After spending several years in a school where children were free to choose what they learned, were respected as partners in making rules and discussing class problems with teachers, enjoyed abundant outdoor play—including some real, healthy risk—and had plenty of time for gardening, science, and creative expression, I now feel a deep sadness when I observe how limited and disciplined students are in many public schools.
I often hear phrases like:
“Walking feet, walking feet, thank you for walking.”
“No, stop doing that!”
“Are you listening? Sit and listen.”
“You’re too loud. Be quiet.”
It was Pizza Day. Some children finished eating quickly, while others ate very slowly. The fast eaters, unable to sit still doing nothing, began kicking the table, pushing one another, and racing around. The scene quickly became chaotic.
Back in the classroom, Ms. Y blamed the children for being noisy and not behaving. I knew it had been chaotic—but it wasn’t their fault. It was simply who they were. Why should children be blamed for being children? Why couldn’t we talk about it together and look for a better solution?
So I spoke up.
“When we finish eating and need to wait for our friends, what can we do? Do you have any ideas?”
Hands went up.
“No running.”
“We need to be quiet. No yelling.”
“No talking.”
“No kicking.”
About ten children shared ideas, all focused on what not to do.
I gently reminded them that we were talking about what we can do instead. I asked again.
Still, the answers came as “no, no, no”—not actions, only restrictions.
I offered an example: reading a book. Then I asked once more.
Finally, a few children began to understand and shared some positive ideas. Many others stayed quiet, absentminded, unsure what to say.
When conformity is most valued, many children learn to become quiet, passive, and obedient. When teachers—often unconsciously—measure success by how well students follow rules or how silently they listen, children begin to suppress their natural drive to move, explore, and choose. Over time, learning can lose its aliveness. Curiosity dims. And later in life, some may struggle to recognize what truly excites them or how to trust their own choices.
Many teachers may unconsciously hold the belief-smoothly run, organized, and cooperative class is the successful class. However, it can easily fall into rigid compliance to teachers' rules. Students may behave to avoid trouble, but not really actively listen or participate.
So I wonder:
Why do students always need to walk and to be quiet in the hallway? Is that really unsafe to hop, to jog, to sing, or to touch the pillars along the way?
What if, instead of asking children what not to do, we asked them what they can do?
What if classrooms were places where students make rules with teachers?
What kind of learners—and humans—might grow if curiosity and choice were valued?
Ultimately, teachers are not the authority to rule, but facilitators to guide and inspire, to empower students to take agency and express their true selves. However, education is an art, sometimes it takes teachers' awareness to discern among deeply trust, warm demanding, and strictness for compliance.
As Wei Huang said warm demanding is more about seeing “young people as whole human beings with desires, agency, and critical thinking.” The demanding aspect is closely aligned with the core belief by educators that “every student can grow to be the best version of themselves.”(https://www.edutopia.org/article/how-to-be-a-warm-demander-teacher)
