Last week, a student came into my office with a pressing concern: another child on the playground wouldn't lend him a pencil.
One thing I love about WHPS is that children know they can come to any of us, and we'll stop, listen, and take them seriously. I was glad he came. And knowing this particular child, I chose my words, and even my expression, carefully.
“That sounds really annoying,” I said.
“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug.
“Want some help, or are you ready to go back and play?”
“I'm good. I'll go play.”
And off he went. Not exactly the profound educational wisdom you might expect from a head of school.
Meet the Tattle Phone
The exchange reminded me of a hilarious This American Life story about a preschool teacher who gives children a phone to report life’s many real and perceived injustices. One complaint? The other kids won’t share the Tattle Phone itself. Children could tell their stories, get something off their chests, and often go right back to their day.
Sometimes being heard is enough to help us move on.
This American Life is one of my favorite weekly listens. If you have ten minutes, I encourage you to give this one a listen, especially if you spend your days with small humans.
When Less Is More
Kindness to ourselves, others, and the environment is one of our core values. We celebrate thoughtful acts in our Big Red Bucket and help children navigate disagreements every day. So why didn’t I turn the pencil incident into a lesson about sharing or empathy?
Maybe the pencil was special to the other child. Maybe another friend would have shared. There were plenty in my office. But rather than assume this child needed me to solve it, I acknowledged his frustration and offered a choice: Did he want help, or had being heard been enough? He knew what he needed.
We practice kindness and friendship skills throughout the day, and some conflicts absolutely call for adult intervention or accountability. But turning every minor frustration into a major mediation can send the message that every disagreement needs an adult to resolve it.
That's not asking children to tough it out. It's respecting their feelings while giving them the agency to decide when to ask for help, speak up for someone else, find another solution, or let something go. That judgment will serve them in middle school and well beyond.
Not an Extra. Part of How Children Learn.
These skills often get tucked into the giant bucket called social-emotional learning, where they can sound like nice extras alongside math and reading. At WHPS, they’re not extras. They’re built into the day.
It’s hard to concentrate when something is bothering you, whether you’re six or sixty. Helping children feel secure, speak up, and move through setbacks isn’t separate from academics. It helps make learning possible.
That’s why we invest in ongoing staff training and coaching, building a shared approach rather than leaving these moments to instinct. Responsive Classroom helps us know when to reinforce, remind, redirect, invite children to envision possibilities, or simply say less. Our elementary school leadership recently shared a deceptively simple move: leave a few words out of a reminder and let children supply the thinking. It’s one of the small ways we build independence, a theme explored further in Getting Started Is Half the Battle.
Twenty years after my first Responsive Classroom training, I’m still discovering new subtleties in these exchanges with children. At WHPS, we can be somewhere between surgically precise and comically particular about the words we choose. If that sounds a little obsessive, fair enough. But we know how much those words matter and how children’s understanding of themselves, others, and the world takes shape through thousands of these small, everyday interactions.
There are no magic phrases. What matters is what we say, when we say it, and whether children know we mean it. I'm especially excited that the authors of Peacemaking with Preschoolers will join us this spring for faculty professional development and our parent masterclass, exploring how children learn to navigate conflict with empathy, judgment, and growing independence.
The art of teaching, and parenting, isn't always knowing what to say. It's knowing what the moment calls for.
Sometimes it’s a deeper conversation or a firm boundary. And sometimes, with a child you know well, it’s simply, “Yeah, that sounds annoying.” Those ordinary moments add up, helping children navigate an imperfect world with kindness for others and trust in themselves.
Five Small Phrases, Big MessagesOpen for practical language shifts to try at home
Small shifts in everyday language can give children more room to think, recover, and take responsibility. These aren't scripts; they work best when they're genuine and fit the moment.
1. Give the thinking back
Instead of: “Don't forget your water bottle!”
Try: “What will you need before we leave?”
Then wait. Really wait. If they’re still stumped, offer a small nudge: “It’s warm outside. What might help you stay comfortable?” The idea isn’t to make them guess what’s in our heads. It’s to give them room to think.
2. Notice strategies, not labels
Instead of: “You're so smart!”
Try: “You found another way when the first one didn't work.”
Be specific about what they actually did. “Smart” is a lovely compliment, but it's not much of a roadmap for the next tricky problem.
3. Acknowledge without escalating
Instead of: “That's terrible! Why would they do that?”
Try: “That sounds frustrating. Would you like help?”
A little empathy goes a long way. We don't have to turn a misplaced pencil into a five-alarm emergency to show we care.
Pro tip: If there’s a particular friendship that’s been bumpy, resist the urge to lead with “How was it with so-and-so today?” You may be inviting your child to look for trouble that wasn’t on their mind. Start with “How was your day?” and leave room for them to tell you what mattered.
4. Invite reflection
Instead of: “Why would you do that?”
Try: “What might you do differently next time?”
Ask when things are calm enough to think. In the heat of the moment, even adults aren't famous for their finest reflection.
5. Redirect clearly
Instead of: “Could you maybe stop?”
Try: “Put the blocks down and give your friend some space.”
When a boundary is needed, clarity is kindness. This is not the moment for a twenty-question interview about the blocks.
