Have you ever heard the phrase “developmentally appropriate” or its inverse, “developmentally inappropriate?” In the world of education, there are lots of phrases and acronyms that non-educators don’t understand (even people within the field don’t understand them all). In my experience, “Developmentally Appropriate” and its inverse are most often used to rationalize NOT teaching or exposing a student to certain content or skills. Most of the time, I hear it uttered with such authority that it shuts down an entire conversation. But, every time I hear it, I have some serious questions regarding its credibility/use:
- Why do you think this skill or content is developmentally inappropriate?
- How do you know this particular skill or content isn’t developmentally appropriate? Did you study it?
- What scholarly and peer-reviewed evidence do you have to show it’s not developmentally appropriate?
- Who told you this particular skill or content isn’t developmentally appropriate?
It goes on and on. As it turns out, I’m not the only one with these questions. I’m currently reading E.D. Hirsch’s 2020 book, How to Educate a Citizen: The Power of Shared Knowledge to Unify a Nation. In it, Hirsch goes beyond simply wondering and posits, “That phrase, developmentally appropriate practice, pronounced authoritatively, has been a dangerous hindrance to American excellence in education.” Hirsch went on to say that many use the phrase “developmentally inappropriate” to refer to anything seemingly difficult or arduous for a child. He linked its use to the science of reading and how explicit phonics instruction was once deemed “developmentally inappropriate” and “boring.” However, as modern reading research shows, regardless of how seemingly arduous something like explicit phonics instruction may be, it’s essential for developing good readers. Reading this affirmed my wonderings. Hirsch later explained the origins of the phrase “developmentally appropriate” and why we ALL should wonder about its use.
Jean Piaget (1896-1980), a Swiss psychologist known for his work in cognitive development, theorized that children’s thinking evolves through four distinct stages, each stage coinciding with a child’s biological maturation: sensorimotor (birth to age 2), preoperational (age 2 to 7), concrete operational (age 7 to 11), and formal operational (11 years and up). According to Piaget, as children interact with their environments, they go through these very specific and age-related stages of development. Piaget’s work influenced major educational movements and reforms, such as “child-centered learning,” “constructivism,” and “developmentally appropriate instruction.”
Fortunately, as cognitive science evolves and technology used to explore and map the brain advances, a plethora of Piaget’s methods and findings have been refuted. For example, Piaget drew many of his conclusions from an extraordinarily limited sample size, which often included his own children. This raises questions about the generalizability of his findings. What’s more, new evidence suggests that Piaget overemphasized distinct, sequential stages of cognitive development. Brain research shows that cognitive development is actually more fluid and continuous, and children exhibit abilities from multiple stages simultaneously. Finally, Piaget’s findings emphasized universal stages of development that were largely independent of social and cultural factors. However, contemporary research (and what most educators probably already know) suggests that cognitive development is significantly influenced by social interactions and cultural practices.
This raises an important question: If much of Piaget’s work has been challenged or refuted, why do some still use the phrase “developmentally appropriate” as a justification for limiting what students are exposed to? I prefer to think that students are far more capable than we assume, especially when given the right supports. When we default to labeling something as “developmentally inappropriate,” we may unintentionally place limits on learning and restrict access to rich, meaningful content that could help students grow beyond our expectations.
This reminds me of a powerful moment from the classic film Field of Dreams, when the mysterious voice whispers, “If you build it, they will come.” Despite uncertainty, Costner’s character takes a leap of faith, believing that if he creates the right conditions, something remarkable will happen. I believe the same applies to education: “If you teach it, they will learn.” When we raise our expectations and provide rigorous, engaging instruction, students will rise to the challenge. But first, we must believe in their potential and reject limiting assumptions about what they can’t do.
One instructional approach that embraces this philosophy is called “teaching up”, a strategy championed by Carol Ann Tomlinson. Teaching up challenges the idea of differentiating instruction down to meet perceived limitations. Instead, it advocates for designing rich, high-level learning experiences and then scaffolding appropriately so that all students—regardless of background, ability, or previous knowledge—have access to complex, meaningful content. By maintaining high expectations and adjusting supports as needed, teaching up ensures that students are stretched intellectually, rather than being held back by arbitrary notions of readiness.
Obviously, we’re not teaching AP statistics or multivariable calculus to Kindergarteners. Clearly, there’s good reason we don’t teach advanced level math to 6 year olds. But, we do need to be cautious about how we use the phrase “developmentally appropriate” (and its inverse). Rather than using it as a barrier to justify why students can’t engage with certain content or skills, we should approach it as a framework for how we support students in accessing rigorous learning opportunities. If we build high-quality instruction with the right scaffolds, students will not only come—they will thrive.
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