If you navigate the education or foster parenting world long enough, you are bound to attend a training that incorporates the concept of “flipping your lid,” or a phrase with a similar meaning. This happens when some threat (real or perceived) triggers the amygdala, and intense feelings of fear or anger take over, resulting in a fight, flight, or freeze response. I can’t count the number of times I’ve witnessed this in the classroom or my own home. As a trauma survivor (American Airlines Flight 1420), I can’t count the number of times I’ve experienced it myself.
One night last summer, a member of our church choir became disoriented and barely responsive. I watched a group of Lee’s Summit EMTs and police officers respond to our call for medical assistance. The situation was complicated by the fact that the patient had a devoted, giant dog who refused to leave his side and began barking in distress when the EMTs were working on his human (who was treated and sent home, don’t worry). I had seen this dog several times, and he had never shown a hint of aggression. But now he was baring his teeth, and we all kept our distance.
After a few minutes, a strikingly tall officer arrived at the scene and approached the dog. He gradually moved closer and closer until he could read the dog’s tag and interact with his human. He began speaking to Gus (the dog) like an old friend, calling him by name. As Gus grew more distraught, the officer remained totally calm and peaceful. Eventually, the officer coaxed him outside to use the bathroom and stopped by his car for treats. Because, as it turns out, he is a K-9 officer. When they returned to the building, the officer issued command after command in a calm, authoritative basso profundo, rewarding Gus with a treat every time he sat or lied down. When he’s not in a panic, Gus can apparently do just about anything.
“I am really impressed with your K-9 training and skills,” I told the officer.
“Thanks for that, but this was less about skill and more about Gus knowing that I wasn’t afraid of him,” he replied.
I’m not sure I’ll ever stop viewing my experiences through teacher/foster mom glasses. Watching this man operate reminded me of all the times—in our home and in my classroom—when the little persons’ big feelings kept them from thriving, or even functioning at all. The bigger their feelings got, the more important it was for me to take the deep breath and exude calm. Not weakness, but confident, low-key strength.
Some days I utterly failed at that, and my own big feelings escalated things further. Because what’s more fun than one raging amygdala? Well, it’s TWO raging amygdalae. Chaos achievement unlocked.
Let’s think about Gus. Could there have been a different ending to his story? Sure. Someone could have decided he was in the way, and there was no time to deal with that. A frustrated onlooker could have dragged him out by his leash, and Gus may have run away. Someone could have reacted with alarm to Gus’s barks and snarls, scaring him even more, resulting in louder barking and scarier snarls. That version of Gus may actually be a threat. Given the choice, I prefer the Gus who sits on command and enjoys tasty treats. But that depends totally on who shows up to deal with him in the crucial moment.
I am including a “handy” link to help explain the concept of flipping your lid to kids (or adults, really) which follows Dr. Dan Siegel’s hand model. But the biggest takeaway for me is the truth that two raging amygdalae are worse than one. As the adult in these situations, my priority must be to monitor my own emotional state—not just in those moments, but daily. Sometimes grown-ups need a time out to collect themselves and decompress. My mental health is vitally important, and so is yours! We are only human, friends, and we all struggle at times.
Particularly in a classroom setting, there are so many factors outside of our control. We can’t force kids to go to bed at a reasonable hour or to eat healthy food. We can’t require families to parent in a healthy way. And honestly, there are some biological factors that even the most devoted parents/caregivers can’t control.
So what can we can control in a flipped lid situation? Just ourselves, friends. And that starts long before the lid is flipped. We practice consistent self-care. Because it’s not just for us. It’s for the sake of the little friends with big feelings.
For me, that self-care looks like walking through my garden and carefully observing each flower, spending time with my favorite people (my family), and listening to great music. How do you practice self-care? Let me know in the comments.
Mrs. Parker's Happy Classroom 