The Why and What of Circle Time

Circle time is a daily gathering routine commonly used in early childhood classrooms. It is a time when children and teachers come together as a group, typically sitting in a circle, to greet one another, sing songs, read stories, discuss the day’s events, and build a sense of community. The practice supports both social-emotional development and early academic learning by helping children feel seen, heard, and part of something larger than themselves.

Despite the hesitation I described earlier, there is a reason circle time remains such a central practice in early childhood education. The “why” is rooted in the understanding that young children learn best through connection, repetition, and routine. Learning, as Lev Vygotsky (1978) reminds us, is inherently social. Activities like circle time allow children to practice language, self-regulation, and turn-taking within a meaningful shared context. Through songs, stories, and group conversations, children expand their vocabularies, strengthen listening skills, and learn how to express ideas in a group setting.

Jean Piaget’s work (1964) on cognitive development also helps illuminate its value. As children move from egocentric thinking toward greater awareness of others, circle time offers daily opportunities for perspective-taking and empathy. Singing together, noticing who is absent, or hearing a peer’s story helps children begin to understand that others have thoughts, feelings, and experiences different from their own.

Howard Gardner’s theory (2011) of multiple intelligences further expands this view, reminding us that children enter the group with many ways of learning. A well-designed circle time can offer varied modes of engagement: songs and rhythms for musical learners, storytelling for verbal learners, movement-based greetings for kinesthetic learners, and shared discussion for interpersonal learners.

Circle time is about more than just teaching teacher-directed content.  It...

• develops a shared rhythm among children and their caring adults
• builds social connections and fosters a sense of community among adults and children.
• fosters whole child development (socially, emotionally, cognitively, physically, and linguistically).
• becomes a predictable routine that fosters trust in the environment when approached with warmth, structure, and intention.

Cultural considerations

Circle time is an important part of the daily experience in ECE. It is an opportunity to build a sense of community, share ideas, and introduce concepts through songs, stories, and movement. However, it is essential to recognize that circle time is not a “one-size-fits-all” experience. Children come to the classroom with diverse cultural backgrounds that influence how they engage in group settings, respond to authority, and participate in expressive activities.

Some children may quietly observe before joining in, while others may come from families where group participation is more animated and collaborative. As Loris Malaguzzi (2012) reminded us, children have “a hundred languages” for expressing themselves, not all of which may emerge during traditional group routines. Thoughtful teachers consider these nuances by offering multiple ways for children to participate during circle time, such as movement, visual expression, or small-group sharing. As early childhood specialist Louise Derman-Sparks (2010) emphasizes, culturally responsive teaching encourages educators to acknowledge each child’s background while promoting a sense of belonging. Circle time, when approached with flexibility and cultural sensitivity, becomes a meaningful practice of inclusion and respect that honors diversity.

Singing: from direct instruction to wild abandon

When I began working with children in the early ’80s, I was struck by how my mentors encouraged a joyful freedom in their students during circle time.  The teachers whom I looked up to took singing and movement seriously, and by that I mean they saw children’s connection to song as imperative to their later conceptual and intellectual development (not to mention the emotional and physical benefits that were also the outcome). 

One of my mentors, Maggie, took me aside one day after I expressed a disdain for the part of my job that required getting children to sit down for any amount of time. Since it was my turn to do circle time that day, I had asked if we could skip it. Maggie denied my request and informed me that she wanted me to learn how to do circle time with children that would allow for their “wild abandon.” I was intrigued, but still nervous.

She explained that I needed to meet the children at their level of energy and that the group would have a collective energy I would need to learn how to read. If they were “rascally,” I was to match that energy and be ready with songs, movement, and a book that would fit the moment. If they were irritable, especially just before lunch or naptime, I was to draw on my “soft” songs and a more soothing voice. It was not always easy for me to read this collective energy, but eventually I learned. I have since come to believe that circle time is not only something to prepare for in advance, but also something to approach as an art. No one could tell me exactly how to do this part of my job, but I could develop my skills and work with children at their level of need. This shift removed much of the hesitancy I once felt about circle time.  It took me a while to embrace Maggie’s ideas around “wild abandon,” but I have since come to define it for myself. By “wild abandon,” I mean the way a bird sings without worrying who is listening, or how a child spins in circles for the giggle it produces. It is freedom with intention, not chaos. To me, wild abandon is something deeply valuable. It is the kind of open, natural movement that helps children learn about themselves and the world through music and motion.

Creative Movement: Expanding the Language of the Body

One of the most helpful ways I have come to understand movement in early childhood is through the work of Susan Griss (1998), who describes creative movement as a language of learning. In her view, movement is not simply physical activity added to the day, but a symbolic system through which children construct and communicate meaning. Much like spoken or written language, movement carries intention, interpretation, and expression. Children are not just moving their bodies; they are using movement to think. Griss emphasizes an important distinction between imitative movement and creative movement. In imitative forms, children follow a model and reproduce prescribed actions. In creative movement, children are invited to generate their own responses. This shift matters because it moves the child from repetition into interpretation. Instead of simply complying with a sequence of actions, children begin to make decisions, experiment with possibilities, and represent ideas through their bodies in personal ways.

What stands out to me in this framework is how closely it aligns with symbolic development. In the Piagetian sense, children are not only learning how to move, they are learning how to represent. A gesture can become a character, a shape can become an emotion, and a sequence of movement can become a story. In this way, movement becomes a bridge between lived experience and abstract thought. Griss also reframes the role of the teacher. Rather than directing every movement or correcting toward uniformity, the teacher becomes a facilitator of possibility. The teacher offers prompts, themes, or starting points, and then steps back enough to allow children to explore their own interpretations. This requires a different kind of attentiveness, one that is less about control and more about noticing how meaning unfolds in real time.

Over time, I have come to see how this approach connects directly to what I once experienced as uncertainty or fear in circle time. What I interpreted as the possibility of losing control was often a moment where children were entering their own symbolic systems, moving beyond imitation into invention. Griss’s work helped me recognize that these moments are not disruptions to learning, but expressions of it.

Guided Imagery & Creative Visualization

One of the most powerful aspects of music and movement in early childhood is its ability to generate imagery. A simple song or prompt can become an entire internal world for a child. A story about a ball bouncing can shift into a shared experience of rhythm, space, and embodiment. Children naturally translate language into movement and movement into meaning, often without needing explicit explanation. In my own practice, I have found guided creative imagery to be a particularly effective way of supporting this process. In these experiences, I might invite children to imagine themselves playing with a ball, noticing how it moves, how it feels, and how it travels through space. Over time, the experience can shift so that the children imagine themselves becoming the ball, moving with its qualities and exploring what it might feel like to roll, bounce, or pause.

Guided creative imagery in early childhood classrooms draws on contemporary understandings of embodied learning and cognitive development. Elliot Eisner emphasizes that children make meaning through multiple forms of representation, not only language but also image, movement, and sensory experience. From this perspective, when children are invited to imagine a ball and then imagine themselves becoming the ball, they are engaging in a form of representational thinking that extends beyond verbal explanation and into embodied meaning-making.

This kind of guided imagery also connects to current understandings of how children regulate attention, emotion, and physical readiness for learning. Daniel Siegel’s work highlights the importance of integration between mind and body, suggesting that learning is supported when children are able to organize their internal states in ways that allow for focus and engagement. In classroom terms, movement and imagery activities can help children settle their bodies while also activating their attention in a purposeful way.

Jean Ayres’ sensory integration theory further supports the role of movement in learning by describing how sensory input from the body helps children organize their responses to the environment. When children move, imagine, and shift roles within a guided experience, they are not only engaging in play, but also developing the capacity to coordinate perception, action, and attention in meaningful ways.

Within this framework, the use of creative imagery serves a dual purpose. It supports children in developing symbolic representation through imaginative transformation, and it also supports their ability to regulate their bodies and attention so they can participate more fully in group learning experiences. In this way, imagery is not an add-on activity, but a core practice that connects cognition, movement, and engagement.

In this way, imagery is not an add-on activity but a core practice that connects cognition, movement, and engagement.

What becomes especially interesting is how quickly this inner world of imagery wants to move outward again. Children rarely keep their imagination still for long. Once a story or image takes hold in the mind, it often seeks expression through the body. A bouncing ball is no longer only something to picture, it becomes something to enact. An internally imagined transformation naturally invites movement, gesture, and shared physical experience.

This is where creative movement becomes an extension of creative imagery rather than a separate practice. The imagined world begins to take shape in space, and the child’s body becomes the medium through which meaning is explored, tested, and expanded. In these moments, movement is not simply following instruction, but responding to an internal idea that is seeking expression.

Over time, I have come to see that transitioning from control to movement also reshapes the teacher’s role. Rather than guiding children toward rigid behavioral patterns, the focus shifts to supporting their expressive development. What I initially experienced as unpredictability (and yes, sometimes chaos) now appears as creative intelligence in action.  Perhaps the most important lesson I have learned is to trust children's capacity for imagination and expression. Music and movement flourish when we make room for both.