How to Help Kids Get Better at Teamwork: Simple Tips From a Third Grade Teacher
Last Thursday, 2:15 pm, my third grade classroom, the air conditioner is humming, the whole room smells like white glue and cherry Kool-Aid from the lunch line, and I’m watching a volcano project go off the rails before it even gets near baking soda. Mia’s got her arms crossed on the table, clay clutched to her chest, and she’s telling Javi he can’t touch any of her supplies because “he ruins everything.” Javi’s kicking the table leg so hard the glue sticks are bouncing, and Lila’s in the corner flipping through a picture book because she’d rather read than get in the middle.
Ten years ago, I’d have walked right over, pulled out my generic “teamwork matters” speech, and made them pass the clay around one turn at a time. I’d have left feeling proud of myself, and 10 minutes later I’d come back to find them still fighting, with half the project done. I’ve learned a lot since then: most of the vague stuff we tell kids about teamwork doesn’t actually work. We say “share everything” and “get along” but we don’t tell them how to do it when they don’t want the same thing.
This time, I sat down on the little plastic stool next to their table, didn’t say anything about being nice first. I just asked each of them one question: What part of this project do you actually care about doing most?
Mia spoke first. She said she cared most about shaping the volcano, because last year her group’s volcano collapsed mid-presentation and she’d been waiting all year to make a good one. She didn’t trust anyone else to get the slope right. Javi shrugged and said he didn’t even care about the clay. He watches volcano documentaries every night after homework, he just wanted to do the talking part for the class. Lila mumbled that she likes drawing more than building, she wanted to make the labeled diagram of magma and craters for the presentation board.
We just wrote the jobs down on a sticky note and stuck it to their table: Mia: volcano build. Javi: presentation script and speaking. Lila: diagram. That’s it. No forcing everyone to do a little bit of everything to make it “fair.” They finished 12 minutes earlier than any other group that day, and when they presented, Javi got a question from the visiting principal about the difference between magma and lava, and answered it perfectly. No one argued once after that first 10 minutes.
I tested this same idea with my 10-year-old son’s rec soccer team a couple of years ago. The coach used to rotate everyone through every position every game, which sounded equal on paper, but half the team spent the whole game slouching around when they got stuck with goalie, because they hated getting hit with the ball. My son hated being forward, he just wanted to stand in the back and block. We suggested to the coach that he ask each kid what position they wanted most that week, and rotate who gets first pick. Suddenly, no one was slacking. They didn’t suddenly become great soccer players, but they stopped fighting about positions before every game, and they scored three more goals a season just because everyone was actually paying attention to the job they had.
The other trick I use that works way better than generic “communicate better” advice is teaching one specific phrase: “It bothers me when ____ because I need ____.” That’s it. Kids don’t know how to say what they need without attacking someone else. Instead of “you always mess everything up,” they learn to name the problem and what they need to fix it. When Mia found Javi’s water bottle had leaked on the edge of her clay later that day, she didn’t cross her arms and shut down. She just said the phrase. Javi moved his bottle and grabbed a paper towel to dry the edge, no fight, no hurt feelings. I’ve had parents tell me they use this at home when their kids are doing chores together or planning a sibling birthday party, and it cuts 10 minutes of yelling down to 10 seconds of problem-solving.
The last thing I’ve learned is that I don’t have to fix every disagreement. When I was new, I’d jump in the second voices went up, pick a side, come up with a compromise. Now I just hang back. Last month, two kids in another group fought for five minutes over whether their solar system backdrop should be black or dark blue. I pretended to tie my shoe by the door for two minutes, and they ended up deciding to paint the top half black and the bottom half dark blue, because “space gets darker the farther you go out.” It was a better idea than any I’d have come up with. If you always step in, kids never get to practice figuring out solutions on their own. I only step in now if someone’s being intentionally mean or someone’s refusing to do any work at all.
It doesn’t work every time. Last week, a group working on a community helper project ended up with one kid who refused to do any job because no one let him be the doctor first. We had to pause and talk through it, and he still left group work pouting. That’s okay. Teamwork isn’t about never disagreeing, it’s about learning how to work through disagreement when it comes. Most of the time, kids just need to be told what to actually do, not just told to “be a good team player.” It’s small, slow work, but I see it stick. A lot of the kids who fought over clay in September are the ones who remind each other to use the phrase when they’re upset in November. It’s not perfect, but it’s working, more often than not, right now.
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