Bias, Behavior, and Belonging in Early Childhood

Walk into almost any early childhood classroom and you’ll hear it:

“This child is challenging.”

But pause for a moment, and ask a harder question:

Which children are we more likely to describe that way—and why?

This is not a comfortable conversation. It asks educators to look inward, to examine not just children’s behavior, but our own perceptions. It asks us to acknowledge something that research has shown repeatedly: children of different races are often treated differently for the same behaviors (Building Equitable Early Learning Programs).

And in early childhood, those differences matter deeply. Because the way children are treated in response to their behavior shapes their experiences, their relationships, and their sense of belonging.

The Reality We Have to Name

Before we can change anything, we have to be honest about what’s happening.

Black preschoolers are significantly more likely to be suspended or expelled than their white peers—3.6 times more likely, according to U.S. Department of Education data (Building Equitable Early Learning Programs). And it’s not because young children of different races behave fundamentally differently.

Instead, it is often about how behavior is interpreted.

As Building Equitable Early Learning Programs explains, children’s race, culture, and background interact with factors like implicit bias, assessment practices, and institutional systems to shape outcomes. When educators are not familiar with a child’s cultural norms or communication styles, behaviors can be misread or mislabeled, leading to more frequent reprimands.

A child who is expressive, physical, or loud may be seen as joyful and energetic…or disruptive and defiant, depending on who is doing the observing.

That difference in perception is where inequity lives.

The Cultural Disconnect in the Classroom

In the United States, many early childhood educators are white, monolingual, and middle class, while the children they teach are increasingly diverse. This demographic reality is well documented, and it contributes to what researchers describe as a cultural disconnect between educators and the children and families they serve (Building Equitable Early Learning Programs). That gap isn’t inherently problematic, but without intentional reflection, learning, and culturally responsive practice, it can lead to misunderstandings about what children’s behavior means.

For example, cultural differences in communication, movement, or emotional expression can be interpreted as behavior problems instead of differences in style or experience. A child who speaks passionately, moves frequently, or expresses emotion openly may be demonstrating culturally rooted ways of engaging with the world. But when educators are unfamiliar with those norms, those same behaviors can be viewed as disruptive, defiant, or inappropriate. In other words, what is developmentally typical or culturally normative gets labeled as a deficit within the child that needs to be fixed. And once a child is labeled, it becomes much harder to see them clearly.

From Behavior to Belonging

When we label a child as “challenging,” we are not just describing behavior. We are shaping that child’s identity within the classroom.

Children understand very early who is seen as “good” and who is not. They internalize the tone of adult interactions, the frequency of correction, and the expectations placed on them.

Children thrive in environments where they feel safe, respected, and valued. Don’t Look Away emphasizes that equitable classrooms must ensure children feel safe to learn in their own skin. When bias influences discipline, that sense of safety is undermined.

A child who is consistently corrected or excluded is not just experiencing discipline—they are experiencing disconnection.

Relationships Are the Intervention

So, what do we do?

We start where all meaningful change in early childhood begins: with relationships.

Socially Strong, Emotionally Secure reminds us that relationships are the “active ingredients” in healthy human development. When children feel genuinely known and cared for, their behavior improves—not because they are being controlled, but because they are connected.

This idea is echoed in Trust First, which centers the belief that strong, trusting relationships are the foundation for addressing behavior. Authors Deborah Bergeron and Rhonda Conn-Parent emphasize that behavior should be understood as communication, not something to be managed or controlled. When educators lead with trust and curiosity, they are more likely to ask, “What is this child trying to tell me?” rather than “How do I stop this behavior?”

When educators prioritize connection before correction, they reduce the likelihood of mislabeling behavior in the first place.

Family partnerships also play a key role in this work. In Engaging Fathers (coming June 1 from Gryphon House) author Jawan Burdwell, EdD. highlights the importance of expanding our understanding of family dynamics and cultural context, especially when it comes to how children express themselves and regulate behavior. When educators build authentic relationships with all caregivers, including fathers and other overlooked family members, they gain critical insight into children’s experiences, communication styles, and needs. That insight helps educators respond more fairly.

Examining Our Own Lens

But relationship-building alone isn’t enough if we don’t also examine ourselves.

Bias is often unconscious. As The Welcoming Classroom explains, we all bring our own social identities and cultural frameworks into our interactions, and these shape how we perceive and respond to others.

These lenses influence how we interpret behavior.

Do we see a child’s silence as disengagement, or as thoughtful observation?

Do we interpret movement as disruption, or as a need for sensory input?

Do we respond to emotion with empathy, or with correction?

As educators, we have a responsibility to confront the realities that impact the children in our care. That means listening to the experiences of people of color, examining our own practices, and being willing to change.

This is the work. Because while this reflection may feel difficult, the alternative, which is continuing inequitable practices, is far more harmful.

Moving from Deficit to Strength

Another critical shift is moving away from deficit thinking.

Too often, children and families are viewed through what they lack: language skills, behavioral control, or compliance. But a strengths-based approach asks us to look for what is already present: resilience, curiosity, cultural knowledge, and connection.

As The Welcoming Classroom emphasizes, a strengths-based perspective focuses on capacities, talents, and hopes, rather than perceived shortcomings.

When we view children through this lens, behavior becomes communication. Not a problem to fix, but a message to understand.

What Equity Looks Like in Practice

Creating equitable classrooms doesn’t mean lowering expectations or avoiding discipline. It means ensuring that expectations and responses are fair, consistent, and culturally responsive.

That includes:

Interrogating patterns: Who is being corrected most often? Who is being praised?

Revising policies: Are discipline practices disproportionately affecting certain groups of children?

Building cultural competence: Do educators understand the diverse ways children express themselves?

Partnering with families: Families offer essential insight into children’s behavior, culture, and needs.

Prioritizing reflection: Equity is not a one-time achievement; it is an ongoing process of learning and unlearning (Building Equitable Early Learning Programs)

A Final Thought

Every child brings something unique and powerful into the classroom: their culture, their experiences, their way of being in the world.

Our job is not to decide which of those ways are acceptable.

Our job is to create environments where all children are understood, supported, and able to thrive, without having to change who they are to belong.

And that starts with a simple but profound question:

When we call a child “challenging,” what are we really seeing—and what might we be missing?