What Would You Change About School? Our Pupils Answer Honestly

Over two weeks in October we sat down with children from every class at Walberton & Binsted and asked two questions. What makes school feel special? And if you could change one thing, what would it be?

We got 41 answers, ranging from the profound to the extremely specific. Here are some of our favourites, lightly tidied up but otherwise exactly as they came out.

The little things that make school feel special

Ada, Reception: “The mud kitchen. You can make soup and nobody says it's messy.”

Reuben, Reception: “When my friend waits for me at the gate.”

Poppy, Year 1: “The big children hold the door and say good morning. It makes me feel tall.”

Isla, Year 2: “Friday. Not because of the weekend. Because we do choosing time and I always choose the same thing and nobody minds.”

Theo, Year 3: “The library corner. There are cushions and it smells like paper.”

Nia, Year 4: “When a grown-up says well done for being kind, not just for being clever. Being kind is harder.”

Oscar, Year 5: “Someone says your name properly. Not your surname, not 'you there'. Your actual name.”

Freya, Year 6: “Knowing where everything is. Like, knowing the office ladies will help you if you've lost your card for the third time. Which I have.”

The one change they'd ask for

Reuben, Reception: “A slide. A big one. Not too big.”

Poppy, Year 1: “More time to finish my picture. It's never finished.”

Isla, Year 2: “A bench for people who haven't got anyone to play with. But it has to be a nice bench, not the wet one.”

Theo, Year 3: “A joke of the day on the whiteboard. I've got about forty.”

Nia, Year 4: “More say in what we do at golden time. We always vote and then it's the same thing.”

Oscar, Year 5: “A lunchtime club where you just build stuff. Cardboard, tape, no instructions. No winning.”

Freya, Year 6: “A board where you can see what happened to our ideas. Because we suggest things and then... nothing? It's not that anyone's being mean. It just disappears.”

Four things we noticed

Small kindnesses matter more than big gestures. Almost half the answers about what makes school special mentioned a specific person doing a specific, tiny thing — holding a door, waiting at the gate, using a proper name.

Unstructured time is precious. Again and again, children described the value of time that wasn't being measured. Choosing time, mud kitchen, building things, finishing a picture. Not a single child asked for more worksheets.

Being noticed for kindness counts. Nia's answer came up independently in three different classes. Children are quick to spot when praise only lands on the academic stuff.

They want to know their ideas go somewhere. Freya's point about the disappearing suggestions is the one that has stuck with us. It costs nothing to close that loop, and it teaches something worth learning.

Practical ideas for grown-ups

None of these need a budget meeting or a working party. They are the sort of thing you can start on a Tuesday.

For families:

• Ask your child the two questions from this article over tea. You will get better answers than “fine”.
• When you praise, name the kindness rather than the result. “You waited for her at the gate” lands harder than “good job”.
• Send in your odd craft supplies. Cardboard tubes, tape ends, fabric scraps. The Year 5 building club has plans.
• Turn up to one thing a term, even if it is only the gate at home time.

For staff:

• A ten-minute “you said, we did” slot in assembly once a half term would answer Freya's point completely.
• Mixed-age buddy time already works well in the juniors; the infants would happily borrow it.
• A postcard home for something other than achievement. Three a week would reach everyone by July.
• Check that the good bench isn't the wet one. This came up more than once.

For pupils:

• The idea box in the corridor is real, and it is checked. Put your name on it if you want an answer.
• If you have a joke for Theo's forty, he is taking submissions.

Small wins to finish on

A new bench is now in the quiet corner of the playground, painted by Year 4 and positioned by Year 6 after a genuinely heated debate about sun direction. The library corner has four more cushions, donated by a family clearing out a spare room. Lunchtime music has started on Fridays because one child asked why the hall was always silent. And the first batch of kindness postcards went home in October — nine of them, all for things nobody had been asked to do.

None of this is dramatic. That is rather the point. The children did not ask for a climbing wall or a swimming pool. They asked to be noticed, to have a bit of time, and to know that their ideas land somewhere.

We can manage that.