29/08/2026
My Ofsted Experience ā The Human Cost Behind an Inspection
I have spent a long time deciding whether to write this post.
This is not about criticising individual inspectors, and it is not simply about the grading we ultimately received. It is about sharing my experience of the inspection process and highlighting the very real emotional and human cost it can have on providers, their families and their teams.
Like many early years providers, we knew our six-year inspection window was approaching. Our inspection was due by March 2026.
On 13 October 2025, on the very day I arrived in Zanzibar for the holiday of a lifetime, I received the new Ofsted inspection toolkit.
My husband and I were celebrating our 50th birthdays and our wedding anniversary. Yet, rather than completely switching off from work, I took the new inspection toolkit with me.
I read it from cover to cover. I made notes about what I wanted to aim for and how I wanted to showcase our family-run childminding business, our curriculum, our team and the impact of our work on children and families.
We felt ready and prepared.
Then we waited.
And waited.
A further six months passed without a phone call from Ofsted.
Living under the constant expectation that āthe callā could come at any moment is difficult to explain unless you have experienced it.
It felt like a weight hanging over us.
Every day we continued caring for children, supporting families and running our setting, whilst knowing that at any moment we could receive the phone call that would place everything we do under intense scrutiny.
Eventually, the call came completely out of the blue.
I was outside with the children, showing them the recycling lorry in our cul-de-sac, when one of my assistants passed me the telephone.
Unfortunately, the conversation did not get off to a positive start.
Whilst I was trying to safely supervise the children back into the setting, the inspector wanted to take the lead in deciding when I would be available for both the pre-call and the inspection.
She proposed a pre-call at 4pm.
At 4pm, children are eating tea, other children are being collected and we are managing one of the busiest transition periods of the day. I explained that I could not release myself from the setting at that time without compromising my responsibilities to the children.
The proposed inspection day also clashed with a regular, pre-organised EYFS session that parents had already paid for.
I explained my reasons, remained firm and suggested that we find a suitable alternative.
This did not appear to sit well with the inspector.
I was told that I was being obstructive, and the telephone call ended abruptly.
I immediately submitted a complaint and requested that the inspector did not visit my setting and that a new inspector was appointed.
The following day, I received a phone call from a different inspector.
The difference in attitude was remarkable.
She listened.
She understood that my first responsibility had to remain the children in my care.
She understood why certain times and dates were unsuitable, and she worked with us to agree a suitable pre-call and inspection date.
On 11 February 2026, almost six months after receiving the new inspection toolkit, our inspection finally took place.
On the day, the children were amazing.
My staff were amazing.
I could not have been prouder of our team.
However, the inspection had its flaws.
Throughout the inspection, I was repeatedly stopped while trying to provide information and evidence.
I continuously heard the words:
āIāll stop you there. I have enough evidence.ā
Whilst I appreciate that inspectors work within time constraints, the whole way through the inspection I felt as though I was not being given the opportunity to fully showcase the breadth of the work we do.
I did not feel able to properly explain the difference we make to children and families or the outcomes children achieve because of our practice.
Then came the feedback.
We were absolutely delighted to be told that we had achieved Exceptional in three areas, with the remaining areas judged as Strong.
The inspector then left the room to telephone head office.
When she returned, she was visibly upset and burst into tears.
She apologised and explained that she had been told we would only be allowed to retain Exceptional in one area: Curriculum and Teaching.
Naturally, we were disappointed, but we were still incredibly proud.
To retain an Exceptional judgement in Curriculum and Teaching felt like a huge achievement and a reflection of everything our team had worked so hard to build.
We tried to add our viewpoint during the feedback, but we were advised that if we disagreed with the draft report, we should submit a complaint.
The inspector then left our setting very quickly.
That evening, I took my staff out for a celebration meal.
We celebrated the children, our team and what we believed we had achieved together.
Then, around a month later, everything changed.
Out of the blue, I received a follow-up call from Ofsted informing me that our draft report was about to be released.
During that conversation, it was casually dropped into the discussion that the Exceptional judgement would not be upheld because there was insufficient evidence of outcomes for children.
This was devastating.
We had been told during the inspection that Exceptional had been achieved.
We had celebrated it.
Then, weeks later, before we had even received the draft report, we were told that it had been removed.
We waited for the draft report and submitted a formal complaint.
During this waiting period, I was invited by Coram PACEY to take part in a round-table event with His Majestyās Chief Inspector, Sir Martyn Oliver, to discuss my experience of the new inspection process.
Thirty minutes before the event, I was removed from the discussion because I had a live complaint with Ofsted.
Then came four long months of waiting.
Extension after extension.
Very little certainty.
Very few answers.
Eventually, we received a letter informing us that our original inspection had been deemed incomplete and that we would be fully reinspected.
Until that moment, I did not even know that an inspection could be declared incomplete.
The news came as a complete shock.
Emotionally, that letter broke me.
By this point, the inspection process had been hanging over our setting for around nine months.
Nine months of preparation.
Nine months of waiting.
Nine months of scrutiny, uncertainty, complaints, extensions, telephone calls, emails and letters.
This was never simply one inspection day.
It became nine months of my life.
Nine months where Ofsted occupied my thoughts almost every day.
Nine months where I questioned myself, despite knowing the quality of the care and education we provide.
Nine months where my team could see the anxiety behind the smile I put on every morning for the children.
It affected me personally.
It affected my family.
It affected my staff.
It affected the atmosphere around our family-run business.
We still turned up every day.
We still smiled.
We still provided children with the experiences, care, education and opportunities they deserved.
But behind the scenes, the emotional strain was enormous.
Had I known that submitting a complaint could result in the original inspection being declared incomplete and a full reinspection taking place, I honestly believe I would have stopped the complaint.
It felt like the final blow after months of stress and anguish.
Thankfully, I was not facing it alone.
I have the most amazing staff.
When I fell apart, they stood me back up.
They reminded me how amazing our setting is.
They reminded me of the outcomes we achieve for children.
They reminded me of the families we have supported and the difference we have made.
They supported me through the following week, which involved another full pre-call and a complete reinspection.
During the new pre-call, every piece of information appeared to be checked, rechecked and double-checked.
On the day of the reinspection, it was a normal, full inspection.
The inspector watched the children.
She observed staff.
She looked at our practice.
This time, I was able to provide much of the evidence that I had felt unable to share during the original inspection.
That did make me feel better.
At the end of the reinspection, the inspector concluded that the original grading awarded to our setting was the correct grading.
There is another reason I have chosen to write this post.
Throughout those nine months, I could not stop thinking about the conversations taking place across the education sector following the tragic death of Ruth Perry and reports involving other education professionals, including a SENCo, whose mental health had deteriorated during inspection processes.
Those stories were never far from my mind.
Every extension to the complaint.
Every unknown.
Every letter arriving from Ofsted.
Every email notification.
Every telephone call.
The constant feeling of waiting.
The feeling that your livelihood, reputation, team morale and everything you have spent years building is sitting under a microscope.
I am fortunate.
I have an incredible husband, a supportive family and the most remarkable team around me.
When I felt that I could no longer carry myself, they carried me.
Not everybody has that support.
That is why I believe we must continue to talk honestly about the emotional impact of inspection.
Accountability is essential.
Children deserve high-quality education and care.
Inspection has an important role in ensuring that children are safe and receiving the standards they deserve.
But accountability should never overlook the wellbeing of the people delivering that care and education.
Behind every inspection is a real person.
A family.
A team.
A livelihood.
Years of commitment.
Sleepless nights.
Private tears.
And providers who continue turning up every day with smiles on their faces for the children, whilst quietly carrying enormous pressure behind the scenes.
If inspection is intended to improve outcomes for children, then the system must also recognise that those outcomes are achieved by human beings.
Supporting the wellbeing of educators is not separate from improving quality.
It is part of it.
Professional challenge should never come at the expense of a personās mental health and wellbeing.
I remain incredibly proud of my staff, our children, our families and our setting.
We came through the experience together.
However, I also know that many providers reading this will have experienced similar pressure, fear and uncertainty.
If that is you, please know that you are not alone.
Behind every Ofsted judgement is a human story that will never appear in the final inspection report.
One final reflection.
Looking back now, I honestly donāt believe that the outcome was ever likely to change back to Exceptional.
That is, of course, my personal feeling.
By the time we reached the reinspection, I felt that the process had become less about reconsidering the original judgement and more about ensuring every piece of evidence had been heard and every stage of the inspection process had been completed thoroughly. I was grateful that I was finally able to present much of the evidence I had previously felt unable to share, and I appreciated having that opportunity. However, I left with the overwhelming feeling that, regardless of the evidence presented, the Exceptional judgement was never realistically going to be reinstated.
Perhaps I am wrong.
Perhaps that was never the intention.
But after living through nine months of uncertainty, that is honestly how it felt.
What I also find particularly interesting is that the next steps identified within my report are the very same next steps identified in reports for the three childminders currently judged as Exceptional under the new framework.
I donāt say that because I believe I should automatically have received the same judgement. I say it because it highlights how incredibly high the bar has become and how difficult it appears to be to achieve, regardless of the quality of practice and 13 letters from parents who wrote several letters explaining how we need the exceptional judgement.
I remain immensely proud of what we have achieved, and no inspection report will ever define the difference we make to the children and families we have the privilege of supporting every single day and if the only feedback was that we do to much for the children and families then I won't apologise for wanting the best for them.
