Traditionally, we’ve responded to big behaviour in ways that physically or emotionally separate children from us, their important adults. This might look like time out, thinking chair, thinking square, consequences that don’t make sense, withdrawing our affection, punishment, shouty voices, or shame.

Traditional discipline seems to work but not the way we think it does, and not the way we want it to. 

But traditional discipline does work … doesn’t it?

If you put a child in time out, you’ll get a quiet child back. For decades all the research showed this to be true. But we’ve made a mistake.

We’ve been confusing quiet children for calm children.

The problem with this is that unless the brain feels truly safe and the body is truly calm, no learning can happen. We lose access to the part of the brain we need to be able to teach them – the ‘thinking brain’. 

Big behaviour will ease when we separate a child from us, because young people will do anything to restore proximity to their important adult. The scariest thing for any young one (any mammal.- we’re mammals) is to be separated from their adults. This is instinctive.

The problem with traditional discipline.

Any sense of an adult being disappointed, disconnected, or angry will drive a young brain into bigger threat and drive that child to restore the proximity, BUT it inhibits learning, does nothing to teach a better way, teaches them to stay away from us when things get messy, and compromises the attachment relationship. We can’t lead them if they aren’t attached. 

We all have an instinctive need to stay relationally safe. This means feeling free from rejection, shame, humiliation. Children also have an instinctive need to stay close and connected to their adults. This doesn’t mean they’ll always do things that ensure the connection, but preserving the connection isn’t their job, it’s ours. Children don’t have the resources or the skills to prioritise relationships over behaviour. They’ll want to, but they can’t. That’s okay, because that’s what we’re there for.

Traditional discipline rejects and judges the child, rather than the behaviour. What we’re teaching them is, ‘When things feel big, or when things get messy, don’t come to me because you’ll only feel okay with me when you’re being ‘convenient’.’

We tell them from when they’re so little that we can handle anything, we’ll love them through anything, and we can be there for them through anything. Big feelings and big behaviour count as their ‘anything’.

What’s your intention with consequences?

The point of any ‘discipline’ is to teach, not to punish. (‘Disciple’ means student, follower, learner.) It’s about restoration and repair, not ‘feeling bad so they do better.’

Children don’t learn through punishment. They comply through punishment, but the mechanism is control and fear – any consequence that draws on physical or emotional separation is working through fear.

The problem with this is that the goal becomes avoiding us when things go wrong, rather than seeking us out. We can’t influence them if we’ve taught them to keep their messes hidden from us.

We can’t guide our kiddos if they aren’t open to us, and they won’t be open to us if they are scared of what we will do.

So what do we do instead?

None of this means kids get a free pass on big behaviour. A lack of boundaries will also feel unsafe.

The solution isn’t to take away the boundary. It’s to add warmth to the boundary. Hold them close, reject their behaviour. Love and leadership – boundaries with warmth. Young people need both. One without the other will feel unsafe. Boundaries without warmth feels frightening. Warmth without boundaries feels like a free-fall. It means rather than leading through fear and shame, we lead through connection, conversation and education.

This makes it more likely that they will turn toward us instead of away from us. It opens the way for us to guide, lead, teach. It makes it safe for them to turn and face what’s happened so they can learn what they might do differently next time. This doesn’t mean they’ll be able to do differently of course. Learning how to do hard things takes time and loads of experience.

So what does love and leadership look like?

Rather than, ‘How do I scare them out of bad behaviour?’ try, ‘How do I help them to do better next time?’ If the point of discipline is to teach a better way, our children can only hear us when they feel connected to us.

THE FIX: Make it safe to turn and face.

‘You’re not in trouble. Let’s talk about what’s happened so we can understand it better.’

THE FIX: Separate them from their behaviour.

‘You’re such a great kid. I know you know this isn’t okay. How can we put it right? Do need my help with that?’ 

There might still be consequences, but these have to be about repair and restoration and connected to the initial behaviour. This will open the way for them to feel the good in them, and when kids feel good, they do good.

Is the way you respond to their messy decisions or behaviour more likely to drive them away from you in critical times or towards you? Let it be towards you.

The ‘consequence’ for big behaviour shouldn’t be punishment to make them feel bad, but the repair of any damage so they can feel the good in who they are. The conversation with you is critical for them to turn and face their behaviour, learn, and explore what to do differently next time. This will always be easier when they feel you loving them, and embracing who they are, even when you reject what they do.

And if we get shouty? What then?

Of course, we also won’t always be able to respond in ways that preserve the connection – we’re human too. Sometimes we’ll shout, or say things we wish we didn’t. When this happens, what’s important is repairing the relationship and restoring the connection as soon as we can. This might sound something like:

‘I’m really sorry I yelled. That wasn’t okay. That must have been really confusing for you – me yelling at you to stop yelling. I’m going to work on that. I’ve taken some breaths and I’ve done what I needed to do to help myself feel calm. I’d really like to hear what you were trying to tell me.’