Anger

Anger is generally viewed as a secondary emotion in that if you dig a little, you find that it is typically fueled by a primary emotion like fear, sadness, rejection, loss, frustration, humiliation, or even physical pain. Psychologists tell us that it's the emotions behind anger that require our attention, but in the moment, anger is all inclusive, it sucks the emotional air out of the room, it makes us think we're on the moral high ground, and it's almost always present when we commit acts of spontaneous (as opposed to premeditated) violence.

Early childhood educators deal with anger every day. Our young charges typically haven't developed the capacity to control themselves the way we expect adults to, which is why there will be hitting, kicking, biting, pushing, and other violence. A two-year-old might hit or shove another child toward purely utilitarian ends, but over the course of the next year of development and learning about living in a community, most kids figure out more acceptable nonviolent ways to get what they want. 

But when anger gets the best of them, all bets are off.

Most young children have not yet developed the executive function to control themselves when their lids are flipped, which is why they need us to help them. We break up the fights, we stop the hitting, and sometimes we're even in position to prevent the violence in the first place. I've caught countless little arms in the act.

The connection between anger and violence is a strong one, of course. When a child is shouting, when we see their furrowed brow, we tend to move closer, anticipating the moment when anger spills over into violence. The problem is that anger in and of itself is no more wrong than any other emotion, but because it seems to exist on a continuum that includes violence, especially in young children, most of us strive to step in before the anger goes too far. It's tricky, however, because if we step in too soon, if the goal is simply to end the anger, then we risk teaching children that their anger is somehow an invalid emotion.

We remove an angry child from the situation, sometimes even physically carrying them away. We might command an angry child, "Calm down." And even if we say it in a soothing voice, it is still a command, one they are unlikely to obey. We say things like, "There's nothing to be angry about" or "You're over-reacting." We try to chuckle them out of their anger. Sometimes we even find their anger cute, especially as they try to find words to express it. 

Anger is not violence. And anger is not an invalid emotion.

Philosopher and co-editor of the book The Moral Psychology of Anger writes: "(A)nger helps us make sense of our world by revealing how morally wrong the world can be. Anger can give us information about how others view us as co-citizens -- how seriously you take my anger can reveal my social standing in the community. If you are likely to discount or downplay my anger, then that can tell me that you do not perceive me as a full member of the community. But if you listen and take my anger seriously, then that can tell me that you accept me as an interlocutor and co-citizen worthy of deliberative engagement."

Many of the most important things preschoolers are learning have to do with the morality of living in a world with other people. To a young child just learning about how things work, it may strike them as morally wrong that another child gets to play with the toy they want. It's unfair that another child gets the first turn. It's outrageous that I have to eat my broccoli before I get that cupcake. It's natural to be angry at injustice. Indeed, it's vital that we never lose our capacity to be outraged by it, whether it happens to us or others.

When we take a child's anger seriously, we let them know that they are not wrong: the world is not fair.

I often find myself reflecting on this passage from author Natalia Ginzburg: "(S)chool should be from the beginning the first battle which a child fights for himself, without us; from the beginning it should be clear that this is his battlefield and that we can give him only very slight and occasional help there. And if he suffers from injustice there or is misunderstood it is necessary to let him see that there is nothing strange about this, because in life we have to expect to be constantly misunderstood and misinterpreted, and to be victims of injustice; and the only things that matter is that we do not commit injustices ourselves."

I don't want to agree with her. I hate the evocation of the term "battle," although I have to confess that it's not entirely out of place either. I like to think that the school-like environments that I've created are more like neighborhoods than battlefields, but I know that for some of the children, perhaps most children, the two are not mutually exclusive. And yes, I imagine she was thinking of older children, but still, there is a core of unsavory truth here: a lesson we must all learn.

Yes, anger can lead to violence, but it can also bring us to hate injustice. The great civil rights leaders have taught us to turn or moral anger into nonviolent action, but even so, violence is often right beneath the surface because we hate injustice so much. I worry that when we rush to blame a child's anger on their undeveloped prefrontal cortex or dismiss it as a secondary emotion, we fail to take it seriously. There really are things to be angry about.

The moral response to injustice is almost always anger.

Anger is no different than any other emotion in its capacity to destroy or create. Perhaps we can only offer children "slight and occasional help." Perhaps the best we can do is do is to offer to be with them, taking them seriously, as they fight their own battle with the inescapable, outrageous injustice of the world.

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"Teacher Tom, our caped hero of all things righteous in the early childhood world, inspires us to be heroic in our own work with young children, and reminds us that it is the children who are the heroes of the story as they embark on adventures of discovery, wonder, democracy, and play." ~Rusty Keeler

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