That Oh So Uncomfortable Parenting Moment: What to do when your kid refuses to participate

Photo of me teaching a parent and toddler class in 2013!

I have been a teacher for over a decade. I’ve taught classes designed for parents and kids to enjoy together and also had parents visit their toddlers and preschoolers while in class with me. 

I remember parents on countless occasions feeling concerned that their child wasn’t participating and I remember loving these parents and letting them know that however their child showed up was completely okay with me. 

In most cases I’d see the kids more than once and develop awesome and lasting relationships with them. And even if I didn’t, their child was wherever they needed to be on that day, in that moment, feeling an array of emotions while being exposed to something and someone brand new. My goal was to keep the door open, let them know they were safe and invite them to join. From there, it was up to them. It might take 5 minutes or it might take 5 classes before they felt comfortable to participate. 

A few weeks ago was the first time I was the parent of a child who chose not to participate. 

And even though I knew from a teaching perspective it was totally okay, I, the parent, was NOT okay.

I always had compassion for parents in these moments, but I had no idea how excruciating it could feel until I was standing in their place. 

Here’s what happened:

Abby and I had joined a Zoom music class the week prior. Our first class went well. It was the first Zoom class and the first EVER class that Abby had taken. We brought out fun props and mostly she ignored the class and played with the props in whatever way she wanted, which I thought was great. At the end she waved at the other kids on screen and gave them high-fives.

To her, overall, the class was fine. To me, however, the class was REVOLUTIONARY. 

I had no idea how much I missed the joy of classes with little ones. Seeing other families, getting to do something new, and being able to sing - all of it was therapeutic for me. The singing, especially, was magic. I love to sing and really hadn’t done it much with Abby. Movement and art are more automatic for me, so those are what I turn to first as a parent and teacher. As a result I really appreciate having someone else lead when it comes to singing. And seeing Abby engage, even if only a little, with other humans made me want to jump with joy! 

So it was especially heartbreaking for me when the next week, Abby was not into it at all. 

She wanted me to read to her and I told her that it was time for music class. This was very upsetting to her so after trying to get me to read another few times and each time being denied, she got more and more upset until she finally left the living room where we were, went to her own room, grabbed a book, and laid down on the floor to read by herself. 

So now, I was in music class by myself - no child - and my brain flooded with messages, some positive, but most screaming that this WAS NOT OKAY.

Some of the thoughts included:

• I can’t enjoy being in her music class by myself! What an awful parent would I be if I just participated alone and completely ignored my child? 

• I want to enjoy this class. I NEED this class. Am I not allowed to do the things I enjoy or need?

• SHE needs this experience of socialization, albeit online. Is something wrong with her because she doesn’t want to socialize?

• I want her to participate but I cannot force her to participate. I do not want to be that parent and I know it won’t work for either of us if I force her. 

• I want to yell at her but why - is she really doing anything wrong?

• In fact, I’m actually really proud of her for taking care of herself. She’s not pulling me away from class, she is self soothing, but doesn’t she need to be challenged to participate in group activities?

• I want to be a good student, to contribute to the group experience, to sing joyfully, but I feel like I cannot do any of those things. This is SO HARD FOR ME.

So step 1: Stay calm (as calm as you can) while letting yourself feel uncomfortable.

As my brain and body were crashing into panic mode, here’s what I actually did:

• Calmly invited her back to the class multiple times - to no avail.

• Stayed at the edge of the screen and half participated while half keeping tabs on her in the other room.

• Watched my brain search for security.

• And mostly: Felt really really uncomfortable.

When the class ended, she was still okay by herself so I laid down on the floor and just BREATHED. 

Ballard, my husband, came in and asked how things were going. I said, “Awful,” and then started to cry. He tended to Abby, let her know Mommy was having some feelings but she would be okay. 

Step 2: Separate your personal baggage from what is actually relevant to you and your child improving your experience in class.

Thankfully, as I calmed my parent / inner child brain down, my teacher brain stepped up and asked:

“What do we need? How can I support both her and me next time?”

The answer I came up with was a boundary. 

Part of why it was so difficult to participate was because Abby left the room. When I calmed down, I told her that next time we had music class we would need to stay in the living room and that we would close the door to her room. I told her she didn’t have to participate if she didn’t want to, she could still read her books, but she would need to stay in the room where I could see her easily while music class was going on. 

It felt like a good compromise. Ever so slightly encourage her to engage while also allowing me to more fully experience the joy of participating - even if she continually chose to do her own thing. 

Step 3: Choose an action & follow through with it.

The next time we had music class, I followed through with the boundary. 

She, again, wanted me to read to her when it started so I decided to walk the line of reading to her and participating in class. I would read a line and then talk to her about what the kids were doing in class. In a handful of minutes she made clear that she would participate if I would hold her in my arms and dance with her, so that’s what we did for the first half or more of class. Finally, by the very end, she started warming up and desired to connect with the other kids by showing them items in our house. Beyond her, I got to participate and experience the joy of singing. It took extra effort to walk the line with her, but it felt worthwhile overall.

Then the next time she participated for the entire first half of class - I was so excited - and then she chose to read to herself for the rest of the time - which was also fine - all while I participated fully. 

other possible actions:

We are in this dance together, as you are in the dance with your kids, too. Our compromise may look different than yours, but I invite you to think about what would support you both.

• Perhaps having a different grown up be with the child in class, if that’s an option.

• Perhaps setting a different boundary, the child could have a specific toy or object with them during class for that added level of security.

• Perhaps the grown up needs their own class (just as I may need to fill my own desire for connection and joy separate from Abby) and/or the child needs to take a different class that is more suited to their joy or where they happen to align better with a different teacher. 

And you can always ask the teacher for help to come up with an action if nothing comes to mind.

Being a parent is hard.

It takes patience, trust, and constantly facing our own feelings - especially knowing that our feelings may have absolutely nothing to do with what our children need or with who they are.

For instance, you may have caught my thought above: “I want to be a good student.” Being a good student has been a way for me to receive love and attention all my life. When I fail as a student I feel like no one will love me. That’s my shit. My daughter does not have to be a good student to thrive in this world. Plus, what is a “good student” anyway? Someone who is obedient and does what others request of her? This is something that I will definitely have to unpack as Abby grows so that I don’t put my baggage on her shoulders. 

This is the work, loves, of being conscious parents.

Anyone tired, yet??

But seriously, it’s worth it.

Get support for yourself, be curious about what’s coming up and how you can meet your kids where they are while encouraging them to grow, and, of course, keep going. 

Lots of love,

Kelsey

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