Praise Feels Good – But Is It Good for Children?

We assume praise is good for children because, of course we do. Most of us grew up with it. Many of us longed for it. Some of us still do. “Well done,” “Good girl,” “I’m proud of you.” These are loving things to say and they usually come from a genuinely beautiful impulse in parents – the desire to encourage our children, build their confidence, let them know we see them.

And it feels good to praise. There’s often a warm moment afterwards where the child beams and we feel connected and successful as a parent. So it can feel surprising, even uncomfortable, to start questioning whether praise is always as helpful as we assume.

I remember years ago first hearing someone suggest that praise might not always help children flourish and feeling quite resistant to the idea. Surely children need encouragement? Surely it’s damaging not to praise them? It can almost sound cold or withholding at first.

But over time, through my work with girls and families, and through watching children carefully, I’ve come to think there’s something more subtle going on.

The problem is not encouragement. Children absolutely need to feel seen, delighted in and appreciated. The question is what helps them stay connected to their own inner experience, rather than becoming overly dependent on ours.

Because praise and punishment are actually closer cousins than we tend to realise. They both place the adult in the position of judge. We become the one deciding what is good, impressive, acceptable or worthy. And although praise feels far nicer than criticism, both can slowly pull children towards looking outside themselves for evaluation.

Over time, some children begin performing for approval rather than acting from curiosity, pleasure, instinct or meaning.

You can sometimes see this happen in very small moments. A child draws a picture, then instead of simply enjoying having drawn it, immediately looks up anxiously: “Do you like it?” “Is it good?”

The centre of gravity has shifted slightly away from the child’s own experience and towards ours.

Research has been pointing towards this for quite some time. The work of psychologist Carol Dweck at Stanford University found that children praised heavily for being “clever” often became more risk-averse and less resilient when they encountered difficulty. They were more likely to avoid challenges that might threaten the identity they had been praised for. Children praised more for effort, process and persistence tended to cope better with setbacks and were more willing to keep trying. (Dweck, Mindset, 2006.)

Alfie Kohn went even further in his book Punished by Rewards arguing that excessive praise can sometimes reduce intrinsic motivation altogether. Children can begin doing things for the reward of approval rather than for the satisfaction of the activity itself. Interestingly, studies have shown that when external rewards become too dominant, internal motivation can weaken. (Kohn, 1993.)

And yet I think this conversation can become unhelpfully rigid too. Some parents hear ideas like this and panic that they must never say “well done” again. That’s not really the point either. Children are not damaged by occasional praise. Human relationships are warm and messy and full of spontaneous delight. Sometimes your child does something wonderful and “well done!” simply bursts out of you. That’s human.

What matters more is whether praise becomes the main currency of the relationship.

In our Girls Journeying Together groups, at the final ceremony celebration, we often suggest to mothers not to “feed their daughters praise.” That can sound startling at first, especially because the atmosphere of the ceremony is so loving and celebratory. Mothers are often full of pride and admiration watching their daughters stand up and be witnessed by the group.

So we explain carefully what we mean. We are not asking mothers to become emotionally flat or withholding. Quite the opposite. We are encouraging them to move from judgement into relationship. From evaluation into witnessing. Instead of: “You were amazing”, “You did brilliantly”, “I’m so proud of you.” We might encourage: “I could see how nervous you were, and you still did it.” “I loved watching you up there.” “You seemed so alive when you spoke.”

It’s a subtle shift, but an important one. The child stays connected to themselves. To their own feelings, their own experience, their own knowing.

One of the most powerful alternatives to praise is simple interest. I remember my daughter bringing me drawings when she was small. I could have glanced quickly and said, “That’s beautiful darling, well done.” Instead, sometimes I would really look. I’d notice the tiny details. The strange purple dog in the corner. The enormous green circle next to a small pink one on her drawing of herself. I’d ask her about it. “Oh, that’s my pudding tummy!” So often the conversation that followed was far richer than the praise itself would have been.

Children flourish when they feel genuinely seen. Not managed. Not evaluated. Not constantly improved. But really seen.

I remember another moment years ago cooking with one of my sons. He was peeling carrots beside me, and I looked over expecting him still to be struggling with the first one. Instead, he was halfway through the pile. I felt the familiar impulse rise in me to praise his speed and competence. But for some reason I stayed quiet and in my silence, I noticed something important. He already knew. He was absorbed. Satisfied. Capable. Enjoying himself. He didn’t need me to hand him that experience. It already belonged to him.

I think many of us rush too quickly to insert ourselves into our children’s moments. We narrate them, evaluate them, applaud them. And sometimes, without meaning to, we interrupt something more important that is trying to grow inside them: self-trust.

Children do need encouragement. Deeply. But encouragement is not quite the same thing as praise. Encouragement says: “I believe in you.” “I’m here.” “Keep going.” “That looked hard.” “You’re learning.” It supports the child’s relationship with themselves rather than replacing it with our judgement.

And perhaps that’s really what helps children flourish over time. Not becoming addicted to approval, but developing an inner sense of worth, competence and direction that doesn’t disappear the moment nobody is clapping.

Because eventually our children will step out into a world where not everyone praises them. Not everyone notices. Not everyone approves. And what will sustain them then is not endless external validation, but the ability to know themselves from the inside out.