Quiet Safe Place

 I greet my fifth graders as they come back from lunch. Grumbling…rumbling…many stories fly around about the morning in their math class with a substitute. I wonder how I will guide them through this moment of frustration. I first attempt, “Is it possible to let your feelings go and move on into this moment?” “No!” some of them responded unhappily. Stories begin again telling me about the injustices of the morning. I try again. I draw a picture of the brain and explain how we often tell ourselves stories…again and again…and again. Often, the stories we tell ourselves are the hard stories of our lives. I draw a series of repeating spirals inside the brain on the board. We continue repeating the stories in our minds even though the moment has already passed. I explain that we need to replace those stories with our joy…with our stories of strength, our power, our beauty. We need to imagine our quiet, safe place. 

I encourage them to sit up straight in their chair. To first feel their strength in their body. “Feet flat on the ground, nice tall spine, pick a spot to look at or close your eyes,” I guide them. “Breath in a big, deep, long breath. In…In…In… Breath out slow, out…out…out…” I walk around the room watching my students find themselves in their posture; hopefully feeling their strength. “Find your quiet, safe, place. Maybe it is cuddling with your cat.” 

Someone whispers, “...or your dog!”

 “Maybe you are dribbling down the basketball court,” thinking of Eduardo and the many others in the class who live for basketball. “Maybe you are feeling the freedom of the ocean,” I continue. I encourage them to see, hear, feel their quiet, safe place. “Make it as VIVID as you can. Imagine it. Know that it is always within you. No one can take it away.” 

I wonder is this actually going to work. What is actually happening in their brains, inside their bodies? This is what I have to offer to them today, so I persist believing that this breathing, this imagining, will help them navigate this problem of the moment.

After our breathing, we massage our eyes, our temples, our jaws. I tentatively ask if that was helpful, and I get nods of agreement. As we begin our reading LONG and STRONG challenge for the day. The energy in the classroom is calmer, more focused. They are soon engrossed in the worlds of their books. 

At the end of the day, I ask “Have you let the morning go now?” I see immediate thumbs up from everyone with shouts of “Yes!” 

“Yes!” I think to myself. Hard things can happen and we CAN learn to navigate ourselves to our stories of joy, our stories of potential, and our stories of strength. No one can take those away.