Setting and enforcing limits is one of the less fun parts of my job.
It's a critical part, though. I know that testing boundaries is a healthy part of early childhood development, and my consistency with expectations (no matter how many times they are tested!) actually contributes to a child's sense of safety and security. So I expect this inevitable testing. I plan for it. And I think I'm usually pretty successful in asserting the limits clearly, calmly, and consistently.
However, I'm trying something new this school year in the moments immediately following, and I've been pleasantly surprised by the changes I'm seeing because of it.
In the past, I'd state and enforce the limit, bracing myself for what could be an intense emotional reaction from the child. I might provide a brief validation for that feeling ("You're feeling sad because you wanted that toy"), but I generally gave the child some space to work through their feelings. I'm not sure what motivated this change in me, but I've recently been asking the upset child if they would like a hug or to be held as they cried about the limit. More often than not, the child accepts my offer and actually snuggles in to really be comforted. If the child seems open to it, I will empathize with their feelings and express my confidence that they will learn the skill and/or that it will get easier. "It's so hard to wait for your turn. We'll keep practicing. It won't always feel this hard."
I think what used to drive my previous approach - basically, hold the limit and slowly back away - was my expectation that the child was viewing me as an adversary when I enforced limits. With this mindset, giving children space seemed like the most respectful thing for me to do. After trying this new approach, I see now that the adversarial dynamic was really coming from me. In my students' eyes, I can firmly maintain limits while also providing a loving and nurturing support for accepting those limits. The two don't have to be mutually exclusive.
So these days, you will still find plenty of testing and plenty of tears in my classroom. But you'll also see me right in the thick of it all, loving my students through the "no."
It's a critical part, though. I know that testing boundaries is a healthy part of early childhood development, and my consistency with expectations (no matter how many times they are tested!) actually contributes to a child's sense of safety and security. So I expect this inevitable testing. I plan for it. And I think I'm usually pretty successful in asserting the limits clearly, calmly, and consistently.
However, I'm trying something new this school year in the moments immediately following, and I've been pleasantly surprised by the changes I'm seeing because of it.
In the past, I'd state and enforce the limit, bracing myself for what could be an intense emotional reaction from the child. I might provide a brief validation for that feeling ("You're feeling sad because you wanted that toy"), but I generally gave the child some space to work through their feelings. I'm not sure what motivated this change in me, but I've recently been asking the upset child if they would like a hug or to be held as they cried about the limit. More often than not, the child accepts my offer and actually snuggles in to really be comforted. If the child seems open to it, I will empathize with their feelings and express my confidence that they will learn the skill and/or that it will get easier. "It's so hard to wait for your turn. We'll keep practicing. It won't always feel this hard."
I think what used to drive my previous approach - basically, hold the limit and slowly back away - was my expectation that the child was viewing me as an adversary when I enforced limits. With this mindset, giving children space seemed like the most respectful thing for me to do. After trying this new approach, I see now that the adversarial dynamic was really coming from me. In my students' eyes, I can firmly maintain limits while also providing a loving and nurturing support for accepting those limits. The two don't have to be mutually exclusive.
So these days, you will still find plenty of testing and plenty of tears in my classroom. But you'll also see me right in the thick of it all, loving my students through the "no."
