The New 3Rs
Rules, routines and relationships
Joel Smith - Deputy Headteacher
“It’s not your fault.”
For those of a certain vintage, there are scenes from films or passages from books that linger—moments that unexpectedly echo through our personal or professional lives. For me, one such moment comes from Good Will Hunting (1997) Toward the end of the film, Robin Williams’ character, Sean Maguire, gently and repeatedly tells the troubled genius Will Hunting, “It’s not your fault.” At first, Will deflects—“I know”—but Sean persists. Eventually, Will breaks down, overwhelmed by the emotional weight of his trauma and guilt. What makes this scene so powerful isn’t just the words—it’s the relationship. Maguire succeeds where others failed, not by unlocking Will’s intellect, but by reaching his emotions. He connects with what Will feels, not just what he knows.
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In education, we often meet students like Will—bright, complex, and misunderstood. They’re sometimes labelled as “square pegs,” but no student truly fits into a neat quadrilateral. I’ve even heard the term “misshapes”—a troubling analogy, especially when you consider how imperfect products are often rejected, bagged, and sold off at a discount. It’s a harsh comparison, but sadly, it resonates.
Consider this: in 2024, over 11,000 students were permanently excluded from school. Nearly 27,000 were registered in Alternative Provision (AP), now the fastest-growing educational sector in England[1].
These numbers aren’t just data points—they are young lives. And behind each one is a story, often untold, waiting for someone to say: “It’s not your fault.” All young people can thrive if the relationship is right. They must be recognised as unique jigsaw pieces that, when treated with care and intention, can fit together to form something whole.
Practically speaking, we’re not all Robin Williams. We’re constantly reminded that ‘it’s all about relationships’ without ever really being given a clear illustration of how we build them. We need a masterplan which ensures every jigsaw piece has a chance to connect. So to be helpful to all of us who want to help all the children, all of the time - this is my attempt at bringing together the three things most tangible in schools – Rules, routines and relationships, what I’m calling the new 3Rs.
Relational Currency
True Inclusion and belonging in schools can’t be achieved simply by saying “it’s all about relationships.” It’s more nuanced than that. What we’re really talking about is relational currency—the emotional capital that fuels inclusive schools. Research into classroom community building shows that when teachers “reserve time and space for each pupil to be seen as an individual,” engagement, empathy, and cooperative behaviour all increase (Bell, 2009; Nuthall, 2005). But this only works if rituals don’t reinforce negative power hierarchies.
Those of us who’ve experienced relational windfalls—those moments of deep connection—must be willing to declare our investments. We need to disclose our ledgers and account for how we’ve spent that currency.
In the best schools I’ve experienced, relational currency is being wagered everywhere—and it’s a treat for the senses. These schools aren’t anxiously sitting around every Wednesday “waiting for the call.” They welcome visitors. You’re invited to read student publications, speak with the school council, meet proud parents—and, yes, perhaps even happy teachers. But beyond the guided tours, the real magic reveals itself. You hear smiling students in dialogue with peers and adults, using their voices—not just their thumbs on silent screens. You peer into classrooms and see students who are intrinsically engaged, who genuinely want to be there.
Out of curiosity—or disbelief—you might stop young Charlie in the corridor. You point to the word INTEGRITY emblazoned on the wall and ask what it means to him. He pauses for a lovely few seconds and says, “It’s erm… like doing the right thing when no one’s watching.” That’s when it hits you: these aren’t just schools. They’re ecosystems. Virtuous villages, quite literally raising children.
The Reality
The opposite, of course, is familiar to many of us. We’ve walked the corridors of ritual compliance, where students are extrinsically motivated at best, and the entire place feels paralysed by a kind of static equilibrium.
When you step back from schools—as I did for a time—you begin to see there are a few ways to setup secondary education. The path most travelled often hinders the evolution of these ecosystems. Thirty lessons a week. Ten to fifteen different teachers, who If they’re lucky, get to see a student for two or three hours every fortnight. The tutor system, ostensibly designed for pastoral care, often amounts to a fleeting 15 or 20 minutes in the morning—or at some other non-descript time of day. And even then, it’s rarely to ask how a student is, but simply to check that they’ve turned up.
In such settings, it’s not easy for relationships to germinate, grow, and blossom. What is in abundance, however, is a dense forest of rules, codices, mottos, visions, intent statements, routines, inspirational quotes—not to mention the policies and protocols. In these environments, I’ve often felt more like Winston than Joel.
There is another way, of course, and some schools and even academies have taken a divergent route. I had the pleasure of visiting Stanley Park school in Sutton following being named best secondary school by TES in 2016, and XP academy (now the XP trust) in Doncaster. At these schools students were not really taught in subjects, they were given a big question each term then immersed into ‘expeditions’ through project-based learning. You could see students grappling with big ideas and concepts and through their collaborative projects, busting out iterations, receiving feedback and making their work better, even beautiful, worthy of publishing or community showcasing in most cases. These are places where instead of asking students what they’d learned today, they asked (channelling their inner Ron Berger) ‘what are you confused about?’.
At XP they also resolved most disruption and dispute by gathering together, calling out behaviour which set against the school’s values, and making a stand where students and teachers had gone above and beyond – and all publicly. However, these are outliers, as the way they set up sadly doesn’t lend itself neatly to DfE’s performance measures. Plus they are often small in terms of numbers, 350 students at most and perhaps slightly easier at this scale to break the mould.
Most of us will find ourselves in the former kind of secondary, but it is not all doom and gloom – You can ply your trade in these schools and absolutely still do the right thing for all students. I genuinely believe that while rules and routines may seem rigid, controlling, even slightly dystopian, they are not inherently oppressive. They can be interpreted, adapted, and—when the time is right—graduated from. They are not the enemy of inclusion; they are the scaffolding for the relational ecosystems we need. Ecosystems where every child is treated equitably, included fully, and where their diversity is not just acknowledged, but celebrated.
The 3Rs - Rules, Routines and Relationships are not competing priorities, but mutually reinforcing practices. Rules offer clarity, routines provide security, and relationships give meaning.
Rules and Routines
Many of the students we’ve taught don’t respond well to rules. They struggle with silent hallways, bells, canteens, and being organised in large groups by their date of manufacture. They disengage from zero-tolerance approaches—no matter how well-crafted or well-meaning they may be for the “mainstream.” The mainstream has tributaries.
And yet, this is what they get. Many take great pleasure in avoiding it all—disrupting, circumventing, even attempting to dismantle the system. But like Will Hunting, the truth is: they need the rules. They need routines. They need meaningful relationships. The challenge is that they arrive with barriers already in place—barriers shaped by their homes, their families, their diagnoses, and their labels. Of course they have labels. And they lean into them, because they don’t know anything else. They are the misshapes. They know it. And what’s more, they think it’s their fault.
It reminds me of the cleverly titled Dreamfields Academy in Chrissy Kulz’s Factories for Learning. The name of the school itself evokes aspiration, but Kulz’s critique reveals a deeper tension—between the dream of inclusion and the machinery of performative schooling. In many ways, our students are caught in that tension: expected to conform to a system that wasn’t designed with their realities in mind, yet still yearning to belong within it. Bryk and Schneider (2002) found that trust between students and staff arises most strongly where teachers show consistency, integrity, and a sense of moral purpose. Rules that are unclear, inconsistently applied, or enforced selectively erode that trust. But rules that are predictable and proportionate support all students—especially those for whom school is the most stable environment in their lives.
Instead of thinking of rules and routines as top-down, think of them as guardrails—a visible structure that allows both teachers and students to move confidently. For students who are neurodivergent, anxious, or managing trauma, routines are not just helpful—they are vital. They create emotional safety through procedural predictability. Colvin and Lazar (1995) observed that classrooms with embedded routines allowed teachers to spend significantly more time on instruction, and students to access learning with less behavioural redirection.
Routines aren’t just good practice—they are inclusive practice. From the moment students enter the room, clear and predictable routines reduce the mental load required to participate in school life. As Sweller’s cognitive load theory (1988) reminds us, too much unpredictability can overwhelm working memory and impair learning. Routines, done fairly and consistently, give that memory space back to the learner. Equity emerges not from lowering standards or diffusing rules, but from applying them fairly while scaffolding through culturally responsive practices.
Relationships
The best relationships in school aren’t built on personal rapport alone. They grow from professional reliability. The soil of trust is predictability. Darling-Hammond et al. (2019) emphasised that relational trust in schools is strongest where teachers set clear boundaries and hold them consistently. It’s not warmth instead of structure—it’s structure that enables warmth. Without clear boundaries, relationships can become unstable, and trust fragile.
Think about the teachers who manage to reach the most challenging students. They don’t do it by lowering expectations or letting things slide. They do it by showing up—every day—as someone who means what they say, follows through calmly, and sees the child beyond the behaviour. The connection comes not in spite of the rules, but because of the fairness and consistency with which those rules are applied.
Equity and discipline are often framed as opposing forces, but they are in fact natural allies—if approached thoughtfully. Gloria Ladson-Billings (1995) defined culturally relevant pedagogy as teaching that affirms students’ identities while holding high expectations for their success. It’s not about diluting standards—it’s about ensuring that all students are truly seen and supported as they meet those standards.
Similarly, Geneva Gay (2010) advocated for instructional strategies that reflect the cultural strengths of learners while insisting on rigorous learning. Inclusive teaching is not soft teaching. It is deeply intentional, academically challenging, and built on the belief that every student can achieve—given access to the right scaffolds and support. If we lower expectations for marginalised learners in the name of empathy, we risk creating the very inequality we claim to be addressing. Fairness doesn’t mean everyone gets the same. It means everyone gets what they need—to achieve, to feel included, to belong, and to be happy.
A well-taught rule or routine is like a shared language: everyone speaks it, everyone benefits from it. Whether it’s how students enter the classroom, transition between tasks, or ask for help, routines make expectations visible—and achievable. It is important to complement these assertions with some examples. Here are two perhaps from the opposite and sometimes opposing ends of the educational effectiveness debate.
Example 1 – Philosophy for Children
Co‑constructing class rules with students builds ownership and ensures cultural relevance. Freire’s pedagogy of dialogic engagement and Ladson‑Billings’ culturally relevant pedagogy both emphasize participatory rule‑setting to empower minoritised voices and dismantle dominant norms. Such collaborative processes foster shared commitments and help prevent disciplinary disparities. When students help write rules—such as “challenge ideas, not people”—rules reflect their lived values, not external impositions (Ladson‑Billings, 1995).
Philosophy for Children is heavily anchored in the establishment of clear rules and routines for dialogic interactions. Whether is it an open hand resting on a knee to indicate a desire to speak, or the insistence that children use each other’s names explicitly when addressing each other, P4C works best and elicits powerful learning through the application of clear rules and routines. Engaging often very young children in philosophical dialogue leads to high levels of metacognitive activity and divergent thinking. P4C also develops children’s confidence, tolerance of others, self-awareness and empathy, enabling them to engaging with diverse perspectives, fostering compassion and understanding.
Example 2 – Formative Assessment
‘There are two certainties in education, they won’t always learn what we teach them, and we don’t know what they already know (Wiliam 1998)’
To tackle these two obstacles we all face as teachers, the prevailing wind has been behind constant corrections, adaptations and tweaks to teacher practice in order to meet children where they are at, and move them forward collectively through a range of simple small step techniques. Many colleagues in the UK will be familiar with principles of instruction, or ‘walkthru’ guides, probably conveyanced using instructional coaching. There’s nothing wrong with these, as along with many techniques they will support all teachers in addressing Dylan Wiliam’s two certainties above. The point is that the success all things associated with formative assessment are contingent on rules and routines. Take the good old DNA and exit ticket for example.
Do Now Activities (DNAs) and exit tickets originally so called by Doug Lemov in his guide to becoming ‘champion’ teachers are short, purposeful tasks students complete immediately upon entering or immediately before exiting the classroom. At first glance, these are simply what we’ve always done, gone in with a ‘starter’ and concluded with a plenary. However, when executed deliberately within a broader planned sequence, they achieve more than the pleasing feeling of engagement, they bring together formative intention and formative action on the part of the teacher. A constant loop of diagnostics enabling teachers to pilot effectively. As well as being key elements of formative assessment, DNAs and exit tickets are prime examples of the new 3Rs working in harmony, as illustrated here:
Rules
Routines
Relationships
The expectation is clear and rehearsed—students enter the room, take out their materials, and begin their DNA silently or in low-voice pairs, depending on the design. The clarity of this expectation creates a smooth start, reduces wasted time, and sets the tone. The same can be said for exit tickets, setting the tone from one lesson to another, making cognitive and relational connections between students, the teacher and the learning.
DNAs create procedural certainty. The rhythm of every lesson starts and ends the same way, reducing ambiguity and creating moments of calm focus. They allows the teacher to take the register, check homework, or support students with additional needs—without having to fight for attention.
As students begin their DNAs or work on their exit task, the teacher is free to circulate, set up their own hotline to students individually, offer feedback, or notice small wins. These moments build relational currency—positive interactions not tied to correction or conflict.
Over time, DNAs and exit tickets can also serve as diagnostic tools. They let teachers assess prior knowledge, revisit misconceptions, or offer quick retrieval practice. But more than that, they create an environment where every student begins and ends the lesson with a chance to succeed—independently, predictably, and with dignity.
And when designed with cultural responsiveness in mind—drawing on current events, personal identity, or lived experience—they also offer a daily moment of inclusion, affirmation, and engagement.
So how can we encapsulate this idea of the new 3Rs. In Good Will Hunting the main character has a complete disdain for rules, be they the rules for technical math, for studying Nietzsche or the codified laws laid down in the US constitution. He also rails against and mocks the routines through which people organise their days, weeks and even lives. Finally in relationships, he built barriers on top of those already placed in front of him by his traumatic childhood, masking his subconscious guilt with his wit and savant like genius.
Will did need rules and routines, and he did want to have good relationships, but he saw himself as misshapen somehow, a square peg perhaps, not like everybody else, inadvertently, but then deliberately divergent.
Rules, routines and relationships are not three competing forces. They are a foundational part of the ecosystem mentioned earlier. Remove one, and the others begin to wobble. Rules without routines feel arbitrary. Routines without relationships feel robotic. Relationships without rules lose their integrity. Together, they create something powerful: a space where high expectations and high support meet. As reflective practitioners who genuinely want to do the right thing by all of our students, we don’t need to choose between rigour and relationships. Between clarity and compassion. Between control and care. The best classrooms—and the best schools—refuse those false choices.
Instead, they begin with structure and grow into connection. They set boundaries with fairness, embed routines with purpose, and earn relational currency through consistency. They rehearse before they reprimand. They believe before they assume. And they do the work—even when it’s hard—to build trust in ways that last.
References
Bell, L. (2009). Building classroom community: Practical strategies for educators. [Publisher details not found – please confirm publisher or source].
Nuthall, G. (2005). The cultural myths and realities of classroom teaching and learning: A personal journey. Teachers College Record, 107(5), 895–934. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9620.2005.00498.x
XP School. (n.d.). XP School – Big Education. Big Education. https://bigeducation.org/nb10-schools/xp-school/
Your Local Guardian. (2016, July). Sutton schools Stanley Park High and Limes College scoop national awards. Your Local Guardian. https://www.yourlocalguardian.co.uk/news/14591169....
Van Sant, G. (Director). (1997). Good Will Hunting [Film]. Miramax Films.
Bryk, A. S., & Schneider, B. (2002). Trust in schools: A core resource for improvement. Russell Sage Foundation.
Colvin, G., & Lazar, M. (1995). Classroom routines and behavior management strategies. [Publisher details not confirmed — please verify].
Darling-Hammond, L., Flook, L., Cook-Harvey, C., Barron, B., & Osher, D. (2019). Implications for educational practice of the science of learning and development. Applied Developmental Science, 24(2), 97–140. https://doi.org/10.1080/10888691.2018.1537791
Freire, P. (2017). Pedagogy of the oppressed (M. B. Ramos, Trans.). Penguin Classics. (Original work published 1970)
Gay, G. (2010). Culturally responsive teaching: Theory, research, and practice (2nd ed.). Teachers College Press.
Kulz, C. (2017). Factories for learning: Making race, class and inequality in the neoliberal academy. Manchester University Press.
Ladson-Billings, G. (1995). Toward a theory of culturally relevant pedagogy. American Educational Research Journal, 32(3), 465–491. https://doi.org/10.3102/00028312032003465
Lemov, D. (2015). Teach like a champion 2.0: 62 techniques that put students on the path to college (2nd ed.). Jossey-Bass.
Sweller, J. (1988). Cognitive load during problem solving: Effects on learning. Cognitive Science, 12(2), 257–285. https://doi.org/10.1207/s15516709cog1202_4
Wiliam, D. (1998). Assessment and classroom learning. Assessment in Education: Principles, Policy & Practice, 5(1), 7–74. https://doi.org/10.1080/0969595980050102
[1] https://explore-education-statistics.service.gov.uk/find-statistics/suspensions-and-permanent-exclusions-in-england/2023-24
https://www.tes.com/magazine/news/general/sharp-rise-pupils-alternative-provision-crisis-warnings