In November, Naturally Learning undertook its fourth professional learning visit to Denmark, a country long admired for its calm, child-centred approach to early years education. What began several years ago as a curiosity about forest kindergartens has evolved into something far more meaningful: a deep exploration of culture, pedagogy, leadership and trust.

This year’s visit was led and organised by operations director Tom Richardson and me. Over six days, we visited five settings across Copenhagen and surrounding areas, some privately run, others government-led. Each was different in layout and approach, but all were connected by the same sentiment: childhood is not something to hurry.

As with previous years, places were limited to seven and were highly sought after. Staff from across the organisation applied in writing, and the senior leadership team selected participants through a blind process. Interested staff fill in a form with questions including how the experience would enhance their role. Six members of the senior team score the applications without seeing the names – we are often surprised at who we have picked, but we never change it!

Importantly, roles were not a deciding factor. This year’s group included apprentices, practitioners, managers, a chef and a member of the maintenance team. This diversity matters, because what Denmark offers is not a list of activities to copy, but a mindset shift that affects everyone working in early years. We expected to return with a handful of ideas. We didn’t expect the experience to reshape how we think about our roles, our priorities, and what children truly need from us.

A different rhythm

Across kindergartens, forest schools, Steiner settings and childminders, one phrase came up repeatedly: the rhythm of the day. The days were tightly organised yet felt unhurried. Nothing was rushed. Nothing was loud. Children were not constantly redirected, and adults didn’t fill every moment with instruction.

Educators spoke quietly, moved slowly and trusted the flow of the day. Mornings began with circle time in every setting, but these were not loud, rushed gatherings. Children joined when they were ready. Adults didn’t call across rooms or raise their voices. Instead, song, rhyme, bells, breathing exercises, and calm routines guided the group. Transitions were marked by song rather than instruction. Tasks such as getting dressed, preparing food or tidying were treated as meaningful learning, not obstacles to get through.

One practitioner reflected, “It’s not about getting outside, it’s about the process that leads to it. Getting boots and coats on is the learning.”

This rhythm created calm not only for children, but for staff. There was no sense of firefighting, no raised voices, and no visible stress. Adults knew where they needed to be and what their role was, allowing children freedom within clear boundaries.

In one kindergarten, children lay quietly with their eyes closed and imagined they were in the forest. There was no planned ‘outcome’, just a sincere commitment to wellbeing and emotional regulation. It struck me how powerful it was to start the day with grounded connection, not stimulation.

Trusting children – really trusting them

Perhaps the most striking difference was the level of trust placed in children. In public forests, children climbed steep banks, balanced on fallen trees, used tools and moved independently, all under watchful but distant adult supervision.

There were no fences, no constant reminders, and very few visible rules. Boundaries were explained once and respected. One Danish educator said: “The forest won’t change for us”, meaning this is our environment, we must respect it and understand it, and it is our responsibility to look after ourselves in it.

While this level of risk cannot be directly replicated in the UK, it prompted deep reflection. Are we sometimes too quick to intervene? Too quick to stop a potential learning experience before the learning process has a chance to take place?

Our first visit was to a forest school/kindergarten where the pre-school children were split into two groups. One stayed at the setting while the other walked with us to a public forest. The ratios were noticeably higher than we’re used to in England, around four educators to 10 to 15 children.

The walk was a lesson in trust and capability. The children moved calmly in pairs, held hands, and demonstrated clear road-safety awareness. At one point, two children were even sent ahead to check the road was safe to cross (a cul-de-sac, and under adult oversight). Throughout transitions, the adults sang, songs carried the children from one moment to the next, without commands or rushing.

In the forest, the educators unpacked a wagon and simply let the children play. We watched a game called ‘mole and mouse’, where children formed connections through touch and language. A blindfolded child would guess who they had ‘caught’ based on feel alone, while educators modelled descriptive vocabulary and adjectives.

Back indoors, we saw a wonderfully unusual environment, taxidermy and even fermented animals found in the forest or garden. It was a reminder that nature here wasn’t ‘sanitised’; it was real, messy, fascinating and respected.

Several team members returned questioning their own default reactions. What happens if we pause, observe and talk with children rather than stopping them? What learning are we interrupting when we rush to make things ‘safe’?

Love, kindness and community as curriculum

Across many settings, love and kindness were not abstract values, they were lived daily. Children spoke openly about feelings. Friendship spaces existed for anyone feeling lonely.

Children also made comfort amulets from wooden beads and recycled materials. These hung centrally and could be taken whenever someone needed reassurance: separation anxiety, a doctor visit, or simply a hard day. Children even suggested staff wear them when they were nervous.

A lovely tradition in one setting was birthdays, when each child chose a ‘present’ that the group made from scratch. It demonstrated the value placed on effort, thoughtfulness and community care. Wishing wells invited children to make daily wishes, which gradually shifted from self-focused to group-focused. Acts of care were named aloud: “That was love and kindness.”

This emotional literacy was not tied to assessment or outcomes. It was simply considered essential.

Food, too, played a central role in community. Meals were unhurried, shared by adults and children together, and prepared simply using seasonal ingredients. Children chopped vegetables, served food and cleared tables. Even during our visit to nursery management software company Famly’s head office, we were invited to the shared, daily communal lunch, a powerful reminder that care does not stop with children.

Something special

Alongside the professional learning, there was something else – joy. In the evenings, we ate incredible food, explored the city, and bonded as a team. We also shared a beautiful Steiner tradition together: an Advent spiral, walking a path of greenery by candlelight, carrying an unlit candle in an apple, lighting it from a central flame as a symbol of bringing light into winter darkness.

It was learning, culture, challenge, and connection, all at once. And it reminded me why we do this work. Because when early years is done with trust, love, rhythm and time, it doesn’t just benefit children. It changes adults too.

What we bring back

The visit reaffirmed something vital: high-quality early years practice does not need to be busy, loud or over-resourced. Learning in Denmark was subtle, intentional and deeply respectful of childhood.

We cannot, and should not, merely copy Denmark. Their approach is embedded in culture, policy and societal trust. But we can learn from it.

We return committed to:

• Slowing down daily rhythms.
• Trusting children more and intervening less.
• Valuing process over outcome.
• Using song, routine and calm to support transitions.
• Re-centring love, kindness and community.

As one team member put it: “It reminded me how beautiful our job is – and how lucky we are to work in childcare."