Are our expectations of children in early childhood evidence informed?

Questioning what ‘school readiness’ really asks of children 

There are some phrases in early childhood that we use so regularly that we can almost stop questioning what they actually mean. ‘School readiness’ is probably one of the most obvious examples. We talk about children being ready for school, ready to learn and ready for the next stage of education, but what are we really asking children to be ready for? Are we talking about Reception, Key Stage One, formal learning, or life beyond education altogether? 

For me, this is where the conversation about expectations has to begin. Before we decide whether our expectations are high enough, low enough or realistic enough, we need to ask where those expectations came from in the first place and whether they are informed by evidence. That sounds straightforward, but it becomes much more complicated when we start to unpick how those expectations are shaped by policy, accountability, parental expectations, school systems and long-established ideas about what children ‘should’ be able to do. 

What do we mean by school readiness? 

Part of the difficulty with ‘school readiness’ is that there is no single, universally agreed understanding of what it means. The Early Years Foundation Stage (EYFS) statutory framework presents school readiness relatively broadly, referring to children developing the knowledge and skills that provide a foundation for future progress through school and life (Department for Education, 2026). In practice, however, the conversation can become much narrower. We increasingly hear about children needing to be ready for Key Stage One, and then once they reach Key Stage One they need to be ready for the next stage after that. There is a danger that childhood becomes an endless preparation for what comes next, rather than us focusing on what children need and who they are now. 

Initiatives such as Kindred²’s Starting Reception definition have been interesting because they have attempted to make the conversation more practical and understandable for families and educators. The definition was developed collaboratively and includes areas such as growing independence, communication and practical self-care skills, rather than reducing readiness to academic attainment alone. Kindred²’s wider School Readiness Survey also highlights differences between the perceptions of families and educators and the increasing concern about the number of children arriving at school without some of the skills adults expect them to have (Kindred², 2025). 

Even then, however, we come back to the same problem: different families, schools, settings and communities may have very different expectations of what a child starting Reception ‘should’ be able to do. One school might prioritise independence, another might emphasise early literacy skills, while families may have their own understanding based on what they have been told. 

When I was working in settings, my priority was not necessarily whether a child could already read. For me, it was much more about who that child had become. Were they confident, independent, secure and curious? Did they have the confidence to communicate, explore and engage with other people? Parents and carers understandably sometimes had different expectations, and there could be pressure for children to begin reading before they started school, particularly where schools were communicating expectations around early phonological awareness. 

That is where these conversations become incredibly nuanced. Expectations do not exist in isolation; they are shaped by parents, schools, policy, inspection, accountability and sometimes simply by the way things have always been done. Perhaps, then, the more useful question is not whether children are ‘school ready’, but what we want children to be able to do, feel and experience by the time they leave us, and why those things matter. 

We should not lower expectations simply because children are struggling to meet them 

One of the conversations I have found particularly interesting recently has been around developmental milestones, particularly communication and language. If increasing numbers of children appear to be struggling to meet an expectation, one possible response is to reduce that expectation. I do not think that is necessarily the answer. 

Our expectations should be evidence informed. They should be based on what we understand about child development, rather than being adjusted simply because more children are currently finding something difficult. If there are wider factors influencing children’s development, then surely those are the things we should be seeking to understand and address, rather than simply moving the goalposts. 

That does not mean holding every child against a rigid developmental checklist. Children are individuals, development is not linear and there will always be variation. It does mean, however, that we should be cautious about responding to a changing picture simply by lowering the bar. If research tells us that a particular aspect of development is significant, then our response should be to understand why more children may be finding it difficult and what support might be needed. 

Equally, having ‘high expectations’ does not mean expecting developmentally inappropriate behaviour from children. That distinction matters. We can have ambitious expectations for children while still recognising what is physically, cognitively and emotionally appropriate for their stage of development. In fact, I would argue that genuinely ambitious early childhood practice has to begin with a strong understanding of child development. Otherwise, what exactly are our expectations based on? 

When accountability starts shaping childhood 

This becomes more complicated when we look at measures such as a good level of development. I understand why governments want measurable outcomes. If money is being invested into education, there will inevitably be a desire to demonstrate that the investment has made a difference. The difficulty comes when complex aspects of children’s development are turned into simple data points and those data points begin to shape what happens in practice. 

Assessment in early childhood is often based on professional judgement, and that is part of both the beauty and the challenge of our profession. We know children through observation, interactionand relationships, but we then attempt to translate those judgements into data that can be compared, reported and used to demonstrate progress. That inevitably creates pressure, particularly for Reception teachers and early childhood leaders working within systems where considerable importance is placed on whether children achieve particular measures by the end of Reception. 

We therefore need to ask what impact those measures have on practice. Does pressure to demonstrate a good level of development encourage more adult-directed teaching? Does it reduce the time available for child-led play? Does it encourage formal approaches to literacy and mathematics to move further down into early childhood? These are not entirely new concerns. Ofsted’s Bold beginnings review placed significant attention on the role of Reception in preparing children for later schooling, something that has contributed to wider debate about whether Reception is increasingly being positioned as preparation for Key Stage One rather than being valued as a distinct phase of early childhood in its own right (Ofsted, 2017). 

Most importantly, are we doing these things because evidence tells us they are the best way for young children to learn, or because the system requires us to demonstrate a particular outcome? 

There are undoubtedly evidence-informed interventions that can support children. The Education Endowment Foundation’s work on communication and language approaches, for example, identifies strong evidence of positive impacts on young children’s learning (Education Endowment Foundation, 2023). The Maths Champions programme has also produced evidence of positive progress in mathematics and language, including particularly strong gains for some children eligible for Early Years Pupil Premium (Education Endowment Foundation, 2018). 

The important point for me is that intervention does not have to mean sitting children down and delivering something that feels completely disconnected from the rest of their day. Interventions can be embedded within continuous provision, they can be playful and they can respond to children’s individual needs. They can become part of the rhythm of the setting rather than something that is simply ‘done to’ children. That balance is incredibly important because we always need to come back to the fact that children are individuals, not data points or outcomes. 

Are we preparing children for school, or bringing school further down? 

One of my biggest concerns is the potential trickle-down effect of expectations. If Reception becomes increasingly focused on preparing children for Key Stage One, then pre-school provision may begin preparing children for Reception. Before long, expectations that originated much later in the education system are influencing the experiences of three- and four-year-olds. 

We can see some of this tension in the relationship between the EYFS and later statutory expectations. Phonics teaching becomes a formal statutory requirement in Year One, yet the literacy Early Learning Goals at the end of Reception already include expectations relating to letter sounds, digraphs and reading words through sound blending (Department for Education, 2026). That does not mean phonological awareness has no place in early childhood, but it does raise questions about how expectations higher up the system can gradually influence what educators feel they need to prioritise with younger children. 

Perhaps we are asking the wrong part of the system to change. Rather than making early childhood more like Key Stage One, should we be asking how Key Stage One could become more developmentally appropriate? This is why the conversation around play beyond the EYFS is so important. Instead of continually pushing more formalised learning downwards, perhaps we should be looking at how we protect and extend developmentally appropriate approaches further upwards. 

When we look internationally, there are countries where children begin formal schooling later and where play retains a much stronger position for longer. We obviously cannot simply lift one element of another country’s system and transplant it into England because education exists within a much wider cultural, social and political context. Finland, for example, is frequently held up as an early childhood ideal, but its approach involves far more than simply starting formal education later. There are substantial differences in educator education, professional status, relationships with universities, approaches to pedagogy and wider family policy. 

What international comparisons can do, however, is make us question assumptions that we have come to see as normal. If children elsewhere are not expected to begin formal learning at the same age, why do we consider our approach inevitable? What is the evidence that earlier always means better? Perhaps the more uncomfortable question is whether we are asking children to adapt to an education system when the education system itself should be adapting to children. 

Stillness is not the same thing as listening 

Physical expectations provide another clear example of why we need to interrogate our assumptions. What does a child who is ‘ready to learn’ look like? We often seem to associate this with sitting cross-legged on the carpet, arms folded, eyes fixed on the educator and tracking whoever is speaking. If a child is not doing those things, the assumption can quickly become that they are not listening. 

I find that difficult because I am an adult and I would struggle to sit on the floor, cross-legged, arms folded and looking straight ahead for 40 minutes. Apart from finding it incredibly uncomfortable, I am not convinced I would learn particularly well that way either. Yet sometimes we expect very young children to demonstrate listening through physical stillness. 

Children may be lying down and listening, fiddling with something and listening, or moving while they listen. For me, the evidence that somebody has listened is far more meaningful when we look at what they have understood afterwards than whether they maintained eye contact throughout. That does not mean there should never be expectations around listening or attention, but we should be more careful about assuming that one particular body position is evidence of either. 

Interestingly, the EYFS itself identifies playing and exploring, active learning, and creating and thinking critically within the Characteristics of Effective Teaching and Learning (Department for Education, 2026). None of those characteristics require children to demonstrate learning through physical stillness. If anything, they emphasise engagement, exploration, persistence and thinking. 

We also need to consider what children are physically capable of doing. We commonly understand, for example, that writing does not begin with the pencil. Children need strength and control through larger movements before they can develop the fine motor control required for writing. We perhaps do not think as carefully about the physical development needed to sit upright comfortably for sustained periods. 

When designing our curriculum, routines and timetable, we should therefore be asking whether our expectations reflect what children’s bodies are developmentally ready to do. Learning can be physical, playful and interactive. Supporting early literacy does not have to mean worksheets or prolonged periods sitting still; phonological awareness can involve movement, games, conversation, songs and playful interactions. Developmentally appropriate does not mean unambitious. It means understanding how young children learn and designing experiences that work with that understanding rather than against it. 

We need educators who are critical consumers 

This brings me to something I think is fundamental: critical thinking. We need educators who are prepared to ask why. Why are we asking children to sit here for 20 minutes? Why is our timetable organised in this way? Why have we chosen this intervention? Why do we expect children to know this particular thing before they start school? What outcome are we actually trying to achieve? 

I do not think we ask ‘why?’ often enough, and that includes being critical consumers of research, training, social media and, increasingly, AI-generated information. It has never been easier to encounter confident claims about how children learn. A thirty-second video can tell us that one particular approach will transform behaviour, improve attention or accelerate learning, but we need to look beyond the attention-grabbing headline and ask what sits underneath it. 

Being evidence informed is not the same as finding a piece of research that agrees with something we already wanted to do. It requires us to read, question, interpret and sometimes change our minds. We need to ask what the evidence actually says, how strong it is and how relevant it is to the children in front of us. 

This is where professional development matters enormously. Looking internationally again, one of the things that interests me is the way educators in some systems maintain much stronger links with higher education and research throughout their careers. That naturally supports a culture where educators are expected to engage critically with evidence. In England, educators’ experiences of initial training can be hugely varied, and opportunities for meaningful continuing professional development depend on time, funding, leadership and individual circumstances. 

Settings cannot necessarily change that national picture overnight, but they can create a culture where asking questions is valued. Leaders can make it acceptable to challenge established ways of working, revisit assumptions and ask for the evidence behind a particular approach. That is not about constantly criticising one another; it is about being prepared to be critical of our own practice and to keep learning. 

What do we actually value? 

Ultimately, a setting’s curriculum says something about its expectations because your curriculum goals are, in many respects, your expectations of children. They influence what you teach, what you prioritise, how your environment is designed and how educators spend their time. That is why curriculum, pedagogy and ethos have to align. 

There is an interesting tension here within the language of policy itself. Ofsted’s discussion of cultural capital has emphasised the ‘essential knowledge’ children need for future success, while also recognising that children arrive in settings with their own existing knowledge and cultural experiences (Ofsted, 2024). At the same time, one of the central principles of the EYFS is the ‘unique child’: a child who is constantly learning and who can be resilient, capable, confident and self-assured (Department for Education, 2026). That is a much broader description of what we value than simply what a child knows. 

When I was working in settings, one of the most useful questions for me was: what do we want our children to be able to do when they leave us? Not simply what do we want them to know, but what do we want them to be able to do and who do we hope they are becoming? 

You might choose five things. Perhaps you want children to communicate confidently, develop independence, build relationships, take appropriate risks and approach new experiences with curiosity. Another setting may choose something different, and that is fine. The important part comes next, because once you have identified those expectations you can begin to interrogate them properly. 

Are they developmentally appropriate? What evidence supports them? How does your environment enable them? Does the way educators interact with children reinforce them? Do those expectations reflect what your community values, or simply what you believe the next stage of education demands? Those questions help us move beyond having a curriculum on paper and towards understanding what our curriculum actually says about childhood. 

From conversation to change 

There is one final challenge I think we need to confront. The early childhood community is very good at having conversations. We attend conferences, listen to panels and discuss the challenges facing children and educators, and very often everybody in the room agrees. There is real value in creating spaces for discussion, but there also has to be something beyond repeatedly agreeing that change is needed. 

National campaigning has a role. Ruth Lue-Quee’s Play is Learning campaign, for example, has called for play and continuous provision to have greater statutory protection within Key Stage One and has helped bring the question of developmentally appropriate practice beyond the EYFS into wider discussion (Play is Learning, n.d.). Campaigns such as this demonstrate how collective voices can begin to influence the conversation. 

Influence can also begin much closer to home, however, through settings working with neighbouring schools, educators challenging local definitions of school readiness, leaders contributing to local authority guidance and communities developing shared expectations of what children need. The collaborative development of Kindred²’s Starting Reception definition provides one example of organisations coming together to try to establish clearer shared expectations rather than leaving individual families and settings to interpret ‘school readiness’ alone (Kindred², n.d.). 

If we want national policy to be evidence informed, then we also have to be prepared to use evidence ourselves. That might mean research evidence, but it might also include thoughtful evaluation within settings, professional observations and carefully developed case studies. Yes, sometimes it will involve data too. The answer is not necessarily to reject measurement altogether, but to make sure that what we measure is meaningful and that the measurement itself does not begin dictating children’s experiences. 

For me, the biggest shift is a shift in mentality. We need to stop treating long-established expectations as automatically correct simply because they are familiar, and we need to be prepared to question the system while also questioning ourselves. Most importantly, we need to keep bringing the conversation back to the child who is in front of us now, rather than constantly thinking about the child we need to manufacture for the next stage of education.