I Thought Teaching Was About Control /The Classroom Taught Me to Let Go
Life is also about learning to let go
This is one of my assignments for an Early Childhood Education course, completed after my MEd.
I’ve made a few small revisions to the original version, including the title, and decided to share it here as well in case it might be of interest to other educators or anyone curious about classroom practice and reflection.
It still carries an academic tone in places, as it began as coursework. But I’ve tried to keep the focus on lived classroom experience, especially one moment with a Japanese child that stayed with me throughout the writing.
That experience led me back to a simple idea: learning begins with safety.
And sometimes, so do we.
What I Thought Teaching Was
Throughout my Early Childhood Education coursework and practicum experience, my understanding of teaching has shifted in ways I did not fully anticipate at the beginning of my program. Initially, I understood teaching primarily as the clear transmission of knowledge. I believed that if instructions were well structured and explanations were simple enough, children would learn effectively. In many ways, I approached teaching as a process of delivering information efficiently and ensuring that children followed expected outcomes.
However, my experience in real classroom settings gradually challenged this assumption. I began to notice that children’s learning does not unfold in a linear or predictable way. Instead, learning emerges through relationships, interactions, emotional safety, curiosity, play, and the environment itself. Children often responded to experiences differently from what I anticipated, and some of the most meaningful learning moments occurred outside carefully planned activities.
This shift in understanding did not occur suddenly, but through repeated moments of observation, uncertainty, and reflection. Schön’s (1983) concept of the reflective practitioner became increasingly relevant to my experience, particularly in recognizing that teaching involves continuous interpretation and adjustment within complex and uncertain situations, rather than the application of fixed methods. I gradually began to understand that teaching in early childhood education is not simply about controlling learning outcomes, but about developing pedagogical sensitivity toward children’s lived experiences.
As my practicum continued, I also became more aware that learning is deeply relational and contextual. Emotional safety, trust, and belonging often shaped children’s participation more profoundly than direct instruction. This realization fundamentally changed how I viewed both children and my own role as an educator.
The Classroom Doesn’t Obey Plans
As I engaged with theoretical perspectives in my coursework, I began to rethink many of my assumptions about how children learn. Piaget’s work helped me recognize children as active meaning-makers who construct understanding through direct interaction with their environment (Piaget, 1952). This challenged my earlier tendency to overemphasize instruction as the primary driver of learning. I began to notice that children often learned most deeply when they were exploring materials, testing ideas, and negotiating meaning through play rather than simply following adult direction.
Vygotsky’s sociocultural theory further expanded my perspective by highlighting the fundamentally relational nature of learning. His concept of the Zone of Proximal Development helped me understand that children’s development is supported through sensitive and responsive interaction rather than direct instruction alone (Vygotsky, 1978). During practicum, I began to see scaffolding not as “helping children complete tasks,” but as carefully responding to children’s emerging understandings while still allowing them agency within the learning process.
At the same time, I also began to understand that observation is not a neutral act. Influenced by Reggio Emilia perspectives, I now see observation as interpretive and relational rather than purely descriptive. What educators notice, how they interpret children’s actions, and what they choose to respond to all shape the learning environment in meaningful ways (Rinaldi, 2006). This perspective challenged my earlier assumption that observation simply involved recording behaviour objectively.
Emergent Curriculum as Lived Practice
Before entering practicum, I relied heavily on structured lesson planning. I felt more secure when learning objectives were clearly defined and outcomes were predictable. Detailed planning provided me with a sense of control and professionalism. However, classroom experience gradually revealed that teaching rarely unfolds according to plan.
One significant moment occurred during a building block activity. I had planned to focus on shape recognition, expecting children to identify geometric forms and vocabulary connected to spatial awareness. However, a group of children became deeply engaged in constructing what they called a “castle.” Rather than redirecting them back to the planned task, I chose to observe their process more carefully.
As they worked collaboratively, their discussion naturally expanded into princess, king, horses, and how people connect within communities. Some children negotiated roles, while others experimented with stability and structure through repeated trial and error. I then adjusted my role by extending their thinking through open-ended questions and introducing related vocabulary without interrupting their flow of exploration.
Looking back, I began to understand that the curriculum was not something I simply delivered, but something that emerged through children’s engagement, curiosity, and social interaction. This experience helped me shift from viewing curriculum as fixed planning to understanding it as co-constructed in real time between children, educators, materials, and the environment.
Fleer (2015) argues that play-based learning involves pedagogical positioning rather than passive observation. This idea helped me realize that emergent curriculum does not mean the absence of intentional teaching. Instead, it requires educators to remain highly attentive and responsive while carefully extending children’s thinking without dominating it.
At the same time, I also began to critically reflect on my own need for structure and predictability. I realized that my earlier attachment to tightly planned lessons may have reflected my own anxiety about competence and classroom control rather than children’s actual learning needs. This reflection was uncomfortable because it required me to recognize how my personal insecurities sometimes shaped pedagogical decisions.
Silence Is Not Empty-Japanese girl
One of the most meaningful experiences during my practicum involved a young girl from Japan who initially had very limited English proficiency. In the early weeks, she appeared quiet and observant, often remaining at the edge of group activities and rarely initiating verbal interaction. At first, I interpreted her limited participation primarily as a language barrier.
My initial response was to increase verbal support by simplifying instructions, encouraging repetition, and offering more direct prompts. However, after several weeks, I noticed that these strategies did not significantly increase her engagement or comfort within the classroom community.
This created an important moment of reflection. I began questioning whether language was truly the core barrier, or whether emotional safety, trust, and belonging were more fundamental. Through continued observation, I noticed that she responded more positively to tone, consistency, facial expression, and physical proximity than to verbal instruction itself. She appeared more comfortable when there was less pressure to respond immediately.
Gradually, I shifted my approach toward relational presence rather than verbal output. Instead of focusing primarily on encouraging speech, I concentrated on creating emotionally safe interactions through consistency, patience, shared activities, and nonverbal communication.
Over time, her participation changed in subtle but meaningful ways. She began approaching me during transitions, using gestures and single words to communicate needs, and appearing increasingly relaxed during group experiences. Eventually, she started participating more confidently in peer interactions as well.
This experience profoundly reshaped my understanding of language learning. I realized that learning is not first linguistic, but relational. Language development emerged only after emotional safety and belonging had been established.
Noddings’ (2013) ethic of care became especially meaningful in helping me interpret this experience. Care within education is not simply kindness or emotional warmth; it involves attentiveness, receptivity, and relational responsiveness. I began to understand that children often learn through feeling emotionally secure enough to take risks within relationships.
At a deeper level, this experience also challenged some of my earlier assumptions about participation. I previously tended to equate verbal engagement with successful learning. However, I gradually recognized that silence does not necessarily indicate disengagement. Observation, listening, and emotional processing can also represent meaningful forms of participation.
Different Teachers, Different Worlds
My practicum also involved working within a multicultural team of educators, each bringing different cultural and pedagogical perspectives. These differences became especially visible in classroom management, communication styles, and responses to children’s behaviour.
In one situation, I observed two educators responding differently to the same behaviour. One prioritized immediate structure, rule-following, and behavioural correction, while the other used play-based redirection, emotional validation, and collaborative problem-solving.
Initially, I felt uncertain and tried to identify which approach was “correct.” However, over time I realized that I was still holding a binary understanding of teaching practice. I was searching for universal answers rather than considering how cultural values shape educational beliefs.
Hall’s (1976) concept of high-context and low-context communication helped me understand that meaning is shaped by cultural expectations, implicit assumptions, and relational dynamics. I began to see that differences in pedagogical practice often reflect deeper cultural understandings of authority, independence, communication, and childhood itself.
As a result, I gradually shifted from evaluation to interpretation. Instead of judging approaches quickly, I began asking what assumptions and values were shaping each educator’s response. This helped me become more open to complexity and reduced my tendency to simplify teaching into “right” versus “wrong” methods.
This experience also encouraged deeper reflection on my own cultural assumptions about discipline, participation, and teacher authority. I realized that many beliefs I previously viewed as “normal” were themselves culturally shaped rather than universally correct.
The Child Who Taught Me to Wait
As I continued my practicum, I began realizing that many important teaching moments are subtle and easily overlooked. Early childhood classrooms are filled with quiet forms of communication that can easily disappear beneath routines, transitions, and behavioural expectations.
For example, during morning arrival, some children immediately engage in activities, while others stand quietly observing the environment. At first, I interpreted this hesitation as uncertainty or lack of confidence. However, over time I began seeing it instead as a form of observation and internal processing.
One child in particular stood near the shelf for an extended period without joining play. My initial instinct was to encourage participation immediately. However, I decided to wait and observe more carefully. Eventually, he quietly joined a group independently without adult intervention.
This moment made me reconsider my assumption that participation must be immediate or visible. It also made me more aware of how quickly I tend to intervene in children’s experiences. I began asking whether my actions were always necessary or whether intervention sometimes interrupted children’s own learning processes and social negotiations.
The Problem of Over-Helping
Another important realization involved the balance between supporting children and promoting independence. While I strongly value independence in early childhood education, I often experienced tension in practice when deciding how much support to provide.
When children struggled with tasks such as cleanup, dressing, or transitions, I sometimes stepped in too quickly to help. Although my intention was supportive, I gradually began questioning whether immediate assistance reduced children’s opportunities to develop persistence, confidence, and problem-solving abilities.
This tension helped me understand scaffolding more deeply. Support is not about removing difficulty, but about adjusting assistance based on children’s needs in the moment. However, this judgment is rarely straightforward. I often found myself navigating uncertainty in real time, trying to determine whether intervention would support or interrupt children’s learning.
These moments also forced me to reflect critically on my own discomfort with children’s struggle. I realized that part of my tendency to intervene came from my own emotional response to uncertainty and frustration rather than solely from children’s actual needs.
Emergent Curriculum in Daily Transitions
As my understanding of emergent curriculum deepened, I began noticing its presence not only in planned activities but also in daily routines such as cleanup, snack time, and transitions.
Children frequently transformed these ordinary moments into playful learning experiences involving sorting, negotiation, cooperation, and imaginative interaction. Initially, I viewed these interactions as distractions from routines. However, I gradually recognized them as meaningful learning opportunities embedded within everyday classroom life.
Instead of stopping these interactions immediately, I sometimes extended them through open-ended questions, shared reflection, or invitations for collaborative problem-solving. These small pedagogical adjustments often generated deeper engagement than some planned activities.
This helped me understand that emergent curriculum is not simply a separate teaching method, but a pedagogical orientation — a way of seeing learning as continuously unfolding across relationships, materials, routines, and environments.
I Used to Think Uncertainty Was a Problem
Over time, I began understanding that uncertainty is not unusual in early childhood education but is actually central to it. Initially, I experienced uncertainty as a sign of insufficient preparation or lack of competence. However, classroom experience repeatedly showed me that many meaningful learning moments emerge precisely through unpredictability.
This realization created internal tension because I often balanced structure with flexibility, planning with responsiveness, and guidance with openness. Gradually, I began seeing that professional judgment involves working within uncertainty rather than eliminating it.
Berger’s (2015) discussion of pedagogical work within “moments of not knowing” became particularly meaningful for me. I increasingly understood that uncertainty can create space for deeper listening, reflection, and responsiveness rather than simply representing failure or weakness.
Teaching Beyond Control
One of the most significant aspects of my growth has been learning to slow down and observe before reacting. Instead of immediately intervening, correcting, or directing, I now try to interpret children’s actions more carefully and consider multiple possible meanings.
Schön’s reflection-in-action is visible in many of my classroom decisions, which often occur in real time within unpredictable situations. Rather than relying only on predetermined strategies, I increasingly adjust my responses through ongoing observation and interpretation.
Although I am still developing confidence in this process, I have become more comfortable with complexity, ambiguity, and uncertainty within teaching practice. I no longer view effective teaching as complete control over classroom outcomes, but as the ability to remain reflective, responsive, and ethically attentive within evolving situations.
The Value of Doubt
Another important development in my practicum experience has been learning to sit with doubt rather than trying to resolve it too quickly. In the beginning of my practice, I often interpreted doubt as a sign of weakness or lack of preparation. I expected myself to appear confident, certain, and consistently capable as an educator.
However, the reality of classroom life repeatedly challenged this expectation. There were moments when I remained unsure whether I had responded appropriately to a child’s behaviour, emotional expression, or social conflict. At first, I found this uncertainty deeply uncomfortable because I believed professionalism required certainty.
Over time, however, I began understanding that uncertainty is not something to eliminate, but something educators must learn to work within thoughtfully and ethically. Professional judgment in early childhood education is not about perfect decisions, but about reflective adjustment over time.
What Teaching Became for Me
Overall, this practicum experience has significantly reshaped my understanding of early childhood education. I have moved from a content-centered perspective toward a more relational, responsive, reflective, and emergent understanding of learning.
Rather than focusing primarily on teaching content or controlling outcomes, I now pay closer attention to how children experience learning emotionally, socially, and relationally in real time. I increasingly understand teaching not as delivering knowledge, but as creating conditions where meaningful learning relationships can emerge.
Most importantly, I no longer view professional growth as reaching certainty or mastery. Instead, I understand becoming an educator as an ongoing reflective process shaped by uncertainty, ethical responsibility, dialogue, observation, and lived experience.
And I’ve started to think this is not only true in teaching, but in life as well.
Uncertainty is not something to fix before we grow.
It is part of how we grow.
“Embrace the uncertainty.”
-Richard P. Feynman
References
Berger, I. (2015). Pedagogical narrations and leadership in early childhood education as thinking in moments of not knowing. Canadian Children, 40(1), 130–147.
Fleer, M. (2015). Science for children. Cambridge University Press.
Hall, E. T. (1976). Beyond culture. Anchor Books.
Noddings, N. (2013). Caring: A relational approach to ethics and moral education (2nd ed.). University of California Press.
Piaget, J. (1952). The origins of intelligence in children. International Universities Press.
Rinaldi, C. (2006). In dialogue with Reggio Emilia: Listening, researching and learning. Routledge.
Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. Basic Books.
Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Harvard University Press.
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After reading this, I now realized that some of my childhood classmates lost confidence in themselves because of linguistic learning and not relational learning. The ones who could read a whole passage with pauses and stops were regarded as the smartest, and the others struggles seen as not enough .. This is a very insightful peace on the teaching methodologies for children.
ooo love your thoughts on silence... there is so much power in the quiet and stillness and being in silence!!