Bell rings for the end of lunch. A student remains in the sandpit, head down, circling, then crouching. Other adults have already called them in; the student hears it but doesn’t move. I read the scene as not defiance but a competing priority: they’re mid‑game and something vital has gone missing, so the bell isn’t yet more important than completion.

Brush move: I walk over calmly: “Hey, the bell just rang… everything okay? What’re you up to?” The student tells me they’re stuck — they can’t leave until they find a specific rock they need to play the game later. That’s from their internal world: ‘it has to be complete before I can move on.’

We set quick decision gates: “Can this be paused, or do we need to deal with it now?” → ‘Now.’ “Want help or solo?” → ‘Help.’ We time‑box it: “Two minutes?” → ‘With your help? Sure.’ We scan together and find the rock in about 15 seconds.

We walk back laughing about how something so frustrating could be solved so easily. Outcome: child re‑enters with dignity intact; minimal intervention, maximal momentum. That’s Brush: tiny wireframe, fast win, posture preserved.

High‑energy writing lesson, kids buzzing. One student, five minutes in, head down, nothing on the page — but their journal is open. Another adult frames it as refusal (“shut down; failed before starting”). I hold Two‑Eyed Seeing: structural clarity and relational reading. Body says tired/depleted; open journal says this is a pause, not abandonment.

Brush move: I don’t adjudicate right/wrong. I share observations, then check in to understand what’s actually going on. The student reveals the block: they’ve got an idea but the spelling load is heavy; the aspiration is high after our discussion, and putting the head down is how they made the pressure go away.

We make it smaller and reversible: targeted help with a few words + water, then try once. The block clears; words start landing on the page. Outcome: posture returns, momentum resumes, and the student confirms the connection by engaging on their terms.