Samantha Johnson

One of the most important lessons I have learned as a Pre-K teacher is that children do not enter the classroom at the same starting point - and they should not be expected to learn in exactly the same way.

In a single Pre-K classroom, one child may already be writing their name independently while another is still developing the fine motor strength needed to comfortably hold a pencil. One child may confidently count objects and recognize numerals, while another is just beginning to understand that numbers represent quantities. Some children express themselves through detailed conversations, while others communicate their ideas more naturally through drawing, building, movement, or play.

That is where differentiated instruction becomes so important.

What Differentiation Looks Like in Pre-K

Differentiating instruction does not mean creating an entirely different lesson for every child. Instead, it means understanding where each child is developmentally and providing opportunities that allow them to participate, grow, and experience an appropriate level of challenge.

In my classroom, this often happens naturally through the materials, questions, visual tools, classroom spaces, and choices available to children.

During our own Writer's Workshop, for example, one child may draw a picture and dictate their story to a teacher. Another may be ready to begin adding letters or recognizable words to their drawing. A child who is ready for an additional challenge may work on adding details, sequencing events, or developing the beginning, middle, and end of their story.

All of these children are participating in the same writing experience. The expectation simply meets each child where they are and encourages them toward their next step.

Meeting individual needs does not always mean changing what children are learning. Sometimes it means changing how they are able to access the learning.

The Classroom Environment as a Teaching Tool

One of the most valuable tools we have is something children interact with all day long: the classroom environment itself.

In early childhood education, the environment can do some of the teaching for us. The way materials are displayed, the accessibility of learning tools, the organization of classroom spaces, and the visual information available to children can provide multiple ways for them to navigate the classroom and engage in learning.

Visual tools are especially helpful in a Pre-K classroom. Picture schedules, labels with words and images, number lines, alphabet references, step-by-step picture directions, name cards, emotion visuals, and examples of children's work give children something concrete to reference when they need it.

For one child, a visual may simply reinforce something they already understand. For another, that same visual may be what allows them to participate more independently.

A child who cannot yet read the words on a classroom label can recognize the picture beside it. A child learning to write their name can reference a name card, while another child may no longer need it. A child who has difficulty remembering the steps of a routine can look at a visual sequence rather than relying on an adult to repeat the directions.

The tools are available to everyone, but each child can use them differently.

This allows us to respond to individual needs without singling children out. Visuals, manipulatives, sensory materials, writing tools, and other resources can be available to the entire class. Children can begin to recognize and choose the tools that help them participate and make sense of their learning.

Observation Comes Before Differentiation

Meeting children where they are begins with knowing our students.

In early childhood education, observation is one of our most valuable assessment tools. Watching a child build a structure, negotiate with a friend, tell a story, investigate something from nature, or attempt to write their name can tell us a great deal about their development. But observation is not only about noticing what a child can or cannot do. It is also about paying attention to what children communicate without words.

Sometimes a child may be interested in an activity or classroom provocation but hesitant to approach it. They may stand nearby and watch other children before joining, reach toward a material and then pull away, or repeatedly return without participating.

Those moments are communication too.

Rather than assuming a child is uninterested, we can become curious about what their behavior is telling us. Maybe they need time to observe before participating. Maybe they would feel more comfortable alongside a familiar friend. Maybe the amount of materials feels overwhelming, or perhaps they simply need to see someone else explore first.

Instead of immediately deciding what a child needs, we can watch, make a small adjustment, and continue observing their response.

Meeting individual needs is not always about making an activity academically easier or more challenging. Sometimes it is about changing how a child enters the experience.

Creating Different Entry Points Within the Same Environment

Once we have observed what children are communicating to us, we can begin thinking about how the environment might respond.

Creating an accessible classroom does not mean limiting an opportunity for everyone because it may not work for one child. Instead, we can create multiple entry points into the same learning.

Loose parts are a great example.

A large collection of loose parts spread across a table may be exciting and inspiring for one child. They may immediately begin exploring, building, sorting, or creating in ways we never anticipated. For another child, that same table may feel visually overwhelming. Faced with so many choices, they may have difficulty deciding where to begin or may choose not to engage at all.

The answer does not have to be removing materials from the children who thrive with that abundance.

Instead, we can provide another way in. A smaller tray containing a few intentionally selected loose parts might be available alongside the larger collection. A child could begin with three or four materials and add more when they are ready, while another child is free to explore the entire collection from the beginning.

Both children are engaging with the same provocation. Neither approach is the "easier" or "better" version. We are simply recognizing that what feels inspiring to one child may feel overwhelming to another.

The same thinking can extend beyond loose parts. A child might benefit from a visual nearby, a quieter place to explore, a familiar material alongside something new, or the opportunity to observe a peer before beginning.

Open-ended materials such as blocks, clay, paint, loose parts, and dramatic-play materials naturally make room for this. They do not require every child to reach the same outcome. Children can experiment, problem-solve, create, and communicate at their own developmental level while still sharing the same classroom experience.

We do not have to take something away from one child in order to make it accessible to another. We can create space for both.

Differentiating the Question, Not Just the Activity

Sometimes meeting children where they are can be as simple as changing the question we ask.

While exploring the same collection of materials, I might ask one child, "What do you notice?" Another might be asked, "How are these two objects different?" A child ready for deeper thinking might hear, "What do you think would happen if we changed this?" or "How could you test your idea?"

The materials have not changed. The classroom community has not changed. What has changed is the invitation to think.

We can also give children multiple ways to respond. A child may point to an object instead of verbally explaining it. Another may draw their thinking. Another may use materials to demonstrate an idea, while another is ready to explain their reasoning in words.

When children have multiple ways to understand a question and communicate what they know, we recognize that learning does not look the same for every four- or five-year-old.

Different Does Not Mean Less

Providing children with what they need does not mean lowering expectations.

Every child deserves to be viewed as capable.

Our role is to create the conditions that allow each child to demonstrate that capability. A child who uses a picture cue, hands-on material, teacher model, smaller selection of materials, or additional time is not necessarily capable of less. They may simply need another pathway into the learning.

A child who needs more guidance today may independently accomplish the same task weeks or months later. Development in early childhood can happen quickly, and it does not always follow a perfectly predictable path.

Instead of asking, "Can this child do what everyone else is doing?" I believe a more meaningful question is, "What can this child do now, and what can I change, add, or provide to help them take the next step?"

Preparing Children for What Comes Next

There can be tremendous pressure in Pre-K to prepare children academically for kindergarten. School readiness matters, but readiness is about much more than completing worksheets or mastering a checklist of academic skills.

Children are also learning how to communicate their needs, persist when something is difficult, solve problems, collaborate with others, make choices, develop independence, and become confident in their own ideas.

A responsive classroom allows us to build those skills while also developing foundations in literacy, mathematics, science, fine motor development, and other areas of learning.

The goal should not be to make every Pre-K child look like the same learner by the end of the year. The goal is to help every child make meaningful progress from where they began.

When we intentionally use our questions, materials, visual tools, observations, and even the physical classroom itself to meet children where they are, differentiated instruction becomes less about creating separate lessons and more about creating a classroom where every child has an entry point into learning.

Sometimes the most meaningful adjustment begins not with what we say to a child, but with how carefully we notice what they are already telling us.

And perhaps that is one of the most important things we can give young children before kindergarten: the experience of knowing that there is more than one way to learn, more than one way to participate, more than one way to show what you know, and a place in the classroom for exactly where you are today.

One of my favorite things about teaching Pre-K is watching a simple idea grow into something much bigger than I could have planned myself.

Recently, my students created their very own children's book from beginning to end. This wasn't a book where I provided the story and they simply illustrated the pages. It wasn't a fill-in-the-blank writing activity or a teacher-directed craft designed to look the same for every child.

This story belonged to them.

They created the character. They developed the plot. They decided what would happen in the beginning, middle, and end. They drew the illustrations, worked through the words, discussed the problems their character would face, and decided how those problems would eventually be resolved.

And that is how Lily the Bunny came to life.

Before There Was Lily

Before there was a story, there had to be a character-and even that decision belonged to the children.

We began by brainstorming character ideas individually and then together as a class. Each child had the opportunity to think of a character, share their idea, and explain it to the group. We listened as classmates presented their ideas, talked about the different possibilities, and considered what kind of character could lead our story.

This process took collaboration. The children had to learn that creating something together sometimes means your own idea may not be the one the group ultimately chooses. They practiced listening to one another, expressing their opinions, considering someone else's perspective, and working toward a shared decision.

Eventually, after all of the brainstorming, presenting, discussing, and collaborating, the class decided together: our character would be Lily the Bunny.

That decision may seem small, but the process behind it was significant.

Before we had written a single word of the book, the children were already practicing skills they will need in kindergarten and beyond-speaking in front of a group, listening to peers, communicating ideas, taking turns, compromising, making group decisions, and respecting that other people may have ideas different from their own.

Most importantly, Lily wasn't my character that I introduced to the class.

She was theirs.

Meet Lily the Bunny

The children named their book Lily the Bunny Finds Christmas.

Together, they imagined Lily as a bunny who sometimes struggled to make good choices. She wasn't always nice to her friends. Sometimes she made "naughty" choices, and other times she made "nice" ones. When Christmas came, Lily discovered that she did not receive a gift.

Suddenly, our little classroom story had a problem to solve.

What should Lily do? Could she make things right? What would happen next?

The children worked through those questions together. Eventually, they decided that Lily would change her actions, make things right with her friends, and ultimately share her Christmas gift with them.

What started as an imaginative story about a bunny became an opportunity for children to explore friendship, consequences, kindness, problem-solving, and making things right after a mistake.

But the learning went even further than that.

Building a Book Step by Step

We approached the book as a process rather than rushing toward a finished product.

Once Lily had been chosen, the children had another challenge: What was going to happen to her?

Again, the ideas came from them. They began thinking about Lily's personality, the choices she might make, the problem she would encounter, and how she might solve it. Together, they planned the beginning, middle, and end of the story.

As their ideas developed, they illustrated the story and added their own words. Their drawings weren't decorations added after the "real" learning was finished. The drawings were part of the learning.

A child's picture can communicate an idea before that child has the conventional writing skills to fully express it on paper. Their illustrations gave them another language for telling their story, organizing their thoughts, and showing what they understood.

This is something I value deeply in a Reggio-inspired classroom: recognizing that children communicate and make meaning in many different ways.

Their drawings mattered.

Their conversations mattered.

Their early writing mattered.

Their questions mattered.

And most importantly, their ideas mattered.

The Reggio Emilia Connection

The Reggio Emilia approach encourages us to view children as capable, curious thinkers who can actively participate in constructing their own learning.

Instead of beginning with, "What worksheet do they need to complete?" we can begin with, "What are they trying to understand, create, or communicate?"

The teacher's role changes, too.

I didn't need to tell the children exactly what Lily should do on every page. My role was to listen, observe, ask questions, provide materials, document their thinking, and help them take their ideas further.

"What happens next?"

"How does Lily feel when that happens?"

"What is the problem in our story?"

"How could Lily fix it?"

"What should we show in the picture so someone reading our book understands what is happening?"

Questions like these allow children to do the thinking while the teacher provides the scaffolding necessary to help them move forward.

That distinction is important.

Child-led learning doesn't mean that the teacher steps away. It means we intentionally create the conditions for children to think, experiment, communicate, revise, and discover.

But How Does This Prepare Them for Kindergarten?

When we talk about kindergarten readiness, the conversation can quickly become focused on letters, numbers, handwriting, and how many sight words a child knows.

Those skills have their place. But readiness is much bigger than a checklist of isolated academic skills.

Think about everything my students practiced while creating Lily the Bunny Finds Christmas.

They practiced oral language as they presented ideas and explained their thinking. They learned to listen while someone else had the floor. They practiced collaboration when they had to take many different ideas and turn them into one shared story. They strengthened early literacy skills by connecting spoken words to print. They practiced drawing and writing, strengthening the fine-motor skills they will use throughout kindergarten. They explored sequencing as they organized events into a beginning, middle, and end.

They learned that stories have characters, problems, events, and solutions.

They had to remember previous ideas and build upon them.

They had to listen to their classmates.

They had to negotiate when someone had a different idea.

They had to accept that sometimes the group would choose another child's idea instead of their own.

They had to plan ahead.

They had to solve problems.

They had to revise.

They had to persist.

Those are kindergarten skills, too.

In fact, many of the skills children will need to successfully participate in a kindergarten classroom can develop naturally when they are given meaningful work that requires them to use those skills for a purpose.

From Our Classroom to a Real Book

Perhaps one of the most meaningful moments of the entire project came after the writing and illustrating were finished.

We took the children's work and turned it into an actual printed book.

The excitement when the children saw Lily the Bunny Finds Christmas as a real book was something special. The character they had imagined together was now on the pages in front of them. Their drawings were illustrations. Their words were part of a published story. They could hold the finished book in their hands, turn the pages, and recognize the pieces they had helped create.

Even more exciting was knowing that they could have a copy of the book for themselves at home.

Suddenly, this wasn't just another classroom project that would eventually come down from a bulletin board or get tucked into a folder. It became something tangible that they could take home, read with their families, and proudly say, "We made this."

For young children, I think there is something incredibly powerful about seeing their work treated as something worthy of being preserved and shared.

Their ideas were important enough to print.

Their pictures were important enough to become illustrations.

Their words were important enough for someone else to read.

And the story they created together was important enough to become a book.

Giving Children Ownership

Watching the children hold the finished book brought the entire project full circle.

Their brainstorm became Lily.

Their conversations became a plot.

Their drawings became illustrations.

Their early writing became pages.

Their individual ideas became one shared story.

And that shared story became a real book they could hold in their hands and bring into their homes.

There is something powerful about giving young children the opportunity to see an idea through from beginning to end. They begin to understand that their thoughts have value while also learning that someone else's idea can add value to their own.

The finished book gave them a visible reminder of what they were capable of accomplishing together.

That sense of ownership and pride is something I want my students to carry with them into kindergarten.

I want them to enter their next classroom knowing how to wonder, ask questions, share ideas, listen to others, collaborate, solve problems, make mistakes, try again, and take pride in something they created.

More Than a Children's Book

Lily the Bunny Finds Christmas may look like a simple children's book created by a group of Pre-K students.

But when I look at it, I see much more.

I see children becoming writers.

I see artists becoming storytellers.

I see children learning to stand in front of their peers and say, "I have an idea."

I see classmates learning how to listen, compromise, and turn many individual ideas into one shared creation.

I see children thinking about friendship, choices, consequences, and kindness.

I see early literacy developing naturally through something they cared about creating.

And then I see the pride on their faces when they hold the finished book-their finished book-and realize that something that once existed only in their imaginations is now something they can hold, read, share, and keep.

That moment captures so much of what I love about a Reggio-inspired classroom.

We trusted the children with an idea.

We gave them the time and space to develop it.

We listened to their voices.

We provided the tools to help them bring it to life.

And in the end, they were able to see exactly what their ideas could become.

That, to me, is what kindergarten readiness can look like.

Sometimes preparing a child for the next step doesn't mean pushing them toward it faster.

Sometimes it means giving them the time, materials, trust, and freedom to discover just how much they are already capable of doing-and then giving them the opportunity to hold that accomplishment in their own two hands.

When I began teaching Pre-K in 2022, I knew I wanted to create a classroom where children felt loved, supported, and excited to learn. Over the years, that belief has only grown stronger. And becoming a mother myself has given me an even deeper appreciation for just how quickly childhood passes.

We spend so much time talking about getting children "ready" for what comes next. In Pre-K, that usually means kindergarten. We think about letters, numbers, writing, assessments, and all the skills children are expected to have when they walk through those kindergarten doors.

Those things matter. But I have learned that kindergarten readiness is about so much more.

I want my students to leave Pre-K knowing how to ask questions, solve problems, express themselves, work with others, try something new, and keep going when something feels difficult. I want them to be curious. I want them to be creative. Most of all, I want them to still be excited about learning.

And I believe one of the best ways to accomplish that is to let them play.

A Classroom Built Around Curiosity

The Reggio Emilia approach has had a tremendous influence on the educator I have become and the type of classroom I strive to create. At the heart of this approach is the belief that children are capable, curious, creative learners who have their own ideas, questions, and ways of understanding the world.

Rather than viewing the teacher as the person who holds all the answers, the Reggio Emilia approach encourages educators to become observers, listeners, and partners in children's learning. We pay attention to what children are interested in, listen closely to their conversations, and use their questions as opportunities to take learning further.

In my classroom, I don't want learning to always begin with me standing in front of the children and telling them what they need to know. Sometimes the most meaningful learning begins with a child's question.

• "What is inside a flower?"
• "Where does the bee take the pollen?"
• "Does the flower like that the bee is taking nectar from it?"
• "How does the bee make its hive?"
• "What would happen if we mixed these together?"

Those questions may sound simple, but they can lead us somewhere incredible.

An interest in bees and flowers can turn into dissecting real flowers, transferring pretend nectar with droppers, studying pollination, creating art, drawing observations, learning new vocabulary, taste testing local honey, reading stories, counting, writing, and having conversations with friends.

The children are still developing the skills they need for kindergarten, but they are doing it through an experience that feels meaningful to them.

That difference matters.

Where Art and Education Come Together

My background in art education has also shaped the way I teach. I graduated from Western Carolina University with degrees in education and fine arts education, and creativity has always been an important part of who I am.

This part of my background connects beautifully with another idea found within the Reggio Emilia philosophy-the belief that children have many different ways to communicate their thinking. Sometimes referred to as the "hundred languages of children," this idea recognizes that children express themselves not only through spoken or written words, but also through drawing, painting, movement, building, dramatic play, sculpture, music, and countless other forms of expression.

I don't see art as something we do simply to fill time or to make something cute to send home.

For young children, art is a language.

Before children can perfectly explain an idea with words or write an entire story, they can draw it. They can build it. They can paint it. They can create it with clay, blocks, loose parts, or materials they discover outside.

When I give a child a blank piece of paper rather than a predetermined craft, I am giving them an opportunity to make a decision. When I ask, "Tell me about what you made," instead of telling them what their picture is supposed to be, I am showing them that their ideas have value.

Those little moments build confidence.

Motherhood Changed My Perspective, Too

Becoming a mother has made this philosophy even more personal for me.

When you are both a teacher and a parent, you see childhood through two different lenses. I understand the responsibility educators have to prepare children academically, but as a mother, I also understand the desire to hold onto those little years for just a little longer.

Our children have many years ahead of them to sit at desks, complete assignments, take tests, and meet academic expectations.

They only get to be four once.

They only get to be five once.

That doesn't mean we lower our expectations for young children. In fact, I think children are capable of far more than we sometimes realize. But being capable doesn't mean they need to learn like adults.

Young children learn through movement. They learn through relationships. They learn by touching, building, pretending, creating, experimenting, talking, questioning, and playing.

We should protect that.

Play and Kindergarten Readiness Can Exist Together

Sometimes play-based learning is misunderstood as children simply being allowed to do whatever they want all day. Intentional play-based education is much more than that.

As a teacher, I am constantly observing, listening, asking questions, introducing materials, documenting learning, and thinking about where an experience could go next. These practices are also strongly connected to the Reggio Emilia approach, where educators thoughtfully respond to children's interests while helping extend their thinking.

Children can practice mathematics while building a tower. They can develop literacy while making signs for a pretend store. They can learn science while digging in the dirt. They can strengthen fine-motor skills while working with clay, droppers, scissors, and art materials. They can develop social-emotional skills while figuring out how to share an idea or solve a disagreement with a friend.

That is real learning.

We don't have to choose between preparing children for kindergarten and allowing them to have a childhood.

We can do both.

What I Hope My Students Remember

Years from now, my students probably won't remember every activity I planned or every lesson I taught.

But I hope they remember how it felt to be in a classroom where someone listened to their ideas.

I hope they remember being allowed to wonder.

I hope they remember getting messy, creating something they were proud of, discovering something new, laughing with their friends, and realizing that they could do something they once thought was hard.

As an educator and a mother, I believe we owe children an early education that recognizes both who they are becoming and who they are right now.

Pre-K is important because it lays a foundation for kindergarten, but its value reaches far beyond academics. It is an opportunity to help children develop confidence, independence, creativity, empathy, curiosity, and a genuine love of learning.

We don't need to rush children toward the next stage of life.

We need to give them meaningful experiences in the stage they're in.

Let them explore. Let them create. Let them ask a hundred questions. Let them get their hands dirty. Let them imagine.

Let them play.

Because when we give children the freedom and support to discover the world for themselves, we aren't taking time away from learning.

We are teaching them how to become learners.