A Freer and Better Reality for the Children in Our Lives

People often ask me if there is a particular curriculum to which I ascribe. More often than not, when I answer that it is up to the children, I can tell they are frustrated. They think I'm being rhetorical. Certainly, there must be some sort of pre-determined course of study. After all, that's how school worked for most of us. It's what school is.

Of course, maybe I ought not call what I do "school" at all. Maybe I ought not call myself a "teacher." I mean, those terms take people down the wrong path. I could instead call it "a place for children" and label myself "facilitator," but if they already think I'm being opaque, that won't clear things up. 

I most often use the term "play-based curriculum," which at least speaks to people who already know a little something about our field, but I've found that for most folks, that's a lot like saying, "We're a crunchy granola hippy school." They smile -- sometimes warmly, sometimes dismissively -- then move on to another topic. "Self-directed" learning is another descriptive phrase I try out at times, but again, it requires a great deal of explanation.

In other words, there are no short-cuts to explaining what we do to the uninitiated, which is most people.

I think that's because no matter what we say about curriculum or education or learning or school, we are speaking with people who don't see children the way we do. Most of the world views children as perhaps cute and necessary, but otherwise small, incompetent, untamed, undisciplined, and ignorant. They might love children to death, but even the best of us tend to feel that without constant adult guidance and instruction, they will grow up to be entitled brats incapable of fitting into society.

When talking about what we do, it seems to me that this is really the place to start -- with the children themselves, not the "curriculum." Because if more people understood children the way we do, as competent, self-directed, curious and eager to satisfy that curiosity, that they are wired to learn about the world around them, how it works, and how they fit into it, then what we do with them as play-based educators would be so self-evident that it would require no explanation.

As humans, the way we regard one another shows up in the way we speak with them. When we listen to adults engaging with children, we most often hear the language of command, of disbelief, and of doubt, all of which tells us that the adult perceives themself, no matter how kindly their tone, as being superior to the child. When we hear adults scold, cajole, and constantly question, we see adults that view children as needing to be kept on a particular course, one that is best determined by that adult. 

If there is one thing that stands at the center of my approach to children it is this: the way we speak with children creates reality. And the reality most adults create is one that requires "school" and "teaching" and adult-mandated curricula. The problem is that even for those of us who truly view children as fully-formed, competent human beings, we often continue to create that more dystopian reality through the way we speak with children.

In my course, The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think, we take a 6-week deep-dive into the language we use with children and how even small changes in how we speak with them can result in major shifts in how children engage with their world, other children, and the adults in their lives. It is an approach, through language, that respects children, freeing them to satisfy their curiosity, which is the instinct to learn made manifest. It frees children think for themselves, which is ultimately what we want for all children.

When we speak with children as people, as trusted colleagues, rather than mere children, we open a door of epiphany. As I wrote last week, it will look to the uninitiated like magic, but it is really the application of knowledge for practical purposes, which is the definition of technology. 

Until the revolution comes, we may always find it difficult to explain what it is we do, but we, through the language we use, have the power of shaping a freer and better reality for the children in our lives. And that is everything for those children.

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In this course we explore how changing the way we speak with children can create environments in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. It will transform your classroom or home into a place in which children are self-motivated to do the right thing, not because you said so, but because they've made up their own mind. The is technology is particularly powerful when the whole team is on board. Group discounts are available. The 2025 cohort is enrolling now! Click here to secure your spot and learn more.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

I Picked Up a Small Stone . . .

I picked up a small stone and performed some slight-of-hand for the children. I then handed the stone to a girl, saying, "I'm giving this to you." Our playground is bestrewn with stones and pebbles. Anyone of them would have served my purposes, but I'd selected this one. Now this girl had it. The other children gathered around her, requesting a turn with this "special" stone.

"It's funny how the nature of an object . . . is so changed by the way it has come into your hands, as a gift or a commodity," writes Robin Wall Kimmerer in her book Braiding Sweetgrass. This stone was just a stone until I picked it up, then gave it to someone else. Now it's a treasure.

After trying to make it "disappear" several times, in imitation of me, she passed it along to a playmate, who squealed. The first girl had not squealed when I gave it to her. It had become even more valuable as children jockeyed to be next. 

"The more something is shared, the greater its value becomes," writes Kimmerer.

The stone passed from hand-to-hand over the course of the next half hour or so. Some held if for a few seconds before passing it along. Others took time to cherish it. But they all paid it forward. There was no adult coaxing them or praising them. They knew exactly what to do.

"Many of our ancient teachings counsel that whatever we have been given is supposed to be given away again."

Eventually, the last child took his turn with the stone. He had waited a long time. Only he could say if it was worth it, but he seemed as pleased as the others. 

"From the viewpoint of a private property economy, the "gift" is deemed to be "free" because we obtain it free of charge, at no cost. But in the gift economy, gifts are not free. The essence of the gift is that it creates a set of relationships." And the obligation to give it away again.

I figured the game was now done, but I was wrong. After several minutes the boy began to look around until he spied me. It had started as a stone like all the others, but as it passed from person-to-person as a gift, it had become a talisman, a symbol, and a ceremony. He completed the circle by handing the stone to me. And I returned it to the earth, who had given it to me.

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This gift circle didn't happen by accident. It emerged in a climate in which children are treated with dignity and respect. In this course we explore how even small changes in the way we speak with children can create environments in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. For me, this technology is the foundation of how I do play-based learning. It will transform your classroom or home into a place in which children are self-motivated to do the right thing, not because you said so, but because they've made up their own mind. This is a particularly good course to take with your whole team. Group discounts are available. Click here to join the waitlist and for more information.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

Raising Humans Who Think for Themselves

I recognized them as the nice family from our building, their son, who looks to be approaching 4, was straddling one of those wooden, peddle-less "strider" bikes. He was in the midst of a tantrum, stamping his feet, while emitting a whine-cry of frustration. His father was kneeling beside him. As I passed I heard the dad say, in the gentlest, most loving voice imaginable, "If you keep acting like this you won't be able to ride your bike for a whole hour. And that's a long time."

*****

I was taking a recreational stroll through Pike Place Public Market, the heart and soul of Seattle. A boy, probably around 8, and his mother were having one of those heatless debates:

Boy (excitedly): "I want to go down that side."

Mom (jovially): "Oh, you don't want to go down that side. Let's go down this side. What do you want to see over there anyway?"

Boy (barely audible): "That side."

By then she had taken his hand and it was over.

*****

Just down at the end my street there was a park where I often walk my dog. During the warmer months, a length of the sidewalk emits fountains of water, arches under which children in bathing suits run on hot days. Every time I'm there, I hear parents saying to timid children, "Go under it!" "Get in it." "Don't be afraid."

*****

These are all just snippets overheard, out of context, and I don't know anything about the lives that lead up to those moments. We all speak with our loved ones unconsciously at times, maybe most of the time, but particularly in moments of stress or when faced with distractions, when our brains are working on things other than the relationship in which we're presently engaged. It's impossible to always be in the moment, of course, especially as a parent, but oh if we could only really hear ourselves speaking from the perspective of a disengaged passerby, how much we'd learn about ourselves and our relationships. So much more, I think, or at least so much different, than what we know about ourselves when we are steadfastly present and aware of our every word.

I think, for many of us, the idea that the adult is "the boss" is such a deeply rooted concept that we act as if it is an unquestioned truth. And sometimes, I suppose, we are "the boss," like when we need to take charge in urgent moments where safety is concerned. Stop! Don't go in the street! But too often we confuse being responsible for someone with being their superior, and that pre-supposition of command crops up in moments when there's really no point, like a bad habit.

It would never occur to us, for instance, to threaten to punish an adult for expressing an emotion like frustration in a non-violent way. In fact, I'd say stamping your feet and crying is a pretty straight-forward way to feel it, release it, then put it behind you. How much better than the adult-approved method of smiling through gritted teeth. When we threaten punishment for expressing an emotion, I think what we are really saying is, I'm embarrassed by the way you're acting. I fear it reflects poorly on me as a parent. That would be an inappropriate, incomprehensible load to lay on a child, so instead we threaten them even if we don't really mean it, like that father was doing with his frustrated son.

As Lao Tzu puts it, "Let your feelings flourish and get on with your life of doing." Kids are often masters of this, if we can just let them go. Seriously, if someone has to be the boss about emotions, I'm all for playing second fiddle. We don't know more about emotions than children simply by virtue of being adults: in fact, I've learned just about everything I know about emotions from working with kids.

And how about the idea that we get to tell children how they feel or what they really want? "You don't want to go down that side," "Oh, you're not hurt," "You don't really want that." Adding the question, "Do you?" to the end of it doesn't help. Believe me, the boy really did want to go down "that side," it does really hurt, and yes, she genuinely wants that. What we are really saying, is "I don't want to go down that side, "I wish that didn't hurt," "I don't want to give you that." What children hear is, I don't believe you, and I'm the grown-up, ergo, I know better. The language of command teaches children to distrust their own understanding, even of their own feelings.

I've written before about the knee-jerk use of directional statements: "Sit here," "Put that away," "Go over there." These too, clearly come from the habit of command. So ingrained is this in many of us that we direct, "Go under it!" when what we mean is, "It looks like it would be fun to go under it." We dictate, "Don't be afraid," when what we mean is, "I know you're afraid."

Perhaps as adults we've come to understand the code, to know that when our loved ones say, "Come here!" they aren't really bossing us, but rather just taking a short cut around saying, "I would like you to come over here," although I suspect most of us still feel a flash of resentment each time someone uses the language of command with us. Children, however, only hear that they are being told what to do, how to feel, and even that they might be punished for what is, after all, their own truth.

I have no expectation that any of us will be able to be utterly free of this mind-set. It's a very powerful one, this idea that adults are the boss, a notion that most people will never question, let alone examine. And even those of us who are fully aware, still, in unguarded moments, often fall into the language habits of command, not just with our children, but with our spouses, friends and colleagues. It's a pervasive thing. If we work on it, however, if we're reflective and conscious, our children won't be as likely to develop the habit as they become adults, not to mention that they will spend more of their childhood in a world in which they are free to think for themselves rather than simply reacting, pro or con, to the commands of adults. It's easier said than done, however, which is why I developed a 6-week course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think, which is an extended opportunity to really question and examine the impact of the language we use with the children in our lives and what we can do instead.

We know that what we learn when we're young carries forward into adulthood, and I for one would prefer to live in a world of people who think for themselves.

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If you're interested in learning more about how the language we use with children impacts not just our relationships with them, but also their entire learning environment, please consider registering for my 6-week course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think. Join the 2025 cohort as we examine how the language we use with children creates reality. We will explore how the way we speak with children becomes an environment in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. Click here for more information and to register.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

"No Parking"

I certainly hope that this sign is effective, but I have my doubts

As we make our way around the modern world, there are a lot of signs telling us what to do.

Keep Out

Stay off the Grass

No Parking

And almost as often, we see that the fence on the other side of which we are forbidden is bent down or even cut away by people who would not be kept out. We see paths worn across the grass we are to keep off. And we regularly see vehicles parked in no parking zones. We see dogs running freely in areas designated with signage clearly scolding, "Dogs Must Be Leashed," not to mention the piles of poo next to the sign that commands, "Pick Up After Your Dog." We may shake our heads and tut, even as we cross against a light that says, "Don't Walk."

I've spent a lot of time in airports where I strive to abide by all the signs that tell me what to do and what not. Most people do the same because we all know that the consequences for violating them can be immediate and harsh. This is the only way to make commands consistently stand up -- not just to threaten punishment, but to immediately and harshly follow through. 

As people who work with young children, we seen this phenomenon at work every day. Most of us make rules and, like with the adults who won't be kept out, some of the kids a lot of the time and all of the kids some of the time, break those rules. If we don't enforce them with punishment, the rules continue to be broken. If we do enforce them, we live in a place in which people behave as we want because they fear the consequences, not because it's the right thing to do. Maybe that's okay at an airport, but in a classroom? In a home? Do we really want our children growing up in this kind of environment?

I have no interest in creating the kind of world in which I use my power to control others. I want to use my power to empower others and that means creating an environment in which people -- in this case children -- are free to make smart decisions.

You know what sign always works? The one that says "Out of Order" on a public restroom toilet stall. I guarantee I'm not going in there. In fact, I'm not going to even look in there. And in all my 62 years of using pubic restrooms, I've never seen anyone else do it either. What sets this sign apart from the others I've mentioned is that it's not phrased as a command: it provides information. And information allows us to think for ourselves in a way that "Keep Out" doesn't.

If instead of "Keep Out" the sign read, "Sewage Treatment" I expect no one would be cutting through the fence. If instead of "Stay off the Grass" it read "Newly Seeded Lawn," I expect more people would decide to stick to the sidewalk. If instead of "No Parking" the sign read "Fire Lane" or "Police Parking" or "Free Parking Around the Corner" I'm certain that most people, most of the time, would use that information to decide to park elsewhere.

Yes, I'm aware that selfish people often park their cars in spots designated for handicapped drivers, but I've noticed that instead of "Handicapped Parking" the signs often read "Handicapped Parking Only" a difference that turns information into a command.

And humans do not typically respond well to being told what to do, no matter what our age. Commands not backed up by the threat of punishment are rarely effective. Even punishment doesn't work particularly well, unless, of course, the punisher is present, or the punishment is so severe, like at airports, that it's somehow debilitating. And I will not do anything to children that's debilitating.

In my course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think, we take a deep dive into how apparently simple changes in how we speak with children can transform not only the behavior of the important children in our lives, but also our relationships with both them and ourselves as educators and parents. If the goal is for children to learn to think for themselves, we are well served to be suspicious of directive language and embrace the art and science of speaking informatively with children. If this sounds like something that could make your life better, click here to learn more and register for the 2025 cohort of The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think.

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In this course we explore how changing the way we speak with children can create environments in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. It will transform your classroom or home into a place in which children are self-motivated to do the right thing, not because you said so, but because they've made up their own mind. This is a great course to take with your entire team because this technology is even more powerful when everyone uses it. Group discounts are available. To learn more and to register, click here.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

I Know

I had an older relative who would respond to almost everything anyone said with "I know." You might say, "Pearl Harbor Day is just around the corner" and she would respond "I know." Now maybe she did know about Pearl Harbor Day (December 7). She was a well-educated person, but she'd also say "I know" to things she couldn't possibly have know. 

"I got out of bed this morning, stubbed my toe, and decided to go back to bed." "I know."

"You have a 'kick me' sign taped to your back." "I know."

"We discovered that our child has been disposing of her chewed gum between the seat cushions in the car." "I know."

All of these are actual examples. It would be comical if it hadn't been so damned irritating. I'm sure it was driven by a deep-rooted desire of some sort, perhaps it comforted her to always feel that she is in the know. I'm sure one could trace it back to a time when she was embarrassed that she didn't know or, worse, to an authority figure who chided her for not knowing. We learned long ago that confronting her about the habit, even gently, only resulted in angry denial, so we all strived to simply accept it as a quirk that we could chuckle about in commiseration on the drive home.

I'm thinking about his because I recently spent a 30 hour day traveling by air and spent 11 of those hours seated across the aisle from a young family: a mother, father, and two young children aged five and two. At first, the kids were fired up, the way children ought to be when flying.

"Mommy! Look! I have a little table!"

"I know."

"This button makes the seat tip back!"

"I know."

"They gave us blankets and pillows!"

"I know."

With each "I know" the children became less enthusiastic. Those "I knows" told the children that what they were noticing, what they were thinking, what they were experiencing was nothing special. Indeed, "I know" told the children that their discoveries were mere commonplaces, not worthy of discussion. "I know" told them that they were ignorant. And, sadly, it was only a matter of minutes before the children were bored enough that they began to pick petty fights with one another.

If the goal is to shut another person down, "I know" is one of the most effective ways to do it. It tells the other person that they are wasting their breath. In effect "I know" tells them that they are not interesting, and, really, to just shut up. This may make it an effective way of dealing with tedious mansplaining, but an otherwise horrible response to just about anything else.

As important adults in the lives of children, our role is not to know things, but rather to support them in their knowing. This doesn't mean that we must respond with false enthusiasm (e.g., "That's awesome!" or "You're so smart!") because the kids will see through that in a second. It does mean, however, that when we've been invited into their learning we can, without shutting them down, in the natural flow of dialog, acknowledge or extend their discovery in some way: 

"I see your little table."

"And if you push the button again it makes the seat pop back up." 

"Later they will also give us ear buds so we can watch that little screen." 

Or, when it can be said honestly, "I didn't know that. Thank you for telling me."

Part way into our flight I was trying to sleep when an altercation from across the aisle roused me. The mother was attempting to foist literacy worksheets onto her daughter. "Your teacher expects you to have these done before we get back." "I know," the daughter replied with a growl, folding her arms and glaring at the seat back in front of her. 

"They're not hard." "I know," she snarled again. 

"You can watch your show as soon as you're done." "I know!" This time she shouted. I was proud of her. Not only was she rebelling against the inanity of worksheets and the useless practice of assigned homework, but she was showing that she fully understands what it means when we reply, "I know."

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"I know" is just one example of how even small changes in the way we speak with children can make a huge difference. If you're interested in learning more about how the language we use with children impacts not just our relationships with them, but also their entire learning environment, please consider registering for my 6-week course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think. Join the 2025 cohort as we examine how the language we use with children creates reality. We will explore how even small changes in how we speak with children creates an environment in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. This is a great course for the whole team to take together. Group discounts are available. Click here for more information and to register.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

None of Us Likes to Be Told What to Do

My wife and I have had four dogs over the course of our four decades together. Whenever I've made the mistake of pulling on any of their leashes, they have all pulled in the opposite direction, every time. Believe me, left to their own devices, they always want to go wherever I go. I know this because when there is no leash involved they follow right on my heels, hot breath on the backs of my legs, tripping me up when I turn around unexpectedly, but if they sense I'm compelling them, their instinctive response is to resist.

I've found this to be true in humans as well. No one likes to be told what to do, even when we know it's for our own good, even when it's something we want to do. Imagine being commanded, "Eat your dessert!" I might still eat that dessert, but there will be a moment of reluctance, of rebellion, even if it's chocolate ice cream. When I do eat it, it's not going to taste as good after being bossed into it. And depending on who says it and how they say it, there's about an equal chance I won't eat that damn ice cream at all.

Resistance is built into us and ultimately it is an adaptive trait. We all pull back against the leash because we are designed to act according to the pull of our own judgement and the tug of our own intelligence. Of course, we've all found ourselves in circumstances when we've decided that we must stuff our rebellious urges, but we always grow to despise those dictatorial bosses, teachers, or spouses. If we do well it's usually "in spite" of them. And, of course, we wriggle out of those particular leashes as soon as we possibly can.

We set limits and rules and our children always test them. Even the most patient and progressive among us know, from the inside, that teeth grinding spiral of commands and refusals, until we finally resort to either physical force or the heavy hand of punishment. It leaves everyone feeling angry, resentful, and abused. And if we're not careful, if we're not conscious adults, these smaller spirals become part of a larger whirlpool of ever escalating rule breaking and punishments because every pull on the leash, every punishment, leads to a pull in the opposite direction.

Some of us have decided that this is a bad thing, at least when it's directed at us, and it must be quashed at all costs. We're the parents or teachers after all. We will not have our authority challenged. If that's your approach, your future will likely be either one of temporary, savorless victories followed by frustration, or a regime that involves punishments of increasingly extreme severity. Every study ever done on the subject of punishment (both parental and societal) winds up concluding that punishments only work under two circumstances:

1. when the punisher is present; or
2. when the punishment is debilitating (e.g., so disproportionately severe that one will never again risk it.)

Most of us are unwilling or unable to play the role of ever-present punisher. And I hope that none of us are the type to inflict debilitating punishments on a child.

And rewards, frankly, are just the flip side of the same coin, but instead of teaching children that those with power get to tell them what to do, a fundamentally anti-democratic notion, they learn to kiss up to those in power. Either way, the child is left to react, rather than think for themselves, which should be, in the end, one of the primary objectives of child-rearing.

The alternative is to accept resistance as a demonstration that our child is healthy and normal, that it is not a sign that they are on their way to a life of crime and ruin, but rather evidence that they think for themself, trust their own judgement, and will not be pushed around. When we accept this, we see that our job is to guide rather than command our children, to help them come to the understanding that behavior has its own rewards and consequences. I've written before about "natural consequences" and they apply here. 

A parent taking away a boy's dessert because he hits his sister isn't the natural consequence of hitting. The consequence is that his sister is hurt and the evidence of that is the crying. That's where our attention ought to be. "You've hurt your sister," keeps the focus on the boy's behavior, allowing everyone to explore the consequence and potential remedies. "No dessert for you," turns the boy's attention on the "unfairness" of the parent who is pulling on that damn leash.

Rebelliousness is not a synonym for "anti-social" or "uncivil," it's merely a reaction to the leash. We all want to do the right thing and none of us wants to be told what to do. In my 6-week course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think, we will learn how to set aside the leash in favor of children who are free to think for themselves the way nature intends. When we do that, resistance tends to be replaced with agreement, cooperation, and eagerness, not because they were compelled to it, but because they choose it, which is, at the end of the day, what most of us want from our fellow citizens no matter their age.

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If you're interested in learning more about alternatives to commands, punishments, and rewards, please consider registering for my 6-week course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think. Please join the 2025 cohort as we examine how the language we use with children creates reality . . . for better or worse! We will explore how the way we speak with children creates an environment in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. This is a great course to take with your whole team. Group discounts are available. Registration opens tomorrow, Tuesday, May 5. Click here for more information and to join the waitlist.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

They Say There are No Stupid Questions . . . I Beg to Differ

They say there are no stupid questions, but I beg to differ. We hear stupid questions almost every time adults and young children are together. 

For instance, a child is painting at an easel, exploring color, shape, and motion, experimenting with brushes, paper, and paint. There is an adult watching over her shoulder who points and asks, "What color is that?"

This is a stupid question. 

Here's another example: a child is playing with marbles, exploring gravity, motion and momentum. An adult picks up a handful of marbles and asks, "How many marbles do I have?"

The adult already knows the answer. The child probably does as well, in which case, the adult is distracting her from her deep and meaningful studies in order to reply to a banality. Or she doesn't know the answer, in which case the adult is distracting her from her deep and meaningful studies to play a guessing game.

In a moment, these stupid questions take a child who is engaged in testing her world, which is her proper role, and turns her into a test taker, forced to answer other people's questions rather than pursue the answers to her own.

If it's important that the child know these specific colors and numbers at this specific moment, and it probably isn't, then we should do the reasonable thing and simply tell her,"That's red," or "I have three marbles." If it's not new information, and it probably isn't, she's free to ignore you as she goes about her business of learning. If she didn't know, now she does, in context, as she goes about her business of learning.

This is one of the greatest offenses we commit against children in our current educational climate of testing, testing, and more testing. We yank children away from their proper role as self-motivated scientists, testing their world by asking and answering their own questions, and instead force them to become test takers, occupying their brains with our stupid questions.

In my upcoming course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think, we will explore alternatives to our stupid questions as well as the other ways that well-intended adults, through the words we habitually choose, create a reality for young children in which they are discouraged from, and sometimes even "punished" for, thinking for themselves. In so many ways, both overt and subtle, adults unwittingly shut down critical thinking, replacing it with a reality in which mere reaction and obedience is rewarded. The good news is that when we learn this "technology" we can, through our language, create a reality for young children (and anyone else for that matter!) into one of self-motivation, cooperation, respect, and peacefulness.

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If you're interested in learning more about how the language we use with children impacts not just our relationships with them, but also their entire learning environment, please consider registering for my 6-week course The Technology of Speaking With Children So They Can Think. Join the 2025 cohort as we examine how the language we use with children creates reality. We will explore how the way we speak with children becomes an environment in which cooperation and peacefulness are the norm, where children take the initiative, solve their own problems, and, most importantly, think for themselves. Registration opens soon. Click here for more information and to join the waitlist.

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!