I Was Scolded at Yoga & Schooled at Home

Why teens hear feedback as criticism—and how to ease the impact

The other day, I arrived nine minutes late to my weekly yoga class. I’d reserved my spot and paid for the class in advance but I’d had an upset stomach and just couldn’t make it on time. It’s a small space—maybe 12 people max—so the door was locked to prevent anyone from accidentally hitting the person practicing right in front of it. I jiggled the handle hoping to get someone’s attention. I knocked timidly. I waiting a couple of minutes and knocked again, just a little bit louder. The teacher—a woman in her 60s with very clear boundaries, and one of the most skilled teachers I’ve ever had in my 30 years of practicing yoga—came to the door. I whispered an apology and explained that I’d been… indisposed. Glancing at the clock, she said, “You’re almost 15 minutes late. Sorry I can’t let you in” and swiftly closed the door.

I stood there frozen for a second. She takes her yoga and her students seriously and probably did not want to disrupt the class. Part of me got it. Another part of me felt ashamed of crossing a line I didn’t know was there—in the year I’d been to going to this studio, I hadn't been late before. I was one of the newer participants and the other students, with their quilted cardigans or intricate boho scarves and wild graying hair, all seemed like they’d been taking her classes for years together. They, along with the teacher, swapped stories and laughed easily before class began, while I mostly smiled politely and quietly stretched.

Would she have turned away one of the in-crowd?

I walked home trying to turn my attention away from that shamed and slightly miffed feeling I was having. Justified or not, feelings are feelings. We don’t get to choose them—only what we do with them.

When I opened my front door, my husband and daughter, sitting on the couch chatting, looked surprised to see me. I briefly told them what happened and we moved on to other things. Then, during a pause in the conversation and still feeling that feeling, I pouted dramatically and said, “I don’t like being scolded.” My daughter didn’t miss a beat: “I know!!! That’s basically what being a teenager is like all the time. Adults are constantly telling you what you’re doing wrong or how you should be doing it differently.”

Suddenly, her bristling at light admonishments and reminders made complete sense. Like when I mentioned that stepping on the back of her shoes ruins them, and she insisted I’ve told her that a million times. (Reader, it was once. Three years ago.) And yet, the small things she hears from me, her dad, her teachers, her grandparents and other adults in her life add up to feel like “a million times”—regardless of what is being said. We become the adult voices in Charlie Brown, just talking at them.

I hear the same thing from my teenage patients. They tell me their parents don’t trust them, that they’re always criticizing or correcting them. Sure, in some cases that’s accurate. In others, it likely just typical parenting.

As parents, we‘re trying to raise kids to take care of their belongings, be good citizens of our homes, look up from their screen when someone’s talking to them, speak kindly, and on and on. It’s literally our job. And yet so is creating a relationship where they feel trusted and respected so they grow up to feel both capable and good about themselves. Finding that balance can feel nearly impossible, especially if you have a more sensitive kid. Like most parenting, how and whether you say and do things is very dependent on the kid you have.

We know that children who are constantly criticized often internalize that critical voice, growing up with deep self-doubt and often higher rates of mental health problems, including depression. And here’s the tricky part: it can be hard to tell whether a child is constantly criticized or simply feels that way. Ultimately, we don’t know if that difference even matters—some studies show that the perception of criticism is an even stronger risk factor. Either way, it’s worth reflecting on your parenting style—and what small changes might help your child feel more secure and supported. So here are a few tips to slip in your back pocket:

• Pay attention to your expectations. Are they reasonable and consistent? Is your kid actually able to remember every chore unprompted, or are you hoping for a level of executive function he hasn’t developed yet? Does she really have to wash her dish every time she uses one, or do you sometimes let it slide and wash it yourself?

• Focus on your communication style. Are you more likely to focus on mistakes and flaws, rather than offering constructive feedback or praise? Are you able to provide feedback without using words like never and always (e.g., Instead of “you never put your shoes away,” say, “I expect you to put your shoes in the closet every time you take them off” or “I know it can be hard to remember, but it’s frustrating to keep reminding you.”) Leading with clarity and empathy—not contempt— makes room for our kids to develop accountability without injuring their sense of self.

• Check your insecurities and projection. Parents who struggle with their own insecurities or regrets may project these feelings onto their children, criticizing them as a way to feel better about themselves or because they don’t want their children to be like them or make the same mistakes. This is often unconscious and will take self-reflection.

• Be clear about your intent. Even when you're calm and reasonable, kids can still hear feedback as criticism—especially if they haven’t yet developed the emotional maturity to interpret it. You might say, “What you said was hurtful. I know you’re still learning so this isn’t to make you feel bad. It’s my job to help you understand and do better.”

• Use one word to communicate: Want something done? Point and say “towel,” “shoes,” “dishes,” etc. Want something not done like eating in bed? Say, “Nope” or “Downstairs.” Feel free to add a please or thank you to the end but anything more can feel insulting. They already know the rule and don’t need it reiterated.

• Let it go sometimes: “Tie your shoes.” “Don’t forget to put your dish in the dishwasher.” “I told you to keep your school ID by the front door so you wouldn’t forget it again!” “Did you thank Alex’s parents?” “Why is your room such a mess?” Even the quotidian reminders and small irritations can add up to feel like a life of being scolded. Be judicious with your comments.

• Don’t get defensive when they criticize you: Teenagers become acutely aware of their parents’ shortcomings and are often quick to point them out. Often they’re spot on so the criticism hurts. But this is an opportunity to model how to take feedback. Humor works wonders. Of course, if their feedback is more sass than substance, you might say, “I’m sure you have a point, but that’s not how we talk to each other in this family. Less fire, more finesse, please. Try again.”

• Remember, shame isn’t always bad: We never want to actively shame our kids but our disapproval may lead to the experience of shame. Occasional shame is part of being human. If, for example, your child made a racist comment or was being a bully, feeling shame in response to your intervention can spark self-awareness and motivate change.

It’s impossible to parent without redirections, reminders, and reprimands. So if your kid tends to snap back or wilt under what feels like a simple reminder, reflect not just on what you’re saying, but how it might be landing. It can be tempting to remark on how sensitive they are. But we’ve all had those “yoga studio moments”—when a boundary is enforced and we’re left feeling embarrassed or small, even when the rule technically makes sense. As my daughter reminded me, it feels a million times worse for kids because that’s what so much of life feels like for them.

I’m still not sure whether the yoga teacher was being fair or just inflexible—but as an adult, with years of resilience behind me, I could move past the sting pretty quickly. What stayed with me was my daughter’s comment—spoken just as I was sitting with that raw, uncomfortable feeling of shame. It brought into sharp focus what it’s like to be judged while you’re in the fragile, unfinished process of figuring out who you are.

When we approach correction with a little more empathy, a little less fire and a little more finesse, we create space for our kids to grow without growing ashamed.

And when your teen develops the ability to use her words and say, “I don’t like being criticized,” maybe resist the urge to say, “Now you know how I feel.” Just nod and say, “Yeah. I get it.”