Developmental Classroom Observations
by Jess Durrett
Most school leaders have been in hundreds of classrooms to observe, evaluate, and support teachers. They know what a good lesson looks like, when a teacher is well-prepared, when students are engaged, or when the pacing is off. A supervision observation is designed to look at instruction, which is only a small part of what is happening in a classroom at any given moment. In addition to the instruction, there is the developmental landscape of the children in the room, including how they are regulating their bodies, how they are processing language, how their executive functioning is supporting or limiting their access to the lesson, which children are doing exactly what they appear to be doing and which children are working much harder than anyone around them realizes. A developmental classroom observation requires a different kind of lens to see and leads to systems that increase engagement and reduce teacher stress.
When I walk into a classroom, I am not asking whether the teacher is doing it right. I am asking what this group of children needs, and what each individual child is telling me about how they are navigating the world right now. Those are genuinely different questions, and they lead to very different conversations with the adults in the room.
In a recent preschool observation, I noticed a child coloring by drawing single lines up and down, using both hands to start each stroke before shifting to one hand. I noted that his face was also very close to the page. I did not conclude anything from my observation. What I wrote was: "Is this typical for how he approaches tasks? What are some other observations of this child?" A single observation is a snapshot that can open a conversation.
In that same classroom, I noticed a child who appeared to be working on material that was well within her comfort zone. My note was: "X was observed doing work that appeared to be very easy for her. Where is her area of growth? Strong students are often the hardest to challenge because they are meeting their chronological age's expectations." That child was not struggling, but she was invisible in a different way. Students like this need to experience a productive challenge to build the stamina for sustained academic work.
My training did not come from a single professional development or even from my Master’s degree. I spent the better part of a decade at a therapeutic school in New York City working alongside speech-language pathologists, occupational therapists, social workers, and child development specialists, learning to understand a child from all of those perspectives simultaneously. Working in schools since then, I’ve learned to apply that learning to my teacher training lens. The multidisciplinary foundation is what I bring into every classroom I observe and every conversation with teachers.
What that means in practice is that I am reading the room on several levels at once. I am watching how children are holding their bodies and hands and what that tells me about how hard handwriting is for them. I am noting which children are wrapping their feet around chair legs or sitting on their feet, and understanding that as a sign that their bodies are working hard to find regulation so they can meet classroom expectations. I am noticing the quiet, retreating behaviors that often go unnoticed in a group like breaking apart erasers under a desk or looking out the window. I am watching the quiet social interactions among peers that a teacher may not see that lead to bigger behaviors later. I am listening to how a teacher phrases a direction and noticing which children follow it and which do not, and asking whether the gap is about attention, language processing, social awareness, working memory, or something else entirely.
In one first grade observation, I noted that many students were "wrapping their feet around the legs of the chairs, sitting on their feet, leaning on the tables, sandwiching themselves between the chair and desk" during a math practice test. A different observer might not have registered this at all, or might have read it as fidgeting or inattention. What I saw was a group of children whose core and upper body strength was not yet sufficient to sustain the demands of seated academic work, and whose bodies were doing everything they could to compensate. The recommendations that followed were not about behavior management specifically. They were about building meaningful movement into the school day and collaborating with other professionals in the building in addition to opportunities for heavy lifting, seating alternatives, and the connection between physical foundation and academic stamina.
One of the things I am most deliberate about in this work is my tone. I trust teachers, and I have incredible empathy for the teacher at the center of all classroom demands. A report that reads like an evaluation creates defensiveness. My reports read like a thought partner aiming to foster curiosity, and the invitation to a partnership is what deepens practice.
When I observed a middle school student flipping between a game, dance moves, Google Image Search, and a shared document during a group work period, I did not write that he was off-task. I wrote: "He did his work in the document, but his engagement was not consistent. What kinds of projects and activities engage this student?" The goal is not to document what went wrong; the goal is to open a door to understanding that child better.
When I notice something that a teacher is doing well, I name it and I name why it works. In one preschool classroom, students would signal readiness for teacher feedback by gently placing a hand on the teacher's shoulder. I noted: "The structure in place for asking for help is wonderful. Do you also notice there are children who don't know when to ask for help?" The affirmation is genuine, and the question that follows it is an invitation to collaborate and share what the teacher knows about the classroom and children.
A developmental classroom observation is most useful when a teacher is curious and ready for this kind of questioning. The leaders I have worked with have found this work most valuable not because it told them something was wrong, but because it gave them language and a framework for understanding what they were already seeing. Teachers often sense when a child or group is struggling in a way that the standard academic data does not capture. A developmental observation gives those instincts a structure to address the needs of their students and teachers.
Questions for Leadership to Consider
Are teachers expressing frustration about managing the classroom’s needs?
Are there teachers who need more support with instructional design using a developmental lens?
Are there individual students who are not thriving and whose teachers are not sure why?
Are there patterns across grade levels, in motor development or regulation or language, that your current professional development is not addressing?
If any of these questions are answered yes, then a developmental observation and teacher coaching session can be helpful to problem-solve the challenges.