Toning Down Tattling

Eighteen kindergarteners are bouncing and spinning to a fast, rhythmic song. Smiles are plentiful. I am reminding children that we are dancing, not running. We have practiced asking, “Are you okay?” so when one child falls, three others rush to check on him. Then Malak approaches me, pouting, tearful. I ask, “What happened, Malak?”

She responds emphatically, “Hamdi!” Just a name, no explanation.

I talk to her more and understand that Hamdi bumped into her while they were dancing. I have kept an eye on Hamdi because he is not the most careful of movers. He has been dancing joyfully, skipping and jumping. It is possible that he bumped into her, but he surely did not hurt Malak intentionally. And of course, with 18 children dancing in a small classroom, many children are bumping or brushing against each other, but nobody else is complaining. I remember that Malak also refused to hold Hamdi's hand when we made a circle.

I call Hamdi over. I tell him Malak needs to talk to him and I wait. Malak says, “You pushed me.” Hamdi denies it.

I say, “Hamdi, maybe you bumped into her by accident while you were dancing.”

He nods, smiles and says, “Sorry, Malak!” and hurries off to continue leaping and spinning and skipping. I tell Malak it’s finished and she should go back to dancing.

But I worry. Nobody else is tattled on as frequently as Hamdi. Every time I see this class, someone is telling on Hamdi. Hamdi wasn’t walking in the line. Hamdi touched me. Hamdi isn’t sitting properly. Hamdi is holding his stick wrong. Hamdi is talking. Hamdi wasn’t singing. Hamdi, Hamdi, Hamdi. Even teachers often roll their eyes and sigh and complain when talking about Hamdi.

And I know Hamdi is not easy in his classroom setting. He is an immature, wiggly, barely five-year-old who is not ready for the heavily academic kindergarten class he attends. He is not ready for worksheets and spelling tests and sitting in a chair for extended periods of time. Hamdi is almost always late for my Music lessons because, as the other children are eager to tell me, he didn’t finish his work, he was punished, and he wasn’t listening.

Perhaps this is why I like Hamdi so much. I feel the need to balance out the negative attention he seems to get so often. I want to help the other children see him as an upstanding, helpful, kind member of the classroom community – which he is. Hamdi hands out rhythm sticks. He demonstrates partner work. He offers frequent smiles to his classmates and invites them to join him when he's dancing.

In the first grade class, it is Hamdi’s big sister, Amna who is the primary target of a constant stream of tattling. In many classes, there is a child who is tattled on more than any other. 

I often tell children that there is no tattling allowed in my classroom.  That’s not to say it doesn’t happen, because tattling is a part of classroom and school cultures and it takes work, across the school, to diminish it. But I want children to know that tattling for the sake of getting someone “in trouble” will not be tolerated. I tell them I will help them solve problems. I will mediate conversations if they need me to. But I will not scold a child because another child tattled on him.

Why is it important to limit tattling?

We want to avoid situations were one child or a few children are constantly reaffirmed as the “bad kids.” When we entertain children telling us all the bad things they saw a child do, this can confirm for the tattler and for the subject of the tattling that the child being tattled on is not as good as other children.

We want to empower children to solve problems on their own. If they  come to an adult for every little issue that arises, they don’t learn that they are capable of effectively addressing problems independently. (Tangentially, I don't spell for children for the same reason.)

We want to help children differentiate between issues that require adult intervention, issues that can be solved independently, and non-issues.

  

What can we do to help children move away from tattling as a strategy?

Encourage children to try to solve small social issues before coming to you.

When a child approaches you and begins telling on another child, ask, “Have you spoken to him/her about it?” If the tattler says she hasn’t spoken to the other child, send her off to try. If you think it would be helpful, call the other child over and be an observer while they discuss the problem.

Encourage the upset child to be specific about the problem. Often children will say things like, “He was bothering me,” or, “They kept annoying me.” These vague statements do little to help solve a problem.

Always follow up. Ask later, “Were you able to solve the problem?” and possibly, “How did you solve it?” Compliment the child(ren) for a job well done! 

Employ the help of a fair-minded peer.

Some children are really great problem solvers. They are diplomatic and fair and can be excellent listeners. You can ask children like this to talk with two children in conflict and see if they’re able to help mediate a solution. If this doesn’t work, offer your assistance or the assistance of another adult to mediate.

Focus on solutions.

When you’re mediating, after briefly establishing what the problem is from both perspectives, try focusing the complaining child on what they need to feel better. Do they need an apology? A hug/handshake? The other child to be more careful? A new place to sit? Focus on solutions rather than rehashing the problem over and over again.

The Problem Notebook and Problem-Solving Meeting

I’ve used this strategy successfully in upper elementary classrooms. We kept a class notebook called the problem notebook. It was always available for children to write down a problem they were having with a classmate. When children came to tattle, I referred them to the Problem Notebook. If the problem was solved prior to any adult intervention, the children involved marked the problem “SOLVED” in the notebook. 

At the end of the week, at a designated time, we had a problem-solving meeting. We looked through the notebook and spent time discussing any unresolved problems as a class. Peers offered solutions to the children involved and those children agreed to try one of the solutions. After using this method for several weeks, we rarely had any unsolved problems left to address by the end of the week. Sometimes, children shared how they were able to solve a problem they’d written down earlier in the week.

This strategy should only be used if there’s already a well-established, kind, collaborative community in your classroom. Otherwise, the Problem Notebook can become a collection of mean comments and no solutions.

Of course, like anything else that happens in a classroom, you should teach children strategies for solving social problems early in the year. And children should know you'll be there to help them if they need it and that serious problems should be brought to an adult. But constant tattling doesn't help you or your students. Do your best to decrease the need for your assistance by empowering the children to do their own problem solving.

PS - As I've mentioned in previous blog entries, all children are different and have different needs. This blog post was written with most children I've taught in mind. But there are exceptional children for whom this kind of independent problem solving isn't always possible. Some children will need assistance in working out social issues for an extended period of time, well into upper elementary school, and even beyond. And some children are vulnerable, for various reasons, to being targeted and picked on. I don't wait for these particular kids to tattle or ask for assistance. I'm always watching to see if I need to step in. I check in frequently to ensure partner work and group work are going smoothly and offer frequent tips to the child and to other children about successful cooperation. While I don't like tattling, I don't tolerate bullying. But often kids who are being bullied don't tell, so our eyes have to be open all the time. We don't have to wait for them to tell.

Big Mouths, Little Ears

We are sitting in a large circle, 16 four year olds, three teaching assistants and I. Children are returning their instruments in small groups based on the colors of their shirts. Three children go to the instrument tray and to put their instruments away. Two return, as they should, empty-handed. One returns with instrument still in his one hand, a thumb in his mouth and eyes brimming with tears. I didn't notice any problem at the instrument tray. I ask him if he is okay, if something happened. He continues to look sad and says nothing. 

I ask the other two children, "Did something happen while you were returning your instruments? Do you know why he looks so sad?" I know these two children. I know it is doubtful that either will respond to my question, as neither child engages in regular, turn-taking conversation with any consistency. But I ask, because I would ask any children in the same situation. I think perhaps they will think about what happened. I hope drawing their attention to this child's sad face will help them to read this emotion on their classmates' faces in the future. 

One of the assistants shakes her head, smirks and says loudly, "Those two are the worst."

I know she probably means to inform me that it will be hard to get an answer from them. Or that they would struggle to describe any incident that might have occurred. I know she does not consider her words and how they will impact on these two children, nor how they will impact on the other 14 children sitting in the circle listening. I know (or hope) she intends to be helpful. I also know there is nothing I can say to erase these words from the memories of the children in this group.

But what messages are being given to these children? 

To the two children involved in whatever problem may or may not have occurred, she has confirmed that:

• They are not expected to participate in solving this problem.
• They are not good children.
• They are, in fact, worse than all of the other children in the class (or school or world).

To the other children in the group, she has expressed that:

• These two children are not as good as they, themselves are.
• These two children are not expected participate in solving problems.
• And perhaps, that children with differences (because these two children have clear behavioral and social differences) are the worst.

All in one snide remark intended for another adult.

Here are some things we should consider in our day-to-day conversations with and around children:

Children hear everything we say around them, no matter whom the words are intended for.

My little sister shocked her pre-Kindergarten teacher when, months after he'd made a brief comment to another adult in passing in the hallway, she repeated to her teacher, word-for-word, what he had said about another child. Our words are heard, and often internalized by children. When we say they are bad often enough, they may begin to feel like bad children. If we call them, "Readers," when talking to them, they may begin to feel like readers. If we tell them how kind they are when we observe kindness, we support and expand their capacity to make kind choices. We must consider what behaviors and attributes we hope to grow in children, and focus our language accordingly.

Children (mis)understand our words.

Especially when working with the youngest children in our schools, teachers assume their words will go over their heads, that they won't "get it." But they often do understand. And even if these children can't make the inferences that allow them to understand our intended meanings, they understand something. 

Adult conversations should be reserved for adult-only areas and times.

Teachers love to talk about children. We can't help it. Sometimes we share the wonderful accomplishments and activities that have occurred in our classrooms. We talk about new achievements made by children who are struggling. And we talk about our frustrations. All of these conversations about children should happen away from children unless we are talking, for a specific reason, to children about another child's wonderful work or actions.

Adults should never insult children in front of children.

I know. Seems like it shouldn't be necessary to say this. I wouldn't, except I keep hearing teachers saying negative things about children, aloud - and often in front of other children! 

"This one's been running around like the village idiot." 
"You're disgusting!" 
"Thank goodness John isn't here today. I haven't had to yell all day." 
"What grade do you think I'm going to give you?" Child responds that she'll give him a high grade. Teacher laughs hysterically.

Keep your mean thoughts to yourself. Share them in staff rooms if you must, but ideally, just don't. 

Teachers' kids 

I remember when I was eight, a principal who was not well liked by the staff at my school was finally removed. The staff sang, "Ding dong, the witch is dead," after most children had left for the day. I was a staff kid, so I was still at school. I heard them. I understood. I remember. I was shocked. Staff kids tend to be privy to much more adult conversation than other children. As hard as it is, teacher-parents should try not to have negative conversations in front of their own children. Our children have to interact with other teachers and children regularly, and our opinions of those teachers and children may impact negatively on their interactions. 

Sarcasm and jokes

I touch on the topic of sarcasm frequently because it's important. One head of section who was generally quite appropriate with children said to a second grader, jokingly, "Why don't you just go bang your head against the wall?" This child looked utterly confused and stunned. I jumped in, "He was just joking. Right, Mr. _______? You weren't serious." The head of section saw the kid's face and immediately felt terrible. He assured the child it was a joke, not a very good one, but a joke nonetheless. The child was clearly relieved.

Describe the action; don't label the child.

As often as possible, whether talking to children or about them, we should describe the specific behavior we observed. It's more productive than labeling a child as good, bad, kind, mean, smart, lazy, etc. I once said to my own child, in frustration, "Your behavior is ridiculous." (Not one of my prouder moments!) He burst into tears. "You called me ridiculous!" Oh, the drama! We talked; I focused on the specific actions I was unhappy with. The conversation was productive.

Be honest.
Tell children the truth. There's rarely a good reason to be dishonest with children. If you can't answer, tell them so.

We send unspoken messages also.
This could probably be a whole 'nother topic, and maybe it will be. We send unspoken messages constantly; by how we respond to each child; by texting and checking our phones while with children; by calling on one gender/culture/child more in certain subject areas; with angry expressions; by ignoring children or dismissing them. Everything we do and much of what we don't sends a message.

None of us is perfect. Sometimes words slip out of our mouths before we think them through. When those words impact children negatively, we should do what's necessary to repair the relationship or clarify our (hopefully positive) intention. Most importantly, we must consider the impact of our words on all children within earshot. 

A fantastic read on this topic, Power of Our Words: