Kaleidoscope Kids Yoga Summer Camp

Kaleidoscope Kids Yoga Summer Camp Children's Yoga Studio offering Summer Camp in Toronto this July! Classes, special events and birthday parties to come, starting September 2015!

Kaleidoscope Kids Yoga Summer Camp is a small children's yoga studio that is offering yoga camp for children ages 5-8 this July. Parents may register their children for 1 or more of the 4 one-week sessions, running July 6-31st! : )
Camp will consist of yoga games and activities, yoga-inspired crafts and projects, breath work, relaxation, learning the fundamentals of yoga postures and mindfulness t

hrough games, songs, and stories, and most of all having fun!! The Founder and Director of Kaleidoscope Kids, Caleigh is a Certified Children's Yoga Teacher with Yoga Alliance, and has taught kids yoga for years, to children ages 2-9. She has completed 115 hours of Children's yoga training through Young Yoga Masters, and Radiant Child Yoga. Caleigh is the Yoga Program Director/Teacher and an Assistant Teacher at Forest Hill Montessori School, and also has her Ontario Teaching Certificate from the University of Ottawa. Her aim is to spark an interest in yoga and mindfulness, to help children discover their inner potential, be their best selves, and reduce stress and anxiety - all while respecting themselves and the world around them. Her favourite things about teaching yoga to children are embracing opportunities for silliness and play, and the kids' enthusiasm and imagination that they bring to each session!

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07/17/2024

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True at home.
True at school.
True everywhere.

Children want to do well. They don’t want to do poorly. They don’t want to disappoint people. They don’t want people to dislike them.

If they aren’t doing it, it’s because something is in their way.

[Image description: A child sitting in the corner of a room with hands covering their face. Text overlaid says, “You can’t teach children to behave better by making them feel worse. When children feel better, they behave better. - Pam Leo.”]

12/08/2023

She is struggling. S t r u g g l i n g. This year is hard, hard, hard for so many reasons.

We haven’t been able to do everything I wish we could do, in OT every week, because we’re so busy putting out the emotional fire that’s raging constantly that we can’t even make progress in new skills. The slightest push feels like it would send her over the edge, and I can’t do that to her. I empathize too hard with that struggle, anyway. I tell myself that I’m being the one safe adult in her life…that if she doesn’t know anywhere else where she can let her guard down, she knows she can with me.

She comes to me ready to fight, because she’s been fighting all week.

She begs me to take some of my toys, some of my OT materials. I remind her that these things are for all the kids, that I can’t just give away my materials. She palms a pom-pom on her way out, thinking she’s hiding it from me. I don’t say anything, I let it go. She’s only 30 seconds out the door before she turns around and comes back in, presses it into my hand, the guilt is too much. “I accidentally forgot I was holding this, I’m sorry,” she tells me, and I accept a pom-pom and an apology and don’t push it even an inch further, and she still won’t stop apologizing. Her heart is so sweet. She’s just hurting.

She whispers an insult out of nowhere. It’s technically directed at me, but I also know it’s not really *at* me. “You’re trash. You’re trash.” When I don’t reply, she gets a little louder. “You’re trash. Ha-ha, you’re just trash.”

In as completely innocent and nonjudgmental of a tone of voice as I possibly can, I cheerfully ask, “Who are you talking to?”

Again she dissolves. “You’re not trash, I’m sorry, it was mean, I know you’re not trash.” I tell her that it’s okay, that I’m not hurt, I know I’m not trash. I want to ask her who’s saying this, that it was in the forefront of her mind, but her speedy, thoughtful brain is already on to telling me different things.

We play a game. She’s the one making up the game. She has four ponies and they go around the OT room and do different activities, and I follow her lead. She usually gives me half the animals. Today she holds one out— “Here, you can have purple”— and then snatches it back. “Ha-ha, you actually get nothing. You don’t even get any.”

“Oh, okay,” I say neutrally, trying to read the situation.

She deflates a little, to my eyes. I’m not sure what I should do. It’s so obvious that she’s dying for power in a situation when she has none all day long. But I thought I was giving her power, by agreeing, by letting her control the game. If I fought with her, she might feel fleetingly powerful, but she feels so guilty about being “mean” that I don’t think it would last. I’m not sure how to spin it so that she can “win” this scenario the way she so desperately needs to.

Then…

I lean in. I play.

I stage whisper conspiratorially. “Wait, when you say, ‘Ha-ha, you get nothing,’ do you want me to say, ‘oh, okay,’ or do you want me to say,” and I become extremely dramatic, “AWWW MAAAANNNN, I wish *I* had a pony! Pleeeeeaseeeeeee let me have just oooooone ponyyyyyyy!!!!”

She absolutely, completely, lights up. “I want you to say awww mannnn!”

“Okay,” I agree, and then give an Oscar-worthy performance of Therapist Who Desperately Wishes They Could Play With One Of The Ponies.

She’s laughing by the end of it, and offering me two of the toys. “Here, you have half of them. Let’s go, they have to crawl through the maze. Wait—no, I have to crawl through the maze and you have to go on the balance beam.”

I’m all set and ready to ask whether I’m supposed to agree with the balance beam or protest my being barred from the maze. She’s one step ahead of me. She gives me a smile. “And you just say ‘oh okay’. I don’t want you to say awww mannnn anymore. I just want to play.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, and me and my ponies go on the balance beam, and she crawls through the maze, with a little flicker of light—power—re-lit. With the feeling that some time today, she won, and she didn’t even have to be against me to do it.

***

Resources for further reading are in the comments.

08/09/2023

There’s an episode of Bluey called “Muffin Cone” (s2 e43). The girls’ little cousin, Muffin, who’s three years old, comes over to play at their house.

She won’t stop sucking her thumb, so her mom has resorted to making her wear a “cone of shame” (since they are all dogs, after all).

In the episode, Muffin’s mom laments the fact that she won’t just have the self-control to stop sucking her thumb…while, she herself, eats an entire bag of chips (i.e., demonstrating a lack of self-control!)

Straightforwardly, the episode is a tongue-in-cheek look at the way adults expect more self-control out of their children than they themselves have. It also makes a decent point specifically about relaxing expectations around thumb-sucking. The kid is only three, after all, and a human adult is going to have a hard time forcing their human kid to stop sucking on a part of their body that’s continually attached to them, given that putting a protective cone on another human’s neck is not seen as an appropriate intervention. (Not to mention that intervening in another person’s capacity to self-soothe is a recipe for disaster in general.)

There’s also a larger point here about adults’ expectations of kids’ maturity in general. (Bluey episodes are really great at packing layers and layers of deeper messaging into one cute silly eight minute episode!)

Because it’s not just self-control that adults expect kids to have more of than they themselves do…

It’s patience. (Child should wait patiently for me to respond anytime they ask for something. Meanwhile, if I ask a question, I expect a prompt response.)

It’s respect. (Child owes me deference. Meanwhile, I can laugh at things that are important to them, or ignore them, or talk about them like they’re not there.)

It’s self-regulation. (Child must not react in anger toward me or somebody. Meanwhile, if child pushes my buttons, I’m justified in yelling or punishing them.)

It’s self-control. (Child must restrain themselves from things they want to do. Meanwhile, I’m an adult so I can do what I want.)

It’s attention. (Child must not wiggle or move around while sitting in class all day. Meanwhile, no one would dare tell me that I can’t get up and go use the bathroom at work if I just need a brief brain break.)

It’s silence. (Child can’t talk in line while they walk somewhere at school, or in class if they have a question, or in the lunchroom…meanwhile, I can talk or text whenever I want.)

Heck, some parents even hit their kids because their kids hit somebody. Or yell at their kids for yelling. The list goes on and on and on. There are a thousand ways in which children are expected to live up to standards that adults are not expected to maintain.

And then, oftentimes, those children grow up and feel entitled to the respect as adults that they were missing as children…and out of a misplaced sense of figuring out how to obtain that respect, they simply reenact what they were taught on the kids that now they’re in charge of.

At very, very least, shouldn’t we the adults ask ourselves “why” the rules are a certain way? And maybe, if it’s appropriate…maybe adjust them for the future generations?

[Image description: A still image from the TV show “Bluey”. In the image, Bluey and Bingo, a blue cartoon dog and an orange cartoon dog, are looking with concern/empathy at their cousin Muffin, a grey cartoon dog who is wearing a “cone of shame” and looking down with sad eyes. End description.]

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373a Eglinton Avenue West
Toronto, ON

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