Playing With Fire: How Emotional Learning Begins With Trust

A Student’s Reflection—and a Moment of Pause

“I go with my first feeling, which causes WWII within myself because I try to find the words to say, but they often get jumbled, causing a loss in train of thought, which only frustrates me more.” These were the words written by a student in a reflection assigned after an outburst, and they stopped me in my tracks. Raw. Honest. Relatable. She went on to reveal the messy inner dialogue that so many of our students fight daily, often in silence.

While I was away at a conference, I got the call: there had been an incident. I wished I could’ve been there to calm her down, to stop it. But in hindsight, my absence allowed a moment of growth I might have interrupted. Her reflection became a kind of rehearsal—a brave attempt to reframe an outburst as a lesson. In her writing, she traced emotional patterns that shaped her responses: reactive communication in her marriage, childhood trauma, and the absence of emotional modeling. She wrote, “Everything I have learned within my life I have either taught myself or I have had to learn the hard way.”

From Dramatic Play to Emotional Rehearsal

Students often enter unfamiliar environments where they’re expected to silence their emotional responses and fit in. Beneath the surface, they’re rehearsing—trying on roles, mimicking tones, or just holding on. In early childhood, we expect this: we observe children in dramatic play, coaching them through how to take turns, use kind words, and name feelings. Dramatic play isn’t just about pretending—it’s emotional rehearsal, practice in navigating relationships, and experimenting with self-regulation in a safe, low-stakes setting. That need doesn't vanish after kindergarten. It evolves. In adolescent, postsecondary, and professional settings, learners still need that rehearsal space—only now the stakes are higher, and the support is often less visible. Play isn’t always joyful—it can be risky. For learners of any age, especially those with painful histories, emotional play might mean pausing instead of exploding, or saying, “I was wrong,” or “I need help.”

Consequences, Not Cruelty

In this case, the assignment meant as a disciplinary action became a soft place to land. I didn’t want her to feel punished. I saw potential, not defiance, and when offered purpose instead of shame, she rose to the challenge. Consequences were necessary, but they didn’t need to be cruel. Her fear of consequences was its own emotional rehearsal. Instead, we decided to support her by providing another role to play: to help us change the classroom culture so that reactivity and many other forms of harmful behavior would not become the norm. Admittedly, the classroom culture was deteriorating. She wasn’t the only one struggling. She just showed us first.

SEL Beyond the Early Years

“With all the things I have been through, I have tried so hard to rid myself of the toxicity I unfortunately inherited from my parents,” she wrote. We can’t expect composure without rehearsal. Emotional regulation must be modeled. Reflection must be guided. Educators must hold space for imperfect practice. In early education, we understand this. We build social-emotional learning into the curriculum, often embedding it through guided play, storytelling, and cooperative routines. But in secondary, postsecondary, and professional education, we often expect students to arrive with these skills fully formed. Many don’t.

Healing Through Practice

In our program, much of this happens in the lab and clinical spaces. While the clinical setting may not seem like a natural place for emotional rehearsal, it can be. Learning is not just procedural or cognitive; it is emotional. Without emotion, we risk taking the care out of healthcare. Our students are not just learning tasks and skills; they’re becoming professionals, often while healing parts of themselves. Just as young children use dramatic play to act out real-life roles and experiment with emotions, adult learners must also practice emotional responses in professional simulations. These aren’t detours from learning; they are the learning. If we fail to make space for emotional play, we risk sending students into the world without ever having practiced the most important parts of their performance.

A Call to Rehearse and Trust

Let’s trust students to rehearse and to fail forward. Sometimes, the most important curriculum lives in quiet, backstage moments, waiting to be seen. We know this in early learning, where the emotional, social, and cognitive intertwine. But that need for trust, space, and modeling continues across the lifespan. Whether we’re guiding kindergartners or adult learners, all students benefit from safe spaces to test roles, regulate emotions, and grow with support. What would it mean to normalize that kind of learning, not just the kind tied to standards or assessments?