— What Your Child Is Really Learning Through Play
You collect your child from preschool.
They’re covered in paint, there’s sand in their shoes and, somehow, one sock is slightly damp.
You ask the question:
“What did you do today?”
And after several hours at preschool, they confidently reply:
“Played.”
Brilliant. Thanks for the detailed update.
But actually… they’re probably right.
They did play.
And while it might not sound particularly impressive, an enormous amount of learning can be hiding inside that one little word.
At Kind Hearts Preschool, we believe young children learn best through play. That means you won’t always see children sitting around a table completing an activity an adult has planned for them.
Instead, you might see them building an enormous tower.
Making a questionable-looking soup in the mud kitchen.
Driving the same car down the same ramp approximately 47 times.
Trying to work out how to get water from one end of the garden to the other.
Or spending twenty minutes creating a bed for a worm they’ve found outside.
It might look like just playing.
But look a little closer and there’s usually much more going on.
“But when are they actually learning?”
All the time.
Young children don’t separate their day into:
Now I’m playing.
and
Now I’m learning.
For them, the two things happen together.
Imagine a child building a tower.
They choose a block.
Balance another one on top.
It falls.
They try again.
This time they put the bigger block underneath.
It stays up.
Another child comes over and wants some of the blocks.
Now they need to communicate, negotiate and perhaps solve a disagreement.
They decide the tower is actually a castle.
Suddenly there’s a dragon living inside it.
They count how many blocks high it is.
Then it collapses.
Again.
And they start rebuilding.
In that one piece of play, they may have explored:
And nobody needed to sit them down and announce:
“Today we’re learning about resilience.”
They were already practising it.
The mud kitchen isn't just making mud pies
Mud kitchens are a brilliant example of how much learning can be tucked inside something that looks very simple.
A child fills a saucepan with mud.
Adds some water.
Stirs it.
Adds a handful of leaves.
Then announces they’ve made you a birthday cake.
Firstly, obviously, you must pretend to eat it.
Those are the rules.
But think about everything that happened before that masterpiece was presented to you.
They may have poured, scooped, mixed, filled and emptied.
They’ve experimented with quantities.
They’ve watched what happens when dry soil becomes wet.
They’ve used their imagination to turn mud and leaves into ingredients.
Perhaps another child joined them and now they’re deciding who is cooking, who is serving and whose birthday it actually is.
A practitioner might join the play and say:
“I wonder what will happen if we add some more water?”
Or:
“This saucepan is completely full. Do you think we can fit any more in?”
Or perhaps:
“You’ve made three cakes. How many plates are we going to need?”
Suddenly we’ve introduced science, maths and language into something the child was already deeply interested in.
And because the learning is connected to something that matters to them in that moment, it has meaning.
Why don't you just give them an activity to do?
Sometimes we do.
There are absolutely times when practitioners introduce ideas, experiences and activities.
But we don’t believe that adults need to control every moment of learning.
If a child is completely absorbed in building a train track, pulling them away because an adult has decided that everyone should make a paper plate ladybird at 10:30 isn’t necessarily going to create better learning.
In fact, we may be interrupting some brilliant learning that’s already happening.
Instead, our practitioners spend a lot of time observing.
What is this child trying to do?
What are they interested in?
What are they finding difficult?
What are they already working out for themselves?
And then comes an important question:
Do I need to step in at all?
Because good teaching in early years doesn’t always mean doing something.
Sometimes the best thing a practitioner can do is give a child enough time to work something out.
Knowing when not to help
This can be surprisingly difficult for adults.
A child is trying to fit something together.
It won’t fit.
We can see exactly what they need to do.
Every part of us wants to reach over and fix it.
But wait.
They turn it around.
Still doesn't fit.
They try another way.
Nope.
They look at it.
Try again.
And suddenly...
It works.
That moment is important.
Because they didn't only learn how that particular object fits together.
They learned:
I can keep trying.
I can solve problems.
I don't always need somebody else to do it for me.
If we'd stepped in at the first sign of difficulty and said:
“Here, let me show you,”
we might have solved the immediate problem.
But we may also have accidentally taken away the learning.
So sometimes you'll hear us say:
“Hmm… that's tricky.”
“What else could you try?”
“I wonder if there's another way?”
Or even:
“You keep trying. I'm right here if you need me.”
We're available.
But we're not always going to swoop in with the answer.
So what are the adults actually doing?
This is where play-based learning can sometimes be misunderstood.
A child-led environment doesn't mean the children play while the adults stand around supervising.
Our practitioners are watching, listening, joining, modelling, questioning, introducing new words, supporting friendships, noticing development and looking for opportunities to extend children's thinking.
The skill is knowing when.
Imagine a child repeatedly rolling cars down a ramp.
An adult could look at that and think:
They've been playing with those cars for ages.
Or they could wonder:
What are they investigating?
Perhaps the child is beginning to notice that some cars travel further than others.
A practitioner might sit nearby and say:
“Wow, that one went really far!”
Then perhaps:
“Which one do you think will go furthest?”
Now the child is predicting.
Maybe they try raising the ramp.
The cars travel faster.
“What happened when you made the ramp higher?”
Now we're comparing.
Experimenting.
Testing ideas.
Finding out what happens when something changes.
The practitioner hasn't taken over the game.
They've added just enough to move the thinking forward.
And sometimes... we leave them completely alone
This bit matters too.
Not every piece of play needs an adult firing questions at it.
Imagine you're completely engrossed in something and somebody appears beside you every thirty seconds:
“What colour is that?”
“How many have you got?”
“What are you making?”
“Why did you put that there?”
You'd probably want them to go away too.
Sometimes children are deeply concentrating.
They're thinking.
They're experimenting.
They're creating an imaginary world together.
They're negotiating something with a friend.
And our involvement would interrupt rather than enhance it.
So a practitioner may simply stay nearby and observe.
Knowing when to join children's play — and when to protect it — is an important part of what we do.
“Why do they keep doing the same thing over and over again?”
Because repetition is learning.
Although admittedly, when you've watched your child pour the same cup of water into the same container for the hundredth time, it might not feel that way.
Children repeat experiences because they're figuring things out.
They might fill a container.
Empty it.
Fill it again.
Tip it from higher up.
Try a different container.
Watch the water overflow.
Do it again.
They're exploring ideas like capacity, cause and effect, volume and movement.
The same thing happens when children repeatedly:
build and knock down towers,
open and close doors,
line objects up,
push vehicles down slopes,
transport things from one place to another,
fill bags and empty them again,
or ask you to read the same book every single night for six months.
Repetition helps children understand how the world works.
So while we're thinking:
Surely you've finished with that now?
they may still be thinking:
But what happens if I do it THIS way?
What about messy play?
We apologise in advance for the washing.
Paint, mud, sand, water, playdough, glue, foam...
Young children learn through their whole bodies and all of their senses.
When they're squeezing playdough, they're strengthening the muscles in their hands and fingers that they'll later need for things like writing.
When they're pouring water, they're developing coordination and control.
When they're mixing colours, they're noticing change.
When they're scooping sand into containers, they're exploring quantity and capacity.
When they're painting with their fingers, they're experiencing texture, making choices and creating.
And yes.
Occasionally they're also discovering exactly how much paint can fit up one sleeve.
That's learning too.
Possibly not the learning we had planned.
But learning nonetheless.
What about letters and numbers?
Learning through play doesn't mean we ignore early literacy and maths.
Quite the opposite.
They're everywhere.
Children count plates while setting up a pretend café.
They recognise their name when they self-register.
They make marks while taking an order in the role-play area.
They compare whose tower is taller.
They notice numbers on doors.
They sing rhymes.
They look at books.
They make signs for their den.
They divide pretend food between friends.
They talk about whether something is bigger, smaller, more, less, under, behind or next to something else.
A practitioner might notice a child making marks and ask:
“What have you written?”
The child might proudly announce:
“It says NO DINOSAURS.”
Perfect.
Those marks have a purpose.
The child has discovered one of the most important things about writing:
Marks can carry meaning.
We can build from there.
What does this look like at Kind Hearts?
Our approach is very much about meeting children where they are.
Rather than planning a week's worth of activities and expecting every child to engage with them in the same way, we look at the children in front of us.
What are they interested in today?
What are they trying to understand?
What could we introduce that might take their thinking a little further?
This is a big part of In the Moment Planning.
It means learning opportunities don't always need to be planned days in advance.
Sometimes the best opportunity appears unexpectedly.
A child finds a snail outside.
Suddenly five children are fascinated.
Where does it live?
What does it eat?
Why does it have a shell?
Can it see us?
Where should we put it so it stays safe?
We could stick rigidly to an activity we'd planned earlier.
Or we could recognise:
This is the learning.
And follow it.
Try it at home: Resist the urge to test them
When adults realise how much learning happens through play, it's very easy to accidentally turn every game into a quiz.
“What colour is that?”
“How many are there?”
“What letter does that start with?”
“What shape is this?”
Questions aren't bad.
But conversation is often even better.
Instead of testing what your child already knows, try wondering alongside them.
Rather than:
“What colour do blue and yellow make?”
try:
“I wonder what will happen if we mix these together?”
Instead of:
“How many blocks are there?”
try:
“Your tower is getting enormous! I wonder how high you can make it?”
Instead of:
“What shape is that?”
try:
“Hmm… I wonder which piece might fit in there?”
Now you're exploring together.
Try it at home: Don't rush to solve the problem
When something goes wrong, give your child a moment before stepping in.
Their tower falls.
Their zip won't work.
The train track doesn't connect.
They can't reach something.
Pause.
You might say:
“That's tricky. What could you try?”
Or:
“Shall we have another look?”
If they're becoming genuinely frustrated, of course you can help.
But try giving them the chance to be the problem-solver first.
You might be surprised by what they come up with.
Try it at home: Follow their interests
You don't need a cupboard full of educational activities to support your child's learning.
Start with what they're already interested in.
If they love dinosaurs, count dinosaurs, draw dinosaurs, read dinosaur books, make dinosaur footprints in playdough or build them a home.
If they're obsessed with vehicles, talk about where they're going, compare sizes, make roads, look for numbers on buses or wonder why some vehicles have more wheels than others.
If they love helping you cook, let them pour, mix, count, measure and talk about what changes.
Learning doesn't need to look like schoolwork to count.
So... what did they learn today?
Possibly maths.
Maybe science.
Almost certainly language.
Perhaps they negotiated with another child, coped when something went wrong, solved a problem, strengthened the muscles they'll eventually use for writing, tested an idea, learned a new word, created an imaginary world or discovered something new about how things work.
They might have done all of those things.
And when you collect them, you'll ask:
“What did you do today?”
And they'll still say:
“Played.”
And that's okay.
Because at Kind Hearts, play isn't what children do when they're not learning.
Play is how young children learn.
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