The Goldilocks Zone - The Scope And Sequence in 2025

 

I am currently in the process of reformatting the scope and sequence. This task has been more time-consuming than anticipated as I continue to incorporate all the wonderful additions that emerged quite spontaneously during sessions this year (I guess you could say I have been in my own Goldilocks zone, something I want for all teachers.)

It is incredibly heartwarming to witness an idea that began as a mere germ of an idea in 2020 flourish and strengthen over time. 

 What was that idea? To create a scope and sequence, structured in such a way that met the needs of my learners with dyscalculia, in turn meeting the needs of all.  I had seen the success of Structured Literacy and was driven to create that for maths, at the time, it was something I could not see being created well.  I wanted to make something even the most reluctant math teacher could pick up and grow from.  

This year has been particularly successful, primarily due to my growing understanding of teaching mathematics each year.  

Every year, part of our reporting process includes student voice.  Consistently, when I ask my class about their favourite subject, they overwhelmingly choose maths. While this is not unusual—maths is often a popular choice in my class—this year, the difference was in the children who expressed this preference. Many of the students who were initially uncertain about their abilities in maths have now listed it as their favourite, or at least as a subject they wish to continue improving in.  Some were really explicit about their next steps, expanding large numbers, multiplication, subtraction, change unknown, all areas they listed as wanting to improve in.

Many of those children who wanted to fade into the background during a math sessions, began pushing themselves to the fore.  

This led me to ponder: what made maths the most favoured subject for my students this year? What had I changed or improved upon?

In 2024, I developed a solid understanding of the importance of basic fact fluency and the instructional hierarchy. I experimented with retrieval practice techniques and achieved some success.

In 2025, I continued to focuson subitising (which my scope and sequence is based on) and the use of concrete materials. But my aim this year was to transition students more quickly to more pictorial and abstract thinking. This approach, guided by the instructional hierarchy to determine when to employ fact retrieval practice, has been very effective.  Thank you Brian Poncy, Sarah Powell, Anna Stokke and Amanda VanDerheyden to name a few.

The confidence my students display in maths can be attributed to engaging them in the 'Goldilocks zone'—working within their skill range while gently extending their abilities to bridge new concepts. The emphasis has been on achieving success, building robust foundations, and recognising when students are ready to be challenged or need more practice. I strive to ensure that no child is left behind, aiming for all students to 'get it.'

Operating within this zone fosters a sense of success, fun, and achievement, a dopamine hit! It allows children to connect new concepts and build strong schemas, through a scope and sequence designed to support, grow and connect, rather than rushing them through.

This year, I have observed my students thrive, eagerly expressing their love for maths and seeking more independent problem-solving opportunities, even in their own time. Parents have also shared their amazement at their children's progress and enthusiasm for maths.

The role of basic fact fluency—achieving automaticity (declaratively) in two seconds—has significantly influenced how my students perceive themselves as budding mathematicians. This approach of ensuring no child falls behind in whole-class instruction has benefitted everyone and made it easier to extend those who need it within the same conceptual framework.

I am admittedly biased, but I genuinely believe this scope and sequence is outstanding. With a sustained emphasis on teacher understanding, it holds the potential to provide our Year 1-3 children with exceptionally strong foundations in mathematics and not a workbook in sight!

PS- I thought the Goldilocks zone was something only I dwelled upon, but this podcast is fantastic to listen to.

 

When Did Balance Become a Dirty Word?

Bringing Balance Back to Education

I am currently working on rewriting my scope and sequence, striving to make it even more user-friendly. I know, I know, I can hear everyone saying, "Leslee, stop, take a break, give yourself some time!" I hear you all, and please understand, the chance to refine my scope and sequence so others can have a better experience using it, alongside the opportunity to write, is my idea of a break. In fact, it's a chance to finally release the thoughts and ideas that have been occupying my mind all year.

The Importance of Balance

Now, let's dive into the main topic of this post: balance. Balance is essential, right? We are constantly reminded to achieve a work-life balance, to eat a balanced diet, and to balance rest with exercise. Yet, when it comes to teaching and learning, the word "balance" has somehow become controversial, a dirty word.

When we started advocating for structured literacy, the word "balance" became closely associated with "balanced literacy." Unfortunately, as soon as anyone mentioned "balanced," they were met with criticism and thoroughly chastised.

The mere mention of "balanced" has, for some reason, come to imply that we are not committed to best practices, and thus, should be dismissed.

Reclaiming Balance

However, I am here to reclaim the concept of balance—not to advocate for balanced literacy per se, but to emphasise that balance is crucial if we are to succeed for our children. The current "prescribed" curriculum being promoted nationwide is, in my view, a sham—a placebo, if you will, reminiscent of the Emperor's New Clothes.

The disparagement of the word "balance" has led us to a narrow path, a path where, if we are not careful, we will discard all the good that makes schools places where children can truly thrive. This prescribed curriculum is turning us into fools, leaving us exposed, prancing around as if we were clothed.

This does not mean I am against getting the teaching right. The very existence of my scope and sequence (which can be taught across mixed levels) is a testament to my commitment to excellence. This blog also serves as further evidence of that commitment.

The Missing Element

Here's the kicker: what the government is missing is that they are eliminating the very elements that would make their touted teaching practices work effectively for all, not just a select few. They are pushing out play, relational practice, the arts, culture, time to connect, individuality, understanding—they are pushing out balance, the very things that we as human beings need to thrive.

Without the beautiful nuances that make a successful school truly successful—provision for play, developmentally informed practice, relational practice, local curriculum, the arts, neuroscience-informed practice, and people—the prescription they are offering leaves us vulnerable, balancing between the here and the upside down.

So, let's bring balance back. For those of us who have never let it go, hold on tight, because without it, we are nothing more than a foolish naked Emperor, prancing around proudly, too vain to admit we are getting it wrong.

Where Structure And I Part Ways

This blog has become a place to share my thoughts—thoughts that others may or may not read, thoughts others may or may not care about, but thoughts that very much reflect my journey.

I started this blog after my discovery of 'play' and my original Number Agent approach back in 2016. Saying it like that, that I discovered play, makes it sound like something new. Of course, others, far more expert than I, had unearthed the importance of play long before I stumbled upon its magic. However, that is how professional journeys work; we come to things in our own space and time.

Before I started my posts, I considered myself structured. Our school was structured. Academic achievement was really important to me, and it drove what I did in my new entrant class. I very much believed children needed to be ready for school, and I was often loudly wondering what on earth my ECE colleagues were doing. Children in my new entrant class were whisked quickly into formal learning, assessed for their alphabet on day one, and swiftly provided with literacy and numeracy goals. They were often expected to work in silence, and play was something that would happen in the form of choosing.

I make myself sound like a tyrant, but I wasn't. In fact, my class was fun and engaging, with lots of energy and excitement, but it was very teacher-led.

Gradually, I came to see and appreciate the need for play and have posted many times about how it all started with oral language. Very quickly, my blog and my world became about play.

In 2019, I stumbled across structured literacy (for want of a better term) and my interest turned to how I could mould this with my dedication to play. Following in the footsteps of this learning came 'structured maths', and this blog became more of an exploration of evidence-based practice and the merging of two worlds: structured and explicit, with genuine free-range, child-led play.

Over the last few years, I have advocated that there can be a wonderful balance, but the last year in this country has me worried. The curriculum being imposed on us and the rhetoric being spouted has all become a bit too much. We are losing the balance. I am all for effective teacher practice. I understand the role of explicit teaching and very much 'get' the role of a knowledge-rich approach, but I worry that it is taking over by stealth, overwhelming us into submission, slowly squeezing out the room to play and once again causing us angst about 'acceleration' and levelled achievement.

I admit, even I, who advocates for play, have been guilty of getting bogged down and perhaps 'zombie-ified' by the constant achievement-based focus. Getting caught up in the whirlwind of expectation that reeks of National Standards.

A few weeks ago, I was tired, exhausted, ready to throw it all in—the closest I have ever gotten to just feeling plain beaten down. I even cried in the staffroom (not a great look for the principal, lol).

But, I went back to where it all began, with play. We have a world in desperate need of good people, and I believe a commitment to childhood allows us to work towards that far more than a commitment to a man-made construct of a curriculum and its levels.

There is no getting away from the things we have to attend to. It is important for whānau to know where their child is at and if they need more support, but it is also important to embrace the importance of childhood.

So, as I stood in front of my community during prize-giving week, I reaffirmed our commitment to childhood. As I wandered around the playground, this was only further affirmed for me. Three boys, three tyres, and a hill—that was all it took for me to realise that while I can remain committed to strong pedagogical approaches and best practice, I also know where I need to get off this bus for the good of my children, before it seeps into everything that we are and everything that we do.

I have found my stop, and right now, it feels really good. Childhood is important. We can maintain structured approaches, but we also must hold childhood above that. It must be the most important thing we honour and cherish, because if it isn't, nothing else really matters.