We Can’t Grow Children We Don’t Understand
There are a few phrases I hear often in early childhood education.
“He’s a hitter.”
“She’s just looking for attention.”
“He’s always so defiant.”
Most of the time, they’re not said with bad intentions. They’re usually meant to prepare the next educator for what the day might bring.
But I’ve started wondering what happens when we meet a child through their hardest moments instead of who they actually are.
Because no child is just “the hitter.”
Just like no adult would want to be remembered only by the worst thing they did on their hardest day.
When a child hits, throws, screams, or refuses to join the group, my first question isn’t, How do I make this stop?
It’s, I wonder what’s going on here?
Not because the behaviour is okay.
It isn’t.
Children deserve to feel safe, and it’s my responsibility to protect that. Sometimes that means stepping in immediately. Sometimes it means holding a boundary that a child isn’t happy about.
I’ll never apologize for keeping children safe.
But I also don’t want the behaviour to be the end of the story.
I want it to be the beginning of my curiosity.
Maybe they’re overwhelmed.
Maybe they’re frustrated.
Maybe they didn’t sleep well.
Maybe they’re struggling to communicate.
Or maybe they’re simply three years old, trying to navigate a world that feels much bigger than they are.
The truth is, we don’t always know.
But I think children deserve adults who are willing to wonder before they assume.
At the same time, I don’t believe understanding a child means removing every boundary.
Children aren’t growing up alone.
They’re growing up in families, classrooms, playgrounds, and communities. Every one of those places asks something of us. We learn to wait. We learn to listen. We learn that our feelings are real, but they don’t give us permission to hurt the people around us.
That’s one of the greatest gifts we can give children.
Not shame.
Not punishment.
But the confidence that says, “I see you’re having a hard time, and I’m here to help you through it.”
To me, that’s what guidance is.
Not making children feel bad for their mistakes.
Not pretending difficult behaviours don’t matter.
It’s helping children understand their feelings while teaching them what to do with those feelings.
I want children to discover what excites them. I want them to be curious, creative, loud with laughter, deeply passionate, and completely themselves.
I also want them to grow into people who notice when someone else needs a turn, who can disagree without hurting, who understand they’re part of something bigger than themselves.
Because that’s what community asks of us.
And maybe that’s what our role as educators really is.
Not shaping children into who we think they should become.
But creating the conditions where they can become fully themselves while learning to live well alongside others.
The more time I spend with children, the less interested I become in changing behaviour for the sake of changing it.
I’m far more interested in understanding the child standing in front of me.
Because behaviour is only what we can see.
Understanding tells us where to begin.
Growth happens beneath the surface.
Children grow through connection.
And every behaviour belongs to a child who is still learning how to be in the world.
That’s the child I never want to lose sight of.
If we only respond to the behaviour, we’ll probably stop the moment.
But if we take the time to understand the child, we have the chance to shape everything that comes after.
Because we can’t grow children we don’t first take the time to understand.
🌿 Beneath the Surface
Before you move on, I’d like to leave you with one question.
The next time a child’s behaviour challenges you, pause before asking,
“How do I stop this?”
Instead, ask,
“What might this child be experiencing… and what do they need from me?”
Sometimes the roots tell a very different story than the branches.
Until next time,
Jess
Little Mycelium
