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Sit Down and Shut Up!

As an advocate for viewing children as competent, whole humans, I spend a lot of time reflecting on how to ensure the children get that message from what I say and do with them. It turns out the best way I've found so far to convey this is to sit on my hands and bite my tongue.
Now, of course, those hands have plenty of uses, turning pages, fetching necessary supplies, providing endless hugs and "uppy"s, but when a child is engaged in a project, it is my job to keep those same hands as far away as possible. When the Duplo block is not pushed all the way onto the one below it, would it be simple and nearly unnoticeable to push it the rest of the way while the child was searching for the next piece? Of course. But if I did that, the child would miss out on the chance to notice it themself, and either correct it or not.
By not correcting, that child will learn

  • One way that structure is susceptible to outside forces like gravity. 
  • To notice where the structure broke, when it finally did, and make future adjustments
  • To solve their own problems- today, an off-kilter block, tomorrow, a flat tire?

If the child saw me correct it, they would learn that

  • I am better at Duplos than they are, and therefore they should ask me to fix their projects.
  • I know how to build better structures, so I should work on all of their projects
  • They haven't mastered the blocks, so why bother if they'll never be as good as I am?
  • Someone will always be there to take over at the first sign of trouble, so why persist?
  • They can't do "it"- today, blocks, tomorrow, reading?
Some of these potential lessons may be familiar to you as either fixed or growth mindset. To borrow (and likely misquote) one of my favorite sound bites from Judy Jablon, every moment is educational; it's a matter of what it teaches. 

Siting on my hands and biting my tongue is not as easy as I'd like. Finding questions to ask that allow children to reflect is downright hard. "What's your plan?" does not come as easily as "Wow, that's a big tower!" Not touching that damned lopsided block is nearly impossible sometimes. But delaying that payoff of the perfectly centered structure can make the difference between a child who knows they will try and sometimes succeed and sometimes not, and the child who is scared to fail, because they've never experienced it before.


So, while the children should be talking, singing, moving, creating, and more, I'd like to ask all of the adults in the room to take a few minutes to sit down and shut up so you can learn something.

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