The Power — and Pitfalls — of Calm Certainty
It’s funny how certain moments suddenly come back to you.
The other day, I overheard my son-in-law speaking to his three-year-old daughter.
“That’s one time.”
“Okay, that’s two times.”
And then, with a smile, “Oh, well done, Bella — good girl for putting that back on the table.”
In an instant, I was transported back to earlier days — both as a parent and as a teacher, standing in a classroom full of young minds. Those little exchanges between adult and child, the tone of voice, the choice of words, the balance between firmness and encouragement — they matter so much. The way we engage with children is central to building positive relationships, and it is just as essential when guiding them through moments of inappropriate, dangerous, or simply irritating behaviour.
Paul Dix, in his book When the Adults Change, Everything Changes, calls this teacher certainty. It’s a calm, consistent, and confident approach that focuses on adult behaviour as the starting point for better outcomes. The idea is simple: when children test boundaries (and they will), it’s our steadiness that shapes their response.
There’s a lot to admire here. Dix encourages bringing students back to the original behaviour that needs addressing, not getting lost in secondary dramas. He suggests keeping expectations visible, responding without emotion, balancing sanctions with positive reinforcement, and giving children clear, genuine choices.
But in practice, his approach hasn’t found agreement everywhere. Some educators, particularly in large secondary schools or alternative provision settings, find the “softly, softly” restorative style difficult to sustain without undermining authority. In certain cases, schools reported worsening behaviour and even unsafe environments after adopting the model, particularly when strong boundaries weren’t upheld.
Others point to the time demands of daily restorative conversations — often 15 minutes per student — as unrealistic given teacher workloads. There’s also frustration that the system can feel like it shifts too much responsibility onto teachers, with little acknowledgment of the challenges they face in under-resourced, high-pressure environments. And while Dix’s calm authority works well for him, some argue it relies on a personal charisma not every teacher can replicate.
However, this isn’t to dismiss the value of his principles. In fact, many teachers — myself included — have found enormous benefit in the focus on consistency, relationship-building, and the power of adult behaviour. But like any behaviour management system, it isn’t a magic bullet. It thrives when it’s adapted to context, supported by reality- based training, and implemented with enough flexibility to keep compassion and common sense at the centre.
When I think back to Bella’s moment with her dad, I realise it wasn’t just the “one time… two times…” structure that worked — it was the warmth in his voice when she made the right choice. That’s the sweet spot: boundaries that are clear, follow-through that is certain, and a tone that makes children feel safe rather than scrutinised.
In the end, behaviour management isn’t about rigidly applying a script or sticking to a philosophy no matter what. It’s about building trust, knowing when to be firm and when to be forgiving, and giving every child — and every adult — the chance to start again tomorrow.