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“Childhood Lasts a Lifetime…” –

My very early memories of watching ‘Play School’ on TV were re-awakened last week when Baroness Floella Benjamin gave the opening keynote at a conference I was part of last week.
As important as I considered my 30 minute ‘The Playful Brain’ presentation, I felt rather humble in the presence of such a passionate and powerful advocate for children.

Her message: “Childhood lasts a lifetime”.

And it does; not just by what is imprinted in our memories.
As the adults in young people’s lives, we easily forget that we’re not only shaping their childhoods, but the grown-ups they will become.

It’s true that ‘neuroplasticity’, the brains ability to rewire itself, means that – even for kids who’ve experienced great adversity – changes in behaviours, beliefs, attitudes and decisions are always possible.
But today matters more.

Because what we do (or don’t), say (or don’t), and how we make children feel today will – in 10 or 20, even 50 years’ time – continue to influence their choices, their relationships, their beliefs, and how they feel about themselves.

The downside of young brains’ appetite to learn is that they’re not especially selective; they tend to accept whatever they get fed. And that gives their grown-ups a great deal of power, whether we want it or not.

What do we need to feed children that will ‘last a lifetime’?
 
A Sense of Competence –
Nobody is good at everything, and the expectation that all children should all excell in every skill does them a great disservice; ‘I can’t/I’m no good at x, y, z/I’m useful’ sticks.
Every child is good at something, and experiencing themselves as a capable, competent human being also sticks.
Give them every opportunity.

Permission to Fail – Psychologist Martin Seligman first described ‘Learned Helplessness’ – our propensity to stop trying when we fail enough times – in the 1960’s.
The truth is that we all screw up sometimes, at any age, so let’s be realistic and fair on young people.
‘High expectations’ have their place, but they should never cost a child their self-esteem.

Rupture and Repair – Relationships of any kind can get messy, especially when the people in them don’t possess the skills to manage or resolve conflict.
We’ve all known that person; they may dominate others, struggle to negotiate, or habitually sacrifice their own needs in favour of others’ ( does ‘people-pleasing’ sound familiar, anyone?)
The skills of ‘rupture and repair’ ensure children – and their future selves – feel safe with disagreements and with honouring their own needs.

Childhoods built for for compliance and conformity may be easier to live and work with, but they are not built to last.
Children equipped with competence, confidence, courage, communication and conflict resolution skills, are.

Because childhood lasts a lifetime.

Image credit: Jerel Rowan Baker

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What We DON’T Notice When We See ‘Attention Seeking’…

What We Don't Notice When We See 'Attention-Seeking'

Many grown-ups have been conditioned to believe that children ‘attention-seek’ to get their own way, so these behaviours are best off ignored.
To give the child attention is indulgent or permissive.

Here’s a different perspective…
It’s a perfectly healthy human need to want attention, especially when we are children.
But when young people behave in ways that don’t feel genuine, we can forget that the feeling driving the behaviour is genuine; it’s just not being articulately expressed.

If a child is hungry, we feed them.
If they’re cold, we help them get warm.
If they’re confused, we explain things to them.

And if they express themselves inappropriately, we don’t dismiss those needs. We distinguish the need and the poor communication as two separate issues.
And so it is with ‘attention-seeking’. Or more accurately, ‘attention-needing’.

Reminder: This doesn’t mean you’re ‘giving in’. It’s not ‘you vs them’; you are on the same side.

You can absolutely help a child or adolescent to recognise and communicate their needs more effectively; I would argue that we must. But that becomes a whole lot easier once their needs are met.

You may not always know what their need is.
Often they don’t know, especially if they’re emotionally depleted or overwhelmed, or still have some growing up to do.
The truth is that plenty of adults never master those skills.
So be realistic about what you’re expecting from a yet-to-mature brain.

What would they ask if they could?
If, in that moment, the attention-seeking child possessed the maturity, the self-awareness, the words, belief or courage to just tell you what they needed, what might they say:

  • Please acknowledge how sad/angry/afraid/hurt I am
  • Show me that you’ll help me when I need it
  • How important am I to you?
  • Can you stay with me for a while?
  • Will you accept the worst, not just the best of me?

Let’s not just see a ‘problem’ behaviour. Accept the invite to listen to it.

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‘Tough Love’? Not If It Just Helps Children To Fail…

'Tough Love'? Helping Children To Fail Is Not Loving, It's Just Tough...

If we don’t show our kids ‘tough love’, aren’t we just setting them up to fail in life?

This question was at the heart of an online debate I’ve watched unfold this week.
Two distinct camps emerged: one in favour of listening to neuroscientific research, with the opposing side arguing that to work with, not against, brain activity and biochemistry equates to ‘making life easy’, and this isn’t how to prepare young people for a difficult world.

If you take the narrow ‘If you remove barriers, they’ll never learn how to overcome them’ mindset, I can see why that looks favourable.
If only it were that simple…

Despite some misplaced assumptions from the ‘tough love’ camp, I’m very much in favour of nurturing resilience in kids. What I don’t believe is that the way to do that is by putting obstacles in their way. In fact, that can backfire, sometimes spectacularly so.

Here’s why:
Most of the pro ‘tough love’ arguments referred to young people’s readiness for the ‘adult world’. And it’s a valid point, to an extent. But ‘high expectations’ still need to align with what’s possible and realistic.

The reason that children are not ready for the adult world yet is because they are still children.
To insist that their far-from-mature brains function in adult ways is not fair for anyone; it puts unrealistic expectations on both parents and professionals, as well as them.

We’d never expect a learner driver to get behind the wheel for the first time and know how to handle all the challenges of driving.
We teach incremental skills to prepare them for the next step.
So, yes, while our job is to help our kids prepare for the lives and the world ahead of them, the size of the challenge has to be relative to the ability to overcome it.

When we make it easy for children to fail, it often teaches them – inaccurately – that there is something wrong with them; they are ‘behind’, ‘no good at this’, or somehow flawed or inadequate. And that can leave a deep and life-long imprint on their self-identity which is why, IMO, it is profoundly unethical.

What to do instead…
There may be any number of reasons why young people’s individual developmental needs are what they are but, as much as we are able, we need to meet them where they are.

I whole-heartedly acknowledge, both as a parent and a professional, that this is highly inconvenient and sometimes impossible when we’re raising children within systems that demand that they all follow the same – frequently unrealistic and wholly unevidenced – straightforward trajectory.

But that doesn’t change the truth that no brain – child or adult’s – can do what it is not neurologically capable of.

Some young people will make progress much quicker than others.
Some are more competent, compliant, motivated, energetic, interested and engaged.
But comparing them and making the same subsequent demands of all of them is, quite frankly, absurd.

Most children will do well if they can. And most are doing the best they can under their own unique, and often inconveniently challenging circumstances.
They are not so dissilimar from us grown-ups in that way…

If only for our own sanity, let’s all try to hold that in heart and mind. 

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Offering Kids ‘Rewards’: Do They Cultivate Cooperation? Or Coerce Compliance?

Offering 'Rewards': Do They Cultivate Cooperation? Or Coerce Compliance?

I was recently asked this question:“Is it a good idea to offer reward and deterrants?”

And it’s a good question because it doesn’t just have a simple ‘yes/no’ answer. The concern expressed was that rewards can feel like a form of coercion, and I share that.

Whether it’s because of AI taking over every possible function it can, or avoiding the very real risk of exploitation our children live with, or just because they can, there’s a good argument to ensure our children – and the adults they’re becoming – are equipped to think, decide and act for themselves. But it’s easier said than done…

We all want ease and flow from the kids in our lives. In schools, the risk of red traffic lights, ‘rain clouds’, detentions or isolation is used to keep behaviour in check. In homes, stickers accumulate on the chart, privileges and pocket money are promised.

I’m not saying that rewards are inherently bad. Mindfully used, variations of “If you do X, I’ll give you Y” can be useful incentives.

I am saying that relying on bribes, threats and punishments to exert our power is not a healthy foundation to manage the relationships with the young people in our lives.

The only way kids genuinely learn to make the ‘right’ choices by makingchoices, but when we engineer the ‘options’ to get our own way – especially if that involves using shame or humiliation – we’re not really offering choice at all; we’re just conditioning them for    compliance.

Those in favour of authoritian approaches argue that any alternative is permissive; that when children aren’t kept in line, they become wild and uncontrollable.

That may be true for a small number, but by and large, young people want to work with – not against – their grown-ups.

The question is, are we working with them? Not when the dynamic is essentially about controlling them or ‘who will win’?

It is not always easy or sometimes even possible to change the way we approach compliance and control.

But it is always possible to shift our focus from what we need from this child/ren in the moment, and try to connect with what they need from us.🤔

What would they ask from us, if they could?…

❓Can you share power with me, instead of needing power over me?

❓Can we both be on the same side, instead of you seeing me as your opponent?

❓How can we both win?  

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Why ‘Change-Ready’ Brains Do Not Need ‘Normal’

Why 'Change-Ready' Brains Do Not Need You To 'Keep Things Normal'

“It is not strongest of the species that survive, but the most adaptable”. 

The source of this quote is debatable but it’s true, regardless. 

Most of us like to think we’re adaptable, but what does it really mean to have a ‘change-ready brain‘? 🧠

We’d probably cut children – and ourselves, actually – a bit more slack if we knew how difficult a brain finds change, even when it’s desired.
Young and immature brains in particular are not equipped for unexpected or distressing change;

💔 Bereavement and loss

🏠 Sudden house or school moves

 ⛓️‍💥 Unexpected living arrangements or placement break-downs

💉 The impacts of injury or illness

👩‍👩‍👧‍👧 Parental separation

These kinds of changes can destabilise any adult, not just young people, but when these changes affect us, as the supporting adult as well, we need to be able to manage those changes, before we can expect children to.

And yet often, our knee-jerk response is to ‘keep things normal‘. It usually comes from a well-intended place, and it can have value, of course.
But not always.
Not when ‘keeping things normal’ denies kids – and maybe ourselves – the opportunity to process, adjust and adapt to whatever change we and/or they are trying to process, e.g.

🫢 We suppress our own stress responses, and pretend ‘it’s fine‘ when it’s not.

👀 We miss kids’ cues, and the subsequent opportunity to help them in the ways they need.

🏋 We inadvertently put them under pressure to ‘be normal’ when they couldn’t feel less normal if they tried.

It’s safe to acknowledge that life is ‘not normal’; it doesn’t mean that the child, or we as the supportive adult, are ‘not coping’ or that one or both of us falling apart is inevitable.

Accepting and learning to live with the messiness of life, for as long as that may last, can be deeply uncomfortable.
Releasing the need to try and control everything – including how children feel about and how they respond to that discomfort – can be excruciating. 

But, if we are to give children – and ourselves – the breathing space they need to adapt,  these things are are also necessary. 
So lean into the messiness and the uncertainty, to the questions you cannot answer and the future you can’t yet see.

And relieve the children you live or work – and perhaps yourself – of the burden of ‘normal’.🎈

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‘I Have To Be Strong For My Kids’! Or Do You?…

'Being Strong' For Your Kids?... Re-Thinking 'Support' When Own Load Is Heavy

We don’t acknowledge anywhere near enough how difficult it is, as the ‘grown-up’, to support our children emotionally, when we’re already under enormous emotional strain ourselves.

And we should, because most of us know from experience that pretending everything’s ok, ‘pushing on‘, or ‘trying to be strong’ has a pretty short shelf-life.

We all have those days when the ‘to-do’ list is too long, we’re stretching ourselves too thin, and the end of the day can’t come soon enough.

But sometimes, it’s much more than a difficult day or multi-multi-tasking. Sometimes, we can’t always rely on tomorrow to diminish stress or worry; the same relentless uphill struggle will be there to greet us when we wake up.

And whether those struggles are parenting-related or not, our children feel them. 
This isn’t about evoking guilt or sitting in judgement; quite the opposite, in fact. Because, IMO, the expectation that if, as parents in particular, we can’t make everything ok, we should at least behave like it is, is wildly unrealistic.

‘Shame…’ 
I was talking with a parent support service recently about how this feeling has crept into parenting in recent years.
Because, when things go wrong for our children – and a lot clearly is going wrong for this generation – how often is the typical response ‘blame the parents‘?
Almost always…

Very rarely are parents commended, congratulated, applauded or celebrated, and yet the judgement about how we raise our kids is relentless; if they’re not beautifully behaved, engaged, well-balanced, socially and emotionally mature, it’s usually parents’ fault.

Of course, there are a minority of parents that could and should do better by their children. 
But very often, mums and dads are just doing their best under really challenging circumstances.

And this is where I get a bit triggered by ‘Be strong’; ‘I’m trying to be strong’ or ‘you’re stronger than you think’ etc.
I believe in ‘strength’ of course, but much more so I believe in ‘resilience’ and they’re not always the same thing.

Resilience doesn’t always demand that we doggedly push on. Sometimes resilience is the ability to bend, or soften, or even to let go.
Even if just temporarily, the kindest possible act – for ourselves, and for our children – is to stop trying to carry everything on our own, all the time.

That is not what strength looks like. 
That is what exhaustion, overwhelm and burnout look like. 

I’m not suggesting we stop trying to protect our kids, or that we burden them with adult worries and responsibilities.
I am suggesting that it’s healthy for them to know that life sometimes puts obstacles in the way, and they won’t always handle it well or know what to do…

Only when our kids recognise that this is true, even for grown-ups -and by modelling how to give ourselves grace – can we expect our children to treat themselves with self-compassion. 

As a parent, ask yourself this question: Do you want your children to grow up with the same levels of overload and weight as you often bear in your own life?
Most of us don’t, and yet leading with self-compassion can go against all of our better instincts, which prefers the ‘crack on‘ mentality.

When ‘crack on’ is our default position, we paradoxically find comfort in its familiarity.
But the truth is it’s not honest or helpful – today, or ever – to give our children the impression that to struggle – with overwhelm, heartache, procrastination, defeat – or any other challenge is synonymous with a lack of ‘strength’.

As the saying goes ‘The species that survives is not the fittest, it is the most adaptable’.  

That means that, instead of teaching our kids to sit in self-judgement, we show them how to recognise that the sense of struggle, overwhelm etc. are signals; not of ‘weakness’ but of the need to adapt… To pause, to change direction, to release, to rest or reset.
This is what ‘strength’  looks like.

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Reducing Emotional Discomfort… There Are Other (And Better!) Choices…

Why Empathy Doesn't Come Naturally... (and why it's much harder than we think)

 I’m not a born mathematician, but trying to help my 12 year old with his homework has made me SO pleased that I don’t have to do secondary school in 2026; I’m staggered by the complexity of what he’s expected to understand.

Today’s musings aren’t about homework though. 
They’re about how we handle it when our children have a problem, and what we can miss when we give in to the fierce urge to solve it for them.

Even with a relatively
 shallow subject like school work, this is how it’s been playing out in my house… 

It’s all done online, so the only way to complete it is to get every answer right.
So when my child can’t, like most kids, he naturally asks me to summon up the answer. 
His expectation becomes my expectation: Fix it, fix, it, fix it…

This is familiar territory for most parents, and the source of our children’s struggles is often much deeper than homework frustrations; feeling excluded, humiliated, defeated, guilty, angry, sad, ashamed; the list goes on. 

So problem-solving mode kicks in.
We feel like we’re connected with those feelings because we’re helping them;

“We can fix it”
“There’s no need to cry”
“It’s going to be ok”
“It will all blow over”
“There’s nothing to worry about”

And the age-old chestnut, “Calm down” (Since when, in the history of humankind, has ‘calm down’ helped anyone to calm down?) 

But, while there’s a time and place for these responses, when stuck in big feelings or distress, rarely are they what any of us – child or adult – need in the moment. 

Whatever version of ‘making things better’ we offer, if we’re more connected to our need to take their discomfort away than their experience, that’s not empathy.

As emotions researcher Brene Brown states “Empathy is vulnerable choice, because in order to connect with you, I have to connect with something in myself that knows that feeling”. 

In other words, being empathic means being able to sit with our own discomfort.

That may bring our own stuff to the surface, e.g. your child struggling to make friends in a new school may be painful for you too, if it means recalling being that kid yourself.

Maybe we end up triggered; it can be hard not to, when our children stress over the kinds of problems most people in the world can only dream of.

And often
, it’s reliable parent guilt that steers us away from empathic connection and back to the familiarity of  ‘Just make this feeling stop – for me, and them’.

In three minutes, this video by Brene Brown explains the power of empathy more beautifully than I can in this post.

But whether you watch it or not, here’s an invitation…

Next time your child presents you with an emotional discomfort, even when they’re in ‘fix it’ mode, pause…

Recognise, but resist, the urge to solve it. Not necessarily forever, but ask yourself what your child really needs from you in that moment.

Because here’s what happened when I got over my need to just get the homework in. 

I saw a kid who needed me to acknowledge that not being able to skip that question or ask his teacher for help was unfair.
That he was right to be frustrated that his time was being hijacked by a pointless algebra question. 

Him knowing that I saw and heard him, I believed him and I ‘got it’, did far more powerful work than had I just got the calculator out in ‘reliable mum’ fashion.  

Choose empathy, even when it’s difficult. Because empathy makes ‘I see you, I hear you, I believe you, I get it’ enough.

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Paying Attention To How We Pay Attention… What Are We NOT Paying Attention To?

Paying Attention To How We Pay Attention… What Are We NOT Paying Attention To?

Q: “What was your ‘glow moment’ of the session?” ‌

A: “That we can be so focused on looking for one thing – so zoomed in on that detail – that we can miss so many other things.” ‌

This is an affirmative piece of learning from one of a group of educators who I was training about ‘The Art of Observation‘ last week.
Over the next two years, they’ll be using their observation skills to support our evaluation of a programme that’s being delivered across 12 schools and settings.

Many of the children participating have complex needs and disabilities, and limited vocabulary, so simply asking them to give verbal feedback isn’t a realistic option. Hence, ‘the art of observation‘ is an important part of the evaluation process.

Although none of us can never truly understand another’s experience – especially when a participant’s perception of the world may be very different from ours – it doesn’t mean that they can’t tell us anything meaningful and reliable.

It’s just that the ‘evidence’ of impact and outcomes look different than what we might otherwise expect.
Often, it’s only available in transient and fleeting cues; subtle changes in behaviours, barely-there clues in interactions; the quality of a child’s focus, the sensations they’re seeking, unexpected silences etc.

Finding ways to decipher those changes and decode the meaning in them is a growing part of my practice but, regardless of the type of setting you may work in, or the needs of the participants you work with, this can be more challenging and complex than at face value.

One reason why is because we usually know what kind of changes we want; improved engagement, increased motivation, sustained attention to the task.
Afterall, how well a young person (or adult) achieves those aims is rarely just an indicator of their success, but ours as well.
So inevitably, that influences they way we look; we pay attention to the desired changes.

And therein lies the issue…
When ‘results’, ‘outcomes’ or ‘success’ are pre-determined, we take notice and observe in particular ways because we’re essentially looking for ‘proof’.

Of course, we all need to know that we or a participant are achieving the aims; ‘results’ are usually the benchmark of us doing our job effectively.
But we can also learn remarkable things when we widen our field of vision.

Watch this video, following the instructions, and trying not to be influenced by the subject of this post…
It taught my trainees more powerfully in two and a half minutes than I could have myself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bnnmWYI0lM

A QUESTION… When we know what we’re looking for, what are we missing? ‌
When we’re paying attention to paying attention, what are we not paying attention to? ‌

How often are we NOT looking at the most useful or interesting or important thing, because we’re looking for something else; confirmation that we are right, or evidence that we’re on track etc? ‌

A TRUTH: It doesn’t matter how attuned an observer we are, we can’t see EVERYTHING at the same time.
Some things will always remain unnoticed and unevidenced. ‌
We need to accept that with the knowledge that we are sometimes blind to what’s right in front of us. ‌

So what might we need to stop looking at or looking for, so we can actually SEE what’s happening in front of us? 👀 ‌

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“The Unspoken Voice” And The Art Of Attunement

"The Unspoken Voice" And The Art Of Attunement

🗣️ Reggio Emilia talks about the ‘100 languages’ of small children, but once we grow up, how often are we tuned into them? We usually just default to ‘talking and listening’.

When we are in the ‘teacher’ or ‘trainer’ role, we usually do A LOT of talking. 
And of course, we (ideally) do a lot of listening as well.
But what does it mean to REALLY listen?

Last week, I delivered a twilight INSET to a BIG group – over 80 staff – around ‘The Playful Brain’.
It’s a ‘soft’ subject, maybe, but it’s underpinned by some heavy-duty theory (I love talking, but anyone who knows me knows I especially love talking about brains🧠!)

Every time I teach, I learn something new, and this time was no exception.
I always try to be an active listener, and much of what I learned in that session was from hearing the ‘unspoken voices’.

I learned how the size of a group impacts the way a group learns.
I noticed how many people found the rows of chairs restrictive, and how much they needed to move.
I realised how much narrower trainees’ bandwidth is when they’ve already done a full day’s work.

Their attention span may have been shorter than usual, but I was also aware that, when prompted to discuss the material, they became energised and completely immersed; they needed to unpack it, explore it, and make sense of it within their own role or context.

The question I’ve been reflecting on since, of course, is how counter-productive it is to force-feed children information – with no space for thinking, talking, processing, rehearsing (or moving!) – and how inaccurate it is to call that ‘learning’.
But that’s a different post…

The question I had to answer in that moment was ‘How do I respond to this, right now?

Because, whether we teach, train or facilitate, doing it well is about way more than knowing our stuff.
I had to chop mine down to make time for an unplanned break.
I had to rapidly magic up a practical activity so that ‘play’ was experienced and embodied, not just taught.
Otherwise, my session would have fallen short.

My training may not be the most meaningful example, but what I’m essentially talking about here is the phenomenon of ‘attunement‘.
Attunement has the potential to affect us deeply and emotionally; it has many lessons to share and I don’t think we should ever stop learning them.

But that can be challenging for a number of reasons, and here’s why…

Firstly, whether we work with children or adults, when our role is the position of ‘leader’, being led by their needs – and meeting them – can feel like an undermining of our own authority.
We still need to hold the space, otherwise things can easily fall apart.

Many professionals, especially those who are managed by rigid and inflexible systems, are also simply not granted the permission or freedom or trust to lead with attunement.
The work is person-centred in theory, but not in practice.

And, even so, attunement isn’t always easy to master; it takes awareness, sensitivity, adaptability, and a level of self-trust we’re rarely encouraged to feel.
And it can’t be rushed.
So it often feels safer to just stick with the familiar; to plough on with the system or the ‘script’ that we know by heart.

So here’s an invitation…

How much more impactful can we be in our practice, just by paying attention to the fine detail, by intentionally ‘reading the room‘?

How can we affect change, simply by recognising that what people need from us isn’t aligned with what we want from them, and respond to that?

The belief that our professional capacities are limited to skills or knowledge or cognition is false; the art of attunement is a deep well of intelligence in its own right.
It lives in the body – not just the brain – and uses the language of instinct and intuition, not just words.

What happens when we really intentionally pay attention, when we hear the silences and the pauses, not just the speech?
What can we learn when we observe the really subtle cues; the movement of the eyes, the shuffling, the slight shifts in energy?

This level of communication happens mostly beneath conscious awareness, so your people – your children, your team, your staff etc. – probably don’t know themselves what they have to say.
They may not notice what they’re telling you.

But, if you’re listening with attunement, you will… 

🤫

PS) This material (and more!) is explored in my CPD session ‘Heart Based Connection: Using Your Presence as well as Your Practice’.
Find out more about this and ‘The Playful Brain’ here.
.

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More Tests = ‘A Stronger Foundation For Learning’; Why It Couldn’t Be Further From The Truth

More Tests = 'A Stronger Foundation For Learning'; Why It Couldn't Be Further From The Truth

When my son was very small, he loved little more than books. He’d routinely bring me five at once so we could read them back to back.

Then the colour-coded levels of primary school determined his reading material more than what interested him, and books lost some of their sparkle.

Fast-forward to year 6… He was never motivated by dangling carrots, but once he could choose his own books again, he set out to achieve his ‘gold award’ for regular reading at home.
And he almost did.

But then SATS came. His teachers worked hard to not over-stress the children.
But there were still practice papers, booster classes, multiple homework tasks and months of relentless SATs talk.

Once they were over, my kid stopped reading. He quit working towards his ‘gold award’.

And he is one of the more fortunate children; a neurotypical child who does well, who achieved ‘greater depth’…
Who’s not only a competent reader, but is full of imagination, loves to create stories, goes to drama class and is also well-nurtured at home.

Yet in the almost six months that have passed since, I think he’s voluntarily picked up a book twice.
Testing killed off his love for them.

So what about the children who are not so blessed, not so lucky, not so supported, whose brains are well out of kilter with the learning environment?

Parents can be fined for not sending their children into this education system,  but many schools can – and do – choose to exclude increasing numbers of them, simply because they don’t fit the increasingly narrow window of who is deemed ‘acceptable’ in mainstream.

Secondaries in particular are designed for children who can comply with wildly unrealistic adult expectations – time management, organisation, planning, communication – competencies that many adults never master.

Yet there’s no accountability – or space in the curriculum – for teaching children these skills, who, even at 11 years old, may then be routinely punished for not having yet learned them.
Practices that are deemed in the adult world as coercive control, harassment or abuse are common practice; excused because ‘they are just children’.

Far too many children are already not in school or not coping with school because it’s on them to meet the cookie-cutter needs of the system, rather that the system to be designed around the diversity of their needs.

Do we really need to ask so many children can’t manage, why Alternative Provisions are overflowing?
Because children haven’t changed in the last 10 years anywhere near as much as schools have.
The children in Alternative Provision, waiting for them and in need of are telling us EVERYTHING that is failing them about the current system, but not being listened to.

The system has already created a rod for its own back.

And yet here we are… Another day, another short-sighted educational decision – with absolutely NO evidence behind it – to test children EVEN more; to make even more of them anxious, stressed and unable to cope with the demands of mainstream and diverted to expensive and over-subscribed APs.

What will MORE testing actually do to our kids, especially for those children who struggle with learning already?

❌ They’ll learn that learning is stressful and pointless.

❌ They’ll learn to see themselves as stupid or inadequate.

❌ They will learn to hate school.

And what will happen to the teachers who joined the profession to harness children’s innate love of learning… Whose schools are being turned into data factories where children come to be processed, not to meaningfully engage in learning?

This is NOT just about engagement, motivation, or children needing more ‘grit’.

They are born with 100 billion brain cells in their heads, capable of making millions of connections every second 🧠

☠️ But the biochemistry of stress is toxic; nothing will destroy neural connectivity faster.

☠️ There is nothing more harmful for brain development than chronic stress.

☠️ There is no greater myth than that you can stress a brain into learning.

If a policy was designed to disenchant teachers, deepen the divide between families and schools, and destroy children’s appetite for learning, I think this is it.

As professionals and as parents, we need to recognise that children are not the problem.
This reckless sabotage – of their love of learning and their mental health – is. 😔

When will the people who make decisions about how young brains learn, learn about how young brains learn?

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