Consistency consistency consistency… We’ve all heard it. It’s the magic trick that will get you there. “Keep to the routine. Hold the expectations. Stay the course—and everything will eventually come together.” Sure, there will be bumps, but hey, practice makes perfect, right? So we do the same thing… every. single. day. We hope, we plead, we manifest that one day the children will finally master the routines we, yes, we the adults, have designed. And don’t get me wrong: we work hard to design routines that feel supportive. We adjust when needed. We announce changes. We sprinkle in warnings and reminders like glitter. But consistently, we’re trucking toward the same goal; compliance, obedience, and “learning.”
Let me pause and say this clearly, I believe in consistency. I value routine. I know how much it anchors a day. And yes, I want children to settle in, follow directions, and ease through transitions so we can move on to the genuine joy of the day.
But the more distance I’ve had from the classroom, the more I find myself asking: Is consistency alone truly what brings us to the outcomes we seek?
We build schedules down to the minute. We give the five-minute warning, and sometimes the “Actually let’s call it a seven-minute warning because I know you” warning. Yet transitions are still hard; because they’re hard for all humans. Getting to that smooth, seamless flow takes time, practice, and yes, repetition.
But I’ve come to believe there’s another component we tend to overlook. One that, when paired with consistency, transforms the entire experience.
Newness.
It sounds like the polar opposite of everything I just said. But hear me out.
Teachers pull out every trick in the book… songs, visuals, attention-getters, secret handshakes, to build the perfect routine. This isn’t to diminish that work; it’s effective, intentional, and necessary. But at what point does the comfort of consistency start to slip into monotony?
We know the moment well: the honeymoon period ends. The excitement of the new year settles. The reality hits “this is the rhythm now.” And some parts of that rhythm (rest time, I see you) can feel daunting or even dreaded. Consistency, without anything to counterbalance it, can begin to feel like boredom, frustration, or even fear.
This is where newness steps in.
Newness is the spark.
It’s the excitement.
It’s the supportive fidget during a tricky transition.
It’s the unexpected moment that re-engages the brain and rekindles curiosity.
Newness stimulates creativity and keeps children open, present, and ready to learn, not because they must, but because they want to.
The real magic, I think, is not choosing one or the other.
It’s building an environment where consistency and newness dance together. Consistency provides the safety, the predictability, the grounding that children (and adults) need. Newness brings the joy, the wonder, the challenge, and the creative spark that keeps routines from turning stale. When these two forces work in harmony, we nourish not only the routines and relationships we’re building, but the whole child, their curiosity, their creativity, and their innate desire to explore the world with wonder.
At the end of the day, children thrive when their world feels both steady and alive. Consistency gives them something solid to stand on; newness reminds them that learning is an adventure worth stepping into. When we braid these two together… predictability and possibility… we create environments that feel safe, engaging, and full of wonder. And maybe that’s the real goal: not perfect compliance, but a rhythm that supports children as whole, curious humans. A rhythm where routines guide them, surprises delight them, and growth feels both natural and joyful.
