One of the things I loved most about my meditation class was that it dispelled the notion that meditation is practiced in SILENCE.

Having never been exposed to proper meditation prior to signing up for this course, my only knowledge of meditation came from iPhone apps with sounds of birds chirping, waves washing up to the shore, and rain falling. (The Dalai Lama would be so disappointed).

One of the things that repetitively came up during our 6-week session was the idea that mindfulness is an act of being aware of everything in the present moment. And if the present moment included dogs barking and babies crying, then that was your present moment. Because when you tried too hard to block out those negative sounds and negative thoughts, you created a friction of sorts.

The goal of meditation, as I came to find out, is to create a peaceful mind and body, despite external “distractions” that may surround us.

Our 2nd and 3rd grade students practicing meditation during their Enrichment class.

Why is this important and/or relevant to my life? 

If you’ve visited me at work or if you work at a school, you know that it’s RARE to find ANY down time. People constantly ask me why I bring my work home with me or why things aren’t getting done at work.

Imagine this: I sit down to draft an IEP. I’m writing a fluency goal for one of my students. Mid-sentence, a kid walks in who is refusing to go back to class. I talk to them for a bit, walk them back to class, sit back down to finish my sentence, and I’m interrupted with a call on the walkie for some other issue. By the time I am done dealing with that, it is time to pull students for interventions. My work just doesn’t get done at work – ironically.

I’m not complaining. I think it’s part of why I love my job so much. There’s always something going on and each day is so different than the one before. I’m just saying that there is always “noise.” There will always be those distracting external factors in my life. And if I want to keep my sanity, I need to find ways to maintain peace internally.

And I think I do a pretty good job of it for the most part.

But there are still moments when I find myself wanting to lock the office door, close my eyes, and sit in silence for 5 minutes.

It’s just human nature. When we are overstimulated, we seek silence. When there is chaos around us, we want to crawl into a hole away from it all.

So I did it. 

I just locked my door, closed my computer and took a few deep breaths.

And then I unlocked my door and went about the rest of my day, a little more refreshed, a little less stressed.

The thing about adults, myself included, is that we seek these solitary moments from time to time to recollect ourselves. For me, I need a couple opportunities throughout the day to retreat like this. I’m much more efficient (and a LOT more friendly!) when I can remove myself from the ‘noise’ – even if it’s only for a minute or two. But we, as adults, so often forget that our kids need opportunities like these as well.

Lately, we’ve been seeing a lot more challenging behaviors from one of our kiddos. He’s constantly leaving his classroom. He refuses to go into the cafeteria during lunch time and, instead, tries to come into our office. In an attempt to provide boundaries and uphold expectations, we’ve “closed” off our room during lunch so that all students know they are required to eat in the cafeteria.

Yesterday, while I was “working” on a report during lunch, he ran in and dove under the table.

I ignored him. I didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. With my silence, I was attempting to convey that I would not give him any attention – positive or negative – for going against expectations.

A few minutes passed and I could hear heavy breathing coming from under the table.

I continued to ignore him.

He became silent and I wondered if I should prompt him to return to the cafeteria and give him an opportunity to turn things around.

I decided against it and continued ignoring him.

After a couple of minutes, he crawled out from underneath the table, hugged me, and, with a smile on his face, said, “Bye Ms. B. I’m going to go back to the cafeteria.”

All I could do was stare at him as he happily skipped down the hallway to join the rest of his class.

My 8-year old student taught me something so valuable yesterday. We can rigidly stick to our rules and expectations in an effort to maintain order. OR we can stop, reflect, LOOK at the PEOPLE we are working with, and seek to understand the reasons behind their behavior.

He needed to retreat. He needed a break. He needed to remove himself from the stimulation. Just for a few minutes.

He needed what I needed. He was just never given the opportunity.

I think I will always struggle with finding a balance between holding high expectations for our students while also giving them what they need. Probably because I work with little humans – not robots. There isn’t a perfect formula. There never will be. But, as I continue working with my little non-robots, I realize how important it is to be aware of just that. They are not robots. They have wants, needs, and concerns – just like I do.

And sometimes, just sometimes, they need to lock the door, close their eyes, and just breathe.