Day 14: Why Feelings Make Learning Stick
- Brenna Westerhoff
- Sep 14
- 4 min read
I still remember exactly where I was sitting when I read "Where the Red Fern Grows" in fifth grade. Corner desk, third row, next to the window with the broken blind. I remember because I ugly-cried when Old Dan died, and Tommy Mueller saw me and for once didn't make fun of me.
That was 30 years ago. I can barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday, but I remember every detail of that moment.
Want to know why? Your brain has a special filing system, and emotion is the bright red folder that says "KEEP THIS FOREVER."
The Amygdala is Your Brain's Security Guard
Deep in your brain sits this almond-shaped thing called the amygdala. Think of it as a security guard who decides what information gets VIP access to long-term memory.
Most information shows up at the door? The amygdala waves it away. "Nah, we don't need to remember that."
But information wrapped in emotion? The amygdala jumps up: "This seems important! Tag it! Store it! Make it retrievable!"
This is why you remember:
The book that made you cry
The poem that gave you goosebumps
The story that made you angry
The character who felt like you
But forget:
The worksheet from Tuesday
That vocabulary list
The chapter you "read" but didn't feel
The Neurochemical Cocktail
When you feel something while reading, your brain releases a cocktail of chemicals:
Dopamine (pleasure, motivation)
Norepinephrine (attention, arousal)
Oxytocin (connection, empathy)
Sometimes cortisol (stress, urgency)
These chemicals are like highlighter fluid for your neurons. They literally make the connections stronger, more permanent, more easily retrieved.
No emotion? No cocktail. No cocktail? No lasting memory.
Why "Boring" is the Enemy of Learning
When kids say something is boring, they're not just complaining. They're telling you their amygdala has checked out. The security guard has gone on break. Nothing's getting through to long-term storage.
This is why students can read an entire chapter and remember nothing. Without emotional encoding, it's like writing in disappearing ink.
But watch what happens when they read something that makes them feel:
Mad at injustice
Sad for a character
Excited about what happens next
Disgusted by a villain
Proud of overcoming a challenge
Suddenly they remember everything. Not because they tried harder, but because their amygdala marked it as worthy of keeping.
The Emotional Range Problem
Here's what kills me: we've made reading so academic that we've stripped out the feelings.
We ask: "What's the main idea?" Instead of: "How did that make you feel?"
We say: "Analyze the character's motivation." Instead of: "Have you ever felt like that character?"
We test: "Identify the theme." Instead of: "What moment gave you goosebumps?"
Then we wonder why kids don't remember what they read.
Creating Emotional Anchors
Once you understand emotional encoding, you can hack it:
The Personal Connection First Before reading about the Civil War, ask: "Have you ever had to choose between two things you believed in?" Now the historical conflict has an emotional anchor.
The Feeling Check-In Mid-chapter, stop. "How are you feeling right now? Frustrated? Curious? Confused?" Just naming the emotion strengthens the encoding.
The Emotion Map Have kids mark their books (or use sticky notes) with emotions:
😡 for anger
😢 for sadness
😊 for joy
😨 for fear
🤔 for confusion
Later, they won't just remember the plot. They'll remember their journey through it.
The Comfort Zone Trap
Some teachers think emotional safety means never letting kids feel uncomfortable. But discomfort (not trauma, just discomfort) is one of the strongest encoding emotions.
When a book makes students uncomfortable because it challenges their worldview? That's the amygdala working overtime, marking this as important enough to remember forever.
The Mirror Neuron Multiplier
Here's where it gets even cooler. When you read with genuine emotion in front of your students, their mirror neurons fire and they feel echoes of your feelings.
So when I read aloud and my voice cracks at the sad part? Every kid's amygdala perks up. When I laugh at the funny part? Their brains mark it as joy-worthy.
Your emotional response to text is literally contagious, and that contagion creates memory.
The Stress Sweet Spot
A little stress actually helps encoding. Not chronic stress (that damages memory), but acute, manageable stress. Like:
Racing to find out what happens
Worrying about a character
Feeling frustrated by a villain
Being confused then getting clarity
This is why spoilers actually ruin more than surprise. They remove the emotional tension that helps encoding.
Digital Emotion Deficit
Screens dampen emotional response. We feel less when reading digitally than on paper. Less feeling = less encoding = less memory.
It's not that screens are bad. It's that they create emotional distance. The solution? Make digital reading more emotionally interactive:
Voice recordings of reactions
Video responses showing feelings
Collaborative emotional annotations
Discussion threads about feelings, not just facts
What You Can Do Tomorrow
Stop apologizing for books that make kids feel things. Stop rushing past the emotional moments. Stop prioritizing analysis over experience.
Instead:
Let them sit with sad endings
Celebrate when a book makes them angry
Share your own emotional responses to reading
Make feelings as important as comprehension
Because here's the truth: kids don't remember the books that taught them to read. They remember the books that taught them to feel.
And those emotional encodings? They don't just create memories. They create readers.
The worksheet they completed yesterday is already forgotten. But that moment when they gasped at the plot twist? That's encoded forever.
So tomorrow, when a kid says, "This book made me so mad!" don't redirect to academic analysis. Lean in. That anger is the amygdala saying, "This matters. Remember this. Keep this."
And decades from now, they'll remember exactly where they were sitting when they read the book that changed them.
Just like I remember that corner desk, third row, next to the broken blind.