Why Do We Always Ask Girls These Same Questions? A Teacher’s Observation And Small Changes You Can Make
Last week’s back-to-school night I was leaning against my 4th grade classroom’s art table, wiping smudged finger paint off my jeans, when I noticed the pattern again. Leo, a lanky kid who brings roasted pumpkin seeds to snack every day, walked in with his parents and his uncle. Uncle clapped him on the shoulder and leaned down: “What position are you starting at this year? Heard you scored two goals in the preseason scrimmage.” Leo lit up, launched into a three-minute story about sliding past the other team’s defender, and everyone nodded and asked follow-up questions. Two minutes later, Mia, who sits across from Leo and helps me pass out art supplies every Friday, walked in with her grandma. Grandma brushed a strand of hair off Mia’s shoulder and smiled: “Oh honey, your braid is so pretty! Did you do that all by yourself? This blue dress looks perfect on you.” Mia smiled, mumbled “thank you,” and that was the end of the conversation before anyone asked about the go-kart she’d drawn on her self-portrait hanging right behind her.
I’ve been teaching 4th grade for seven years, and this pattern pops up every single week. At a class picnic last month, a parent volunteer asked every kid what they did over the weekend. Zane said he built a raised garden bed with his grandpa, and the parent said “Wow, you must have hauled a ton of dirt—you’re way stronger than I was at your age.” When Lila said she’d collected 14 different types of fern leaves for her nature journal, the parent said “That’s such a pretty collection! You arranged the colors so nicely.” It’s not just other adults, either. I caught myself doing this at my nephew’s birthday party back in June. I saw my 10-year-old cousin, who’s been going to robotics camp every summer for two years, and the first thing out of my mouth was “Your new glasses are so cute!” I didn’t ask her how her robot project went until 20 minutes later, when her mom brought it up.
It’s easy to brush this off as no big deal. A compliment on hair or a dress is nice, right? But what I’ve seen year after year is that it adds up. By the time kids get to 4th grade, most girls default to talking about their appearance any time an adult strikes up a conversation. They’ll giggle and mention their new shoes before they mention that they just finished reading the entire Harry Potter series, or that they taught their cat to do a trick. Boys almost never do that. Most boys will lead with whatever they’ve been doing, building, or playing, because that’s what they’re always asked about.
It doesn’t take a big overhaul to shift this, either. I’ve tested small, low-effort changes with families and in my own classroom that work, no fancy meetings or lessons required. The first one is just to swap one appearance-focused comment for a question about something they do, every time you greet a girl. If you can’t help but notice her new haircut, that’s fine—just follow it up with “What’s the coolest thing you’ve worked on since I saw you last?” instead of stopping at the compliment. That’s what I started doing in my morning check-ins three years ago. Instead of making offhand comments about kids’ socks or backpacks before we start, I ask every kid to share one thing they’ve gotten better at that week. After a month, I noticed the girls in my class stopped hesitating or saying “nothing” and started talking about climbing higher on the monkey bars, finishing a hard puzzle, or fixing their own bike tire.
Another specific change: when a girl shows you something she made, comment on her effort or problem solving instead of only saying it’s pretty. If she shows you a drawing, instead of “That’s so pretty!” try “I can tell you spent forever on that castle’s towers—how did you figure out how to draw the windows so small?” If she shows you a new bracelet she made, instead of “That’s such a pretty color” ask “How did you learn that knot? I can never get mine to stay tight.” Last year a mom told me she tried this with her 10-year-old, who everyone says only cares about lip gloss and fashion. When her daughter showed her a new gloss she bought, instead of saying “that’s a pretty pink” she asked “What made you pick that one?” Her daughter ranted for 15 minutes about how most drugstore glosses are too sticky, and she’d been testing different brands to find one that stays on when she plays soccer, and she was even thinking of mixing her own with coconut oil to make it better. No one had ever asked her that before—they’d just commented on the color. She wasn’t just talking about lip gloss, she was talking about testing, experimenting, and problem solving.
I still mess up. Last week I greeted a new student, Zoe, who transferred here mid-month, and the first thing I said was “Your backpack has such cool dinosaurs on it!” before I remembered and added “Which one’s your favorite? I’ve loved triceratops since I was your age.” We ended up talking about her dinosaur sticker collection and how she trades duplicates with kids at the bus stop. It’s a small shift, it doesn’t fix everything, and there are still days I forget. But I’ve seen what it adds up to. Last month Mia, the girl from back-to-school night, stayed after class to show me photos of the go-kart she built with her dad. They’re racing it in a neighborhood competition next weekend. She never would have brought that up unprompted at the start of the year. It’s slow, but it’s changing how girls see what parts of themselves are worth talking about. I don’t have any big grand solution, just these small questions. So far, that’s enough.
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