The Work of Each Season
If childhood has its own natural organising intelligence, what kinds of relationships, environments and experiences help it unfold?
I’ve recently realised that the biggest question driving my life and my work is changing.
When I first started writing here, I had much to say about the distortions, expectations and pressures surrounding childhood and children’s education.
I still do.
Much of this comes from years spent observing and working with children, followed by becoming a parent myself. Over and over, I found myself noticing ways in which our ideas about children seemed to be at odds with their inherent nature.
Many of my essays have questioned the assumptions that underpin our systems and widely held cultural framings. I’ve challenged the push for early academics, questioned the dominance of teaching-led education, and argued for a more developmentally sensitive approach that honours the unfolding of each unique child.
But lately I find myself being compelled by a deeper question:
If children aren’t naturally meant to spend every stage of childhood pursuing the same goals, what is each stage of childhood for?
I feel that this question is timely for the rapidly changing world we find ourselves in. And I think there are two important aspects to how we might begin to answer it.
The first is: What are the broad developmental stages of natural organising intelligence? Or, put more simply: What is childhood for?
The second is: Who is this individual child, and what might this look like for them?
The first question holds the macro view; the second, the micro. The first helps us explore what is broadly natural and optimum for children’s development, providing principles that can guide how we think about childhood on a wider scale. But the second is equally important because it reminds us that no broad framework can tell us everything about the child in front of us.
Whatever environments or opportunities we create may or may not meet an individual child where they are. Asking this second question invites families and small communities to design support with confidence, rooted not only in general developmental principles but also in the unique nature of the child as they grow.
Why this matters
As I have said before, the journey of my thinking around children and childhood is inextricably linked with the journey I am on with my own family. So these questions are not just theoretical for me; they are what I am living and breathing every day.
Before we became parents, and with me having spent many years seeing the organising systems of most children’s lives close up, we had already decided we wouldn’t send any children we had to school. Then along came our daughter P, who, as she grew, revealed through her nature just how fitting that decision was for her.
I have written in detail before about who she is and what makes her tick, but to summarise here: she is a child who seeks vast amounts of self-initiated exploration, who is intensely imaginative, deeply absorptive, and highly resistant to — and exhausted by — any type of adult-led, structured or more formal learning activity.
Exploring her Gene Keys and Human Design profiles was enormously helpful as she grew and, without these more positive and practical framings, I often wonder where we would be. They have helped me see the power of perspective in real time. A school view might have been: “She has problems with academic learning” and “She’s resistant to demands and structure.” Our reframe is: “She learns in an immersive, meaning-driven and absorptive way,” and “She develops best with enormous amounts of space and freedom within safe boundaries.”
The principle of individualisation has always been a strong driver for me. Alongside this is the fact that — as I have written before — I have been fortunate, through my work, to meet and get to know so many individual children. It has given me the opportunity to see the enormous diversity that exists with my own eyes, and also to see just how much of a mismatch there can be between many children and the way our main systems of childhood are set up.
Yes, some children will always thrive, and these examples keep the wheel turning and reinforce our culturally held belief that this is the best way. But many do not, because their unique nature is at odds with the way things work. I have seen how unmoored parents and educators can become when it comes to these children.
If this doesn’t work for them, then what does?
I also write this at a point in my daughter’s life where things are really changing. She turned eight a few months back, and it certainly feels as though we have gradually entered a very different phase of her development.
It is widely accepted that age seven marks something of a turning point. A move into what is often called middle childhood; beyond the earliest phases of physical development and the big, visible milestones. Critical attachments are, hopefully, well established, and it is obvious, even to the most inexperienced observer, that children begin to have very different priorities.
But what are those priorities?
If we look to what happens more broadly in our culture, we might summarise them as more academics, more challenge and competition, and a deepening of peer relationships. But how much of this reflects what children themselves are naturally orienting towards, and how much reflects what we provide for them? Can we confidently say that these opportunities are a good match for the developmental work this stage of childhood is trying to accomplish?
Within the context of our school-free life, we are free to observe our daughter more closely than we might otherwise have the opportunity to. I have certainly seen academic progress, but I wouldn’t say that growth in that area is her primary driving force. What I notice instead is a broader movement towards greater capability, greater autonomy, and a deeper understanding of the world around her — particularly people.
She seems increasingly drawn to exploring relationships, fairness, trust and belonging. I see it in the stories she chooses now, which revolve a lot around friendships and family dynamics rather than the more simple and physical adventures she once loved. I see it in the way she and her friends spend time talking through social situations and role-playing peer relationships, rather than creating the more cause-and-effect or family-based imaginary worlds they were absorbed in only a short while ago.
Introducing the Ring of Matter
A while ago, through the Gene Keys, I came across an explanation of the changing developmental priorities of children laid out in phases which gave language to something I had been sensing. The Ring of Matter, broadly speaking, encompasses four phases:
The gestation period — with its function of incarnation into form and survival sensitivity.
The body phase of 0-7 — where physical structure and patterns are laid down through touch, sensory exploration, delight and vitality.
The emotional organisation phase of 7-14 — where emotional patterns are absorbed and laid down and the fear of inadequacy is faced.
The mental organisation phase of 14-21 — where opinions are laid down and judgement capacities tested and forged.
The idea that childhood unfolds through recognisable developmental phases isn’t unique to the Gene Keys, but what I found most striking was the emphasis on relationship and the constant biofeedback children receive from their environment. Through their experiences and relationships, the child makes sense of their world and lays down patterns that continue to shape their growth. The child is continuously testing reality and the environment literally teaches the nervous system how to organise itself.
If this is true, the next question is whether the environments we create are supporting the kind of organisation that the stage of childhood is naturally seeking.
What kinds of relationships, environments and opportunities would work with those priorities rather than against them?
Contemplating Ages 0-14
To start to answer this question, I delved into the first three Ring of Matter phases. What follows is what came through from reading and sitting with what I found.
Gestation
The broad themes of this phase of incarnation into form are sound and frequency, intuition, and bodily survival instinct.
This Gene Key describes the powerful influence of the mother’s inner and energetic world on the developing child. The foetus exists within a sensory world of vibrations, sensations, lights, colours and sounds, yet it experiences all of this through the feelings and responses of the mother. Patterns of sensing safety and threat through the body are laid down, and stress and fear from the mother are likely to interfere with the smooth and harmonious operation of bodily intuition later in the child’s life. It speaks to the importance of honouring the pregnant mother, so that this foundational period is experienced as a supportive frequency for the child.
Ultimately, this phase is one of heightened sensitivity, and of interconnectedness between mother and child. It reminds us that our body and our deep intuition are powerful forms of knowing, if we can only stay connected with them and with each other.
Soft is the mother’s hand on her bump,
Gentle the words that she utters.
Floating in colours, buzzing with sounds,
The unfurling little one flutters.
Busy is the world that pulls her away,
That fills up her mind with fears.
But knowing is she, and listen she will,
To the wisdom within that she hears.
Body 0-7
The broad theme of this phase is the physical development of the child from infancy through the early years.
Patterns of posture, breathing, and relationship to the physical world through touch are laid down. Physical circumstances are obviously critical for the child to feel safe and develop healthily — the loving touch, responsiveness, attachment, nourishment, rest, and space within safe boundaries which the caregiver essentially provides.
But more subtle is the energetic atmosphere which also transmits into the child. Parents may struggle to trust themselves, to fully inhabit the present moment, and instead become overly serious about life through their own conditioning. This frequency — of either lightness, delight and joy, or seriousness, stress and control — also passes to the child and sets up powerful patterns that can either encourage or inhibit their happiness.
Children embody an appreciation of the richness of being alive, yet their freedom and spontaneity can become a constant reminder of our own conditioning and unhappiness. Through embracing our children’s delight and remembering how to play, we are invited back into a way of being that many of us have forgotten.
Delight is the natural state of the child,
Safe are the arms that hold her.
Loving touch, joy and play,
Simple these things that enliven her.
Serious are they who decide what counts,
Trust us, not yourself, they impart.
But wise is the one who lets them fade out,
And leans into the swell of the heart.
Emotion 7-14
The broad theme of this phase is the organisation of the child’s emotional world.
Through middle childhood and into the early teenage years, we absorb the prevalent emotional patterns of our parents and others in the world around us. One of the fundamental human fears is of our own inadequacy, and this pattern will inevitably seep into the child in these years.
Puberty is a tender and confusing time, and collectively we may not do so well in supporting children through it because many of us did not experience healthy emotional development ourselves. It is only a recent phenomenon that our society has come to value emotional intelligence — previously it was seen as inferior and obstructive to intellectual intelligence. It seems, on the whole, that we still have much to learn about responsibly and maturely navigating our emotions, and about how to support the balanced development of both types of intelligence which makes for a well-rounded individual.
Many adults remain caught up in patterns of projection and denial around our emotions, and we are propelled to create a false sense of security for ourselves through control, certainty, timelines and systems. We look outward rather than inward at the deep and natural fears within.
Healthy emotional development would seem to depend upon emotionally stable environments and relationships where feelings are acknowledged rather than avoided. Environments that nurture an ongoing relationship with ourselves and a deep trust in our own inner resources. Opportunities for service to others, and relationships that hold space for uncertainty, difficult topics, and exploring our innermost thoughts and fears.
Above all, this seems to be a season in which children need emotionally mature adults — not ones who never wobble, but ones who are willing to acknowledge their own patterns and remain in relationship through them.
Wobble, the older child will as she grows,
Stable the climate she needs.
Grown ups who’ve grown up enough to feel,
And look at the patterns revealed.
Mysterious is life, and natural is death,
Talking without a set goal.
Deep is the well of talent within,
Strong when she’s seen as a whole.
A story from my past
I’ve inevitably been reflecting on my own childhood in light of these recent contemplations and questions. As described in the Gene Keys, the years between seven and fourteen are a key phase of emotional organisation, where emotional stability, openness and trust are particularly important foundations from which a child can move into the next season of development.
Looking back, I can see that my own experience of this period was marked by a lack of these foundations. As an adult, I find myself wondering how much of my emotional patterning was therefore shaped during those years.
I had a stable, loving family home in my younger years. I have many happy memories of endless play, fun trips and holidays, and comforting family routines. However, my parents’ marriage began to splinter in later years, and they divorced when I was 11. By then, my older brothers had already left home to begin their adult lives, and I felt like I was very much alone as I navigated the arguments, the traumatic move away from my childhood home, and swiftly — new step-relatives and difficult blended family dynamics. Alongside all of this came experiences of bullying and difficulties with my own self-image, yet these too remained largely unspoken.
I no longer hold blame or ill feeling towards my parents for all that happened, but I can acknowledge that there was a significant loss of trust between us through this time, and that an awful lot of feelings bubbled under the surface rather than being aired. These patterns went on for many years. It wasn’t until I was in my early twenties having spent a number of years living away from home and carving out my own adult life that I started to rebuild relationships with my mother and the rest of my close family.
Looking back through the lens of the Ring of Matter, I find myself wondering how differently this season of childhood might have unfolded for me, and what difference that may have made.
Where this path might be leading
I am beginning to look elsewhere in my search for what children truly need, and for ways of supporting them that are a better fit than the systems we have inherited. In a recent piece, I wrote that what I was really searching for was a developmental compass rather than a curriculum. This article feels like a first step in that exploration, and it has left me with far more questions than answers.
Instead of asking “What age should children start Maths?”, I find myself asking:
What is nature already trying to organise, given both the broad developmental phase this child is in and their unique nature?
And if childhood really does unfold through different organising priorities, what do those priorities ask of us?
What does healthy emotional organisation actually look like in an ordinary family?
What does it look like for one unique child?
What kinds of conversations?
What kinds of rhythms?
What kinds of opportunities?
What kinds of responsibilities?
What kinds of freedoms?
What kinds of relationships?
I don’t yet know the answers. But they feel like questions worth living with.
If this piece stirred something, I’d love to hear.
What do you think each season of childhood is trying to organise?
And what have you noticed your own child needing most at this stage of their development?
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This is such a valuable post Gem. A wonderful structure for thinking about the differing priorities at different stages..
This made me think of the psychosocial psychologist Erikson, who wrote about the stages of childhood, each with its own task to work out. His middle-childhood task is about industry versus inferiority. Your emotional phase, 7–14, with its fear of inadequacy at the centre, feels close to this. He'd say what the child is trying to organise in these years is a felt sense of competence - am I capable, can I make and do things that matter, do I measure up? - and the shadow of it is a sense of inferiority, of not being enough.
So a child needs to experience feeling capable, and to have it seen and named by others. And yet this is too often experienced in school as the opposite - being measured against other children, feeling capable only if you reach someone else's targets and achievements rather than your own. In my view, what matters is that the child feels genuinely competent and has it witnessed on their own terms.
And, in my view, this is far more likely to happen when a child is able to work in their zone of proximal development (Vygotsky's idea that we grow through what is just beyond our current reach, with the right support alongside us) not against where everyone else is. And it seems to me that children naturally do know where this zone is. In the right environment, with the right support - they challenge themselves and they learn and grow.
Hi. I sent a chat about suggested books. Thanks for asking. The developmental model you describe fails to account for the most human of who we are. Does it deal with how children perceive death, or the outcomes of that perception? How about value formation? Or sexuality? Inspiration and imagination? Play at varying ages? How children know community? Aesthetic? Importance of family dynamics? Time? Identity formation ? The meaning and importance for adult development? Love? Insight into these transcend stages and only be engaging fields of knowing these can the uniqueness of each child come forth. Also, this engagement frees us from the belief that we should control the future of the child. Relational emergence happens only through conscious participation. We have to start with all that attributes an qualities of our humanness. And, prima facie, that optimal well-being, (which Adler called greatness) is always at play within.