

They don’t need to handle the discomfort well, and they can build their brave in tiny steps. It doesn’t have to happen all at once.

The more experience they have feeling anxious and doing brave, the more they will realise that anxiety isn’t something to be avoided – it’s ‘brave’ in action.

But when they’re struggling so much, all I want to do is bundle them up and protect them.

Of course! This is so normal. My gosh I’ve been there too many times with my own kids. Sometimes I’ve given in and scooped them up – absolutely. This is not about perfection.

What’s important is that there are enough times, that rather than supporting their avoidance of the discomfort of anxiety (and by doing that, their avoidance of whatever safe but brave/new/hard/important thing is triggering their anxiety), we hold the space and the expectation that they can handle the discomfort of anxiety – because they can. 

We don’t have to protect them from the discomfort of anxiety. We’ll want to, but we don’t have to. Anxiety often feels bigger than them, but it isn’t. This is a wisdom that only comes from experience. The more they sit with their anxiety, the more they will see that they can feel anxious and do brave anyway. Sometimes brave means moving forward. Sometimes it means standing still while the feeling washes away.

It’s about sharing the space with anxiety, not getting pushed out by it.

Building their brave.

Our job as their adults isn’t to fix the discomfort of anxiety, but to help them recognise that they can handle that discomfort – because it’s going to be there whenever they do something brave, hard, important. When we move them to avoid anxiety, we potentially, inadvertently, also move them to avoid brave, hard, growthful things.

‘Brave’ rarely feels brave. It will feel jagged and raw. Sometimes fragile and threadbare. Sometimes it will as though it’s breathing fire. But that’s how brave feels sometimes.

The more they sit with the discomfort of anxiety, the more they will see that anxiety isn’t an enemy. They don’t have to be scared of it. It’s a faithful ally, a protector, and it’s telling them, ‘Brave lives here. Stay with me. Let me show you.’

The post One of the most important things kids need to know about courage and anxiety. appeared first on Hey Sigmund.

The more teachers, coaches, or any important adult can help children feel safe, seen, cared for, the more those kids will feel safe enough to ask for help, take safe risks, learn, be curious, be brave, learn, grow.

The research is so clear on this. Students who genuinely feel cared for by their teachers do better at school. This is because when children feel relationally safe, the learning brain opens wide up. Without that felt sense of relational safety, the brain will focus on getting ‘safe’ rather than learning.

Brains are here to keep us safe. They aren’t here to keep us happy, for relationships, learning, play – unless that matters right now for our survival. The priority for all brains is safety. When we talk about ‘safety’, this isn’t about what is actually safe or not safe. It’s about what the brain perceives. It’s also not just about physical safety. Relational safety (feeling cared for, welcome, seen, validated, free from humiliation, shame, judgement) is just as important to the brain. 

When the brain registers any form of threat, even if ‘threat’ is unlikely or teeny, it will hoard all available resources in case it needs them for survival. Only when brains feel truly safe 

Any ideas that behaviour at school should be managed with separation-based discipline, shame, star charts or behaviour charts or anything that publicly ranks students (someone is always on the bottom – usually the same someones), or overly-stern voices are outdated and are not at all informed by science. Fear does not motivate. It shuts down the learning brain and makes it impossible for children to learn. It does the same to adults. It’s also why we need to steer away from suspensions and stand-downs. None of these fix the problem long term. They’re the biggest ‘you’re not welcome’ signs children can get and will only contribute to the problem long-term. Of course, none of this means ‘no boundaries’. It means building relational safety and setting and enforcing boundaries in ways that don’t tear it apart.

Unless you’re one of the ones anxious kids feel safe with, you’ll only see the tip of what they are capable of. School and learning were never meant to be about how outgoing kids are or how confident they are in initiating contact with an adult. Greatness is built bit by bit, and the foundations are strongest when it’s safe.

What parents can do.

• Know that whatever you decide, they will follow. Do you believe they are safe and loved at school? This isn’t a rhetorical question. Building relationships that feel safe and loving for children takes time. If you aren’t quite there yet, they won’t be either. What can help you feel more certain? Do you need a conversation? More information? Help to facilitate a relationship between your child and an anchor adult? Have a conversation with your child’s school. They want to be the best they can be for your child too, and you’re the one who can help that happen.
• Be the ‘glue’ that connects your child and their teacher. Whenever you can, let your child know you like and trust their teacher. To facilitate this, ask your child’s teacher to tell you something your child did well – maybe once a month or once a fortnight. Then, pass this on to your child. ‘Mrs Jones emailed me to let me know how hard you’re working in maths. I really love the way she noticed that about you.’ Or, incidental comments sprinkled around that sound something like, ‘I really like your teacher. I think you got a goodie with Mr Smith.’

What teachers can do.

• Let them know you’re their person: ‘I’m going to help you do the very best you can this year. ‘Being my best’ will mean different things to different people. I’d love to know what this means for you and how I can help. What matters most to me is that you try hard, make brave choices, be kind, and know that you can come to me any time. The more you can help me understand what you need and what doesn’t work for you, the more I can help you have a great year. I’m so pleased you’re in my class.’
• At the start of the year (or any time), ask them to write the answers to the following questions:
  • What does ‘doing well this year’ look like for you?
  • What might make this hard?
  • How can I help?
  • What are three things teachers have done for you in the past that have helped you have a good year?
  • What are three things that teachers have done in the past that have made it harder?
  • I wish my teacher knew …
• Build the connection. Micro-moments matter. Whenever you can (and you might not be able to do this all the time, and that’s okay), connect when they walk into the room. Let this be verbal or non-verbal. As soon as kids walk into a room, they’ll be looking to the adult in the room for, ‘Do you see me? Are you happy I’m here? Are you ready to receive me today?’ They’re looking to answer the big relational safety question: ‘Am I welcome here?’

And finally …

Good teachers change lives. They really do. So much of a young person’s experience at school isn’t about what teachers teach but about who they are. When children feel seen and safe, learning will happen. The brain will surrender safety resources and allow those resources to feed into curiosity, learning, connecting, and growing in all the vibrant ways we know they can. 

The post Anxiety at School: What teachers and parents can do. appeared first on Hey Sigmund.

Anxiety is a completely normal human experience, but it’s being packaged as a disorder, as a deficiency, as something to be avoided. We have to change this. When we present anxiety as something to be avoided, we inadvertently drive avoidance of the safe but challenging things that drive anxiety. This means everything growthful. Everything that matters. Everything new. Everything hard. Everything brave.

Even for kids who have seismic levels of anxiety, pathologising anxiety will not serve them at all. All it will do is add to their need to avoid the thing that’s driving anxiety, which will most often be something brave, hard, important. (Of course if they are in front of an actual danger, we help anxiety do its job and get them out of the way of that danger, but that’s not the anxiety we’re talking about here.) 

The more we talk about anxiety as a deficiency, the more it will pull down anyone who feels anxious when they try to move forward. It will squash their potential, smudge the way they see themselves, and deprive them of the experiences they need to realise that anxiety is just one part of their ‘everythingness’. They can be anxious and strong, anxious and powerful, anxious and okay.

The key to anxiety isn’t in the ‘getting rid of’ anxiety, but in the ‘moving with’ anxiety. This doesn’t mean they will be able to ‘move with’ their anxiety straight away. The point is, the way we talk about anxiety matters.

So what do we do instead?

First, we change its shape – from an intruder to an ally. 

Living bravely with anxiety is about sharing the space with it, rather than being pushed out by it. If we want kids moving with their anxiety – feeling anxious and doing brave – we have to present anxiety as something that feels safe enough to be with. It’s not a bully, or a deficiency, or a pathology. It’s a protector, an ally. It’s there to take care of them but they need to decide what happens next. Do they stay with the discomfort and move gently towards brave, or do they avoid the discomfort by moving away?

What we focus on is what becomes powerful. If we focus on anxiety as something to be fixed or avoided, this becomes the focus. It will keep their bodies unsettled, the minds restless, and it will steer all their resources (and yours) towards avoiding the anxiety and whatever is fuelling it.

On the other hand, if we focus on their capacity to be with their anxiety, without needing to ‘fix’ it, we start to open the way for their brave to flourish, because being brave isn’t about outcome – it’s about process. It’s about being able to sit with the discomfort of anxiety for a little bit longer than last time. 

This doesn’t mean we ignore anxiety. Actually, we do the opposite. We acknowledge it and we let it exist alongside their their courage, their strength, their ‘everythingness’ – not instead of.

Then, we change the story.

We humans crave the stories that will make sense of our feelings. This happens in all of us. Whenever we have a feeling, we instinctively look for a story (a reason) to make make sense of the feeling. We need to understand why we feel the way we do, and any story will feel better than no story at all. The stories we tell ourselves matter. These stories will drive how we respond. The feelings aren’t the problem, but the way we respond can be.

When anxiety happens, our children (all of us) will tend to make sense of the feeling with one of two types of stories – either a story of disaster: ‘I feel like something bad is going to happen, so something bad must be going to happen,’ or a story of deficiency: ‘I can’t do this. I’m not brave enough, smart enough, strong enough.’ 

The story they (or we) put to their anxiety will determine their response. ‘You have anxiety. We need to fix it or avoid the thing that’s causing it,’ will drive a different response to, ‘Of course you have anxiety. You’re about to do something brave. What’s one little step you can take towards it?’

When we change the story, we make way for a different response. This might sound something like, ‘It’s okay to feel anxious. You don’t feel like this because there’s something wrong with you, or because something bad is about to happen. You feel like this because you’re doing some big things at the moment. How can I help?’

We don’t want them to be scared of anxiety, because we don’t want them to be scared of the brave, important, new, hard things that drive anxiety. Instead, we want to validate and normalise their anxiety, and attach it to a story that opens the way for brave:

‘Yes you feel anxious – that’s because you’re about to do something brave. Sometimes it feels like it happens for no reason at all. That’s because we don’t always know what your brain is thinking. Maybe it’s thinking about doing something brave. Maybe it’s thinking about something that happened last week or last year. We don’t always know, and that’s okay. It can feel scary, and you’re safe. I would never let you do something unsafe, or something I didn’t think you could handle. Yes you feel anxious, and yes you can do this. You mightn’t feel brave, but you can do brave. What can I do to help you be brave right now?’

It’s like getting into a cold pool …

Think of the move through anxiety like getting into a cold pool. When we take the first teeny step into a cold pool, our brain will register pain and will want us out of the pool. But we know we can handle it and we know we’re safe, so we stay with it. As we stay with it, our brains and bodies adjust and it starts to feel okay. Then we go a little deeper. The same thing happens. Then a little deeper, until eventually, we’re all in and loving it. We can’t even remember what it was like when we were standing on the edge of the pool, wondering whether to get it or stay out. It’s the same for anxiety – the more we stay with it, the more familiar the brain becomes with the situation, and the safer it will feel – but first, it might feel super uncomfortable. Maybe even awful.

We can believe them, and believe in them.

First, we validate. Validation doesn’t mean we agree with them, it means we believe them. ‘Yes, I believe you when you say this feels big.’ ‘Yes, I believe it feels awful.’ Without this validation, anxiety will continue to do its job and drive big feelings to recruit the safety of another human. Validation is a way to make sure they don’t feel alone in their distress. 

Then, we let them know we believe in them. We speak to their brave. We know it’s there, so we usher it into the light: ‘Yes I know this is big. It’s hard [being away from the people you love] isn’t it. And I know you can handle this. We can do hard things, can’t we.’

We’re not saying they’ll handle it well, and we’re not dismissing their anxiety. What we’re doing is supporting them (when it’s safe) in the experience of discovering that they can handle the discomfort of anxiety. This will take time, and it won’t feel okay at first. It will feel like getting into a cold pool. Our job as their adults isn’t to remove them from the discomfort of anxiety, but to give them the experiences to help them discover that they can handle the discomfort of anxiety. This is important because there will always be anxiety when they do something brave, new, important, growthful. 

So often though, their courage to believe in what they are capable of will start with ours. ‘Yes, I believe you (that this feels bad), and yes, I believe in you (that you can handle the discomfort of anxiety).’ 

‘You are one of the bravest, strongest people I know. Being brave feels scary and hard sometimes doesn’t it. It feels like brave isn’t there, but it’s always there. Always. And you know what else I know? It gets easier every time. I know this because I’ve seen you do hard things and because I’ve felt like this too, so many times. I know that you and I, even when we feel anxious, we can do brave. It’s always in you. I know that for certain.’

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Whenever we hold a boundary, we give our kids the precious opportunity to learn how to hold their own.

If we don’t have boundaries, the risk is that our children won’t either. We can talk all we want about the importance of boundaries, but how can they learn if we don’t show them? Inadvertently, by avoiding boundary collisions with them, we are teaching them to avoid conflict at all costs.

In practice, this might look like learning to put themselves, their needs, and their feelings away for the sake of peace. Alternatively, they might feel the need to control other people and situations even more. If they haven’t had the experience of surviving a collision of needs or wants, and feeling loved and accepted through that, conflicting needs will feel scary and intolerable.

Similarly, if we hold our boundaries too harshly and meet their boundary collisions with shame, yelling, punishment or harsh consequences, this is how we’re teaching them to respond to disagreement, or diverse needs and wants. We’re teaching them to yell, fight dirty, punish, or overbear those who disagree.

They might also go the other way. If boundaries are associated with feeling shamed, lonely, ‘bad’, they might instead surrender boundaries and again put themselves away to preserve the relationship and the comfort of others. This is because any boundary they hold might feel too much, too cruel, or too rejecting, so ‘no boundary’ will be the safest option.

If we want our children to hold their boundaries respectfully and kindly, and with strength, we will have to go first.

It’s easy to think there are only two options. Either:

• We focus on the boundary at the expense of the relationship and staying connected to them.
• We focus on the connection at the expense of the boundary.

But there is a third option, and that is to do both – at the same time. We hold the boundary, while at the same time we attend to the relationship. We hold the boundary, but with warmth. ‘Yes it’s okay to be angry with me. No, it’s not okay to use those words.’

The post Let’s Talk About Boundaries appeared first on Hey Sigmund.

When we meet their big feelings with frustration or anger, it doubles the already unbearable emotional temperature of the room and drives the brain into bigger distress (fight or flight).

They will either catch the emotional heat and go bigger (fight), or escape it by shutting down (flight).

Our job is to bring the temperature down by meeting their distress with an anchor presence -steady, attached, grounded.

The problem with traditional ‘discipline’.

Traditional discipline (time-out, punishment, shouty voices, shame) uses emotional or physical separation as a way to bring children back to calm. But here’s the rub: Children can’t come back to calm on their own. It also squanders an opportunity for us to build their capacity to self-regulate in healthy ways.

These strategies might look like they work, but we have to not confuse a quiet child for a calm child.

From co-regulation to self-regulation.

It takes lots of time and experience to build the neural pathways that will support self-regulation. Those pathways build through co-regulation. This provides children with the actual experience of coming back to calm safely, without having to shut their feelings down or put themselves away.

When we leave them to come back to calm on their own, we’re leaving them to do the work that adults are best placed to do. We might not be able to do this all the time – we’re human too – and that’s okay, but it’s important we do it whenever we can.

Every time a child goes into distress, their young brain is calling to the adult in the room to lead it back to calm. It’s as though the brain is saying, ‘Can you show me how to do this regulation thing. I’ll need to practice lots with you before I can do it on my own.’

Big feelings are not an interruption (though it can certainly feel that way!) and they absolutely not a bad child or bad parenting. Big feelings are the training ground for self-regulation, and co-regulation IS the work that will build this.

The post Big Feelings: The Training Ground for Self-Regulation. appeared first on Hey Sigmund.

An anxious brain can’t learn. The thinking brain (the prefrontal cortex) can only be ‘on’ when the whole brain feels safe: physically safe (free from hunger, pain, exhaustion, sensory overload/ underload) and relationally safe (seen, welcome, cared for, connected to).

Of course we want to support academic progression, but if we shortcut the opportunity or time for teachers to be able to build relational safety in the classroom, learning won’t happen. Without relational safety, there will be anxiety. It can be easy to overlook these kids or assume that they are giving everything they have to give, but too often, they will fall short of their potential.

Let’s not make the mistake of thinking we’ve seen everything these kids have to give or that we know what they’re capable of. They don’t even know what they’re capable of yet, but we know they can do hard things and surprising things – they just need to feel safe enough first. They need us to stay curious about their potential until they feel safe enough to let us uncover that potential.

Children can only learn when they feel relationally safe: when they feel cared for, connected to, and noticed by their teacher. When we talk about ‘safety’, we’re talking about what the brain perceives. Being safe doesn’t mean feeling safe. Children can have the world’s warmest, most loving teacher, and be a part of the safest, most caring school, but this doesn’t mean the brain will feel safe.

Relationships take time, and learning can’t happen without them. Yet, our teachers are under more pressure than ever (as are our children!) to show academic results. Some kids will excel no matter what’s happening in the room, but too many won’t. This isn’t because they aren’t capable, but because they don’t feel safe enough – yet.

Until children feel safe enough, we will only see the fringes of what they can do. We don’t need to change them – there is nothing wrong with them. What’s wrong is the world that thinks all children should feel safe with all adults, even ones they don’t know yet. This idea is ridiculous.

These kids don’t want to be ‘indulged’. They want to feel safe. We all need that, so we need to be kind to our teachers too. We need to give teachers more time and opportunity to build the relationships that let them do their jobs. Building relationships isn’t a distraction from teaching. It’s the vital foundation of teaching.

The teachers that get the importance of relationship are magic-makers – they change lives – but learning might take longer at first, while the relationship is building. When the relationship is there, these teachers have the most profound capacity to lead even the most anxious kids into learning, brave behaviour and discovering their rich potential.

The post Anxiety, Learning, and … the Magic Ingredient appeared first on Hey Sigmund.

When anxiety hits, our children will look to us for signs of safety. They’ll be needing to know, ‘Do you think I’m safe?’ ‘Do you think I can do this?’ ‘Do you think I’m brave enough, strong enough, capable enough?’

What we decide, they will follow. They might be achingly unwilling for a while, but eventually, they will follow. If only making the decision wasn’t so entangled, so often, with our own anxiety, their distress, and the smudgy, uncertain line that often comes before brave.

One of the hardest things as a parent can be deciding when to protect our kids and when to support them into brave. For them, brave, hard, new things (scary-safe) will often feel like dangerous things (scary-dangerous). Their anxiety around this will drive anxiety in us. It’s why their brave things will often feel scary for us too.

There’s a good reason for this. As their important adults, we’re designed to feel distress at their distress. This is how we keep them safe. It’s normal, necessary, and the thing that makes us loving, beautiful, available parents. But – it’s also why their anxiety will often drive anxiety in us, and a powerful drive to protect them from whatever is causing their distress.

Their distress will drive distress in us … exactly as it’s meant to.

When our children are truly in danger, their distress (fight or flight) will drive distress (fight or flight) in us to give us the strength, the will, the everything to keep them safe. Fight or flight in them will raise fight or flight in us – to give us the physiological resources to fight for them or flee with them if we need to.

We’re meant to feel distress at their distress – but those distress signals can also run interference on brave behaviour. Anxiety can make safe, brave, important things feel like dangerous things – for them and for us. This is normal and healthy. What matters is our response.

Sometimes making the decision, ‘Do I step back into safety or forward into brave?’ is too much for our kids and teens, so we have to make the decision for them. What we decide, they will follow. 

You will see evidence of this everywhere in your home: Do I need to brush my teeth? Is it okay if I hit? Do I need to be kind? Do I matter? Is my voice important? And the big one to strengthen them against anxiety … Can I feel anxious and do brave? The decision on most of these is an easy ‘yes’. We decide. They follow (eventually).

With anxiety, the line can be blurry. Sometimes your concerns might be valid, in which case their fight or flight (anxiety) will be doing its job. Sometimes though, our enormous drive to protect them isn’t so much about needing to protect them from the situation, but about wanting to protect them from the distress of their anxiety. This is so normal! It’s what makes us loving, responsive parents. It’s also why we have an incredible capacity to respond to their anxiety in ways that can widen the space for brave behaviour to happen.

They will follow our concern, or they will follow our confidence – eventually. It doesn’t matter how long the move towards brave takes. What matters is opening them up to the possibilities for brave behaviour that are already in them, and have been all along. They can feel anxious, and do brave. So can we.

This is why we have to ask the question, ‘Do they feel like this because they’re in danger, or because they’re about to do something brave/ hard/ important?’ ‘Am I reacting to the situation, or to their distress?‘

And what if I feel uncertain?

If you do feel uncertain, what do you need to feel safer?  More information? More conversation? Smaller steps towards brave? If you don’t believe they’re safe – at school, swimming lessons, with the person taking care of them in your absence – they won’t either. Do you need more information or conversation to feel more certain that they are safe?

What information do you need to be able to position yourself to respond the way your young person needs you to – either by protecting them, or by giving plenty of signals of safety so they can feel bigger and safer as they move forward into brave. Until we make the decision, they won’t either.

So I’ve made the decision. This is a time for brave. What now?

If you’ve decided that this is a time for brave behaviour, now they will need you to love and lead. It’s not about one or the other, but both. See their anxiety and make space for it, and also see their brave and make space for that too.

This might sound like, ‘Yeah, this is big isn’t it. It’s okay to be worried. Of course you feel like this! You’re about to do something brave. I know you can do this. If you can’t do (the whole brave thing), what will you do – and don’t say ‘nothing’, because ‘nothing’ isn’t an option.’

The posture to take here is, ‘I believe you, and I believe in you.’ I believe you that this is big for you, and I believe you that you feel worried or scared or threadbare – and I know you can do this. I know it with everything in me.

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