Early Years Scotland

We’ve reached the time of year where our pre-schoolers are practising songs, donning their caps and gowns, and getting very excited about their nursery leaving events. Finally, after what’s felt like an eternity, parents and carers, grandparents, sisters and brothers, aunties and uncles and a host of other family members are able to share in this joyous occasion in person. It’s an exciting time for everyone. It’s certainly an exciting time for our family, as my youngest prepares to take the leap from the nursery which has nurtured and cared for him since he was 18 months old to primary school.  We have had, overall, a positive experience with regards to this transition. We know the school, having a current P7 there who is about to go into the next chapter of his own journey as he starts secondary school. As a family we’re familiar with the school environment and the staff and, were it not for our old pal Covid, my trainee P1 would have been fortunate to have been in the building mu...

Elections are an essential part of the democratic processes of our country. We vote individuals and political parties into positions of power because we believe that they will best represent our interests, our families and our communities overall. While this is the case every time we take to the ballot boxes (which, let’s face it, we’ve done more than most over the last ten years or so), it rings even more true at local elections, where votes determine who will make up the elected representatives in each of Scotland’s 32 local authorities.  This vote is really important – legislation, policy and practice are made at Holyrood, but so much of it is put into practice at local level. Yet historically, these elections tend to have a low turnout, both in population terms and compared to others which take place, such as the Scottish and UK Parliaments. Often, this is due to a perception that this vote is somehow not as important as others. How often have you heard someone say that they do...

Have you ever had that feeling where you’re reading or writing something and you see a word so many times that it no longer has any meaning? Despite the fact that it is absolutely 100% real and it’s in the dictionary, you’ve read it so often that what it’s actually supposed to mean is lost. I feel a bit like that with the word crisis at the moment. We’ve had a Covid crisis. The NHS is in crisis. There’s a crisis in the Ukraine. We’re living through a climate crisis. It’s common to hear of a crisis of confidence in our leaders, whether that be on an international, national or local basis. The crisis that everyone’s talking about at the moment, however, is the cost-of-living crisis. Any time you turn on the news or scroll through Twitter, there are discussions about skyrocketing energy and food prices, a rise in National Insurance, exorbitant fuel costs and a general increase in the cost of everyday items, with little to no increase in wages or benefits to balance this out. There is no...

I’m Lorna, and I love policy. I understand that I’m probably in the minority with this statement, but I have n o shame in embracing my inner policy geek. I’ve worked in this field for nearly 14 years and I remain utterly committed to and passionate about it. I think a lot of this has to do with the way I’ve always approached policy development – namely, that you cannot make decisions that will impact on people’s lives without consulting with them first. The value of real lived experience absolutely has to sit at the heart of decision-making at all levels, otherwise any proposals, measures or projects will not have the necessary intended impact. In my role, I always have and always will work to influence policy for people, using their views, experiences and ideas.  Decision-making in Scotland has always been done on a participatory basis – the Scottish Government has a frequently updated consultations section on their website, and the Scottish Parliament encourages civic society to ...

  If you spend a lot of time in the company of small children (and not so small children, to be fair), then you’re probably going through something very similar to me just now. Nope, not the stark realisation that your nearly 5-year-old is getting ready to start school and he’s not a baby anymore (sob). Not the awareness that getting back to the office a few days a week means you’ll need to wear something that probably isn’t stretchy and definitely requires matching socks. I’m talking about those moments when you’re doing something really mundane like making a cup of tea or washing your hands, and before you know it, you’re belting out “SEVEN FOOT FRAME, rrrrrrats along his back” and attempting to sing all three parts of that bit towards the end of the song. That’s right. I’m talking about Bruno. You know, the Bruno we’re quite categorically not supposed to talk about. Not just Bruno either, to be fair - the whole of the family Madrigal has absolute command of my brain approxi...

Sustainability is a word we hear more and more nowadays. We are becoming more aware of what we can do to support a sustainable economy and environment, because we associate it with ultimately building a better future for our children. It's a funny word though - when used in the context above, it’s a good thing. In early learning and childcare (ELC), however, it doesn’t really have the same connotations. In our sector, particularly for private, voluntary and independent (PVI) colleagues, it’s like the bare minimum – a term used to describe nothing more than what’s needed to survive. It’s just about enough. We hear, time and time again, that our settings, and indeed the sector overall, needs to be sustainable. We have to prove that how we are shaping the lives of our youngest children, in the most positive way, is sustainable. We call for a sustainable funding rate so that our PVI colleagues can attempt to ‘catch up’ with resources, opportunities and above all wages, afforded to thos...

  I grew up in a small town in rural Angus in the 1980s, where there was little to no formal childcare, let alone entitlement to access it. So, a couple of times a week, my mum and I would walk up to the building behind the library which housed the wonderful Peter Pan playgroup. I remember vividly what I now recognise as an exceptional early years experience, the likes of which should be afforded to all children in Scotland. I remember the big wooden climbing frame in the middle of the room. I remember Mrs Scrimgeour and Jan, the women who ran the service, supported by parents like my mum. I remember sitting down to have milk out of a carton and a biscuit around a table with people who I still wish a happy birthday to on Facebook or stop to have a chat with if I meet them in the street. My partner-in-crime at playgroup has been my best friend since we started there, a non-biological auntie to my own children and still chief mischief maker. Playgroups have consistently provide...