relationships with young children

Early childhood education is built on relationships. We know this. We talk about it when we think about children, families, and classrooms. But the longer I do this work, the more I realize that relationships are not just part of our work—they are the work.

Think about the people who have shaped you as an educator or leader. The colleague you call when you need to talk something through. The person who shared an idea that completely changed your thinking. The mentor who saw something in you before you saw it in yourself. Or the connection made at a conference, meeting, or professional gathering that became something much more meaningful over time.

Those relationships matter.

In a profession that asks so much of us, connection sustains us. We learn from one another. We challenge one another. We share resources, celebrate successes, wrestle with hard questions, and sometimes simply remind each other, “You’re not doing this alone.”

And perhaps that is where belonging begins.

Connection happens in so many layers of our work. It is in the relationships we build with children and families the everyday moments that communicate, “I see you. I know you. You matter here.” It is in the relationships we build with colleagues, when we listen, collaborate, share ideas, and support one another.

And it extends beyond the walls of our own classrooms and schools. Connection might mean helping a family who just moved to town find a pediatrician, introducing a colleague to someone who can help with a challenge, sharing a resource, or simply saying, “I know someone you should talk to.” Our relationships create bridges—not only for ourselves, but for others.

Some of the most meaningful connections begin with a simple conversation, a shared question, or an introduction. The more connected we are, the more we are able to connect others. We don’t have to have all the answers ourselves; sometimes, we just need to know who to ask.

Belonging is not something that simply happens because we are part of a classroom, school, organization, or professional community. It is something we intentionally create through relationships.

In my work, I think about belonging through six pathways: Kavod (honoring each person), Authentic Communication, Kehillah (community), Partnership, Shared Learning, and Simcha (joy). Each offers a different way to think about how we create spaces where people feel seen, valued, connected, and part of something larger than themselves. But at the heart of every pathway is the same thing: relationship.

Belonging is built in the small, everyday moments; something as simple as, “I know someone you should meet.”

As we welcome 5787, I invite you to carry these Six Pathways to Belonging with you: Kavod, Authentic Communication, Kehillah, Partnership, Shared Learning, and Simcha. Not as a checklist, but as an invitation to notice the relationships around you and the connections when we notice someone, make an introduction, share what we know, ask for help, offer support, or invite someone in.

So, think about your own circle of connection. Who do you turn to? Who turns to you? Who might benefit from a connection you can make?

Sometimes building community begins with what you have the opportunity to create.

Who might need an introduction? Who could benefit from something you know or someone you know? Who might simply need to be invited in?

As we begin a new year, may we continue to build the relationships that strengthen our classrooms, our schools, our families, and one another. Because belonging doesn’t just happen. We create it—one relationship, one connection, one moment at a time.

Shanah Tovah.

Lori Kowit, M.Ed.
Early Childhood Consultant | Kowit Consulting

© 2026 Lori Kowit. All Rights Reserved.

Sheriff, or Ally? Rethinking Our Relationships with Young Children

Trusting children is hard. Like, really, really hard. We generally lack the language, attitudes, and habits for it. We are accustomed and expected to maintain control over a child’s actions. As an educator, I’ve worked my whole career on building a stance of trust, rather than control, towards children. It is not easy.

A key theme in my recent book is how adults turn into “sheriffs” when they are stuck in a control-oriented relationship with children, looking to catch them doing the wrong thing and reminding them to do the right thing instead. When we play the role of sheriff, the child’s resistance turns them into an outlaw. In my book, I review both how we got here, and how we can work on being an ally instead of a sheriff, supporting children instead of correcting them.

When we can become allies instead of sheriffs, there are no outlaws, only collaborators.

Here are two examples of how this plays out for me as an educator:

Trust with materials: I was sitting on the back rug in one of our two year old classrooms watching a prospective teacher play with the children. One of the students stretched his arm up towards a box of musical instruments resting on a shelf seemingly just out of his reach. The prospective teacher glanced at me – “Is it OK for him to take the box down?” The sheriff would remind the child that this toy bucket was not available right now and he could make a different choice. “Good question,” I said, and continued, “What you should know about our school is – we trust children. Follow his lead.” The teacher reached out to assist him in bringing the box down. Delighted, the child quickly picked up two rhythm sticks and began banging them together melodically. Soon, a small band erupted. Now in the role of maestro, not outlaw, the child beamed.

Trust with bodies: Richard playfully “bonked” a friend on the top of their head and smiled. A big, happy, inviting smile. But “Ow!”, and, “No!”, was the response from his possible playmates. As a sheriff, my response would be, “Hands are for playing, not hitting. Please do not bonk your friends.” But I’m doing my best to be an ally instead – to trust that Richard had good intentions that were misinterpreted rather than bad behavior that needed correction.

“Hmm, friends, it seems like Richard wants to play bonk. If you do not want to play bonk, can you scootch back a little?” As they scootched back, I looked at Richard and offered my own smile: “Richard, I love playing bonk. Do you want to bonk me?” Richard playfully tapped my head, and I laughed. I asked if I could bonk him back; he eagerly tilted his head down for me. We giggled. More friends joined in. More giggling. Richard was in the middle of it all – a safe, friendly, physical, productive social interaction. He smiled. He hugged his friends, and they hugged him back.

When are you an ally, and when are you a sheriff? What is the balance between the roles, and how do you shift from one to the other?

Noah Hichenberg, Preschool Director, Gan HaYeled Preschool at Adas Israel Congregation

Adjunct Professor, Masor School for Jewish Education and Leadership at American Jewish University

Noah.hichenberg@adasisrael.org