Mindful Learning Means Un-Learning, Too

“Our bus sucks,” my 8th grader grumbled as I drove her to pep band for a school football game. We hadn’t been talking about buses—she picked that out of thin air—but she was disgruntled because we were running a few minutes behind, and she hates not being on time—hates having to rush to catch up, or be singled out among others who are waiting on her.  

“The seats are stinky, and the driver is mean. And she’s late!” my daughter continued with a snort. (Ah ha! The connection.) With several miles to go before we arrived at the school stadium, I could tell I was in for a litany of negativity. This is a pattern for my daughter (and maybe for most teenagers?): when she’s tired, frustrated, or angry, she’ll start blaming anything else in sight for whatever is wrong. If you listen to what she says, you’d think nothing goes her way, ever. And, the world is coming to an end.  

But if you listen to what she’s feeling (and I’m no expert—I’m just her mom), you hear anxiety and disappointment. You hear sadness over her lack of control—that she was ready, in her band shirt and her required black socks and shoes, and I was not. 

“Hold it,” I piped up from the driver’s seat, as my daughter continued blustering in the back. “Just stop. You’re not getting out of the car until you can name one thing about the bus that you like.”  

This caught my daughter up short. After a few beats, she asked, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you need to form a complete sentence that begins with, “I appreciate our bus ride because ___________. You fill in the blank.” 

“No.” (Patented teenagery.) 

“Yes. This is called gratitude. Name one thing about your bus ride that you are grateful for. I can think of one,” I continued, “...that you don’t have to walk.” 

(Okay, this is a bit of an exaggeration. We live seven miles from the school. Chances are slim I would actually make her walk, not over a patch of hormonal negativity, anyway.) 

Again, silence. 

And then (wait for it)... 

“That it’s quiet.”  

“What? Complete sentence, please.” 

“I like that it’s quiet,” she mumbled. 

And it’s true, her bus ride is quiet. She is among the last to board on our route, when it’s still dark at 6:57am, and most of the kids already on the bus are slumped in their seats, sleeping the last 33 minutes of the ride to school. 

“Good.” 

I dropped her off a few minutes later, and that was that. Mindful parenting win. 

But then (full disclosure: I’m just realizing this now, as I type)... 

I have some unlearning of habit to do here, too. 

First is awareness of my daughter’s distress, along with acknowledgement that it’s my fault we weren’t in the car on time. It might have been inconsequential in terms of minutes, but it mattered to her. 

Second, mindfulness can’t be enforced. Yes, practice in any form helps, but not as leverage for good behavior. You can’t “win” at mindfulness. 

And finally, I need be the example I expect from my kid: someone mindful of my bad habits as well as my good ones, and someone practiced enough to know the difference. 

Pause. Breathe. Act. 

(I’m off to apologize and take ownership right now.)