Before We Ask Them to Learn, Do We Know Them?
- balancedconsultanc
- 2 days ago
- 8 min read
Yesterday, I dropped my son off for the start of a new school year.
And, if I’m honest, I left feeling a little disheartened.
There were maths challenges already written on the board.
No “Welcome back.”
No real sense of “It’s lovely to see you.”
No greeting as the children came in.
And I found myself wondering about the children walking into that classroom.
How are they feeling?
Who is feeling excited?
Who is feeling nervous?
Who is masking their uncertainty?
Who is desperate to know what is going to happen next?
And, as I watched a new teacher begin the year with a new class, I found myself wondering:
How much time will be spent getting to know these children?
Not just their reading age.
Not their maths attainment.
Not their targets.
Not what they achieved last year.
But them.
What makes them tick?
What makes them laugh?
What do they love?
What makes them feel safe?
How do they communicate?
What helps them regulate?
What makes them curious?
What do they do when they are completely absorbed in something?
What does happy look like for them?
Because this is something I have been reinforcing in my work this week.
It isn't all about attainment
This week I delivered training in a school that is creating new internal provision to enable pupils with more complex needs to thrive, while maintaining that important sense of belonging within their school community.
A huge part of our work was thinking about knowing the child.
Not simply knowing their diagnosis.
Not knowing the list of things they find difficult.
Not knowing their attainment levels.
But spending time with them.
Watching.
Observing.
Being curious.
Trying to understand what sits beneath what we see.
And actually, as I reflected on this after dropping my son off, I thought:
Why wouldn't this be the starting point for every classroom?
We shouldn't need an internal provision to remind us that children need to be known.
We shouldn't need a SEND label to justify observation.
We shouldn't need a child to be struggling before we become curious about what makes them tick.
This should be throughout every classroom.
A balancED conversation about the child
This is where I find myself coming back to my balancED model that sits at the heart of my own thinking and practice.
For me, it isn't a checklist.
It is a way of starting a conversation.
A way of asking ourselves:
Are we really seeing the whole child?
When we talk about a child, particularly a child who may be struggling to engage, regulate, communicate or access learning, what happens if we deliberately widen the conversation?
B — Belonging
Does this child feel that they belong here?
Do they know they are welcome?
Do they have a sense of being part of the classroom community?
Who are their people?
Where are their safe spaces?
Do they see themselves reflected in the environment?
Belonging isn't something we achieve after a child has settled.
It is part of creating the conditions for them to learn.
A — Acceptance
Are we accepting the child as they are, or are we constantly trying to change them?
Can we recognise difference without immediately viewing it as deficit?
Can a child communicate, move, play, regulate or interact differently without that difference automatically becoming a problem?
Acceptance doesn't mean having no expectations.
It means starting from the position that the child is worthy of belonging before they demonstrate anything.
L — Listening
Are we really listening?
Not just to the words a child says.
But to their behaviour.
Their play.
Their movement.
Their facial expressions.
Their silence.
Their interests.
Their communication.
Their repeated actions.
Their attempts to tell us something.
Sometimes the behaviour we describe as challenging is actually a child communicating something we haven't yet understood.
Listening means being prepared to pause long enough to hear it.
A — Awareness
What are we noticing?
What do we know about this child's sensory profile?
Their communication?
Their regulation?
Their developmental stage?
Their previous experiences?
The environment around them?
And perhaps just as importantly:
What don't we know yet?
Awareness asks us to look beyond the presenting behaviour and consider the wider context.
N — Needs
What does this child need from us and from their environment?
Not simply:
“What intervention do they need?”
But:
What do they need in order to feel safe?
What do they need to communicate?
What do they need to regulate?
What do they need to engage?
What do they need to experience success?
What do they need from the adults around them?
And are we adapting the environment to meet those needs?
C — Curiosity
What if we stayed curious?
This is perhaps one of the most important questions we can ask ourselves.
Instead of:
“Why won't they…?”
Could we ask:
“I wonder why?”
Instead of:
“What's wrong?”
Could we ask:
“What is this telling us?”
Curiosity changes the conversation.
It moves us away from judgement and towards investigation.
It creates space for us to notice patterns, test hypotheses and learn more about the child.
E — Empowerment
How much agency does this child have?
Do they have meaningful choices?
Can they communicate preferences?
Can they influence what happens to them?
Do we create opportunities for them to experience competence and success?
Are we doing things to children, or creating opportunities to do things with them?
For some children, empowerment may be as simple as giving them a genuine choice about how they join an activity.
For another child, it might mean creating an alternative way to communicate.
The principle is the same:
Their voice matters.
D — Development
And finally:
What does development look like for this child?
Not just attainment.
Not just age-related expectations.
Not just whether they have completed the same piece of work as everybody else.
Development might be communication.
Connection.
Play.
Independence.
Regulation.
Confidence.
Flexibility.
Problem solving.
Engagement.
Trying something new.
And sometimes the most important progress isn't immediately visible in a book.
It is visible in a child who is beginning to trust.
A child who joins in.
A child who communicates a preference.
A child who tolerates something that previously felt overwhelming.
A child who laughs.
A child who plays alongside someone.
A child who feels safe enough to have a go.
Development starts from where the child is.
So, what would I prioritise?
If I were back in my classroom this week, I would use these ideas to guide my conversations with colleagues.
Not:
“What work are they going to complete?”
But:
“What do we know about this child?”
“How do we know it?”
“What have we noticed?”
“What are they telling us?”
“What makes them light up?”
“When do they seem most comfortable?”
“What helps them engage?”
“What might be getting in the way?”
“What haven't we noticed yet?”
And then:
“What can we change?”
I'd watch them coming into the room.
I'd notice who immediately finds a friend and who hangs back.
Who needs to know where to sit.
Who finds noise difficult.
Who talks constantly when they're excited.
Who communicates through movement.
Who needs a little longer to process.
Who becomes animated when talking about a particular interest.
Who is trying desperately to get something right.
And who is already telling me, through their behaviour:
“This is too much.”
I'd spend time talking to them.
I'd ask questions that aren't about school.
I'd find out what they love.
I'd listen to their stories.
I'd let them teach me something.
I'd look for opportunities for them to show me who they are.
And I'd use music, song and movement.
Because learning doesn't have to mean sitting still.
There is something incredibly powerful about starting a day with a familiar song.
Moving together.
Clapping.
Rhythm.
Repetition.
Laughter.
A shared experience.
It creates connection.
It creates predictability.
It gives children a way into the room without immediately asking them to perform.
I'd use movement breaks before children needed them.
I'd build in opportunities to move, connect and regulate.
I'd play.
I'd notice what happens when the pressure comes off.
And I'd remember that sometimes the most valuable information about a child comes when they aren't completing a worksheet.
Watch before you work it out
This is one of the things developmental play has reinforced for me so strongly.
Watch.
Really watch.
What does the child choose?
What do they return to?
What do they repeat?
What captures their attention?
How do they communicate enjoyment?
What happens when an adult joins them?
What happens when we change something?
What happens when we take away a demand?
What happens when we introduce movement?
What happens when we give them control?
These observations are not time away from teaching.
They are teaching.
They are helping us build a picture of the child so that our teaching can actually be meaningful to them.
And this is where the balancED. model becomes useful.
It gives us a shared language for professional dialogue.
Instead of simply saying:
“He's struggling with his behaviour.”
We can begin to ask:
Where is his sense of belonging?
Do we know what he is communicating?
What are we noticing?
What are his needs?
What are we curious about?
Where can we give him more agency?
What does development look like for him?
It changes the conversation from:
“How do we fix this child?”
to:
“What can we understand, adapt and do differently?”
Autism + Environment = Outcome
It was at this point that I relistening to Dr Luke Beardon on The Unfiltered Autistic Podcast, talking about his powerful equation:
Autism + Environment = Outcome.
It is an equation I come back to repeatedly in my own practice.
Because it encourages us to stop looking only at the child and start looking at what is happening around the child.
What is the environment asking of them?
What is it providing?
Where is there predictability?
Where is there safety?
Where is there connection?
Where are the barriers?
And what happens when we change the environment?
The balancED model gives us another way to explore those questions.
Belonging. Acceptance. Listening. Awareness. Needs. Curiosity. Empowerment. Development.
Together, they help us move beyond simply asking:
“What is this child finding difficult?”
and towards:
“What do we need to understand about this child and the environment around them?”
This matters for every child.
But particularly for children who experience the world differently.
If a child is distressed, overwhelmed, avoidant or unable to engage, perhaps our first question shouldn't be:
“How do we get them to comply?”
Perhaps it should be:
“What are they communicating?”
And:
“What can we learn from this?”
The first few weeks are an opportunity
I know schools are under enormous pressure.
I know there is curriculum to cover.
I know attainment matters.
I know teachers are juggling an extraordinary number of competing priorities.
But I also know that relationships are not an additional intervention.
They are the foundation.
And the first few weeks of a school year give us an incredible opportunity to build them.
So perhaps we need to give ourselves permission to prioritise:
Connection before correction.
Curiosity before judgement.
Observation before assumption.
Regulation before expectation.
Relationship before attainment.
And perhaps, alongside those principles, we can keep coming back to one simple question:
Are we having a balancED conversation about this child?
Not forever.
But long enough to really know the children we are teaching.
Because once we know them, we can teach them better.
We can identify what motivates them.
We can understand what gets in the way.
We can create environments where they feel safe enough to take risks.
We can build on their interests.
We can recognise their communication.
We can notice when something changes.
And we can adapt.
That doesn't mean lowering expectations.
It means understanding the conditions children need in order to meet them.
The maths challenge can wait.
The baseline assessment can wait five minutes.
The worksheet can wait.
The curriculum isn't going anywhere.
But that opportunity to greet a child warmly, join them in a song, move together, play alongside them, notice what makes them light up and communicate:
“I see you. I'm interested in you. You belong here.”
That is not lost learning time.
That is the beginning of learning.
And perhaps this is the reminder I needed yesterday too.
It isn't either knowing children or achieving high attainment.
Knowing children is how we help them achieve.
Because before we ask:
“What can you achieve?”
We should be asking:
“Who are you?”
And then spending enough time watching, listening and connecting to find out.
Comments