Learning and Unlearning: Returning to the Room

As I prepare to step into a room leader role later this year, I’ve found myself in a period of learning and unlearning. I’m not in post yet, but I am already consciously shifting my thinking, noticing when my “manager head” takes over, and gently reminding myself what it means to be fully present in the room.

Recently, I spent time sitting on the book mat with a small group of eight children aged two to three. There was no planned activity, no learning intention written down, no outcome in mind. We started by singing together familiar songs, shared rhythms, voices joining in when they felt ready.

At some point, the noisy toys box was brought over. Inside it was a microphone that actually works. What followed was less of a song session and more of a karaoke performance. Children took turns holding the microphone, making sounds, laughing, watching each other. Some sang, some shouted, some simply enjoyed holding it and being seen.

Then the whoopee cushions came out.

The focus shifted again. Children sat, stood, waited, laughed. We began to anticipate the sound together. One child started counting slowly, carefully, all the way to nine, counting a peer down before they sat. The rest of the group watched, listened, waited. There was shared anticipation, shared humour, shared attention.

We stayed there for around forty-five minutes.

Not because it was planned. Not because it was impressive. But because the children were deeply engaged.

What I noticed in that moment

What struck me most was not the activity itself, but the quality of the interaction.

The children were:

• Sustaining attention for a long period of time

• Listening to one another

• Taking turns

• Using language, counting, humour and physical movement

• Regulating excitement together

And none of it needed managing.

My role wasn’t to direct or instruct. It was to be present, responsive, and attuned. To notice when to pause, when to laugh, when to wait. To follow rather than lead.

This is the kind of practice that can be easy to forget when you’ve spent time in management roles, when your attention is pulled towards systems, oversight, and problem-solving. Sitting back down on the floor reminded me that strong leadership in the room doesn’t come from control or structure alone. It comes from relationship and responsiveness.

Unlearning the urge to manage

One of the things I’m consciously unlearning is the instinct to step in too quickly. To tidy moments up. To move things along. To think about what should come next.

In that forty-five minutes, nothing needed moving on.

The learning was happening because the children were emotionally safe, engaged, and connected to each other and to the adult with them. That kind of engagement can’t be rushed, and it can’t be manufactured.

It can only be protected.

Relearning what leadership looks like in the room

This experience has been a quiet reminder that being a room leader isn’t about standing back or overseeing from a distance. It’s about modelling high-quality interaction. It’s about joining children where they are, not pulling them towards where we think they should be.

Leadership in the room looks like:

• Being fully present

• Trusting children’s ideas

• Allowing moments to unfold

• Valuing joy, humour, and connection as meaningful learning

These are the foundations of practice and they are easy to lose sight of if we’re not intentional.

A reflection

As I prepare for this next step in my role, I’m holding onto moments like this one. They are grounding. They remind me why practice matters, why presence matters, and why leadership and teaching are deeply intertwined in the early years.

Sometimes, the most powerful learning happens when we sit down, slow down, and join in.

What are you currently learning or unlearning in your role?