Noticing Anxiety Cues

The bell rings, signaling the end of another recess as my kindergarten class makes their way, single file, into the classroom. I take stock of the tired, sweaty and smiling faces and notice one spot of concern.

One of my students, Chad, is tightly wound with his shoulders scrunched into his neck and his eyes are darting around the classroom as he takes the fact that he is not outside anymore.

The anxiety is welling up inside him, causing him to blast through the cloakroom routine with a sense of urgency, throwing his coat onto the peg and shoving his feet into his inside shoes. As he loudly expresses his “victory,” I feel a ripple of irritation from his friends who feel that he is bragging.

“It’s not a race,” one student whines as the rest make their way to their desks at a more leisurely pace.  

We prepare for our daily McCracken phonics exercise but Chad is too restless to sit still. He is pushing his wiry body into his classmates’ space – kicking their chairs and draping his body over their desks. He is ignoring the verbal and physical cues given to him by both his Educational Assistant and myself. In fact, it is not until the minilesson is nearly done, that I am able to calm him down and help him transition back into the class. 

Chad is an extremely intelligent student that is dealing with a form of Autism. As his educators, we have noticed that once he has a problem transitioning during a certain point in the day, he will latch onto it and we will continue to see the problem at the same time every day. Knowing this about his habits, it is vital that we come up with a plan of attack for this potential problem. 

During lunch I sit down with his educational assistant and have a conference on how we can switch up the transition between recess and class to give him a chance to merge into the classroom without allowing him to rush through the routine. We agree that he appears to need time to calm down and collect his thoughts. We come up with an idea and decide to attempt it the next day.

The next day, like clockwork, he comes in anxious again. I pull him to the side of the class and tell him that I have a very important job and that I am looking for a very special helper. Does he know anyone who could be this helper?

Beaming with anticipation, he quickly offers himself for this very special role and is eager to be of assistance. I explain that our secretary needs magazines brought down every day so that she can do her job. We then stack his arms full of heavy magazines and his educational assistant walks with him down the hall to deliver the package. 

The short amount of time it takes for him to walk to and from the secretary’s office is enough time for the rest of the class to change their shoes and prepare for the lesson in a calm manner.

Our plan appears to have worked. The deep pressure of the heavy magazines acts as a touch stimulant and helps to both ground and calm Chad so that by the time he returns to the class, he is calm enough to participate in the lesson. 

After a week, Chad is ready to enter the classroom calmly and is able to join in with the lesson without rushing and we are able to slowly discontinue the walks to the office.

Reflecting on this experience has taught me how vital it is to be aware of non-verbal cues given to me by my students. It is my duty to notice these cues so that I can best serve the needs of the classroom and defuse any potential situations. By working with my educational assistants, I am given more support to try different methods that would be otherwise impossible to incorporate into a busy classroom. Keeping informed about recent research methods such as the use of touch stimulus with students who are dealing with Autism, is vital because it influences the methods I choose to integrate into my classroom.