"He Has an Irrational Fear of Pinecones"

Before I'd even met the two-year-old boy, his mother told me, "He has an irrational fear of pinecones."

This was important for me to know because there was a pine tree on the playground. And she knew it. I quickly considered how I should respond if she asked me to remove pinecones from the playground. Thankfully, that's not where she was going. Instead, she said, "I wonder how he's going to react when he notices."

In recent years, we've seen an uptick in mental health diagnoses in young children, especially anxiety disorders. The jury is still out on why this is happening. It may well be that society, the environment in which our children are growing up, is causing it (e.g., early academic pressure, technology, decreasing opportunities for outdoor play, and so on). But it's almost certain that at least some of the increase is simply a statistical phenomenon based on improved diagnostic methods and earlier intervention, rather than an actual increase in anxiety disorders. 

I've known many families who are grateful for their preschooler's anxiety disorder diagnosis. It gives them access to language, services, and interventions that genuinely reduce suffering. This is a good thing. 

In our role as preschool educators, however, we've all worked with parents who mistake normal childhood anxieties for anxiety disorders, or at least the worry about it an awful lot. Most of us aren't qualified to diagnose a disorder, but if we've been at this for any length of time we are experts on normal childhood anxiety.

Helping children through separation anxiety, for instance, is a beginning-of-the-school-year tradition as young people experience their fear of being without mommy, and then learn, through experience, that they can not only handle it, but emerge on the other side feeling more independent and capable. These sorts of normal childhood experiences in resilience, in turn, give them the confidence the next time they are faced with an unknowable and uncertain future. This is an enduring finding in both psychological research and practical down-on-our-knees experience.

Anxiety disorders are one thing and should not be dismissed, but typical emotional development is a process of repeatedly experiencing manageable amounts of fear, frustration, disappointment, and uncertainty -- and there's my point -- while supported by caring adults. We don't leave a child to simply "cry it out." We don't toss them in the water to let them sink or swim. We're there to comfort them and let them know that they're safe, to let them know their fears are valid, but ultimately allow them to discover that they can manage their own fears. 

There is a difference, however, between support and "rescue." When adults see fear as the enemy and all anxiety as a "disorder," they can often rob their children of the necessary opportunities to exercise autonomy, taking risks, solving social problems, and recovering from setbacks. At best, this sort of bulldozer parenting, in which natural opportunities to learn about anxiety are cleared away by well-intended adults, just pushes the learning off into the future. At worst it can lead to an actual disorder, which we all want to avoid.

It took the pinecone averse boy several weeks to peer up into that pine tree and, to his horror, spy those dreaded pinecones. I happened to be watching him as his eyes grew wide and his jaw clenched. He pointed into the tree and said, "Teacher Tom."

His mother had prepared me. I said, "You've noticed the pinecones." I didn't tell him that he had nothing to fear, because quite obviously he felt he did.

He pulled his arms into his chest and moved slowly away. Over the next several days, we talked about those pinecones. He showed me how malevolent they were with his hands. He described their fearsomeness with his words. He imagined that they were a kind of monster that was going to do something scary to him. The future is always uncertain and unknowable and this is what he was dealing with, what we all deal with, as we confront the world beyond the safety of what we already know. Trepidation, fear, and anxiety are all valid responses. It's what we do in spite of those feelings that matters.

By the end of the week, he was still worried, but seemed to forget about the pinecones for longer and longer stretches of time. Every now and then, especially when he was playing under the pine tree, I'd see him cast a wary eye their way, but then go back to his game.

Then one morning, after a wind storm, there were pinecones on the ground. He noticed them as he entered the building. "Teacher Tom," he pointed out the window, "pinecones." We stood looking at them through the window for some time before he got on with his play. When we later went outdoors he mostly ignored them. I even saw him kick one out of his way. 

A few minutes later he was tugging on my shirt tail, "Look!" He was showing me the pinecone he was holding in his hand, his face a portrait in pride.

******

The way I spoke with the boy in this post is an example of The Technology of Speaking With Children at work. In summer camp we'll explore how the way we speak with children creates an environment in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. It's not too late to grab your seat around the camp fire. Click here to learn more and register.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!