What Learning from Educators across the United States made me Question about the Future of Scottish Education

Looking Beyond the Trees

When I boarded a flight to Texas earlier this summer, I thought I knew exactly what I was going to learn.

As the founder of Little Bugs Outdoor Nurseries and the Scottish Outdoor Learning Association (SOLA), I have spent much of the last decade championing outdoor learning, children’s right to play, and the importance of connecting young children with the natural world. This journey was an opportunity to experience another education system through the eyes of both an educator and a provider.

I expected to return inspired by innovative outdoor environments, new approaches to nature pedagogy and practical ideas that I could bring back to Scotland.

I certainly found all of those.

What I didn’t expect was to come home asking much bigger questions about the future of education itself.

My journey began at the Natural Start Alliance Conference in San Antonio, one of the largest gatherings of nature-based educators in North America. Over several days, I listened to researchers, policy makers, university lecturers, school leaders and practitioners from across the United States and Canada discuss everything from child development and environmental stewardship to regulation, curriculum and professional practice.

Following the conference, I travelled across Texas, visiting a wide range of early years settings and schools. I spent time in nature preschools, Montessori settings, independent schools, public schools and community-led programmes, speaking with owners, teachers, leaders and families about what high-quality education meant to them.

By the end of those two weeks, I realised this was no longer simply a study tour about outdoor learning.

It had become an opportunity to compare two education systems that have chosen very different paths.

Before I go any further, I want to make one thing absolutely clear.

This is not an article arguing that the American education system is better than Scotland’s.

Nor is it a criticism of Scottish education.

Scotland has much to celebrate. Our commitment to children’s rights, our recognition of play as a fundamental part of childhood and our understanding of the importance of relationships have influenced educators around the world. I remain incredibly proud of the sector I have been fortunate to work within for the past decade.

Equally, the United States faces its own challenges. Conversations around school testing, educational inequality and access to high-quality provision featured throughout my visit. Like every country, it is a system with significant strengths and significant challenges.

What fascinated me was not which system was better.

It was that they seemed to begin from fundamentally different assumptions about education.

Scotland has spent many years refining a national approach built around consistency, regulation and shared expectations. Across much of the United States, I encountered a system that appeared more comfortable with educational diversity, local decision-making and parental choice.

Neither philosophy is inherently right or wrong.

Both involve compromise.

Both bring benefits.

Both create challenges.

Yet travelling between them prompted me to ask a question that has remained with me ever since.

If every child is unique, why do we increasingly expect excellent education to look the same?

It is a question that feels particularly relevant at this moment.

While I was travelling, Scotland announced the most significant update to Curriculum for Excellence in more than a decade. The intention is to provide greater clarity about what children should know, understand and be able to do throughout their education. Greater clarity, improved progression and high aspirations for children are all worthwhile ambitions.

However, as those discussions continue, I wonder whether there is another equally important conversation we should be having.

Not simply what children should learn.

But how many different ways there should be to help them learn it.

Throughout my time in the United States, I encountered educators who held very different views about curriculum, assessment and teaching. Yet despite those differences, there seemed to be a broad acceptance that excellent education does not have to look identical in every setting.

Rather than asking every school to become the same, many communities appeared comfortable allowing different educational philosophies to coexist.

That observation stayed with me long after I returned home.

As someone who has spent years advocating for outdoor learning, I couldn’t help wondering whether Scotland has reached a point where our pursuit of consistency risks making educational diversity more difficult to achieve.

Can regulation protect children without unintentionally shaping pedagogy?

Can accountability strengthen quality without reducing innovation?

Can one national framework ever fully reflect the wonderfully diverse ways in which children learn?

I don’t pretend to have the answers.

Indeed, the purpose of this article isn’t to provide them.

Instead, I hope to share some of the questions that emerged from conversations with educators across the United States and from my visits to schools and early years settings throughout Texas.

Because perhaps the most valuable thing I brought home wasn’t a new idea.

It was a new perspective.

And sometimes, that is where meaningful change begins.

Should Every Excellent School Look the Same?

One of the strongest impressions I took away from both the Natural Start Alliance Conference and my visits across Texas was the acceptance that there are many different ways to provide an excellent education.

Throughout the conference, educators from across the United States shared perspectives shaped by a wide range of educational philosophies, including Montessori, Reggio Emilia, nature-based learning, public education, independent schools and faith schools. Rather than debating which approach was “best”, there appeared to be a shared understanding that different children thrive in different environments.

I saw this reflected throughout my visits. Nature preschools, Montessori settings, independent schools and public schools all had a clear identity and a strong sense of purpose. None claimed to be the perfect environment for every child. Instead, they focused on delivering their philosophy well for the families who had chosen them.

That made me reflect on Scotland.

We rightly expect every child to receive a safe, nurturing and high-quality education. However, I also wonder whether our pursuit of consistency has unintentionally made it more difficult for genuinely different educational approaches to develop.

Educational innovation has always challenged convention. Froebel, Montessori, Reggio Emilia and the forest school movement all began as alternatives to established thinking. They were able to grow because there was space for new ideas to emerge.

It made me ask a simple question.

If those approaches were being developed for the first time today, would they flourish within our current regulatory systems, or would they struggle to fit within increasingly prescriptive frameworks?

Parents also appeared to play a different role. Rather than simply choosing the nearest school or nursery, many actively sought an educational philosophy that matched their child’s needs and their family’s values.

Of course, greater choice brings its own challenges, and diversity does not automatically guarantee quality. However, it left me wondering whether educational diversity should be viewed less as a risk and more as a strength.

If every child is unique, perhaps our education system should be confident enough to allow many excellent approaches to exist alongside one another, rather than expecting excellence to always look the same.

Can Great Educators Be Recruited for Who They Are, Not Just What They Know?

One of the biggest cultural differences I noticed during my time in the United States was the way many private school and early years leaders approached recruitment.

In Scotland, we understandably place significant emphasis on formal qualifications. We have invested heavily in creating a highly qualified workforce, recognising that professional knowledge, child development and pedagogy are fundamental to high-quality education.

Many of the leaders I met looked at recruitment differently.

Rather than beginning with qualifications, they began with the person.

Again and again, I heard the same message.

“We can teach the skills. We can’t teach personality.”

Warmth, kindness, curiosity, enthusiasm, resilience and the ability to build meaningful relationships with children were consistently described as the qualities they looked for first. Several leaders told me they would rather recruit someone who genuinely inspired children and shared the values of their school than someone with an impressive qualification but without those personal qualities.

One school leader put it simply: “I can’t teach someone to love children, but I can teach them our curriculum.”

That way of thinking challenged some of my own assumptions.

Many of the private schools I visited invested heavily in professional development after recruitment. New staff received extensive induction programmes, mentoring and ongoing training designed specifically around the philosophy and expectations of the school. Rather than expecting someone to arrive with every skill already in place, they saw professional learning as a continuous process throughout a teacher’s career.

Initially, I found this surprising.

Then I reflected on our own experience at Little Bugs.

Some of our most inspirational practitioners did not begin their careers in childcare. They came from ecology, biology, outdoor education, teaching, conservation and youth work. They brought specialist knowledge, fresh perspectives and real-life experience that enriched children’s learning in ways that traditional childcare pathways alone could never have provided.

We then supported them to gain childcare qualifications alongside their practice.

It made me question whether we sometimes place too much emphasis on how someone became an educator and not enough on who they are as a person.

Of course, qualifications matter. Children deserve highly skilled professionals with a strong understanding of child development, safeguarding and pedagogy. Nothing I observed suggested those things were unimportant.

However, my time in the United States left me asking whether qualifications alone are enough.

Can a degree teach empathy?

Can it teach warmth?

Can it teach curiosity, humour or the ability to make a child feel truly seen?

Perhaps those qualities are just as important as professional knowledge and perhaps the strongest education systems are those that recognise the value of both.

What Should We Really Be Measuring?

One aspect of education in the United States genuinely surprised me.

School performance is highly visible. School grades are publicly available and, in many communities, even appear on property websites because they influence where families choose to live. National testing begins from kindergarten, and several parents spoke openly about the pressure this creates for children from a very young age.

Listening to these conversations made me reflect on Scotland.

Although our systems are very different, neither is immune from the pressures of accountability. As Curriculum for Excellence continues to evolve, there is understandable discussion around improving progression, raising standards and providing greater clarity about what children should know and be able to do. These are all worthwhile ambitions. However, every education system must guard against one unintended consequence!

when assessment begins to drive education rather than simply measure it.

Assessment should help us understand children’s progress and identify where they need support. It should never determine what is taught, how it is taught or which experiences children are given. When the focus shifts from measuring learning to driving learning, there is a risk that rich, experiential learning is squeezed out in favour of what is easiest to assess.

Alongside these conversations about testing, another theme emerged repeatedly. Many parents described wanting more opportunities for their children to learn through real experiences—more time outdoors, more exploration and more meaningful learning beyond the classroom. As someone who has built a career around outdoor learning, this resonated deeply.

Children develop confidence by overcoming challenges, resilience by taking appropriate risks and curiosity by exploring the world around them. These aspects of childhood are difficult to measure, but that does not make them any less valuable.

It also made me wonder whether the demand for alternative educational experiences is, in part, a response to this tension. When families feel something is missing from mainstream education, they naturally begin looking elsewhere. I’ll return to that later because it raises important questions about parental choice and the future of education.

Perhaps the greatest challenge facing education is not deciding whether academic achievement or experiential learning matters more, but ensuring that assessment remains what it was always intended to be a tool that supports learning, rather than the force that shapes it.

If Every Child Is Unique, Should Funding Follow the Child?

One of the most significant policy developments currently taking place in Texas is the introduction of Education Savings Accounts (ESAs). Under this model, eligible families can use state funding towards approved educational expenses, including private school tuition and other recognised learning opportunities.

The policy has generated significant debate, but it also raises an important question.

In Scotland, we already accept the principle that funding follows the child in early years education (when local authorities follow the guidance) Families can choose between local authority, private and third-sector providers, with public funding supporting that choice. The result is a diverse sector where different educational philosophies exist alongside one another while remaining accountable to national standards.

So why does that principle largely stop when children begin school?

Across Texas, many parents had actively chosen alternative educational environments because they believed those settings better reflected their child’s needs, interests and way of learning. Some were looking for more experiential learning. Others valued smaller communities, stronger relationships or a different educational philosophy.

They weren’t necessarily searching for a better education.

They were searching for the right education for their child.

That is an important distinction.

It also raises a question for Scotland.

If we trust parents to make informed choices about early years education, should we also trust them to make informed choices throughout their child’s school journey?

I believe this is a conversation worth having.

Not because Scotland should simply copy another country’s education system, but because we already recognise the value of educational choice during the early years. If funding following the child encourages diversity, innovation and parental choice before a child starts school, should we at least consider whether there are lessons that could be applied more widely?

That doesn’t mean abandoning public education.

It doesn’t mean removing accountability.

Nor does it mean lowering standards.

It means asking whether funding could support a wider range of high-quality educational models while maintaining the principles of equity, inclusion and excellence that Scotland rightly values.

If every child is unique, perhaps the more important question isn’t whether there should be educational choice.

Perhaps it’s whether every family has enough meaningful choice to find the environment in which their child can truly flourish.

What Could Scotland Learn?

After two weeks travelling across Texas and learning alongside educators from across the United States, I haven’t returned believing one education system is better than another.

Every country has its strengths and its challenges.

Scotland has every reason to be proud of its commitment to children’s rights, play-based learning and nurturing relationships. We have been at the forefront of recognising the value of outdoor learning, and Curriculum for Excellence was originally built on the principle of creating flexible, locally relevant learning experiences rather than prescribing a one-size-fits-all curriculum.

The United States also has much to be proud of. I experienced an education system that appeared more comfortable with educational diversity, more willing to embrace different philosophies and more accepting that excellence can take many forms.

Neither system is perfect.

Scotland continues to grapple with increasing regulation, workforce challenges and rising levels of additional support needs. Across the United States, conversations around high-stakes testing, educational inequality and educational choice continue to shape national debate.

The opportunity isn’t to choose one system over the other.

The opportunity is to learn from both.

As Scotland reviews Curriculum for Excellence and continues to shape the future of education, perhaps the conversation should extend beyond what children learn and begin to consider where, how and with whom they learn best.

How do we protect children while still trusting professionals?

How do we maintain high standards without making innovation more difficult?

How do we encourage educational diversity while ensuring equity for every child?

And if we already believe that funding should follow the child in early years, should we at least be prepared to explore whether greater educational choice has a place within school education?

These are not easy questions.

But education has never moved forward because people were afraid to ask difficult questions.

Froebel challenged convention.

Montessori challenged convention.

Reggio Emilia challenged convention.

Outdoor learning challenged convention.

Every significant educational movement that has improved children’s lives began because someone dared to imagine that education could look different.

Perhaps the greatest lesson I brought home from the United States wasn’t a new curriculum, a new policy or a new educational model.

It was a renewed belief that educational diversity is not something to fear it is something to nurture.

If we genuinely believe every child is unique, then perhaps we also need to accept that no single educational approach will ever meet the needs of every learner.

Scotland has an opportunity to continue leading the way not by copying another country’s education system, but by having the confidence to ask bold questions, trust professionals, empower families and create the conditions in which different educational philosophies can flourish alongside one another.

After all, educational evolution can only happen where there is enough freedom for new ideas to grow.

And perhaps the most important question of all is this:

If every child is unique, shouldn’t our education system be too?