Reframing early childhood: How language impacts our professional identity

Language as representation

When we talk about play, learning, or curriculum, we’re doing more than describing pedagogical approaches—we’re conveying our values, identities and professional stance. In early childhood, we’ve developed a particular dialect. We talk about ‘play-based learning’, ‘child-led practice’ or ‘following children’s interests’. While these terms are meaningful within our community, they often don’t translate well to audiences outside it—whether that’s parents, policymakers or other educators.

Take the word play. In our profession, it holds a multitude of meanings, often associated with agency, exploration and learning. But in the wider world, its default definition is often seen as trivial, even frivolous. The danger here is not in the word itself, but in the assumptions it carries. If people hear learning through play and focus only on play, they may overlook the profound learning that underpins it.

This disconnect weakens our credibility. To gain the recognition we deserve, we must find the confidence to present what we do in terms that are both accurate and accessible. It doesn’t mean compromising on our values or pedagogy—it means being intentional with language and open to redefining our terms for broader understanding.

Holding strong beliefs – loosely

In our profession, certain terms become sacred. But are we willing to interrogate them? Are we open to challenging what we’ve always done, and asking whether it’s still serving all children effectively?

We must be willing to engage in robust, respectful debate. Not for the sake of change, but for the sake of reflection. Holding strong beliefs is important—but holding them loosely allows us to grow. What matters is not whether we use the word play, but whether we’re confident in explaining its complexity and intentionality.

The same goes for terms like curriculum. Often seen as too formal or ‘school-like’ for early childhood, the word simply refers to what we want children to learn. If our curriculum includes self-regulation, a love of learning, and social development—then that is our curriculum. We don’t need to shy away from these terms. Instead, we must reclaim them and articulate them through the lens of early childhood pedagogy.

Education and care: A false dichotomy

We also need to challenge the perceived divide between education and care. These are not opposing forces. To educate is to care. To care is to educate. This binary doesn’t serve us—or children.

Whether you are a childminder, teacher, or apprentice, your work contributes to children’s holistic development. All roles in the early childhood profession have value. Yet too often we work in silos, misunderstanding or overlooking the work of others within our own community. We need to bridge these gaps, listen to each other, and collaborate more intentionally.

Let’s ask ourselves: how do we recognise and value the voices within our wider professional community? How do we actively include childminders, nannies, researchers, and wrap-around care providers in our conversations and decisions?

Addressing disadvantage through professional agency

Language also plays a vital role in how we address disadvantage. The data is clear: the gap in outcomes for children facing socio-economic disadvantage is persistent—and in some areas, growing. For over two decades, we’ve had national frameworks and learning goals, yet inequalities remain entrenched.

This isn’t a criticism of the framework itself. For many children, our current model works well. But it doesn’t work for all—and that should give us pause. We cannot keep doing what we’ve always done and expect different results.

Some children arrive in our settings unfamiliar with resources, environments or expectations. For them, an open-ended, child-led approach may be overwhelming. We need to recognise this and be responsive. Supporting these children requires deliberate scaffolding, targeted cultural capital and, crucially, the professional confidence to adapt our approaches.

We don’t need permission to meet children where they are—we need professional agency and a shared understanding that equity sometimes requires different inputs, not identical ones.

All children are intellectual

We must also challenge notions of who is ‘academic’ or ‘intellectual’. Too often, these terms are reserved for older children or used in narrow, exclusionary ways. But intellectualism begins in infancy. All children are capable of complex thought, of forming hypotheses, of exploring big ideas.

Academic learning isn’t limited to textbooks or standardised tests. When a four-year-old investigates how a pumpkin changes over time, or builds the London Eye from recyclable materials after a family trip, they are engaging in scientific thinking, design, creativity and reflection. That is intellectual learning. That is academic engagement.

The question is not whether early childhood settings are too academic, but whether we are recognising and celebrating the rich academic and intellectual potential of all children.

Let us reframe ‘academic’ as something inclusive, not exclusive. Let us define intellectualism not as attainment, but as curiosity, critical thinking and connectedness.

Moving forward, together

We need to stop being apologetic about what we do. Ours is a complex, demanding, highly skilled profession. We make moment-by-moment decisions with profound implications for children’s lives.

The way we speak about our work should reflect that. Our language should uplift our practice, not obscure it. And we must do so in a way that the wider world can understand—not to dilute our values, but to amplify our voice.

We need to challenge ourselves and each other—compassionately, critically, and constructively. This is how we grow as a profession. This is how we ensure that early childhood education receives the respect, recognition and resources it so richly deserves.