They Can Sort It Out By Themselves
By Doing "Nothing", You're Doing More
They don’t need us to interject.
They don’t need us to interfere.
They don’t need us to tell them what is right, and what is wrong.
They already know, and they can sort it out themselves, if only we stop inserting ourselves.
Earlier this week, I watched from a few meters away, just listening. Listening to tears, and then listening to the other little voices. Those voices brought calm and comfort to the one crying, those voices also brought mediation to conflict, and they brought a form of “discipline” that will always be far more effective than anything imposed by adults. It’s instinctual to go to a child in distress, and I’m sure most adults, had they witnessed this scenario unfold at our climber, would have questioned why I, the teacher, stood there “doing nothing”. But by doing nothing, I was doing something: something far more valuable… and it wasn’t easy to fight off that instinct.
…
You know the sound instantaneously, and the guttural reaction is always the same when you hear those tears. You jolt and immediately turn to the direction in which the sound came from - are they hurt?
I surveyed the climber, no injury. One little guy in tears, and several other kids on, and around the climber. I began to move towards him when two students knelt down to see if he was okay. I stopped, turned ever so slightly so that they didn’t see adult eyes watching them, and I just listened.
“Are you okay?” they both asked.
Tears. Tears. More tears.
Followed by, “Are you hurt?”
The faintest of head shakes said no.
So they tried again to be sure.
“Are you hurt?”
Now a very clear head shake no.
“Do you need Katherine?”
No words, but another slight head shake that said no.
As they comforted their peer with a hand on his shoulder, I heard “If you aren’t injured then you don’t need to cry” (I may have laughed a little at hearing that and I may also be responsible for that line … but I’ll save the importance of tough love for another time!)
At this point a third student came into the conversation,
“Why are you crying?”
Through the tears that were still flowing and an attempt to catch his breath,
“He pushed me off the stairs.”
The three students who were clearly now mediating the situation, turned to face the other student, the “pusher”, and a whole mix of questions ensued:
“Did you do that?”
“Why did you push him off?”
“Did you push him off the stairs?”
At this point, I was undoubtedly fighting the urge to step-in, worrying that a whole new conflict was on the horizon. If the students overact in their approach there will be another student in tears. What if the words they say next are too harsh?
As all of this played out in my mind, I quickly realized there hadn’t been an answer from the student who had pushed. Just silence, which every adult knows is an omission of guilt. But, no additional conflict. So back I went to just listening.
“It’s not okay to do that” said one student, eyes fixed on their guilty peer.
“What do you need to do now?” chimed in another.
Crickets. (As taking responsibility and accountability began to set in)
“You need to say sorry”.
“Yeah, you definitely need to say sorry to him.”
And then they just stared. Eyes once again fixed.
Those stares resulted in an apology shortly thereafter, the tears subsided, and everyone went back to playing with laughter in abundance, including both students who were involved in the original pushing incident. And I … I still stood there having done “nothing”.
…
These scenarios unfold day-in and day-out at schools everywhere, and likely at home if you have multiple children. Conflict (and the ensuing consequences) not only plays a central role in childhood play, but it will also continue to be part and parcel of all stages of life, including adulthood. Our immediate, on-the-spot adult interventions rob children of both the opportunity to learn that they are capable of solving problems on their own, and the opportunity to develop conflict resolution skills. At the beginning of the school year, several times a day students come to us with complaints, “he took my shovel”, “she said …”, “they won’t let me play” and they quickly learn that we will not inject ourselves in to whatever conflict has developed. When we rush to step-in as the mediator we do our children no favours. Yes, of course when conflict escalates to include physicality, or when a clear pattern of bullying or domineering behaviour occurs we will step-in, otherwise, it is our goal to stay on the outside. We will coach, we will suggest, we will use proximity, but we will leave as much as possible to the students to sort out. They need to build the capacity to talk to each other, rather than talking through us. It does not take much of the year before they come to realize that they must resolve conflict themselves, and as the climber incident clearly shows, they quickly develop the skills to be able to do so.
Children’s arguments are messy, and they are loud. They bicker, they quarrel, they squabble, and it often has a “delightful” whiny pitch. For adults it’s exhausting, it’s draining, it’s irritating to listen to, and so we interject to end it more for ourselves than for them. Instead, if we impose fewer solutions, let children navigate conflict and come to them on their own, they will be better equipped to take care of themselves and take care of others; and that is undeniably what every parent wants for their child. Conflict will always be integral to play, children will always find their own way through it, and whatever the outcomes may be, they will always be far more authentic, more meaningful, and more impactful when derived from their peers.
Conflict is not a failure of parenting, or a failure of teaching. And while it may be uncomfortable to “do nothing” when conflict arises, we must let our children practice how to handle it.
They don’t need us to interject.
They don’t need us to interfere.
They don’t need us to tell them what is right, and what is wrong.
They already know, and they WILL sort it out themselves.