Every morning, I open my door with a smile. No matter how little I’ve slept, no matter if my head is heavy with worry, no matter if I’m feeling run down — that first knock on the door is my moment to reset. The children arrive, and I greet them with warmth, because they deserve nothing less.
What families see is joy, patience, energy, and love. What they don’t see is the hidden weight that sits behind the smile.
The Many Hats We Wear
In early years, especially as childminders, we are never just one thing. We are educators, business owners, administrators, cooks, cleaners, entertainers, counsellors, advocates, and playmates. We manage funding, keep training up to date, and complete paperwork that nobody outside our world quite understands.
Much of this happens unseen: late-night training after our own children are in bed, Saturdays given up for first aid, evenings spent creating invitations to play. Parents don’t see the hours after dark filling in funding forms or reflecting on practice. And they shouldn’t have to — that’s not their weight to carry. But it is ours.
The Weight That Lingers
Ofsted is often the word that makes our hearts beat faster. Accountability matters — families deserve transparency, and children deserve the very best. But the weight isn’t only in the grade itself. It’s in the inconsistency.
On one day, you might be told you’re outstanding. On another day, doing the exact same things, you could be told you’ve fallen short. Not because your practice changed, but because the perspective of the inspector did. That unpredictability leaves us second-guessing ourselves and questioning not only our work, but our worth.
And even when the inspection ends, the pressure doesn’t. It lingers like a shadow — a reminder that everything we pour ourselves into can hang on the opinion of whoever walks through the door.
The Unseen Burden
But the weight isn’t just about inspection. It’s about the way we carry on giving, no matter what’s happening in our own lives.
We’ve all had those mornings where life feels overwhelming. Maybe we’re exhausted from worries that kept us awake at night. Maybe family challenges are playing on our minds. Yet still, we open the door, dance around the living room, and head outdoors to hunt for conkers or splash in puddles.
That’s the unseen reality of our role. The children don’t see our tiredness or our struggles — and they shouldn’t have to. They see our smiles, our energy, our willingness to play. We give them the best of us, even when we’re running on empty ourselves. Because that’s what they deserve.
The Misconceptions We Battle
And still, despite everything, our profession is often misunderstood.
How many of us have heard: “Childcare is the easy option”? Or: “You just play all day”? Or been met with the assumption that we’re unskilled or “just babysitters”?
The reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Play isn’t “just” anything. It is complex, powerful, and deeply rooted in how children learn. To scaffold it well takes observation, reflection, and professional knowledge. Understanding child development, recognising schemas, and following interests — that is skilled work.
Yet so often, the weight we carry is made heavier by the lack of value placed on what we do.
Why We Keep Showing Up
So why do we keep showing up, despite the exhaustion, despite the undervaluing, despite the pressure?
Because the children matter.
Because we know the difference we make, even if the world doesn’t always recognise it.
Because nothing compares to watching a child’s eyes light up when they discover something new, or the pride in their face when they master a skill. Nothing compares to the moment a child runs into your arms for comfort, or when a parent tells you how much their child loves being with you.
These are the moments that outweigh the struggle.
I’ve had mornings where I’ve been drained and heavy-hearted, only to find myself laughing uncontrollably as I chased children around the garden pretending to be a dragon. I’ve had days where I’ve questioned myself, only for a child’s hug to remind me that I am exactly what they need.
This is why we keep showing up. Not because the job is easy — but because the children deserve the best of us, and we refuse to give them anything less.
Accountability and Respect
This isn’t about rejecting accountability. I believe in high standards. I believe families deserve clarity, and I believe children deserve excellence.
But I also believe educators deserve respect.
We need a system that recognises the heart, knowledge, and commitment we pour into this work. A system that supports us to improve, rather than leaves us fearful of falling. A system that understands the weight we already carry, rather than adding to it.
Because accountability without respect doesn’t strengthen us — it weakens us. And when educators are depleted, children are the ones who lose out. We are watching too many incredible individuals walk away from the profession, and too many wonderful settings close their doors — not because the love has gone, but simply the pressures have become to heavy to bear.
The Love That Wins
The weight we carry in early years is real. The unseen hours, the hidden struggles, the emotional toll — they are all part of our story.
But so is the love.
Every morning, despite everything, we open the door with a smile. We choose to give children the best of ourselves, even when it costs us. We carry the weight quietly, because the joy, the learning, and the love matter more.
The world may never fully see the unseen weight of our role. But every child who has ever felt safe, loved, and celebrated in our care has lived the truth of it.
And at the end of the day, that’s why we keep showing up. Because the weight is heavy — but the love is heavier. And every day, the love wins.
Guiding The Young Ones 
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