Just this morning, I sent out a newsletter for RIE titled “That New Yorker Cover – Did you see it?” about R. Kikuo Johnson’s beautiful illustration. And I marveled at something that is so core to me and to those of you who read this, but is so novel to the rest of the world, is there on the cover of a popular magazine.
It made me pause and want to draw on something I was already thinking about…RIE and research. You see, I’ve been digging into this seminar (What Babies Need: Perspectives on Culture, Policy, Research & Intervention) and I was really struck by what I’ve been learning.
You know, I only purchased that seminar because one of the speakers was Ed Tronick, who was supposed to be our keynote speaker this year but had to step away due to personal reasons. I wanted to hear him speak because I love his book. But I haven’t even gotten to his presentation because I was so struck by the first speaker, Dr. Jack Shonkoff, who I first came across through his groundbreaking research that powerfully validates RIE’s core principles.
I already knew Dr. Shonkoff because back in 2000, he edited an extensive volume published by the National Research Council and Institute of Medicine looking at all of the studies and research to date about the components of quality early education and care. Essentially, trying to eke out what is necessary for children to have optimal outcomes later in life. And his finding was that “the literature on early learning environments is not about accelerating learning with expensive toys and explicit early instruction. Instead, it focuses on how adults interact with young children and set up relatively ordinary environments to support and foster early learning.”
That’s it.
After reviewing decades of research, the scientific consensus wasn’t about curricula, toys, or teaching methods. It was about relationships. It was about how we interact with children in ordinary moments—exactly what Magda Gerber and RIE practitioners have emphasized all along.
Twenty-five years later, in his September 2025 presentation, Dr. Shonkoff took this understanding even deeper. His message wasn’t just that relationships matter, but that we must expect and plan for individual variation in how children respond to those relationships. This struck me as profoundly connected to RIE’s emphasis on authenticity and seeing each child as a unique individual.
Shonkoff shared a compelling analogy from pediatric oncology. In 1965, the five-year survival rate for childhood leukemia was just 3%. By 1975, it had jumped to 60% (and today is at 97%)—not because of new miracle cures, but because doctors learned to identify different subtypes of leukemia and match treatments accordingly. As one oncologist told him: “When we make a diagnosis and start treatment, we are expecting variation in response. We’re on the alert, but we’re looking for it. We know it’s going to happen. We’re already prepared to think about what we’re going to try next.”
This mirrors exactly what authentic RIE practice looks like. We don’t approach each child with a predetermined script or expect identical responses to our interactions. Instead, we observe carefully, notice how each child communicates and responds, and adapt our approach accordingly. We expect variation because we recognize each child’s authentic self.
Children don’t need constant entertainment or instruction; they need our authentic presence and trust.
Shonkoff’s critique of “evidence-based” programs resonated deeply with RIE principles. He pointed out that when research shows an “average effect,” it often masks the reality that some children benefit enormously while others show no improvement at all. The field’s obsession with proving programs “work” has led to overlooking the crucial question: for whom do they work, and why?
This is why RIE has never claimed to be a curriculum or program to be implemented uniformly. Instead, it’s a philosophy that guides us to pay attention to each child’s authentic communication, to respond to their individual needs and rhythms, and to trust their competence to show us what they need.
Perhaps most importantly, Shonkoff’s nuanced understanding of stress aligns beautifully with RIE’s approach to challenges and boundaries. He emphasized that children need “manageable stress experiences to develop resilience”—stress like having to share toys, not getting ten cookies, or adapting to a new situation. The key is that these stresses must be manageable and supported by responsive relationships.
This validates our practice of not over-protecting children from natural frustrations while providing emotional safety. When we acknowledge a toddler’s feelings about having to wait their turn while maintaining a calm boundary, we’re providing exactly the kind of supportive stress experience that builds resilience at a biological level.
What struck me most about Shonkoff’s presentation was his insistence that despite all the community-level and policy interventions needed, “responsive caregiving is what brings all that stuff into the body and affects health and development and behavior.” No matter how far out we zoom—to neighborhoods, communities, or societal factors—everything ultimately comes through relationships.
This is the profound truth that RIE has always understood: authentic, respectful interactions with individual children are not just nice to have, they are the fundamental mechanism through which all learning, healing, and development occurs.
The research continues to validate what Magda Gerber intuited decades ago: children are competent individuals who deserve our respect, careful attention, and authentic responses. When we honor their individual variations and communicate with them honestly, we’re not just being kind—we’re supporting their optimal development at the deepest biological level.
In a world increasingly focused on programs, interventions, and measurable outcomes, it’s both validating and humbling to remember that the most powerful tool we have remains the same: our authentic presence with each unique child.