Anyone who has spent time with children will, sooner or later, realise this: Children are like mirrors. They reflect back to us the small actions and habits we hardly notice in ourselves — replaying them, often with surprising accuracy.

A friend once told me that for a period of time, her two-year-old son would often lie flat on the floor, pressing his face against it, for no apparent reason. Later, she suddenly realised why. One day, while cleaning, she had done exactly the same thing — lying on the floor to check underneath the sofa. Her son had been watching. He didn’t understand what she was doing, but he learned it anyway.

Ah… so that’s how it works. Which makes me wonder: When parents say to their children,

“Didn’t I tell you to put things back after using them?”

“Why do I have to repeat myself so many times? Where has your memory gone?”

Perhaps we should believe that the issue is not poor memory. Perhaps the child has simply never seen the right example.

Some people say that children possess a kind of instinctive observational ability — almost like that of animals — far sharper than that of adults.

At first, I wasn’t entirely convinced. But when I think about it more carefully, it does seem true. When we can’t find something at home, it is often the child who remembers where it was put.

Not long ago, many parents told me that it was actually their children who first noticed that Basic Chinese 500 is organised using beads, rather than numbers, to mark the books.

I remember when I used to teach children in my classroom how to wash their hands, pour water, or roll up a work mat. As teachers, we were especially careful not to explain. We didn’t say: “First prepare the basin and the sponge,” or “Hold the cup with your left hand, and the handle with your right…” Instead, we demonstrated.

Quietly. Slowly. Clearly.

The children would watch once — and then they could do it. And when they practised, they would move in the same way:

Slowly. Attentively. Repeating the same actions again and again.

What we say, children may not always understand. What we do, they almost always follow.

Some children are naturally quiet. Especially in new environments, or in the presence of unfamiliar people, they may simply stand to one side, saying nothing. We do not know what they are thinking. Sometimes, we are not even sure where their attention has gone. Some parents begin to worry: Is my child falling behind? But in reality, quiet children are often observing more carefully. They are learning — silently.

And when they take in more, their minds need more time to process. Communication with children is often, in fact, beyond words.

Time and again, I have noticed this: When I am genuinely moved by a child’s progress — when the feeling comes from within — they sense it immediately.

In those moments, praise and reward stickers almost feel unnecessary.

Sometimes, we consciously try to use more encouraging language — because experts often tell us to do so. But children are not so easily persuaded. They can tell the difference.

I remember when my child was four. One day, holding up a drawing, he asked me: “If I show this to my teacher tomorrow, what will she say?”

Without thinking, I replied: “She’ll say, ‘Oh, that’s beautiful!’” My child nodded seriously and said: “Yes… because she’s very busy.” That answer surprised me. Because it was exactly the kind of thing adults say when we are being perfunctory. And clearly, he knew it.

Children, by nature, have a uniquely sensitive and perceptive way of observing the world — perhaps even as a matter of survival. Over the years, I have gradually learned to make use of this ability.

Instead of forcing learning, instead of adding pressure, I rely on their natural sensitivity — allowing them to move forward and learn in their own way.

And it works rather well.