I serve as a facilitator in a one-day-a-week forest program for infants and toddlers, their families, and other home caregivers. The families who attend have diverse circumstances( some stay home with their children, some work full time, some are grandparents), parenting styles, and experiences with outdoor play. Some travel over an hour to join us, seeking connection, community, and a different kind of learning environment for their children. Our program is intentionally designed to be openended, nature-based, and rooted in relationships— among children, families, and the natural world. It’ s within this context that seemingly small interactions, like a child raising a pinwheel, become invitations to pause, notice, and reflect. These moments may appear ordinary, but they hold the seeds of belonging, presence, and transformation.
Practice in Presence
Developmentally appropriate practice( DAP) calls for educators to engage in ongoing reflection that supports responsive and intentional interactions. It also recognizes how important relationships are for children’ s development and learning: When educators nurture their relationships with children, they create caring communities where every child feels safe and welcome. An environment that fosters belonging, purpose, and agency motivates children to learn( NAEYC 2020).
When I pause to observe a child— what they are doing and what they may be thinking or feeling— I’ m often just as aware of what is stirred within me. This reflective stance matters because it shapes the choices I make in the moment. These moments of connection are pedagogical and deeply personal. Vygotsky’ s( 1978) theory of learning as a socially mediated process reinforces this idea: Meaning is co-constructed through relationships, and every interaction carries the potential to shape both the learner and the educator. In my practice, I’ ve found that the more present I am with children, the more I am invited to explore my own beliefs, habits, and assumptions— a key tenet of NAEYC’ s position statement on advancing equity( 2019).
As I reflect on my moment with Noli( and many others like it), I realize that the work of truly seeing and hearing children requires a kind of sustained presence that isn’ t always easy to maintain. Educators wear many hats: Facilitator, nurse, photographer, translator, caregiver. Amid licensing rules, curriculum mandates, and time pressures, it’ s easy to become disconnected from the small, sacred moments that create belonging.
But these moments are critical. I think the ability to make a child feel seen begins with a commitment to curiosity— about the child, yes, but also about ourselves. I have found that when I pause and really look at a child, not just for what they’ re doing but for what they might be thinking or feeling, I open the door to mutual recognition. I’ ve come to understand that this sense of presence is something I can practice and model. Reflection and intentionality are daily choices educators make that shape how children experience being truly seen. While it may feel counterintuitive to focus on our relationship with ourselves as we educate others, that internal work is what makes space for children to be heard and understood( Cigala et al. 2019).
What Changes When We Pause and Reflect
In our pinwheel experience, Noli demonstrated important scientific thinking. She actively investigated cause and effect by lifting and lowering her arm, observing changes in the pinwheel, and adjusting her actions in response to what she observed. She noticed the wind’ s impact, formed a hypothesis, tested it, and confirmed it. An entire cycle of inquiry, conducted with her body and senses! This embodied learning is at the heart of science learning for infants and toddlers, who are more than capable of forming early understandings of big concepts like force, motion, and transformation through their play( Perry & Lange 2024). My role in the moment was to notice, narrate, and affirm the brilliance unfolding in front of me.
68 Young Children
Fall 2026