The Stories They Tell Themselves

Your child told you a story yesterday.

Not the kind with dragons or princesses. The kind that happens in their head when they think no one's listening.

Maybe it sounded like this: 'I'm bad at this,’ or 'It's too hard,’ or 'I don't want to.'

These aren't just passing thoughts. They're the foundation stories your child is building about who they are and what they're capable of.

And here's the thing most people don't realise. These stories become true, not because they are true, but because children start living as if they are.

How Stories Take Root

Children build their self-stories through evidence collection. Every reading experience becomes a piece of evidence for their developing identity.

If reading feels smooth and successful, the evidence says, 'I can do this.' If reading feels difficult and frustrating, the evidence says, 'This isn't for me.'

But children don't collect evidence neutrally. They collect it through the lens of how the experience makes them feel.

A child who stumbles over words might think, 'I got it wrong' (temporary) or 'I'm not clever' (permanent).

The stories children tell themselves about these moments matter more than the moments themselves.

But here's the problem. Children aren't always collecting evidence accurately. A child might remember the three words they stumbled over, but forget the twenty they read smoothly.

When Stories Become Self-Fulfilling

Here's where many children get stuck.

Adults know that struggling with something new is normal. We understand that skills develop over time, that everyone learns at different paces, and that setbacks are part of the process.

Children don't automatically know this.

When a child finds reading difficult, they often assume this difficulty is permanent. They think, 'I can't do it' or 'It's always hard.'

When a child sees others reading more easily, they often assume this gap is fixed. They think, 'They're good at it and I'm not.'

These assumptions create stories that become self-fulfilling prophecies.

The child who believes 'I don't like reading' stops trying as hard. They avoid reading opportunities. They don't ask for help because they think it won't make a difference.

The good news is that stories can be rewritten. But you can't just tell a child their story is wrong and expect them to believe a different one.

You have to help them collect different evidence.

Instead of focusing on what went wrong, you can highlight what went right, but only if it's genuine and specific.

Instead of saying 'You're good at reading,' you might say, 'You worked out that tricky word all by yourself,’ or 'You remembered what happened in yesterday's chapter.'

Instead of dismissing their struggles, you can reframe them, 'Reading is hard work, and you're doing the hard work' or 'Your brain is getting stronger every time you practise.'

These aren't empty praises. They're evidence for a different story.

What This Might Look Like

Your child might not respond immediately to this different kind of noticing. They might even dismiss your observations at first.

That's normal. Their current story has been protecting them, and they might be cautious about trusting a new one.

But over time, this consistent, gentle evidence collection helps children develop a more balanced and hopeful story about their learning.

Instead of 'I can't do reading,' they might start thinking, 'Reading is hard, but I'm getting better.'

These small shifts in internal narrative create space for growth that didn't exist before.

What's Next

In two weeks, we'll explore 'Finding Their Reader Archetype’, how to identify your child's unique learning style and work with their brain's natural preferences rather than against them.

You'll discover whether your child is a visual processor, auditory explorer, or movement learner, and learn practical strategies that match their specific way of taking in information.

Until then, keep collecting that different evidence. Keep noticing their effort alongside their progress.

And remember, the story they're telling themselves right now isn't the end of their story. It's just the chapter they're writing while they lear

See you in two weeks,

Gavin