If We Really Believed in Article 31, We’d Be Doing Things Very Differently

By Dr. Aaron Bradbury

United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, Article 31

Article 31 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child states that every child has the right to rest, leisure, play and participation in cultural and artistic life. Not access to structured activities. Not opportunities linked neatly to early learning goals. Not play once the “real work” is finished. Now, if we are honest with ourselves, play in England often feels conditional. It expands in Nursery, narrows in Reception, and becomes non existent in Key Stage 1 for many. There is an increasingly justified approach through the language of outcomes as children move closer to statutory schooling. We speak passionately about children’s rights, but operationally we timetable childhood.

If Article 31 is a right, then it is not optional. It is not a pedagogical preference. It is not something we protect only when inspection frameworks feel kind. A right is not dependent on adult confidence, curriculum pressures or data expectations. It is something that must be upheld, even when systems make that difficult. This, I believe, is where the tension lies.

Our accountability structures are built on progress measures, assessment points and comparative data. Article 31 is built on freedom, agency and intrinsic value. These two logics do not sit comfortably together. One asks, “What measurable impact did this have?” The other asks, “Was the child free to play?”

We often defend play by citing its developmental benefits. We reference executive function, language acquisition, social competence and self-regulation. All of this evidence matters of course. But I can't help but notice what we are doing. We are justifying a right by proving its productivity.

Article 31 does not frame play as preparation for something else. It frames play as participation in the present. It positions play not as a strategy for future attainment, but as an essential condition of childhood itself. So, If we truly believed this, some of our practices would look different, right now.

So what if Baseline assessment within weeks of starting school would feel uncomfortable. The steady erosion of uninterrupted play in Reception would raise louder concern. The idea that phonics time must always be protected, while outdoor exploration can be reduced, would invite deeper scrutiny. Believing in Article 31 would mean protecting long stretches of uninterrupted play without apology. It would mean recognising rest as legitimate, not lazy. It would mean designing environments that allow noise, risk, mess and unpredictability. It would mean trusting educators to prioritise relational presence over constant documentation. I believe it would just allow our practitioners to be trusted. We are continually under the cosh of accountability and the pressures that come with that.

This is where relational pedagogy becomes more than a philosophy. It becomes a rights-based obligation. When we speak about love, nurture and connection, we are not talking about sentimentality. We are talking about the conditions that make rights real. A child who is constantly interrupted, assessed or directed does not experience freedom. A child who feels seen, secure and trusted is far more likely to exercise agency within their play.

Protecting play is not separate from protecting relationships. It is deeply intertwined. The right to play is upheld through the presence of attuned, emotionally available adults who know when to step in, and, crucially, when to step back. This is not an anti-learning argument. Play and learning are not opposites. Decades of research demonstrate that playful experiences support development across domains. But that is not the core point here. The point is that play’s legitimacy should not depend on the cognitive return it produces.

A right does not need to prove its usefulness and this is where policymakers must feel some discomfort. If government frameworks reference children’s rights, then they must be prepared to ask hard questions about assessment timing, curriculum narrowing and the pressure placed on early years settings to demonstrate measurable outcomes at increasingly younger ages. You cannot publicly endorse children’s rights while designing systems that steadily constrain them.

Rights language carries responsibility. If Article 31 is more than a symbolic nod in guidance documents, then it requires structural alignment. It requires courage to resist the creeping schoolification of early childhood. It requires trust in early years professionals as guardians of childhood, not simply deliverers of data. At a time when we are discussing school readiness, narrowing gaps and raising standards, perhaps the more difficult question is this: are we protecting childhood, or are we managing it? Because, if Article 31 is genuinely a commitment, not just a citation, then it demands more than warm words. It demands policy coherence. It demands relational practice. It demands that we treat play not as a reward, not as a strategy, and not as preparation, but as a condition of justice.

Rights are not decorative. They are operational and if we really believed in Article 31, we would be doing things very differently.