Susan Isaacs: Let Children Think for Themselves

“They had been chasing him round the garden and teasing him, and he had run away and hidden. And in the morning, he was dead. He was very old and had had a long life. The children had looked after him and loved him. But now he was dead. They put him in a box and made a funeral. And they all cried.”
— Susan Isaacs, diary, Malting House School

When I was at university, this story shook me to the core. The incident reminded me of the Lord of the Flies book scenario, where children run wild without any educator’s guidance. Is it what objective observation is like?

We were studying pedagogy and documentation, surrounded by readings on Piaget and Vygotsky, when my lecturer read this passage aloud. It was from Susan Isaacs’ diary, documenting a moment from the Malting House School. The children had chased and teased their beloved rabbit, not out of cruelty, but play. The next morning, they found him dead. He had been old.

The children made a box, held a funeral, and wept.
Isaacs let them feel it all. She didn’t redirect or fix — she witnessed.

It was the first time I understood the way children may think and how they approach death as a concept to process.

I also reconsidered the role of the teacher as a researcher, as an observer and inquirer who witnesses play, documents children’s learning and their thoughts as they occur.

Susan Sutherland Isaacs (nĂŠe Fairhurst) was born in 1885 in Lancashire to working-class parents — a saddler-turned-journalist father and a musically gifted mother. When her mother died at age six, Susan’s life changed sharply. Her father’s remarriage created family tensions, and when she later rejected religion and declared herself a socialist and atheist.

As Jane Murray (2021) explains, Isaacs’ strength was her ability to draw from three fields, such as pedagogy, philosophy, and psychology (PPP), to understand how children build knowledge through play, inquiry, and social experience.

The Malting House School as a living lab

Isaacs’ breakthrough came when she was appointed the head of Malting House School (1924–1927), an experimental learning community in Cambridge. Children could explore, problem-solve, and even philosophise freely, which seemed like a RADICAL idea for the time. Teachers were not instructors but co-thinkers and observers. Does it sound familiar? No wonder… Reggio Emilia and Anji play approaches are based on similar ideas.

“Play is indeed the child’s work, and the means whereby he grows and develops.”
— Isaacs, 1929, p. 9

Here, Isaacs saw children as natural researchers. Whether observing how wood floats or debating fairness during a game, children were constantly forming hypotheses, testing ideas, and refining their understanding of the world (Isaacs, 1930; Murray, 2021).

Children are natural researchers. They observe, they think, they have theories about the world.

She later wrote:

“The child’s cognitive act is similar… to his later acts of understanding, of reasoning, or of practical organisation, as a historian, a scientist or a man of affairs.”
(Isaacs, 1930, p. 65)

This wasn’t romantic idealism. It was based on systematic observation, experimentation, and analysis, the same principles Isaacs believed every educator should apply (Murray, 2021).

Children and Phantasy

Susan Isaacs’s The Nature and Function of Phantasy book is one of the most interesting and influencial texts on children’s thinking. Isaacs made major contributions to the field of psychoanalysis, especially through her seminal 1943 paper, “The Nature and Function of Phantasy.” In this book, she argued that unconscious phantasy is present from the start of life, shaping all instincts, relationships, and perceptions. Take , for example, my niece, who merges real and imaginative all the time (she is 8).

This theory deepened our understanding of how children process the world, not just intellectually, but through imagination, inner conflict, and emotional meaning-making.

Isaacs also understood that thought isn’t just cognitive, it’s emotional. In her work with psychoanalysis, she expanded on Melanie Klein’s theory of unconscious phantasy, stating:

“There is no impulse, no instinctual urge or response which is not experienced as unconscious phantasy.”
(Isaacs, 1948, as cited in Bodycote, 2020, p. 115)

This meant play, dreams, fears, and even tantrums were not random. They were meaning-making processes. Children trying to make sense of their world.

🌼 Why Susan Isaacs Still Matters

In a time of outcomes and over-scheduling, Isaacs invites us to pause, to watch, listen, and reflect.
She reminds us that:

  • Children’s questions are not distractions. They are part of the curriculum, your program, your planning.
  • Educators are not performers. They are co-investigators.
  • Play is not a break from learning. It is the learning.

✏️ Reflection

How might your practice change if you treated every child as a natural researcher, even during conflict, tears, or silence?

References

Murray, J. (2021). How do children build knowledge in early childhood education? Susan Isaacs, Young Children Are Researchers and what happens next. Early Child Development and Care, 191(7–8), 1230–1246. https://doi.org/10.1080/03004430.2020.1854242

Bodycote, L. (2020). Review of the book Wise Words: How Susan Isaacs changed parenting, by C. Vollans. Journal of Child Psychotherapy, 46(1), 112–116. https://doi.org/10.1080/0075417X.2020.1739736

Everyday objects as play resources

Pasta and rubber bands, shaving foam and foil… there are hundreds of affordable, multi-purpose play and learning materials hiding in plain sight—right there in your local supermarket.

We believe toys aren’t a luxury item. In fact, some of the best “toys” aren’t toys at all. Explore the possibilities of using loose parts to enhance creativity.

Sticks, string, mud, puddles and stones—these have always been childhood favourites across cultures and generations. Take away the tablets and devices, and give children the freedom to play outdoors. Chances are, they’ll run to the nearest puddle, pick up a stick, and start stirring mud or flinging pebbles. With loose parts, the potential for imaginative play is endless.

Unlike nature’s freebies, store-bought toys and art materials can be expensive. But you don’t need to break the bank. Pop into your local discount store (in Australia, they’re often called “Two Dollar Shops”) and you’ll find a goldmine of creative tools for early learning. Look for loose parts that can be creatively used in various activities.

Here’s a go-to list of budget-friendly items for hands-on, sensory-rich activities with children aged 0–6:


🛒 Supermarket Supplies for Play and Learning

1. Flour

Soft, tactile and versatile—flour is the base for salt dough and sensory play.
Classic salt dough recipe: 1 cup flour, ½ cup coloured water, ½ cup salt, 1 tbsp oil.
Want puffy paint? Mix flour, salt, and water, pour into sauce bottles, add food colouring.
Want cloud dough? Mix flour with baby oil. Simple magic made possible with loose parts.

2. Vegetable Oil

Key for dough-making. Mix with water for science fun—oil and water never mix!

3. Salt

A sensory tub staple. Use it for magic bottles, art experiments, or “drawing trays” with brushes.
Try: coloured salt (crushed chalk + salt), icy salt play, or painting with salt on watercolours. All these activities can be enriched with loose parts.

4. Baking Soda & Vinegar

Perfect for fizzy fun. Add baking soda to a balloon, vinegar to a bottle—watch the balloon inflate! Incorporate other loose parts to make the activity more interactive.

5. Rice

Great for sensory bottles, art, or filling beanbags. Dye it for sorting or scooping.

6. Food Colouring

For colourful dough, paints, foam, ice, and sensory tubs. Add pipettes and explore colour mixing.

7. Pasta

For art, noise makers, and fine motor play (bracelets, necklaces, sorting).
Cook spaghetti halfway, dip in paint, and make spaghetti art! Use loose parts like pasta to expand creative possibilities.

8. Jelly

Tactile, edible fun. Freeze small animal figurines in jelly for sensory discovery.
Use jelly powder for messy finger painting.

9. Cornstarch

The base for a non-Newtonian fluid. Add water and watch it act like a solid and a liquid.
Cook with water and soda to make silky finger paints—safe for the youngest learners.

10. Tea

Steeped tea makes beautiful paint. Dried tea is a calming sensory material. Herbal teas are great for discovery and sensory exploration, plus just for afternoon tea. Loose parts like dried tea leaves can provide additional layers of sensory experience.

11. Spices

Spices offer rich scents for sensory play and real-life kitchen roleplay.
Add ginger or pepper to your dough for extra sensory exploration.


👩‍🏫 As educators, we know that meaningful learning doesn’t come from expensive toys—it grows out of exploration, sensory wonder, and open-ended materials. Loose parts play a crucial role in this process.

Next time you’re in the grocery store, think like a child and shop like a teacher.

The Method of Natural Consequences: Gently Guiding Your Child


Ever notice how children’s books are full of little mischief-makers? Kids are born explorers—testing boundaries and checking to see just how far they can push before hitting a limit (often ours!). But here’s a comforting thought: there’s really no such thing as intentionally bad behaviour. Children often just don’t know any better yet. They’re not “good kids” or “bad kids”—they’re simply growing, learning, and figuring things out. Our job as parents and educators is to help them on this journey.

I love how psychologist Rudolf Dreikurs puts it: “Just as a plant needs water, a child needs encouragement.” And let’s not forget, kids also need clear boundaries and gentle guidance from us adults.

Setting Clear, Positive Rules

Effective parenting starts with clear, positive rules. Every family will have their own version, like: “We run and play outside, but inside we walk calmly,” or “When playtime is finished, we tidy our toys together.” Kids naturally behave better when they feel valued, listened to, and clearly understand what’s expected of them. It’s essential to be consistent and fair. For instance, it might be unrealistic to expect your two-year-old to sit perfectly still in a restaurant. Maybe leave her at home with a trusted caregiver instead. But a two-year-old can grasp that biting hurts, and we don’t bite our friends.

It’s our direct responsibility as adults to set and talk about these boundaries. If kids cross them, they experience natural consequences—simple and immediate outcomes directly linked to their actions.

Consistency here is key. Natural consequences allow kids to make conscious choices and understand clearly the outcomes of their actions. Unlike punishment, this method doesn’t provoke resistance; it’s much calmer and easier for kids to accept.

Why Natural Consequences, Not Punishments?

Back in the day, the common response to misbehaviour might’ve been spanking, grounding, or taking away privileges. Kids were sometimes viewed as inherently naughty or mischievous. Thankfully, advances in psychology and neuroscience have helped us see children differently—as individuals who need guidance, not control.

Punishments can damage a child’s sense of self-worth and hinder their social development. Trust, the cornerstone of any healthy relationship, is often eroded by punishments, which tend to be about authority rather than understanding. Punishments are often unrelated to the misbehaviour, leaving kids confused and resentful.

Natural consequences, however, encourage cooperation. They help kids learn responsibility and make informed decisions. The consequence directly relates to what happened, and it’s immediate, not something threatened and postponed.

This method fosters inner motivation rather than relying on external control. While it’s most effective for kids aged three and up, younger children can benefit too. For example, if your toddler draws on the wallpaper, calmly guide them to paper instead. Setting gentle, firm boundaries even for very young children is essential.

Staying Calm and Consistent

Stay calm, friendly, and consistent when setting limits. Make sure the consequences are logical and immediate. Avoid threats like “no more trips ever!” Instead, make realistic choices clear: “If you throw rocks, we have to leave the playground.” Then follow through gently and consistently.

Natural consequences may not always feel good to the child, but they’re always safe, respectful, and directly connected to the behaviour. If your child throws their ball over the fence after being warned, simply explain that now there’s no ball to play with—no need for criticism, just a calm acknowledgment of the result.

Both parents need to agree on these consequences. It might take some patience at first, but trust me, this method works beautifully over time. Consider writing down clear consequences for specific behaviours and adjusting as your child grows. You’ll find it becomes second nature!

What do you think? Drop a comment 👇🏿

I know five – an easy ball game for preschoolers

I Know Five… 🎾🗣️🎶
A flexible, fast-paced game that gets kids thinking, talking, and moving!

How to play:

  • Stand in a circle with a bouncy ball.
  • One child bounces the ball as they say:
    “I know five…” (e.g. girls’ names, fruits, animals, cities, colours)
    Then they list five things, bouncing the ball once for each word:
    “I know five fruits: apple, pear, mango, banana, kiwi!” 🍎🍐🥭🍌🥝
  • The ball is passed to the next child, who chooses a new category.
  • No repeats — the challenge grows as the game goes on!

Why it’s great:
✅ Builds vocabulary and memory
✅ Encourages clear speech and turn-taking
✅ Adds movement for active learners
✅ Easy to adapt for any age group or theme

You can play indoors or outdoors — no setup needed, just a ball and imagination!


Let’s debate the virtue of patience…

When friends and acquaintances learn I work as a preschool teacher, they often smile. They say, “You must have so much patience.” I usually just shrug. I don’t think patience is the most essential quality when working with young children. In fact, I’m not a fan of patience. I’m all for understanding.

Take four-year-old James. He is a sturdy redheaded boy. He just decided who gets to ride the scooter by pushing a three-year-old girl off it. Does James’s behaviour require patience? Is patience what I need, as his teacher, to handle the situation thoughtfully and effectively? What does being “patient” even mean?

According to most English dictionaries, patience is “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.” The underlying assumption? You’re enduring something unpleasant.

Patience is often seen as a hallmark of good educators. “Kate, I could never do what you do—I don’t have the patience.” “You must be incredibly patient to work with kids every day.” Compliments like that used to make me smile, but lately they’ve started to rub me the wrong way. Probably because I’ve never considered myself particularly patient. Sure, I can sit through a dental appointment in silence, give blood without flinching—but to put up with work that drains me or feels meaningless? No, thank you.

Patience is usually framed as a virtue. It conjures images of someone calm, humble, quietly enduring something difficult. You grit your teeth, take a deep breath, and get through it. Why? Because “patience is a virtue.” Because “good things come to those who wait.” Because “hard work and patience conquer all.” These sayings run deep in our cultural wiring.

But I don’t think early childhood educators, nannies, or parents of young children should rely too heavily on patience. Why? Because if you’re constantly “putting up with” children, it probably means you’re not enjoying the work. It suggests you’re not in a state of flow, as described by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. And that’s a problem. Because it means you’re disconnected.

An educator who truly understands a child’s developmental stage—their strengths, their challenges—won’t suffer silently. Take James again. His behaviour might look aggressive, but developmentally, it’s not out of the ordinary. I’m not about to label him a “troublemaker” or say he’s violent. He’s a great kid—he just doesn’t yet know how to behave differently. Maybe he struggles with self-regulation. Maybe he needs support from a psychologist. Either way, the incident (yes, James pushed someone again) becomes an opportunity to teach, not punish.

At this stage of development, James only knows how to express himself through force. My job is to help him find another way. That doesn’t require me to clench my fists or count to ten—it simply means I remind him, gently and clearly, that we don’t hit people. We use our words. James isn’t distracting me from my work—he is my work. He gives me a reason to model better ways of interacting.

And it’s not just James. There’s Zoya, who loves pulling hair and biting. There’s Ruben. He is autistic and sometimes throws sticks from the top of the slide. This behavior is not out of malice. He doesn’t yet grasp the consequences of his actions.

If I relied solely on patience, I’d burn out by the end of the first week. By the end of the month, I’d be yelling and reacting poorly. What I need far more than patience is understanding. And that understanding comes from developmental theory, from knowing children’s capabilities and limits—and from genuinely wanting to be around them.

Patience has a limit. There’s a reason we say, “Beware the wrath of the patient person.” But understanding, compassion, and connection? They’re renewable.

Teachers and parents who expect three- to five-year-olds to sit quietly on a mat or at a desk? They do need patience—because they lack understanding. It’s almost comical to watch an educator sternly tell a child “for the last time” to take a pencil out of their mouth. They clearly forget what it’s like to be teething and want to chew everything.

Expectations that aren’t age-appropriate only create tension between adults and children. If I know a child’s gums are itchy, I’ll offer a teething toy or some crunchy toast. My voice and body language stay calm—not because I’m forcing patience, but because I get it. When you understand, there’s nothing to endure.

Treating young children’s behaviour as something to be endured—like a headache or a traffic jam—turns it into something threatening. “You’re doing this just to upset your mum!” “Johnny, did you pee your pants on purpose?” Many of us still remember those hurtful lines from our own childhoods. We recall how wrong they were. We also remember how much they shamed us.

But harshness and rejection often come from a simple lack of understanding. When adults take time to really listen—not just to what children say, but to what they mean—they create space for growth. When I understand a child, I respond to them as they are—not as I wish they were. I don’t waste energy fighting the fact that children are, well, children. I use my energy to guide them.

And that, to me, is far more powerful than patience.

Let me know what you think!

Kate