What to Really Look for in Schools and Nurseries (From Someone Who’s Been on the Inside)

Choosing a school or nursery isn’t just about uniforms, inspection reports or whether the walls are plastered in rainbow-coloured motivational quotes. It’s a minefield of jargon, staged photo ops, and shiny displays that often tell you everything—except what your child’s actual experience will be like.

As an ex-primary school teacher, I’ve seen the polished surface and the messy reality. So here’s the truth, minus the fluff. If you’re touring settings or feeling overwhelmed by options, this is your unofficial guide to what actually matters—and what’s just there to impress the clipboard brigade.

1. The Vibe (Yes, That’s the Technical Term)

   
   

You can learn a lot in the first five minutes of walking into a school or nursery. Not from the prospectus, not from the overly-rehearsed open day speech—but from the feel of the place.

Is it warm, or weirdly sterile? Are kids smiling, chatting, moving about freely? Or are they perched in silence, looking like they’re afraid to ask for a tissue?

And here’s a key one: when are you touring the place?

During the day, when children are actually in the building? Or at 4:30pm, once everything’s been tidied and the display boards have had their moment? If you have the choice, always visit while the children are there. You’ll get a far more accurate picture of daily life—not just the glossy version the person showing you around wants you to see.

If it feels a bit like a hospital waiting room with finger paintings, trust that instinct.

2. Senior Leaders – Are They Actually There?

   
   

You want to know who’s steering the ship. Are the head and leadership team part of school life, or are they mysterious figures only wheeled out for inspections and newsletters?

A great leader knows the children by name, supports their staff, and isn’t afraid to roll up their sleeves. Ideally, they still teach once in a while too. Because let’s be honest—a senior leader who hasn’t taught a class of 30 prepubescent 11-year-olds in over a decade is probably making decisions with very little understanding of what daily classroom life actually looks like.

They might write the behaviour policy, but if they’ve spent the past ten years sitting in an office drinking coffee and going to strategy meetings, are they really equipped to know what works in front of thirty overstimulated kids and a broken whiteboard?

And yes, how staff interact with leadership tells you a lot. Respectful and relaxed = a decent culture. Tense, twitchy and hushed when SLT walks by? That’s not good leadership—it’s quiet quitting in action.

3. How Adults Speak to Children

   
   

This one’s non-negotiable. You want adults who speak to children like they’re actual human beings—not data points or small inconveniences with lunchboxes.

Are they kind, firm, patient? Do they listen? Do they even like children? (You’d be surprised how many don’t). If you hear constant shouting, barking orders, or that awful passive-aggressive sing-song voice some adults save just for kids—run. Or at least think twice about enrolling your child.

But don’t just focus on what the adults are saying—watch how the children speak to them, too. Are they respectful? Do they joke, chat, feel at ease? A healthy relationship goes both ways. Children don’t need to fear adults to respect them. In fact, the best relationships are built on mutual trust, not power dynamics.

Respect isn’t a one-way street—even between a teacher and a child.

4. Play Isn’t Optional

In early years, play isn’t a reward or a break from the “real” learning—it is the real learning.

The best settings give children time and space to make potions out of leaves, build questionable towers, and lose hours in imaginary worlds. This isn’t wasting time. It’s wiring brains for life.

If the environment feels like a mini office block and the kids are hunched over worksheets titled “I am 4 and I can write a full paragraph,” that’s not school readiness—that’s childhood burnout.

And while we’re here, let’s talk workbooks. If you’re handed a book that looks like it’s been ghostwritten by an adult and bound for a museum exhibit—be sceptical. Real learning looks like scribbles, mistakes, crossings-out, and the occasional page stuck together with glue and a mystery crumb.

Perfect books are for inspectors. Scruffy ones? That’s where the actual thinking happened.

5. Communication: Fancy Apps Don’t Equal Transparency

   
   

Some schools love a good communication app. Daily photos of your child smiling. Bulletins full of emojis and buzzwords. It looks slick. It feels reassuring. But dig a little deeper.

If every update is curated within an inch of its life, ask yourself: who’s all this really for? For every smiling photo uploaded, that’s time a staff member isn’t spending with your actual child.

And then there’s the Friday 4pm email dump—aka The Coward’s Slot. You know the one: “Just to let you know, we’ve had a few incidents this week…” sent exactly as they all head off for the weekend. A decent setting communicates clearly, regularly, and honestly. They don’t dodge difficult conversations, and they certainly don’t hide behind tech to do it.

6. The Pinterest Classroom Illusion

   
   

You know the look: neutral tones, wicker baskets, motivational quotes in loopy font, a fiddle leaf fig dying in the corner. It’s the Pinterest Effect. These places photograph beautifully—but remember, you’re not booking an Airbnb, you’re choosing a learning environment.

If the classroom looks like a lifestyle shoot, ask yourself how much time was spent making it look like that—and what wasn’t done because of it. Teaching? Planning? Sitting down with a child for an actual conversation?

And while we’re here, if anyone starts talking about their “Elizabeth Jarman environment”… raise an eyebrow and slowly back away. Your child doesn’t need a spa. They need connection, creativity, and care. Hessian walls optional.

7. Behaviour and Bullying: The Truth Hurts (But It Should Be Said)

   
   

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: every school has incidents of bullying. Not just the rough-around-the-edges ones. Not just the big secondaries. Every. Single. School.

So when a setting proudly claims they “don’t have a bullying problem”? Nope. What they mean is: they’re either not noticing it, not naming it, or not dealing with it. And that should worry you more than the occasional scuffle on the playground.

A good school acknowledges that kids are still learning how to be decent humans. It steps in, sets boundaries, supports all sides, and makes it clear that nastiness won’t be tolerated. Anything less? That’s a glossy brochure masking a dangerous blind spot.

8. Staff Morale: Look at the Grown-Ups

   
   

Forget the awards and Facebook page—what do the staff look like? Not what they’re wearing but how they carry themselves. Do they seem energised? Supported? Even vaguely content?

Because here’s the deal: exhausted, unsupported staff can’t give their best to children. And schools with high turnover usually have high stress, low morale, and a culture of firefighting.

Ask how long the staff have been there. If the only ones left are the headteacher and the cleaner, something’s not right. You want a team that stays—not because they’re stuck, but because they’re respected.

9. Behaviour, Boundaries & Policies

   
   

Let me just say this upfront: I could write an entire blog on this one topic (and maybe I will). But for now, here’s the short version.

This is my personal opinion—and you’re welcome to disagree—but I believe children need discipline. Not Victorian punishment. Not humiliation. But clear, consistent boundaries. Children thrive when they know what’s expected of them and what happens if they cross a line.

We’re not raising robots, we’re raising future citizens. Being a decent, kind, respectful human doesn’t just happen. It’s taught—and it’s reinforced through rules and consequences.

I once worked in a school where a child hit a teacher and destroyed a classroom. Their ‘consequence’? A sit in the headteacher’s office with a box of Lego. And no, I’m not joking. Guess what happened next? The same child did it again. And guess what else? Other children started doing it too. Why? Because the boundary was weak, and the “consequence” looked like a reward.

Now of course, there are always deeper issues at play. I’m not dismissing those. But if a school or nursery’s behaviour policy sounds too airy-fairy, or like it was written by someone trying to win a wellbeing award rather than actually run a safe classroom—I’d ask questions.

A good school can be nurturing and firm. It can care deeply about children while also expecting respect and responsibility. It’s not either/or. It’s both. And anything less isn’t fair—to your child, or to the children around them.

Final Thoughts: Don’t Be Fooled by the Showreel

Choosing a school or nursery is hard—but it doesn’t have to be about perfection. In fact, it shouldn’t be. You’re not looking for immaculate classrooms or a headteacher who talks like a TED speaker. You’re looking for warmth. Humanity. Imperfection.

Real learning is messy. Real schools are loud, unpredictable, and sometimes chaotic. That’s not failure—it’s growth.

So look past the laminators and the wall displays. Tune into how people speak to each other. How honest the answers are. How the children look and sound. That’s where the truth lives.

And please, for the love of boundaries, read the behaviour policy. If it sounds like it’s been written by someone who’s never met a child—or sounds so soft it might float off the page—dig deeper. A strong, fair, and consistent approach to behaviour is crucial to your child’s experience.

If in doubt? Trust your gut. You know your child—and you know what’s right for them. The showreel isn’t real life. But how a school responds when no one’s watching? That’s everything.

Before founding The Mum Company, I spent over a decade in primary education as a teacher and senior leader. I’ve seen it all—from tiny village nurseries with 30 kids in total to big-city schools navigating complex needs and challenging behaviour. I’ve worked in special school settings, managed full classes, tricky parents, and spent more time than I’d like to admit orchestrating Year 6 performances with questionable props and even more questionable singing.

These days, I’m still in education—but now I train adults, swapping phonics for technical training and glitter glue for PowerPoint. I left the classroom when I had my first child, but the insights, eye rolls, and love for honest conversations about education never left me.