Feeling The Feels

On how to support a sobbing math student.

“Lean into the discomfort,” I say, reaching across the desk for a tissue. Never tutor without a box of tissues. “It’s ok to cry and do math at the same time. Lots of my students do it this way. The numbers never seem to mind.” She sniffles a small laugh.

My student is feeling stuck. Stupid. Like everyone else gets it but not her. It must have been building for a while now, because when she doesn’t understand the first pass, the floodgates open. There will be plenty more passes. I have all the tools to get her from here to understanding, but first, we must deal with the feelings.

“It’s ok.” I reassure her. “Feelings can’t be wrong. They don’t always tell us true things, but the feeling itself is right, because it’s real. Feel whatever you feel. No need to change it or fix it or prove it right or wrong. It’s already right. Let it in. Just don’t always believe what it has to tell you about yourself or the world.”

“I can’t do it.” She chokes. “I don’t get it.”

“Can’t do it YET. Don’t get it YET. That’s what I’m here for!” I smile. “Is the feeling frustration?” I ask. “Fear?” If I’ve been working with her for longer, I might ask her where she can feel the feeling in her body, but that’s an advanced prompt, so I feed her some feelings-words just as I used to with my toddlers when they were having temper tantrums. I usually hit it on the head, but if I miss, she’ll find a better word and correct me. She has a good vocabulary and strong social intelligence.

“I’m just so bad at this. I’m bad at math!”

“Ah. Inadequacy. Inadequacy is just a feeling. I want you to let yourself feel inadequate, but not attach it to your identity, do you understand what I mean? It’s ‘I’m afraid I’m not good enough and it’s ok to be afraid’ not ‘I stink at this. I will always stink at it.’ We struggle with what’s new to us, and we all get better with practice.”

“It’s just so hard!” She continues.

“Yes. Effort. You’re in effort right now. And that’s ok. Ease is a lighter experience. Some things will feel easy, even from the beginning, and you’ll probably think of yourself as a natural at those things, but this is effort, and it’s just as natural to be in effort as to be in ease. You know, I have to work harder than the average person at reading. It takes me twice as long as my friends, and it leaves me tired. I don’t always want to do it for fun. But I am literate. And I enjoy great books. We have to treat math like reading. I never hear anybody say ‘I’m so good at reading’ — at least, not past the age of kindergarten. But when we leave school, we’re all literate. So what if I had to work a little harder for it? You read. I read. I’m numerate, you’re numerate, and getting more deeply numerate all the time.”

By now, after my little story time, feeling connected and understood, the sense of inadequacy (and shame, though we didn’t name it) is passing, making space for the math.

This scene has played out, over and over, at big grey rubber-topped desks in teachers’ offices. It plays out publicly, embarrassingly in front of peers right in the middle of class, sitting at wood-laminate tables or standing at blackboards and whiteboards (I teach middle school girls, you know), and it plays out in the privacy of my cozy tutoring table by my big double window with exhausted, overworked, college-stressed high schoolers.

If you or someone you love is experiencing math meltdowns, here are some pointers:

1) Feelings are always right — but they don’t always tell the truth, so DO let them in, but DON’T believe them if they start telling you about yourself or the world. Don’t let it be about the math or about the teacher. Math isn’t dumb and the teacher probably isn’t an actual enemy. Blame is a common knee-jerk reaction to try to avoid feelings. Bring it back to the feelings, every time.

2) Feelings are transient. They come and go, like waves in the ocean. They will not get stuck, especially if you make space for them. Feeling. Practice patience for feelings, both yours and those of your loved ones. They aren’t here to be fixed. They’re just flowing through.

3) We experience EASE and EFFORT in many aspects of life. One is no better than the other. Apply equanimity to ease and effort, comfort and discomfort.

4) It’s ok to share your own difficulties, but notice that I never said “I’m so BAD AT reading.” I admitted that I, too, have challenges, and normalize this without trashing on literature or on myself. Never did I say, “Good thing I never have to read big books again after high school, amirite?” I build BOTH literature AND myself up in relation to my challenges.

5) Separate FEELINGS from IDENTITY. “I am feeling frustration.” vs. “I am bad at math.” Yes to your feelings. No to letting them build your identity for you.

6) Start feeling for PHYSICAL sensations of emotions in the body. What, physically, is going on when math is hard? Constriction in the throat? Pain in the gut? Shortness of breath? No rights. No wrongs. Just start to notice. Make it a habit of observation. It builds up to some powerful self-knowlege.

7) A question I like to ask kids who feel stuck is, “Are you capable of learning?” The only true answer, of course, is “YES.” Because we are all capable of learning. “That is all I ask you to do. You are meeting my expectation and thriving in my class because you are LEARNING. It is all I ever ask of you.”

8) If all else fails, take a break. Get a drink of water. Have a piece of chocolate. Better yet, do something physical like sprint or dance to move the big feelings through the body. I’ve never had to resort to this at tutoring (kids tend to pull it together for a tutor in a way they wouldn’t for a parent), but it’s a good trick to have up your sleeve, just in case. Heck, even sleeping on it might help if the poor kid is exhausted. The math will always be there tomorrow.

Hope some of this helps when the feels meet the math!