There is a phrase you have no doubt heard someone say. Maybe you’ve said it about yourself or someone else: “They’re just a natural.”

It’s used as a quick way to explain why one person can walk into a room and the temperature drops, why a young person who has been kicking off all day suddenly settles, why a conversation lands, why trust forms.

But here is the problem.

“Natural” is not an explanation. It’s a story we tell when we can’t explain why. And when we stop being curious about practice, someone always pays for it. Yes, young people. But also teams, because learning gets stuck. And whole professions, because they get treated like instinct-led labour rather than skilled work.

Show your workings out.

In maths, you don’t get full marks just for the right answer. You get marks for the method. Not because teachers love paperwork (believe me, they don’t), but because the workings show whether you understand what you’re doing, whether you could do it again, and whether someone else could learn from you.

Practice is the same.

If you cannot explain your practice, you cannot improve it. You cannot pass it on. You cannot be held accountable for it. You cannot build it into something collective that outlasts you.

Praxis is not magic. It is a formula.

At Class 13 we talk about praxis as the relationship between theory, action, and reflection. Sticking with the maths theme, it looks like this:

Praxis = Theory + Action + Reflection

Not one of these. All three.

And if you want to see why the “natural” label is risky, look at what happens when any part of the formula drops out.

When theory is missing

You get action that might look effective, but you cannot explain what it is rooted in.

You might say, “I just know what to say.”

But what help is that during a debrief with colleagues?

And this doesn’t need to be peer reviewed, evidence based theory. Nobody knows the young people you work with better than you. When you step into the room, you already have a theory of what you think might happen. Make that visible to colleagues and yourself. Interrogate the foundations: biases, curiosities, assumptions.

Unchecked practices can quickly become inequitable ones. Because the biggest enemy of equity is pace. Not because we are cruel, but because when we act without thinking, we are more likely to do or say something we regret.

When action is missing

You get theory that stays clean and untested.

This is the person who can talk about relationships all day but freezes when a young person walks into the room. Or the setting that has values on the wall but people are working off personal instinct.

Theory without action is like writing the equation and never solving it.

When reflection is missing

You get practice that cannot grow.

This is where the “natural” label really falls down. Because if you’re praised for being “good with young people”, it’s easy to start treating your results as proof you don’t need to look back. You don’t need feedback. You don’t need supervision. You don’t need to analyse the interaction.

But reflection is the part that turns a good moment into a transferable method.

Without reflection, there is no learning loop. No refinement. No way to spot patterns like:

• Who responds well to my style, and who does not?

Reflection is also where equity lives. Because inequity often shows up in the patterns we do not notice.

“Natural” is not just a label. It is a power move.

Because the label does two things at once.

First, it turns practice into personality. It makes your method feel like charm, boundaries feel like temperament, de-escalation feel like vibe.

Second, it gatekeeps knowledge.

If practice is innate, it cannot be taught. If it cannot be taught, it cannot be shared. If it cannot be shared, it cannot become culture. It stays locked inside individuals.

That is how organisations end up dependent on a few “gifted” practitioners while everyone else feels like they’re failing.

It also protects the system from having to invest. If “good practice” is natural, then training looks unimportant. Time for reflection becomes the first thing cut when things get busy.

How to show your workings out without turning it into a performance

This is not about writing an essay every time a lesson goes sideways. It’s about building a shared language for practice.

Try this simple structure. It keeps the algebra visible.

Step 1: Write the equation

Praxis = Theory + Action + Reflection
Now, fill it in:

• Theory: What belief was guiding me?
• Action: What did I do, specifically? (Not “I de-escalated”. The actual steps.)
• Reflection: What did I notice about impact? What would I adjust next time?

That is your working.

Step 2: Use the four operations
If you want a quick mental model in the moment, think in operations:

• What do I need to add right now?
  Time, clarity, reassurance, choice, space, a second adult.
• What do I need to subtract?
  An audience, pressure, sarcasm, assumptions, speed.
• What do I need to divide?
  The demand into steps. The emotion into “now” and “later”. The conflict into separate conversations.
• What do I need to multiply?
  Dignity. voice. repair. belonging. safety.
  

This is not gimmicky. It forces you to make deliberate choices instead of relying on vibe.

Step 3: Check your answer with the person who matters
In maths, you check your answer. In practice, you check impact.

A simple, genuine question does more than any staffroom praise:

• “What was that like for you?”
• “What did you need from me in that moment?”
• “Did I get it right?”
  

Call to action: try it for one week

Pick a moment a day this week (not the whole day, you’re not writing a dissertation) and do a 60-second “workings out” check.

Write three lines on a sticky note, in your phone, on the back of a register—anywhere:

Theory: I believed…
Action: So I did…
Reflection: Next time I’ll…

Then, once this week, share one of your workings with a colleague. Not as a flex. As a contribution. “Here’s what I tried. Here’s what I think I was doing. What am I missing?”

If you want to go one step further, ask a young person one of the “check your answer” questions.

Because the point isn’t to prove you’re a natural.

It’s to build practice that is explainable, shareable, improvable and accountable.

And that’s how “good with young people” stops being a personality trait and becomes a culture.