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.

What does it actually mean to strive for excellent academic outcomes for all?

The prevailing rhetoric of the current government suggests a return to the basics, with a keen focus on academic outcomes as the sole priority. Recently, a Minister even asserted that it is impossible to concentrate on more than one thing at a time.

It is deeply regrettable that those making these decisions often lack classroom experience and do not seek the perspectives of those who do. If they did, they would understand that it is indeed possible—and essential—to focus on multiple aspects simultaneously to achieve the academic outcomes they desire.

I have yet to meet a teacher who does not strive for the best for the children in their care. Indeed, no teacher wishes for their children to fail. Ironically, our current government is right now providing the very conditions within schools that mean many children and teachers are actually failing.

If this government truly aims for academic excellence for all, they must recognise that our focus cannot be singular but rather multifaceted:

1. Recognising the Whole Child: We must truly see each child. Understanding child development is crucial, as chronological age or year level often does not align with a child's developmental age. Embracing a pedagogy of play honours the natural ways in which children learn. It is possible to combine play and explicit teaching, in fact, it is the perfect balance.

Why do we have a system intent on putting the cart before the horse?

 

Right now, I am angry. Many of you will know that this week I shared an open letter on my public Number Agents Facebook page. This letter is emotional, and I make no apologies for that. In fact, it had been drafted to just send to our local Ministry of Education (MOE) office, but after I was told that one of our lovely children with ASD will have any behaviour funding (as little as it currently is anyway) concluded because he has had five terms' worth, well, let's say it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I have shared the letter at the end of this blog post for anyone who has not seen it. Feel free to go to my Facebook page and share it if it resonates with what you are experiencing. I don’t presume to speak for you, but I know right now, this is the experience of many.

Right now, we have a system intent on putting the cart before the horse. While the current government has accelerated and compounded this issue, they didn't start this pattern; in fact, for as long as I can remember (18 years of principalship), this has been the case.

There is a total disconnect between those who set curriculum direction and have control over how support is provided in schools and the actual people on the ground bringing learning to life each day. If you read this blog, you will see I am all about putting evidence-based practice into action. I also believe we can have it all: we can embrace childhood, discovery, play, work relationally, be trauma-informed, understand how learning works, follow the instructional hierarchy, work in a neurodiversity-affirming way, embrace creativity, and foster knowledge. We can have it all, but to have it all, we need to first work on the horse, not the cart!

Any expert worth their salt, when asked about the Principles of Instruction, will put 'attended focus' right up there as one of the most important things we need to have in order for us to be able to teach and for children to be able to learn.

So, let's just pick that one thing, because anything I have read or listened to in regards to the 'Science of Learning' will point to attention—the gaining and keeping of attention.

Right now, our classrooms are brimming at the seams with needs. In a classroom of 20, there are likely to be at least five children who are neurodivergent (diagnosed or not), often with needs that present as 'behaviour'. Five, in fact, is possibly on the very light side. If teaching in a new entrant class, it is likely that over half the class have a need for co-regulation just to be able to keep them in the classroom.

Whatever the number, these days our classes abound with big feelings—big feelings that often spill over into physical or verbal aggression. Then, on top of this, we have many children with specific learning needs that need one-to-one support to access the curriculum (whatever it looks like).

If your situation is anything like ours, none of these children qualify for any sort of funding. Despite their struggles, they are not considered 'bad' enough in our deficit-based system to warrant any type of support. When support is sought, this looks like observation after observation, meeting after meeting, without access to 'experts', and possibly, if you are very lucky, an hour a day of resourcing to meet the needs of this child.

Right, back to attention. For us to teach and for children to learn, everyone I know who would be labelled as an expert puts attention at the top of the list. I would not disagree with this. If I am a novice and learning a new skill, I have to pay attention to be able to make progress. In fact, as a novice at something, that ability to pay attention is vital. It is so easy to become cognitively overloaded (says I, who while writing this is listening to the instrumental version of my favourite songs to prevent becoming distracted by the lyrics).

How does that look in a classroom, where at least five (very likely more) need an adult to co-regulate with them to even make this attended focus a possibility? How does it look for children trying to pay attention while they are hyper-vigilant and worried that their classmate may suddenly start throwing things, swearing, and toppling chairs because they don't have that co-regulation opportunity or another safe space to go where they can find a trusted adult? How does it look for those children, teetering because they left the house without breakfast or amongst raised voices, who didn’t get any sleep the night before or who just need a bit of a break and a reset with an adult who cares?

I am not against a rigorous curriculum, I am not against knowledge, I am not against evidence-based practice. What I am against is the fact we continue to put the cart before the horse, somehow convinced that this will make all the difference in the world.

If we don't prioritise people, relationships, and children, if we don't understand the co-regulation needs of so many of our children, if we expect teachers to teach a class of 20-30 children on their own, without the support of at least one other adult in the class, then no amount of polishing the cart will make an iota of difference.

It takes funding to do this and that funding should not have to come from colour runs, raffles, chocolate fundraisers, pizza lunches, sausage sizzles and Halloween fundraisers!

We first need to build the capacity of our schools to cater for the children in their care; then we can work on getting their attention.

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To Whomever Will Listen:

I am writing this letter in an earnest attempt to be heard, making a heartfelt plea for our most vulnerable children and the dedicated teachers who give their blood, sweat, and tears every day to keep them engaged in education.

Like every kura around Aotearoa, our school is struggling to meet the diverse behavioural needs of our children. Over the last fifteen years, we have worked tirelessly to personally fund and drive our own learning, becoming developmentally responsive and neuroscience-informed. We have worked hard to understand the stress response and the impact of trauma, learning how to respond in ways that truly make a difference. We’ve also been advancing our understanding of neurodiversity, striving to create a neurodiversity-affirming space. We’ve invested vast amounts of our own time and operational funding into this, recognising just how critical this work is.  Not only that we have driven our own learning in terms of the principles of learning and teaching, starting with structured literacy eight years ago and flowing into structured maths two years ago.  

We’ve prioritised people over property, investing heavily in teacher aides and creating a regulation space for our children.  We aim to keep class sizes small because we know how much of a positive impact it has on learning and wellbeing.

We understand that the punitive processes of stand-down and suspension offer no benefit, so up until now, we have not considered those approaches as an option.

I have been the principal here for 18 years, and things have never been so challenging. Our approaches have shaped an amazing space where our children thrive, but the needs we are trying to meet have greatly increased over time. New entrants coming into school now are not what they were ten years ago; they need increasing levels of support that one teacher alone cannot provide.

Financially, like every school, we have faced immense challenges over the last five years. There is no funding for curriculum needs, and everything we wish to have must be funded via grants.

Every day, teachers are coping with immense pressure. Teachers who have our most needy students face daily incidents, often leading to our spaces being trashed and classes being disrupted. Teachers are often in the line of fire when big emotions erupt, all while trying to ensure the safety of all other children.

Despite their high needs, these children—if they are lucky—receive up to two hours a day of teacher aide time, though more likely it is one hour, or nothing at all. Because we have good processes in place, when a child actually does get support, it is often withdrawn when the behaviour seems to calm down,   Since it was the support that settled the behaviour, it quickly arises again once the support is gone. Then we are back at the beginning, pleading for support while countless observations are carried out.  An even sadder fact is that any behaviour support will be concluded after five terms regardless of need.

Getting the support our children need feels like jumping through hoops unnecessarily, when we could easily take a more direct path to our destination. If a child has dropped off the caseload for whatever reason, we then have to reapply just to have them back on the ‘books.’ This process seems to involve endless observations and meetings with very little action. If talking around in circles was the cure-all for children with behavioural difficulties, then we’d have no problems at all.

Amidst these high needs, teachers are expected to be teaching an hour of reading, writing, and maths a day, not forgetting the rest that we have to cover. By the look of the new knowledge-based syllabus (it looks more like a syllabus than a curriculum) that is coming out, we may have to increase our school hours—9am till 9pm should do.

We face a real dilemma right now. This year, we have been able to fund two teacher aides through our operational funding and a small amount of behavioural funding. We were also able to appoint a teacher aide for the new entrant room during Terms 3 and 4, using operational funding, essentially reallocating from budget lines that were unspent. In 2026, our roll drops again—not for any suspicious reason, but simply because we have two year levels with really low numbers; enrolment zones will do that to you! While the roll might drop, the extreme needs remain, with even less funding available to provide the necessary support.

This drop sees us truly struggling. By all accounts, we will be able to afford only one teacher aide for the whole school, using a little bit of operational funding and hopefully some behavioural funding. Fingers crossed (because the crossing of fingers is a very real strategy right now.)

How is that one teacher aide supposed to cope? What happens when all of our neurodiverse children are having a bad day? How can I morally leave teachers without any support? As a school, we manage behaviours that many schools would probably need to make referrals for; we have skilled staff committed to working in a way that regulates rather than escalates, but they are only one person, working to cater for the many needs of their class.  

Many of the children that desperately require extra support would no longer be enrolled in other schools. They would have been through the stand-down, suspension, and expulsion process and possibly be totally lost to our system. I steadfastly refuse to do that, but when does this refusal start to come at too great a cost? Without teacher aides, how can I expect my staff to cope? I myself teach three days a week and I know how difficult it can be to meet the needs of everyone and keep them safe, how exhausted you are at the end of the day.

Let’s face it, a shiny new curriculum/syllabus is absolutely of no use to anyone if we are just surviving day to day.  

I write this letter with tears in my eyes. After 18 years as a teaching principal, I don’t know how much longer I can continue in this job without the funding and support our teachers and children need. How can I morally go on, putting this pressure on my teachers every day?

I sit here, trying to set a budget with money I don’t have. But with a roll that has dropped slightly, I also need to prioritise paying partially for a teacher. Once that is done and the known expenses are accounted for, there is enough for one extra person—one extra person to meet all of those needs (and that is only if we do get some funding for them next year).

If we want to make a difference in education, we need to start with first things first. I won’t be greedy; four teacher aides in our school of nine classrooms would be great, I could make do with that. Or here’s a very novel idea: if a child has a diagnosis and significant behavioural challenges that put themselves and others at risk, just fund them fully throughout their schooling career. Stop making us jump through hoops, stop making us grovel, stop making us prove the need, stop making us reach out in desperation, and actually ensure these children can have a successful journey through school.

When it all boils down to it, ensuring children get the support they need should not even be something I need to worry about. Shouldn’t it just be a given?

Is anyone listening?

Leslee Allen 

Kaurihohore School

A focus on decoding...at what expense?

Right now, being an educator in Aotearoa feels like balancing on a tightrope, juggling plates, attempting to ride a unicycle—all while smiling through it and fearing that everything might come crashing down at any moment. Instead of offering a helping hand, those standing nearby just keep throwing more plates at you, raising the height of the tightrope, and increasing the distance you have to cycle.

Concerns with the Focus on Decoding

Amidst everything, there is one thing that has been worrying me most lately: our ardent focus on decoding over everything else. There is a celebration of the supposed positive data from the phonics check (a pattern not observed at our place) and a curriculum that expects a child at the end of their first year at school to be reading at stage 7.1 towards the end of the decodable stages.

I read comment after comment on teachers' Facebook pages, asking questions about the expectation, with ongoing affirmation from those in the know, that āe, our youngest learners need to be reading at this stage. We must focus on getting them there for fear that by not doing so, we are seemingly dooming children to failure, missing those children who will otherwise slip through the net.

A Journey, Not a Race

Don't get me wrong, I have been on this structured literacy journey for almost eight years now. I believe in the explicit teaching of reading (and by reading, I do not just mean decoding). While I understand the 'Science of Reading' and the Principles of Teaching and Learning, my journey has not shown me that children need to reach this magical stage after their first year. In fact, it has shown me the exact opposite. Rather than accelerating and pushing children ahead at the expense of all the other skills that an expert reader will eventually have under their belt, my journey has revealed to me that slow and steady does indeed win the race.

Over the last six or seven years, I have only taught one child who has achieved the magical 7.1 stage at the end of their first year, yet reading results at our school are very good for the majority of our Year 6 children who started their schooling with us.

Observations and Patterns

I am absolutely certain the children starting with us are not unique, and I am sure everyone is seeing the same pattern. Children enter with very low oral language, struggle with executive functioning skills (crucial for later learning), and seem a lot 'younger' than they did even six years ago.

If my wonderful new entrant teachers are to strive for this magical 7.1 stage, it will come at the expense of the development of our children. Absolutely, phonics is important, but it is no more important than a child's physical, emotional, and social development. How many children will be put off reading if they are pushed too far ahead? How many children will miss the point that reading is a joyous process of making meaning? Perhaps even worse than that, how many decoding robots will we create? Robots with the ability to decode, but with absolutely no fluency—and if they have no fluency, forget about comprehension. If we push ahead with decoding, will this be at the expense of spelling? Are we making it clear enough that reading and spelling should go hand in hand?

The Importance of a Holistic Approach

What time will there be to talk, to play, to listen to fantastically engaging texts, to respond creatively, to express themselves, to develop a fantastic vocabulary, and to build a wonderful schema of knowledge due to the rich environments they are in?

In my experience over the last almost eight years of 'structured literacy' learning, it is our teacher understanding that makes the difference. Understanding the theory behind the shift in pedagogy is important. This understanding allows us to identify those children who need targeted teaching and increased support from the beginning. Teachers with a good understanding of how children learn to read can all identify children who will need extra support without waiting to see if they will reach some magical milestone. Teachers with great understanding won’t let children slip through the net, they will be well aware who it is that needs that extra help.

Creating Fluent Readers

At our place, we have happy zones, stages that we are content for children to reach, knowing from experience that these children will be okay on their reading journey. I am delighted if my Year 2 children come to me reading at stage 2 or 3, as I know they will also be able to spell and will be fluent at this stage. I am really happy if my Year 2 children are reaching the end of decodable books, but if they are working on Stage 5 or 6, I'm not worried. I am not worried because I am also focused on their spelling and writing, and very focused on fluency. I do not want to create decoding robots; I want fluent readers. I want children to have accuracy, to read at an appropriate rate, and with expression, because just because children can decode the words does not make them readers.

If I am not fluent, I can read the text, but by the time I am through the sentence, I can probably barely remember it. If you cannot read at the speed of sight (fluently), then working memory will focus on reading the words rather than comprehending the text deeply. How will a child be able to think about the text, if all they are focused on is decoding the words?

"If you are not a fluent reader, you can't be a deep reader." — Doug Lemov

We are not wrong to want to focus on reading. Of course, we want children to be able to read, but this is a journey. It is not a race to get as far as you can by the end of a child's first year. I have heard many a reader decode a text at the end of the decodable stages, but without fluency, are they able to read for meaning? I often find that I need to go back at least three or four stages if a child has been pushed through the stages to find their fluent stage.

"Fluent reading when it includes prosody is meaning made audible." — Doug Lemov

Not only that, but the first year of school should also be as much about the development of the child socially, emotionally, and physically, with a focus on executive functioning skills.

What will our children miss out on if we become obsessed with academic acceleration?

I loved this podcast with Doug Lemov about fluency; it is a really great listen.

https://podcasts.apple.com/nz/podcast/s10-e3-finding-fluency-at-the-heart-of/id1483513974?i=1000732939318

Whose race are we running and why?

Firstly, let's just put it out there: childhood is not a race. It is something to be cherished, not accelerated. However, right now, it feels like we are almost being forced to run a race, a race we didn't even enter, with results of this invented race being proudly announced, even if the participants themselves have a completely different perspective.

Don't get me wrong, anyone who reads this page knows I advocate for effective teaching practices, but they also know I advocate for childhood and the right of children to play and develop in their own space and time. I have been fortunate enough to spend the last ten years doing this work, having stumbled upon 'structured literacy' and guided myself through it, without the pressure of time and the 'urgency' that seems to have been created. I am also lucky enough to have learned a lot about children and the role of play, and to have been able to balance these seemingly opposite pieces of understanding into the practices I use today and the way our school operates.

I have developed my 'lens'—how I see teaching and learning—with the individual in mind, and that is the way I continue to go forward.

Yet right now, our system is caught up in this race, a race to implement practices that many teachers don't deeply understand, with very little thought given to the children.

Children as the Curriculum

I have always said children are the curriculum. So much can be achieved when we just step back and see where their interests and wonderings lead us. I also know that explicit teaching has a role to play, and that combined, these approaches are magical.

The Phonics Check: A Critical View

Let's specifically look at the 'phonics check' that's at the forefront in the media right now and the supposed gains that have been made. Checking on phonics is a good part of our practice; of course, as we work with children, we check in with their understandings, based on what we have actually taught.

The amazing progress that the phonics check is supposedly showing isn't reflected at our place. There are many factors in this. For one, our children are engaged through bite-sized explicit teaching, but they are given space and time individually. Some of our learners don't start 'formal' reading until they are six, while most start around 5 years 9 months. Their development is prioritised first; they are immersed in oral language and play, allowed time to feel safe, and relational trust and co-regulation are big priorities for us. This does not mean they are not involved in phonics sessions, but it does mean these sessions are not our priority.

Another factor is that the oral language levels of children coming into school are really low right now, which is a priority for us. We put in every result for the phonics checks—we don't filter out any of our neurodiverse learners, we don't exclude any results, we put them all in there. Many of our 20-week checks show no result. Often, the children know the sounds that they have been taught (a big deal from where they started) but they can't yet blend them to read.

Another factor is that the sequence of the phonics check doesn't quite align with the sequence we use. Children can often read words further down the list but make mistakes earlier on.

This phonics check doesn't really prove anything. We already know where our children are at, and any school using a robust system will too. We monitor our children individually, notice any red flags, and intervene in ways that we have available to us.

We also all know there is so much to reading other than phonics.

Observations from Teaching

I teach older Year Ones and Twos. Most come to me having started reading, but very early in their journey. Many of these children are superb readers now, some towards the end of decodables and others reading early chapter books. Most of these children would not have scored well on the 'phonics' check early on.

We would be better placed measuring word reading in Year Two; it would give us a much better idea of where a child was at once they had had a real length of time at school.

Yes, we need to intervene early for those with difficulties, but intervening needs to be tailored to the child.

The Role of Executive Functions

Another thing the 'race' mentality is missing right now is the role of executive functions. These executive functions play a crucial role in a child even being able to access the curriculum. I know of no better way than play and understanding children developmentally to do this.

Conclusion: No Race, Only Growth

We seem to be caught up in a race that we did not enter, a race where the powers that be like to declare victory before many of the runners have even started.

There is no race. It is crucial we have a strong pedagogical understanding of the principles of learning, that we have a lens that allows us to see the whole child, that gives us time to develop a kete to draw from that allows us to help all learners as we identify their needs.

The first three years are crucial, not only for learning but for the overall development of a child.

Let's cherish childhood and spend as much time allowing children to uncover the curriculum as we spend covering it.