Expected Outcomes: The challenge of assessing yoga and mindfulness

Yoga and mindfulness are inherently internal processes, so when it comes to the end of a semester, and I have to assess whether or not my students are "on target" or not, I balk. I could assess whether or not they were there to practice on time and prepared each day. I could assess whether or not they could hold downward dog for five complete breaths. I could say if they kept their eyes closed for the full ten minutes of mindful meditation. This is all external evidence of their commitment to trying the practice (or at least trying to look like they are committed).  But the real impact of yoga and mindfulness happen inside, often in subtle ways, over time. It looks different depending on each student. 

Furthermore, teaching practices that inherently ask us to be nonjudgemental of ourselves, then turning around and smacking a grade on my students' ability to be nonjudgemental, feels ironic and antithetical.  

Assessing yoga and mindfulness' efficacy is not just something I'm tasked with, but the community at large. But is it working? is a question researchers in the field are diligently trying to answer through self-reported stress perception scales, measurements of cortisol throughout the day, teacher behavior reports, GPA, etc.  Show me the research! is a familiar battle cry in the world of education today. This is important. We don't want to be enacting policies that impact the lives of millions of children without evidence that these measures are going to support them. And yet...it's tricky. 

For the student who has been failed out of each wellness class she's taken, who began the first half of the trimester in jeans for yoga, arriving 30 minutes late for class if at all, what does passing look like? What if, by the end of the semester, she came every day on-time in gym shorts and participated fully each time she was there? An amazing shift in behavior, to be sure, but can I find a standard this aligns to? Not really.

What about the student who I see threaten to beat up another student right after my class, but who writes, "Over the best semester, my flexibility improved greatly and so did my endurance. It was always awesome to start my day off with yoga, waking up my body and stretching everything out." Is that a success or failure?

Human growth is often too complex to be captured in grades.

Each time I stand before students, I teach a classroom full of individuals with their own histories, personalities, and mindsets. What success means for each of them, and what "efficacy" of the program means for each of them, may look entirely different. For one student, perhaps he continues to practice mindfulness even when he doesn't make it to school. For another, perhaps it's seeing patterns of behavior she didn't notice in herself before, even if she isn't in a place to change anything yet. These intangibles are incredibly difficult to capture at a quantitative measure for research purposes, and equally as challenging to grade at the individual level. 

One of the greatest freedoms I have offered myself in teaching these skills and strategies is a release from an expected outcome (I wrote about the importance of Trust for Mindful Schools earlier this school year). If I expect my students to all behave like little peace warriors who mindfully decide to put their technology away without prompting and offer a compassionate ear whenever one is needed, I am bound to be disappointed. Even more problematic, I miss the nuance. I miss the subtle shifts in student well-being. I close the door on the possibility that they may more fully develop in a more equanimous direction long after they are under my instruction.

To use Portia Nelson's metaphor from "Autobiography in Five Short Chapters," perhaps they will fall in the same hole they have always fallen in right now, but at least be able to see it. And maybe some day down the line they will walk around it, or choose another street.

So I'll assign them a grade, because that's our system. We should continue the research into mindfulness to add to the picture of the potential benefits and drawbacks. But it is also up to me to make space for the subtler intangible shifts, that may occur now or in the future, because of the work we did together. I hope as we continue to look to research and evidence to inform our choices of school programs, we make space for the complexity of our humanity, and the myriad of ways our students and programs may be "successful."

Stories from the Field, Part X: But what is it? Defining Emotion.

Stories from the Field are small moments about how mindfulness impacts the students I work with (and in return, how they impact me), in hopes of capturing what it means to learn and use mindfulness. This story comes from a STEM high school in Portland, Maine:

Anger, fear, joy, disgust, and sadness from Inside out

Anger, fear, joy, disgust, and sadness from Inside out

I like Pixar's Inside Out as much as the next person.  If I'm being honest, I probably like it way more than the next person. I use these characters to think about my emotions as harmless little muppets who I can comfort and soothe. I think the whole film gives us great insight into our mind. However, watching the movie just offers us a way of symbolizing, and even working with, them. It does not really give us a clear picture of what emotions actually are. 

The challenge of defining "emotion" 

So take a minute to grab a pencil and paper. Write down the word "emotion."  Then, write the definition.

How'd it go?  We might we know emotions so well, but when it comes to defining them, things get muddy quickly. 

Here's how the conversation with my high schoolers went on the first day we tackled this topic. 

Me: Okay, so tell me what you wrote down as the definition of emotion.

Student: A feeling.

Me: Can you explain what you mean by feeling?

Student: Um...emotion?

Defining an "emotion" is incredibly challenging. It is not just hard for us laypeople, but even scientists are still hotly debating the issue. At article in The Atlantic titled, "Hard Feelings: Science's Struggle to Define Emotions" explores this difficulty. Joseph LeDoux, a professor of neuroscience and director of the Emotional Brain Institute at NYU, stated, "'It's been said that there are as many theories of emotions are there are emotion theorists.'" The field is still evolving, and what we believed to be true in the 1950s when scientists first turned their attention to emotions has been challenged repeatedly. 

Carroll Izard compiled surveys from 34 emotional researchers and created this description: 

Emotion consists of neural circuits (that are at least partially dedicated), response systems, and a feeling state/process that motivates and organizes cognition and action. Emotion also provides information to the person experiencing it, and may include antecedent cognitive appraisals and ongoing cognition including an interpretation of its feeling state, expressions or social-communicative signals, and may motivate approach or avoidant behavior, exercise control/regulation of responses, and be social or relational in nature.

Our response as a class: Huh?

Emotions....Physical sensations

Image from PNAS study

Image from PNAS study

I asked the class to come up with our own personal, intelligible definition. We started by trying to understand the physiological component through a Mindful Schools exercise I have dubbed the "emotional vaccine." I spoke an emotion at a time and asked them to notice what sensations arose in their bodies. After three emotions, we would open our eyes and share out. While there was some consistency for what students reported out about their experiences— a swelling of the chest for "pride" or sinking in for "sadness"— there was also some diversity. For example, some students reported feeling anxiety in their heads and others in their bellies. We followed this by reading a study published in PNAS called "Bodily maps of emotions" that showed cross-cultural consistencies in body sensations in response to specific emotions. Then, we read the afore mentioned Atlantic article, which began with Paul Ekman's study demonstrating the universal correspondence of facial expressions to particular emotions.

Whether or not body sensations were universal still seemed up for debate from our experience, but we decided there is definitely a physiological component. 

 

Emotions....caused by chemical release in the brain

So it has something to do with physical sensations, but what else? This short video helped us understand where they might originate in the body:  

From it, we learned, "emotions are the effect of...chemical messages traveling from our brain to our body." By adding the two together, and doing a little word smithing, my students came to consensus on this definition:

Emotion: (n) An instinctual reaction to a circumstance that is caused by chemicals released in the brain creating bodily sensations.

"It's so sterile to describe something so...you know?" one student remarked. 

"I do know," I replied like the English teacher I once was, "that's what poetry is for."

Poetry and Pixar.

Stories from the Field: Part IX, The Rumi Trigger

Stories from the Field are small moments about how mindfulness impacts the students I work with (and in return, how they impact me), in hopes of capturing what it means to learn and use mindfulness. This story comes from a STEM high school in Portland, Maine:

Yesterday, I handed out Rumi's poem The Guest House to the small portion of my class that made it back the first day after break. This poem, written by the 13th century Persian poet, is a classic that has been passed around in meditation and yoga circles for centuries. It has been one of my personal favorites since I encountered it during my yoga teacher training. I think of it in my darker moments. It reminds me of the possibility of embracing all the intensity, of sitting down with it and listening carefully, so that I may glean wisdom from the pain. 

I have shared this with hundreds of adults in my life through yoga classes, mindfulness classes, and personal exchanges. Usually adults admire its profundity and wisdom.

My students, never ones to passively internalize what I offer, had a different response.  We started by reading the poem aloud. I asked the students to write down what they thought the author meant, and if they agreed or disagreed with the message at the bottom. After a few minutes of writing, I asked them to share out loud.

"Clearly this author is romanticizing negative emotions, or has never felt them himself," one student began.

"Yeah, I mean, maybe this is a good poem for people who are generally happy, but you can't just invite it all in."

"Has this person even ever been depressed?"

So...not moved to a higher plane of understanding through this great 13th century Persian's words then?

What I was so struck by, what made my heartache for them, was not their words, but the known pain that was welling up just behind those words. My students were not speaking abstractly. They were speaking from their own personal experiences. They were terrified of their own pain and darker emotions. They weren't just in disagreement, they were mad at him for even suggesting they should sit with them, welcome them, entertain them. 

"We shouldn't be pandering to these emotions," one girl asserted.

The words of Rumi have always spoken so clearly to me that I wasn't sure what to do when they were shot from the sky and sent to a fiery death. I know I myself struggle to be with the full spectrum of emotions, but I have also always thought that I am working towards a place where I can more fully be with them. I wanted to know more.

So I left them with two questions:

1. Why might someone believe that we should be with our emotions and see them as "guides from beyond"? What benefit could there be to sitting with emotions?

2. If not this, if not, "welcoming and entertaining them all," then what? 

We came back together the next day with a full class and these reflection questions clearing the way. I wasn't sure where we were going to land, but I knew we had to dig back in because I wanted students to have more time to explore that idea and to deepen my understanding of their perspective.

 After rereading the poem, I had students reflect in their journals, discuss in groups of three, then rejoin the whole class for a complete discussion. This time, greater nuance came through. One student discussed how pushing emotions away isn't going to help, but sometimes when you have an "inappropriate" emotional response to an event, you should try getting into the other person's shoes instead of entertaining that emotion. Another talked about how emotions are an essential part of processing, and she can't actually choose whether or not they occur, so the poem didn't seem to make sense. A few thought you should accept whatever comes, because you can't actually fight it, like it or not. 

I still find the initial response of those few students, from the first reading, so telling. We are incredibly resistant to our negative emotions, and even the idea that we should have to be with them can be triggering. It is counterintuitive to imagine that actually sinking in and being with an emotion can be the way to make it dissipate. But the monster in the closet grows larger and uglier until we finally work up the nerve to crack open the door and peer inside. Only then can we see reality. 

Stories from the Field, Part VIII, Beware the Pseudoscience

Stories from the Field are small moments about how mindfulness is impacting the students I am working with (and in return, how they are impacting me), in hopes of capturing what it means to learn and use mindfulness. This story comes from a STEM high school in Portland, Maine:


Image credit: The Daily Beast

Image credit: The Daily Beast

My work with Baxter Academy students has been exhilarating. I am teaching an elective mindfulness class there I call Wise Minds in which I have twelve students for an hour a day, four days a week. This allows for some serious in-depth exploration of the topic. Furthermore, they have chosen to be with me, which creates a different vibe than those who were forced to endure me in the classroom per their teacher's orders. That said, I don't get off the hook easily.

I made the mistake of offering data that seemed like a fun way to start a discussion about the impact of technology on our attention:

 "According to the New York Times, humans in 2015 are said to have the attention span of 8.25 seconds, which is less than 12 seconds in 2000, and the 9 second attention span of a gold fish."

That's interesting, I thought.

They immediately tore it apart: 

"I want to know how they are measuring that data. How do you even measure the attention span of a goldfish?"

"Perhaps comparing our attention to a goldfish doesn't mean anything because we, as humans, had a lot of predators, so of course we are easily distracted. Goldfish are human bred, I think, and so they don't have any natural predators to look out for. It is just trying to make us think our attention spans are too short, but really it's not a useful comparison."

And my favorite:

"I'm sorry to say this, but that's click bait. It sounds like pseudo-science made to support some pop psychology silliness."

I loved it!  They were right! I went home and immediately tried to figure out where those numbers came from. Numbers the New York Times, The Telegraph, Time Magazine, and countless other news sources and blogs quoted. They cited a Microsoft study, which I then read. Lo and behold, this statistic did not even come from their work, as they cited a website called Statistic Brain for these particular numbers. When I went to that website, there was no evidence of where they got the data. I wrote them an email. I am still waiting to hear back.

To these students, I say, bravo. When I taught English in DC, this was exactly the kind of work I was trying to get my students to do. I wanted them to be critical thinkers and media consumers. I like using research and science as a way of talking to students about human phenomena, but I need to be careful about mindlessly feeding them "facts" without investigating their validity. Science is still important to me, and I like that it helps us universalize our experience and understand ourselves in a larger context of humanity. But it's not everything.

In the end, we found a rich discussion by observing and reporting on the experiences from our own lives. We talked about our own tendency towards patience and impatience, and how technology may or may not contribute to that. We thought about the impact our phones and computers has on our well-being.

And the next day, I had this exchange:

"Your classes are like horoscopes," one tenth grade student declared as she came in the door.

"Oh?" I responded, "How's that?"

"It just seems like each day applies to my life! Take yesterday. We were talking about patience in class, and how impatience can hurt us. Then, the next class I had writing, which I am usually impatient with because I find it very tedious. But this time I just realized it and was able to go in really calm."

I grinned, "Yes, the hope is that you can apply this stuff to your life. Believed me, I use it every day."

Defining "Yoga" in Schools is not as easy as you might think.

Controversy over yoga

My grandmother showing off her flexibility before yoga was a thing.

My grandmother showing off her flexibility before yoga was a thing.

When my grandmother started teaching yoga back in the '60s, her church was concerned. They didn't understand how one of their own, a devout Methodist, could turn to the devil's work. My grandmother was undaunted. "It's just breathing and stretching," she would tell them, "there's nothing heretical about breathing and stretching."

The controversy around yoga is not new, but continues to resurface as the practice spreads to secular settings. Recently it came under fire at a school in Georgia, where fear of crystals, the word namaste, and bringing hands together at heart center left parents in an uproar. A March 24 headline in the Washington Post read, "Ga. parents, offended by the 'Far East Religion' of yoga, get 'namaste' banned from school." The school apologized for the misunderstanding, and agreed to stop using the word namaste and "prayer position" with the hands, though denied claims crystals were being used. It is notable that they are not backing away from the program. Calming and relaxation techniques are benefiting students and schools, and schools don't want to give these up because of misguided fears from parents.

This was not the first time, nor will it be the last, that yoga and mindfulness programs in schools are challenged. Last year in Encinitas, California, a group of parents brought a case to court arguing yoga in school violated separation of church of state rules. The outcome?  "California Appeals Court Rules Yoga Doesn't Violate Religious Freedom."

It is clear that while yoga may be practiced for religious reasons, it cannot be said to be inherently religious or overtly sectarian,’ the court said in a ruling on Friday.
— The Wall Street Journal

Yoga's Shifting Definition

Part of the confusion may lie with the fact that the word yoga has gone through its own identity crisis over the years, and the way it is often understood in the West is a far cry from what Pantanjali meant when he wrote it down the Yoga Sutras in the 2nd century BCE. As explored in an Elephant Journal article, yoga was an eight point plan meant to overcome physical manifestation and the cycle of rebirth, and is said to mean "yoke" or "union."  Only one of those points, or limbs as it was called, was about the physical posture, known as asana. That is the same Sanksrit word we see tacked on at the end of all our various postures today: Virabhadrasana, Adho Muhka Svanasana, Savasana. But originally, it meant seated posture, or the posture one took when meditating. Only a little later on— 1600-1900 years later— did yoga even start to talk about specific postures one could take, and none of them included the kind of sun salutation, warrior, nor down dog that are foundational to the yoga we practice today.

In sum, the religious roots of the word yoga have very little to do with the crazy modern sweat-inducing movement based "yoga" we practice in the West.

QUESTION: So then where does our modern "yoga" come from?

ANSWER: Scandinavian Gymnastics.

Say what?

According to Mark Singleton, who explored this question in his article, The Roots of Yoga: Ancient + Modern, in the early 20th century there was a rise in concern over strength and agility connected to greater social-political movements, and suddenly they were blending wrestling, gymnastics, and strength training into yoga. A physically rigorous practice was used by some of the more hip-to-it yoga gurus at the time to try and capture the hearts, minds, and bodies of the younger generation. Thus, many of the yoga postures of today are actually part of an exercise routine developed in the 1900s.

Where does that leave us?

We need to be very clear about what we mean when we say we are offering "yoga" in schools. 

When Little Flower Yoga, one of the top yoga-for-kids training programs in the country, talks about their program, they break it down into, "Connect, Breathe, Move, Focus, and Relax." They talk about the physical, mental, emotional, and attentional benefits. These are all words we can presumably get behind, and want, for our kids. There is nothing that talks about spiritual ascendence or resembles religious indoctrination. And that's because this "yoga" is a different "yoga" than that which Pantanjali originally wrote about.

When I started teaching yoga to high school students at Baxter Academy, a STEM school in Portland Maine, I did teach my students a little bit about the history of yoga. I wanted them to understand the greater context of the physical practice we were engaging in to open our bodies and calm our minds. As part of my "yoga" teaching, we put our phones away and invite our attention into the present moment, rather than getting caught up in the worries of yesterday or what is yet to come. We start with the sound of a chime, listening for the end of the sound to focus the mind. We move, and breathe, and stabilize. We notice sensations as they arise in the body and see if we can stay with discomfort. At the end, we relax our whole bodies before we again rise to re-begin our days, hopefully with more awareness. This is the yoga I bring to schools. 

After this first week, the students had this to say:

As a performer, I’ve always needed a way to relax before going on stage...before a show I did some of the moves you taught us and it was great.
— 10th grader
I often get stressed very easily so I have learned to stop and take a minute for myself. I have found myself over the last few days doing the motions we often do after or between a pose.
— 11th grader
I feel that this class and this exercise makes for a less stressful day.
— 10th grader

This is after just one week of practice from students who are new to yoga. Their anecdotal experiences about stress relief are just starting to be backed by research into this new field, and it will take some time for us to know the extent of yoga's usefulness to students.

In the meantime, it's on us to be clear about what we mean when we say yoga, since we have dramatically shifted away from the origins of the word. We also need to continue to look at what is actually happening in the classroom, as opposed to relying on the historical connotations and new age symbolism with which the word has been loaded down. In this way, we can best come to a common definition, and hopefully avoid some of the fears of parents who understandably do not know what is actually happening with their children when they are practicing "yoga."

Deering High School Shares the Love

Card signed by Deering HS mindfulness students

Card signed by Deering HS mindfulness students

It has been a few months since my last day at Deering High School, and I had the pleasure of being treated to chocolate mousse by the teacher I worked closely with when there. In addition to the delicious cake, she brought other sweetness in the form of a thank you card from the students and her evaluation.

I wrote a blog post recently for Mindful Schools about the importance of trust when working with mindfulness- trusting our practice to support us and trusting our students to take what they need from the practice. We can't always see the impact of our work. We aren't always so lucky to get feedback from our participants, and so after prepping and delivering lessons, there is a certain level of letting go we have to do in order to maintain our own peace of mind. 

This makes it especially important when we do get positive feedback to really experience it. To try it on and walk around in it for awhile. To roll around in it. To savor it. After all, our brains are wired to remember the negative more than the positive (a little something science likes to call the negativity bias), so we have to work to really experience those moments of light. 

In this spirit, a few comments I will hold close:

"Thank you so much Erica! You helped more than you know!" - Nate

"Erica, I'll really miss you... please do keep in touch. Keep us sane for the remainder of the school year! Due love." - Madlien 

And from the teacher:

"Erica, our trainer, had just the right presence for teaching mindfulness.  She was calm and personable with some very hard to reach students."

"The lessons were tailored nicely to the students' needs and developmentally appropriate...simple, yet they addressed serious topics with depth and relevancy. Students sometimes talked about a lesson long after it was taught, showing that they really internalized the skill and are maintaining somewhat of a practice."

"I just want to share my gratitude for a time well spent learning a much needed skill for all of us."

Thank you for sharing, Tracey. The cake, card, and evaluation were a much appreciated boost.

Newburyport Wellness Day: Stage Fright Revisted

2001 Graduation from Newburyport High School- I'm the front left.

2001 Graduation from Newburyport High School- I'm the front left.

As a young student in grade school, I could not get up and speak in front of people without incapacitating fear. I wrote an entire speech in high school on, "How to look ridiculously nervous while public speaking," and illustrated it perfectly with my strained shaky voice and nervous laughter. I avoided the stage as much as possible, and performed only in large musical groups where I could hide behind others. But today I stood twice in front of over 150 adults and shared what I had learned about mindfulness.

Today I went down to Newburyport, Massachusetts to deliver two keynote addresses and lead four breakout workshops in the very school district from which I graduated fifteen years ago. It was a surreal experience to stand in front of a stage where I sang a Pocahontas medley and played orchestral pieces with my middle school classmates. Even more, to have an auditorium filled with past classmates and teachers of mine. My favorite math teacher, Mark Littlefield, was there, and we commiserated on students' addiction to cell phones. My favorite English teacher, Debbie Szabo, introduced me and delighted in learning something from one of her former students. My middle school math teacher in one of my breakout sessions said she remembered my face from 21 years ago. It was an honor to be able to offer something back to these educators who helped shape me. And still...

I will not deny that for the first 10 minutes of my first keynote address, I was shaking in my boots. Literally, my legs were vibrating as I had everyone arrive in their bodies. But I used that nervousness to share more about the nuances of mindfulness. I explained that we could notice internal cues in our bodies, like my shaky voice and fluttering heart, which was a result of my nerves. I shared that mindfulness does not necessarily rid us of uncomfortable emotions, but does help us be more comfortable in the discomfort. We don't necessarily get rid of our foibles with mindfulness, but we can be with them more gently. 

And so, by not denying or fighting my anxious energy, but acknowledging and embracing it, I found it dissipated on its own accord. And for the rest of the day, through four break out sessions and a second keynote, I felt a greater sense of ease and lightness. This is what the practice offered me today: alleviation from the added suffering I heap on to challenging experiences, space to honor what was, rather than needing it to be different, and trust that the emotion would subside when it was ready. 

So I hope the teachers of Newburyport gained a deeper understanding mindfulness today. I hope they understand that it does not eliminate thoughts and emotions, but brings us more clarity around them. It is a tool that takes a long time to develop, but ultimately bears fruit that is worthwhile. It allows a woman who was terrified of presenting anything in front of any size audience to return to her old school and speak openly about her passion. 

For more information on the wellness day, please see the article in the Current, "Newburyport Teachers to Host Professional Development Day."

 

 

The REAL School Student Evaluations

Teaching mindfulness to students at the REAL School was not always a simple task. For students who had not been successful in traditional settings, there is an extra layer of wariness towards weird strangers telling them to focus on their breath. They seemed on edge, like they feel unsafe. Over the course of the eight weeks I spent with them, I saw some cracks in their facades. They occasionally would offer an insight into their experience or agree to read a line of a poem we were dissecting.

When the eight weeks came to a close, we ended with a beach pebble ceremony, each taking one as our anchor and sharing one thing we would leave with. I told them the one thing I hoped they remember is that we have more control and freedom than we often think we do. And that freedom comes from noticing what is going on for us. I told them just the night before, I was feeling really angry, and I decided I was going to eat pizza and watch bad television. I told them that mindfulness doesn't always mean we choose something healthy or sit with our emotions every moment as they arise. Sometimes, it means we notice those strong feelings come up, and we choose to not deal with them right then. Sometimes, it means we eat pizza and watch bad television, and reinvestigate the emotions the next day when we're ready (as I did on a walk to the water the next morning). But we choose that, instead of falling into it without awareness. 

When I collected the feedback from students, I was pleased to see that many of them found it useful. Many of them had ideas about how it had or could help them in their lives. Even if they wouldn't share it in front of their peers, many of them saw the control and freedom it offered. 

Staff also had a positive response to mindfulness, 100% of whom enjoyed learning about mindfulness, thought it could help them in their own lives, and thought more students should learn about mindfulness. Some of their reports:

"I love using it to try and fall asleep at night and to unwind after school."

"...practice daily, incorporate mindfulness into walks, and help with inability to sleep."

"When I'm overwhelmed, I benefit from the breath exercise." When I'm angry, the straight spine and feet on the ground posture helps me regain my composure."

"Wonderful tool. Great way to live. Thank you for your courage and generosity."

Ocean Avenue Elementary Professional Development

I have been coming to Ocean Avenue elementary for awhile now, substitute teaching across the grades and serving as a support person for students with special needs. The staff have always been welcoming, and the culture of the school is warm and inviting. Thus, I was thrilled when I had the opportunity to present to the staff about mindfulness. 

I am always struck how the energy of an entire room seems to settle as we walk our way through various activities with body, listening, and breath. When I called for folks to share about things they feel grateful for, their answers filled through room with hope. I found myself with an idiot smile plastered to my face, overjoyed to facilitate this moment for folks who I witnessed working so hard day in and day out.

While brief, an hour of mindfulness was enough to offer a taste of the benefits of learning how to pay more attention.  When I came back to sub the next day, a teacher cornered me in the hallway, "That was the best professional development we've had," she confided.  I'm so glad.


WCSH 6 covers local yoga and mindfulness programs

The work I've been doing at the REAL School on Mackworth Island was briefly featured on WCSH 6 last night, sandwiched between some adorable shots of toddlers trying to do yoga. While I wish some of the language I used in our interview had been incorporated into the story, perhaps it will at least pique people's curiosity. These is so much depth to this practice that is challenging to capture in a short news clip. 

Feel free to check it out under the headline, "Should Schools Teach Children How to Meditate?"