Outdoor environments are never neutral. They tell stories. They reflect values. They reinforce, or challenge, dominant worldviews.
If we are serious about embedding Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander perspectives with integrity, then we must look beyond posters and picture books. We must turn our attention to the land children play on every day.
Because outdoor spaces can either quietly reproduce colonial narratives… or they can become places of truth-telling, cultural continuity and relational learning.
Let’s yarn about what it means to rethink outdoor play through a First Nations lens.
Challenging the Nature/Culture Divide
Western frameworks often position “nature” as something separate from humans. First Nations worldviews do not. Country is not a backdrop.
It is not a resource.
It is not a playground.
Country is living, relational, spiritual and storied.
When we design outdoor spaces without acknowledging this, we unintentionally reinforce a colonial narrative, one that separates children from place, and place from people.
A First Nations lens asks:
- Who does this land belong to?
- What stories sit here?
- What existed before the fences and shade sails?
- What animals are we sharing this space with?
- How are we honouring custodianship in our daily practice?
Windows and Mirrors: Reflecting Local Community
We often talk about “windows and mirrors” inside our classrooms, resources that reflect children’s identities and give insight into others’ experiences.
The same principle applies outdoors.
When I was in Moranbah, educators yarned about incorporating elements that reflect the local mining culture, tools, materials, storytelling prompts connected to community identity.
In Warwick, we discussed agriculture, saddles, vegetable gardens, and even cutting small windows into fence palings so children could see the neighbour’s sheep. A simple shift that connected children to the living landscape around them.
Outdoors can:
- Mirror the local economy and ways of life
- Reflect the cultural narratives of place
- Offer windows into stories children may not otherwise access
This is not about theming playgrounds. It’s about grounding environments in local context.
Designing With Country, Not Just On It
Jenn Read from Urban Discovery, a Koori Curriculum Masterclass presenter, is a Melbourne-based landscaper who works alongside local Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities when designing outdoor spaces.
That collaboration matters. It ensures spaces reflect Country respectfully, rather than generically.
For example:
- On freshwater Country, a dry riverbed may be woven into the sandpit space.
- Stone features might echo local fish traps.
- Grinding stone-inspired surfaces might invite sensory exploration.
- Native plants are chosen not just for aesthetics, but for their cultural, seasonal and ecological significance.
This approach also invites educators to consider:
- Who are we sharing Country with?
- What birds, insects, reptiles and mammals live here?
- How can we create green corridors and habitats?
- How do we protect and welcome more-than-human kin into our space?
This is sustainability through a custodial lens.
A Living Example: Narooma Preschool
At Narooma Preschool, meaningful nods to local culture are woven throughout the outdoor environment.
Murals share local cultural stories. Seasonal indicator plants are intentionally grown. Language signage is visible throughout the space.
Nothing feels tokenistic.
Nothing feels decorative.
Instead, culture is embedded, functional, lived, visible. And most importantly, Aboriginal children can see themselves reflected.
Artefacts Must Be Used, Not Displayed
The same principles we apply indoors apply outdoors. If we include:
- Digging sticks
- Coolamons
- Palm fronds
- Bush materials
They must be used functionally in play.
A digging stick placed in the sandpit alongside plastic buckets and spades tells a different story than one mounted on a wall. Coolamons used to transport sand, leaves or loose parts invite children into embodied learning.
This is not about replacing existing resources. It is about expanding them.
Yarning Circles: More Than “Group Time”
Adding a yarning circle to an outdoor space can be powerful — if educators understand its purpose. A yarning circle is not simply sitting in a circle for announcements.
It is grounded in:
- Deep listening
- Relational exchange
- Respectful turn-taking
- Collective meaning-making
Without this understanding, the structure risks becoming aesthetic rather than pedagogical.
When used with intention, it shifts power dynamics and centres voice.
Fire, Water, Wind and Earth
Outdoor spaces should allow children to interact with the elements.
- Fire: cooking, eco-dyeing, warmth, transformation.
- Water: flow, erosion, seasonal change.
- Wind: movement, sound, direction.
- Earth: digging, planting, grounding.
Engaging with the elements connects children to ancient ways of learning.
It also challenges over-sanitised risk-averse environments that distance children from the natural world.
Under appropriate safety protocols and community consultation, these experiences can become deeply educational.
From Playground to Place
When we rethink outdoor spaces through a First Nations lens, we move:
- From decoration → to story
- From landscaping → to custodianship
- From play equipment → to place-based pedagogy
- From token gestures → to relational practice
Outdoor environments become living curriculum.
They become spaces where:
- Aboriginal children see their cultures honoured.
- Non-Indigenous children learn respect and responsibility.
- Sustainability is embedded, not laminated.
- Country is acknowledged through action, not just words.
This work is ongoing. It requires consultation. It requires humility. It requires listening.
But when done well, outdoor spaces stop being backdrops. They become teachers.
And that is where transformation begins.
