Snowball Breathing and Hot Cocoa Breath

Why Mindfulness Belongs in the Early Childhood Classroom (Without Taking Time Away From Academics)

As an educator, former elementary principal, and early childhood teacher, I’ve heard the concern more times than I can count:

“I love the idea of mindfulness… but I already don’t have enough time to teach everything else.”

And as a mom, I understand that worry deeply. We want children to learn to read, write, think critically, and build a strong academic foundation. What I’ve learned—both in classrooms and in my own home—is that mindfulness doesn’t compete with academics. It supports them.

What Mindfulness Really Looks Like in an Early Childhood Classroom

Mindfulness in early childhood is not quiet meditation circles or extended lessons. It’s short, playful, and developmentally appropriate moments that help children regulate their bodies and emotions so learning can happen.

In classrooms I’ve taught in—and in many I’ve observed as a principal—mindfulness often sounds like this:

“Before we start our reading, let’s help our brains get ready.”
“Put your hands on your belly and take a slow breath in… now breathe out like you’re cooling down hot cocoa.”
“Let’s try that one more time so our bodies feel calm and ready to learn.”

That entire exchange takes less than a minute. What it gives back is focus.

Snowball Breathing and Hot Cocoa Breathing in Action

Two of my favorite breathing exercises to model for teachers are Snowball Breathing and Hot Cocoa Breathing because children immediately connect to them.

Snowball Breathing might sound like this:

“Pretend you’re holding a snowball. Breathe in through your nose as you pack it together.”
“Now breathe out slowly so it doesn’t melt.”
“If your body still feels wiggly, let’s pack one more snowball.”

Hot Cocoa Breathing often becomes a class favorite:

“Imagine your mug of hot cocoa.”
“Breathe in and smell it.”
“Now breathe out gently to cool it down.”

These moments often happen:

• Right before a whole-group lesson
• After recess or lunch
• When transitions feel messy
• When emotions are running high

They are preventative, not reactive.

From a Principal’s Lens: Why This Supports Instruction

As a principal, I didn’t walk into classrooms looking for silence—I looked for engagement. And I consistently saw that classrooms using brief mindfulness practices had smoother transitions, fewer disruptions, and more sustained attention during instruction.

I’d hear teachers say things like:

“Let’s take one calming breath before we start writing.”
“I notice some big feelings. Let’s pause and reset together.”

And then the lesson would continue—more effectively than if the teacher had pushed forward without addressing regulation first.

This isn’t time taken away from academics. It’s time invested in making academics work.

I often recommended this book.

A Mom’s Perspective: Skills That Go Home With Them

As a mom, what I appreciate most about mindfulness is that children don’t leave these skills at school.

When kids learn early that they can slow their breathing to calm their bodies, they begin using that language everywhere—at home, during homework, in social situations.

That’s powerful.

We’re not just teaching children to sit still for a lesson. We’re teaching them how to manage frustration, anxiety, excitement, and disappointment—skills that support learning for life.

Mindfulness Is a Foundation, Not an Extra

In early childhood, learning is deeply emotional. When children feel safe, calm, and connected, their brains are more open to reading, writing, math, and problem-solving.

Mindfulness doesn’t require new programs or long blocks of time. It requires intentional moments and simple language woven into what teachers are already doing.

“Let’s get our bodies ready.”
“Let’s help our brains focus.”
“Let’s pause before we begin.”

These small practices create big shifts.

When we integrate mindfulness into the early childhood curriculum, we aren’t choosing between academic rigor and emotional well-being. We’re honoring the truth that they grow best—together.