The door swung open before I heard the knock.
Mateo (not his real name), a Year 5 boy, had been sent out of PE. He didn’t sit down. He kicked the nearest chair, then the next one.
“It’s not fair. He always blames me.”
Every instinct told me to ask what had happened, why he had been sent out and why he was now kicking my furniture.
I didn’t.
“I can see you’re really angry,” I said quietly. “You’re safe here. Sit when you’re ready.”
Then I waited.
It took nearly two minutes. He sat down, arms folded, breathing hard. Ten minutes later, he was telling me, in his own words, what had happened on the field, and what he had done.
Over the years, I have come to believe that the questions we ask after an incident matter a great deal, but that when we ask them, and in what order, matters just as much. Had I asked in those first two minutes, I’m fairly sure I would have got an argument instead.
The Problem
Most adults in schools know the right questions. We know we should ask what happened, who was affected and how things can be put right. In my experience, the difficulty is rarely the questions. It is the timing.
When a child is still dysregulated, a reflective question can feel like an interrogation. “Why did you do that?”, asked in the heat of the moment, usually gets a shrug, a denial or an argument. The adult pushes, the child digs in, and before long we are debating with someone in no state to reflect. I have done this myself, more than once, particularly earlier in my career.
There is also the question of consistency. A child might meet a dozen adults in a school day, and if each responds to the same behaviour differently, children learn that the outcome depends on who is on duty rather than on what happened. Of course, no script replaces a teacher who knows their class. But without some shared language, even skilled staff can pull in slightly different directions.
The Insight
At The British School, Rio de Janeiro, our Character Working Party set out to address this. Building on our restorative practice INSET work, we created a simple bookmark: the Character Conversations language guide, “Shared language for calm, reflection and repair.”
It has two sides. One is for the moment itself, headed “Calm adult. Fewer words.” The other is for afterwards, and it opens with the line I think matters most on the whole card:
“Reflect when they are ready.”
A child needs to be calm before they can understand, and needs to understand before any repair means much. Skip a stage and the next one rarely works.
Practical Application
In the moment: calm adult, fewer words
The first side has four short steps:
- Notice: “I noticed…” For example, “I noticed you continued talking while someone else was speaking.”
- Remind: “Our expectation is…” For example, “At TBSRJ, we speak to one another respectfully.”
- Direct: “I need you to…” For example, “I need you to listen now, thank you.”
- Give time: “Thank you. I’ll give you a moment. We can talk about this afterwards.”
There are no “why” questions here. The bookmark is clear: “Describe the action, not the child. Do not debate when a child is dysregulated.” Describing the action keeps the focus on behaviour, which can change, rather than on identity, which a child may come to believe is fixed.
If a child is upset: connection before reflection
Sometimes a child isn’t being defiant; they are distressed. Here the bookmark reminds us that “Connection may need to come before reflection,” with gentler language:
- “I’m here to help.”
- “Take your time.”
- “You seem upset. Have I got that right?”
- “Would you like to tell me, show me or draw it?”
Not every child can put feelings into words when upset, and offering to show or draw it gives them another way in. This is roughly where Mateo was when he came through my door. Asking him to explain would only have made things worse.
When calm: notice, understand, choose and repair
Once the child is ready, we turn the bookmark over.
1. Notice: What is happening?
- “I want to understand what happened from your point of view.”
- “What did you notice?”
We start with the child’s account rather than ours, which is often what allows honesty to come through (I wrote about this in Caught on Camera, Changed Through Conversation). Mateo’s first version was mostly about the other boy. The second, after a pause, included the fact that he had pushed him first.
2. Understand: Why does it matter?
- “What I’m hearing is…”
- “Have I understood that correctly?”
- “Who may have been affected?”
- “How might they have experienced it?”
- “Which of our values matters here?”
The first two are as much for me as for the child; they check I have actually listened. Only then do we widen the lens to others and to our values of Compassion, Integrity and Determination.
3. Choose & Repair: How can I make it right?
- “What are your options now?”
- “What do you think the best next step is?”
- “What support do you need?”
Repair works best when the child chooses it, with support, rather than having it done to them. That, I believe, is much of the difference between compliance and character. Mateo decided to apologise to the boy at break and to tell his PE teacher himself. A small step, but his.
The question I add: identity
Once a repair is agreed, I often add one more question, drawn from my Character Loop Framework: actions lead to reflection, reflection shapes identity, and identity shapes future actions.
“What does that say about you?”
Asked too early, it lands as a judgement. Asked after a child has told the truth and chosen to put things right, it lands very differently. Mateo thought for a while and said, “That I can say sorry, even when I’m cross.” It wasn’t a transformation, and there will be other difficult days. But it was a better conclusion about himself than the one he walked in with.
The bookmark also reminds us: “Pauses are OK. Not every conversation needs a question.” Some of the most useful moments, including those two minutes with Mateo, happen in the quiet.
Concluding thoughts…
None of this replaces boundaries. Consequences still matter, as I argued in Why behaviour systems don’t build character. But a behaviour system mostly tells a child what not to do. A well-ordered conversation has a better chance of helping them work out who they want to be. And when every adult uses the same language, children know what to expect from us, which over time builds the trust that honest reflection depends on.
The bookmark ends with our definition of character, which seems a fitting place to finish:
“Character means learning to choose, again and again, what is right and kind, even when it is hard or no one is watching. It means respecting ourselves and others, and learning from our mistakes.”
Further reading: How to Resolve Children’s Conflicts · When Adults Lose Control