The prison game

First grade. We’re debating how long someone should stay in “prison” during our recess game. Kids throwing out numbers, negotiating, slowly settling on something that sounds fair.

I’m sitting back, listening. After they land on their decision, I raise my hand.

“But if you get released and immediately get thrown back in jail, you’ll be in prison most of recess.”

The whole class goes quiet. But what I remember most vividly is my teacher’s response. She didn’t just acknowledge that I was right. She nodded with this look of approval that I had not experienced from an adult before.

That nod mattered more than the insight itself.

Decades later, an agile coach pulls me aside after a meeting. “I could see you spotted something but didn’t intervene. What happened?”

I’d learned to stay quiet by then. “I thought they might take offense.”

Instead of letting it slide, he taught me about questions. How to create space for people to discover rather than being told they’re wrong. How timing and framing matter as much as the observation itself.

Both saw something worth developing. They recognized that sitting back and seeing patterns isn’t just personality quirk. It’s useful. But only if you know how to surface what you’re seeing.

The teacher encouraged the instinct to speak up when something doesn’t add up. The coach taught me how to do it skillfully.

Most people miss this completely. They see someone quiet in meetings and assume disengagement. They mistake observation for passivity. But the right mentors recognize when someone’s processing differently and help them turn that into something valuable.

The world needs people who spot the problem behind the problem. But it also needs people who can recognize that pattern and teach others how to use it well.