Why Playground Disputes Spill into Class (and What It’s Really Teaching)
A story-led explainer for educators and parents
Nicole Nolan | WiseLearn Education
I’ve been listening—and I’ve lived it
This week, a school leader told me she’s losing precious teaching time to handball disputes that explode on the playground and smoulder into the classroom.
I hear versions of this every term—from new teachers, seasoned leaders, and parents who just want their kids to “get on with it.” I’ve also felt it myself, as a teacher and leader: the sinking feeling when the lesson plan crashes into a social storm.
Here’s the truth we don’t say out loud: this is the work. These moments are not detours from learning; they’re the training ground for it. And when we treat them that way, we protect learning time and build skills students carry into friendships, families, and future workplaces.
Three scenes from any school (K–12)
Scene 1: Year 2 — The “not fair” meltdown
Two best friends, a skipped turn, and a tidal wave of “You cheated!” Tears, hot cheeks, and small fists. One child shuts down under the table; the other rages. The teacher has ten pairs of eyes waiting for the maths warm-up.
What’s underneath: The downstairs brain—a term coined by Dr Daniel J. Siegel, clinical professor of psychiatry at UCLA School of Medicine and co-author of The Whole-Brain Child—describes the brain’s fast-acting alarm system. It’s fired. Breathing is fast, attention tunnels, words shrink. The upstairs brain (thinking, empathy, impulse control) goes partially offline. The more we push for logic now, the more dysregulated they become.
Scene 2: Year 5 — Handball status and belonging
Four square. A boundary call. A crowd gathers. Who’s in, who’s out, who gets to judge? It’s not just about rules—it’s about status and belonging. By the bell, the argument is a bonfire. It follows them straight into English.
What’s underneath: Social threat feels like physical threat to the nervous system. Chronic fight-or-flight shrinks working memory and flexible thinking—the exact tools needed to learn new content and negotiate fairly.
Scene 3: Year 10 — Group work goes sideways
One student shoulders the load, another ghosts the task, a third dominates decisions. Voices sharpen. Someone storms out. The teacher considers grading individually just to survive.
What’s underneath: Executive functions—planning, inhibition, cognitive flexibility—are stretched thin. Without practiced repair routines, students default to power plays or avoidance. The conflict skills they needed in Year 2 and Year 5 are simply louder now.
The brain story (kid-friendly version)
Big idea: Your brain has safety systems and smart systems. Both are good. When the safety alarm gets too loud, the smart systems go quiet for a while—and that’s why we pause to settle bodies before we talk solutions.
Downstairs brain (alarm + action)
Job: keep you safe—fast.
Feels like: hot face, tight chest, buzzing hands, urge to shout/run/argue.
Loves: certainty, quick answers, winning.
Kid examples: “He cut in!” “That’s not fair!” “I’m out—forget it!”
Upstairs brain (thinking + caring)
Job: help you pause, remember the rules, see another view, choose the next step.
Needs: time, oxygen, water, and safety to work well.
Kid examples: “Let’s replay.” “I can wait my turn.” “What matters most—friendship or points?”
“Flip your lid.”
In Dr Siegel’s hand model of the brain, you tuck your thumb (representing the amygdala) into your palm and fold your fingers over (the cortex). When the alarm blares, the fingers pop up—the “lid flips.” It’s a simple but powerful visual for children to understand what happens when emotions take over: the upstairs brain is still there, just harder to use until the alarm settles.
Goal: Bodies first, words later.
Notice the alarm (name it: hot, fast, tight).
Reset the body (10 belly breaths, wall push + shoulder roll ×10, sip + count 30 heartbeats, 60–90s quiet corner).
Then talk: What happened? What matters? What’s next?
Regulation starts before the school gate (Daily Needs)
Many blow-ups are low-fuel systems:
Sleep/Rest: Tired brains = thin frustration tolerance.
Breath/Air: Shallow breathing primes the alarm.
Water/Hydration: Mild dehydration raises irritability.
Nourish/Food: Big sugar swings = emotional whiplash.
Environment: Sunlight + nature stabilise mood; clutter + noise overload.
Connection: Belonging cushions status threats.
Creativity/Expression: Safe outlets lower pressure and unlock flexibility.
When families and schools preload these, the playground runs warmer—not hotter.
Why this matters for academics (and life)
When students live mostly in fight-or-flight:
Working memory shrinks (harder to hold instructions).
Inhibition dips (harder to wait/turn-take).
Cognitive flexibility narrows (harder to see other perspectives).
The cost is immediate (lost minutes) and long-term (weaker conflict habits).
The gain from teaching regulation + repair is multiplied: more learning time now, better relationships later—at home, with friends, and eventually at work.
A short, compassionate map for adults
Bodies first, words later
Cue: “Press pause—choose a reset. I’ll start the 60-second timer.”
Options: 10 belly breaths, wall push + roll ×10, sip of water + heartbeat count, quiet corner.
Let them vent, then reframe as a question
Teacher move: validate → reflect → ask.
“I hear you—you felt it was unfair.” → “You kept going even when upset.” → “What could you do differently next time?”
Always ask each student involved: “What is something you could have done differently?”
Why it works: validation reduces defensiveness; a specific, future-oriented question activates planning, inhibition, and cognitive flexibility—core executive function skills.
Sort the story, then decide
Ask: “What happened? What matters most—fairness, friendship, safety, or fun? What’s next?”
Offer repair menu: replay, rotate, quick apology, switch roles.
Model it
Narrate your regulation: “I’m taking three breaths before I respond.”
Close the loop: “I interrupted you—sorry. Please finish.”
Build it before you need it
Co-create a simple Play Code: visible rules, how disputes are decided, time-out tokens, re-entry signals.
Frustration is real—for everyone
Students feel unheard; the game becomes a referendum on belonging.
Parents want fairness and fear exclusion.
Educators hold curriculum pressure plus 25+ nervous systems.
Naming this lowers the temperature. We’re not fixing bad kids or bad parents. We’re building shared language and routines that make school humane—and more efficient.
What the research points to (plain English)
Stress narrows attention and reduces access to prefrontal “thinking tools.”
Brief state-shifts (breath, water, micro-movement) restore access to empathy and planning.
Repeated practice of repair wires conflict skills faster than punishment alone.
Executive function improves with scaffolded, consistent routines.
If you’re a school leader or teacher feeling this right now
I can help you turn hot moments into a calm, teachable protocol that wins back minutes and builds executive function across the school.
Together, we can co-create:
A 10-minute dispute-to-repair routine for playgrounds and PE.
Mini-posters + lanyard cards for students and duty teachers.
A parent “Game Day Ready” one-pager.
Simple tracking to show fewer, shorter disputes over time.
Ready when you are. If this week’s leader is you—reach out. I’d love to help your staff feel less squeezed and your students feel more capable.
About Nicole
I’m an educational consultant and Professional Neuroplastician® who helps schools build calm, connection, and creativity into daily routines. I’ve led classrooms and teams, and I partner with schools to embed practical SEL and executive-function routines that actually save time.
Reference Note
Concepts in this article draw on the work of Dr Daniel J. Siegel, clinical professor of psychiatry at the UCLA School of Medicine, and his hand model of the brain and upstairs–downstairs brain framework, which help children and adults alike understand emotional regulation and integration.
