When an Early Years Approach Starts to Replace Thinking

By Dr. Aaron Bradbury

Early years is rich with approaches. Let me be clear from the outset: there is nothing wrong with choosing an approach. Approaches can give teams shared language, confidence, coherence, and a sense of direction. They can help practitioners articulate what they believe and why they work in the way they do, and that in itself is not a problem. Many settings find security, shared language, and professional confidence through aligning with a particular philosophy. Approaches can help teams articulate what they value and provide a sense of coherence in their work with children. Used well, they can support reflection and strengthen practice.

However, there is a risk when an approach becomes more than a guide and begins to shape practice too rigidly and it’s one we don’t talk about enough. Sometimes, when an approach becomes the answer to everything, practice can start to feel rigid. Performative. Even a little… cultish. In some settings, the commitment to an approach becomes so strong that it starts to override professional judgement. Practice can begin to look technically correct, yet feel disconnected from the lived experiences of the children. The environment may align perfectly with the philosophy, documentation may reflect it fluently, and staff may speak its language with ease, but the responsiveness to children in the moment can quietly diminish.

When this happens, practitioners can find themselves applying an approach rather than thinking with it. Decisions are filtered through what the approach expects, rather than what the child is communicating in that moment. The focus subtly shifts away from attunement and towards compliance, and reflection becomes about staying faithful to the philosophy rather than being curious about the child.

Play, in its truest sense, does not sit neatly within any single framework. It is not owned by a pedagogy or protected by a label. Play is relational, situational, and deeply contextual. It emerges from children’s ideas, emotions, relationships, and curiosities, and it asks adults to be present, patient, and willing to respond without certainty. This kind of play cannot be reduced to a set of principles or reproduced through fidelity to an approach.

There is also a danger that when settings become tightly bound to a particular philosophy, children who do not appear to “fit” that approach are seen as needing correction rather than understanding. Practitioner intuition can be quietly sidelined in favour of consistency, and professional dialogue can become defensive rather than reflective. At this point, the approach is no longer serving practice; it is being protected from challenge.

Children do not need adults who can name or perform an approach convincingly. They need adults who know them well, who can notice small shifts in play and behaviour, and who can respond thoughtfully in the moment. This requires confidence, trust, and a deep understanding of child development and relationships, rather than loyalty to a particular framework.

Approaches work best when they are held lightly. They should support professional thinking, not replace it. They should offer language without limiting interpretation and provide structure without closing down curiosity. The strongest early years practice is often quiet and adaptable, grounded in relationships rather than ideology, and guided by what children are showing us in the here and now.

Perhaps the most important question for any setting to reflect on is whether its practice would still make sense if the name of the approach were removed. If the answer is no, then it may be time to return to the child, slow the pace, and trust the professional judgement that sits at the heart of early years work.

Play does not need an approach to justify its value. It needs adults who are willing to be present, responsive, and thoughtful enough to truly understand the children in front of them.