It's Not Trivial To Them
Why the things that we say and do to children matter
When I talk about the effect on children of behavioural practices which are used in some schools, I’m often told that these are trivial.
Telling children that if they don’t attend school every day their future lives will be blighted?
“Of course they understand that this doesn’t apply if they have a medical appointment or need a stay in hospital!”
Whole class rewards like a lollypop for every child in a class with full attendance?
“It’s only a lollypop!”
Line-ups for uniform checks with instant detention for minor issues?
“It’s so easy to just wear correct uniform!”
Behaviour points projected onto the white board every morning so the whole class can see who the ‘bad kids’ are?”
“Why don’t you worry about the important stuff, like stopping those who are disrupting the class?”
I talk about this stuff because for kids, this is the important stuff.
This is the stuff that keeps them up at night. This is the stuff that means that they sink into despair. This is the stuff that affects their peer relationships. For many, this is what makes them feel that school isn’t a place which welcomes them, just as they are.
I know it doesn’t have to be like this, because some schools are doing things very differently and those families talk to me too. Just because something seems trivial to adults, doesn’t mean that it is for a child.
This, after all, is the very nature of childhood.
(Illustration by Eliza Fricker, www.missingthemark.co.uk).
I read somewhere that the way we speak to children becomes their inner monologue. I think about that every day and use it to speak to them how I hope they speak to themselves one day.
How many adults can recall something like this from our childhood? I was that should who was always sick, and because of that I was also very anxious. I remember one school report where the teacher shamed me for missing so many days, and how if I “applied myself better” I would be an A student. I was so upset and filled with shame, I was only about 10. I’d had surgery and subsequent infections, something I couldn’t help. I still think about it sometimes, amongst other examples. I’ve had talks with friends, now that we have our own kids, about how this affected us and how we worry for our children’s journeys through school. We all had our own recollections, which proves that it does indeed stay with you.