The Hidden Cost of Providing Too Much Comfort

As the start of another school year draws near, I have been thinking about all the kids who may struggle with adapting to a new school or classroom, and wanted to share a surprising insight I’ve gained as a result of the many years I’ve helped parents and teachers support kids in making this transition:

Providing too much comfort can be an obstacle to kids’ adapting, as illustrated by this story that reflects a common phenomenon:

Three weeks into the school year, I was observing in a classroom and noticed that a little guy, Ollie (4), who was new to the school, was in an assistant’s arms or on her lap for most of the day. He was singularly focused on this assistant, Marta, and not engaging at all with the other kids or adults. At circle time, he wouldn’t join the group. Marta would end up reading to him in the cozy corner. At center time, he would only play with Marta.

This was a new school for Ollie. He was understandably anxious and needed support to feel comfortable in this new environment. But by the end of the first month, there was no movement. He was still getting Marta’s 1:1 attention for much of the day and not participating in any of the group experiences. Instead of helping him discover that he could manage this new experience, the message he was internalizing was that he needed constant support and attention to adapt to being part of the group; that, "Someone will always help me feel better." Not, "I can handle this.”

In this case, the teachers were acting on a very common faulty mindset: that distress means inability. They were waiting for Ollie to signal to them that he was ready to engage with the group; and that if he wasn’t, it was because he couldn’t. Their constant ministering to him had inadvertently sent the message that they didn’t think he could handle it on his own.

Further, they had set an expectation that there would always be an adult to hold, carry, and engage with him 1:1—not a healthy or sustainable situation. If one adult is 1:1 with a child, it effectively means that the classroom is out of ratio. Further, a primary purpose of going to preschool is to help kids learn to feel comfortable in and thrive as part of a group.

When I suggested that a way to help Ollie work through the stress of adapting to the new class would be to reduce the support they were providing, the teaching team was uncomfortable and dubious: How could anyone who cares about and understands kids’ mental health be recommending that they withhold love and attention to a struggling child?

But once I helped them see the inadvertent message that Ollie was getting, and that there was no reason to believe he didn’t have what it takes to work this through—there were no developmental or other factors that would indicate Ollie couldn’t make a healthy transition to this new class—they were willing to give it a try.

So we developed a sensitive plan for Marta to slowly reduce her support, which required the whole team getting comfortable with Ollie’s discomfort, and not equating distress with inability. For example, when it was circle time, Marta would tell Ollie she was going to join the group and would love for him to participate when he was ready. She didn’t cajole, cheerlead, or put any pressure on him (strategies that often increase kids’ stress.) When it was time for centers, she would go to the block area (she knew from Ollie’s parents that he loved to build) and collaborate with the kids in that center as they worked on their structures, hoping Ollie would eventually feel comfortable joining her and thus, his peers.

By the third day of the “intervention,” Ollie was inching closer to the group. By day five he was joining for circle time and on day eight he started to participate in centers.

The Take-Home: Sometimes what feels most supportive holds kids back; and what feels mean is most loving and supportive. I see this phenomenon every day in my work with families. More comfort is not necessarily more helpful or more loving.

Here’s another common example of this phenomenon from my practice

Josie often clings to her mom, Katie, at taekwondo drop-off, an activity that Josie actually loves. (Note that she never has an issue when her grandma or nanny drop her off. She happily runs right in.) When Josie is acting with such desperation, it makes Katie feel like she’s harming Josie and so she spends a lot of time comforting her—trying to get her to calm, to accept mom’s departure, and to join the class. The more comfort and reassurance Katie offers, the more fiercely Josie clings and insists she won’t be okay without Katie there. Sometimes Katie throws up her hands and takes Josie home to take them both out of their misery. But she feels very uncomfortable about it; that Josie is missing out on a fortifying activity, not to mention that Katie doesn’t get the precious time she needs to do things for herself or errands for the family.  

After we analyze this situation together in a consult, we agree to this plan:

At drop-off, Katie will calmly share: “I know you want to stay with me right now. And I love being with you, too. But it’s time for you to learn more great taekwondo moves and for me to do my important errands. I love you and can’t wait to see you when class is over.”

Then the Master, who is aware of and has agreed to the plan, will take over as Katie leaves. He’ll show compassion: “I know, it’s hard to say bye to mommy. It’s hard for lots of kids. We are starting class today by practicing our kicks. You can join whenever you’re ready.” Then he’ll follow her lead—giving her time and space until she’s ready to participate.

Before they implement the new plan, Katie tells Josie exactly what to expect:

• Going to the taekwondo class is a “have-to.”

• She totally understands that separating from mom feels hard, and, she has confidence Josie can manage it, just like she does when she goes to school or to play at a friend’s house.

• At drop-off, mom will give her a big hug and then leave. Josie’s teacher will help her move into the room and will let her know what the class will be doing that day. Then Josie can decide when she’s ready to join. That’s up to her.

• Mom will be back when class is ending and can’t wait to hear about all the new moves she’s observed, or practiced.

The day Katie enacts the new plan, the Taekwondo Master hae to help Katie peel Josie off of her and guide her into the class. Katie is a wreck. But when she returns, Josie runs to her full of joy and excited to report the new skills she had learned.

In Sum

The most therapeutic thing we can communicate to a struggling child isn't

"I won't let you struggle." It's, “I know you're capable of struggling—and coming through it stronger and more confident."