Have you ever spent hours planning an inquiry, only for the children to take it in a completely different direction?
Perhaps you were investigating insects, but the children became fascinated by the holes they were finding in the garden. Before long, they were digging tunnels, experimenting with water and wondering what lived beneath the ground. Or perhaps you were exploring transport, but the children’s interest shifted from cars and trucks to roads, bridges and eventually the people who build them.
Sometimes, as educators, we can find these unexpected directions frustrating. We’ve spent time developing our program. We’ve identified learning outcomes, gathered resources and considered where we want the inquiry to go.
And then the children go off on a tangent.
But what if those tangents are where some of the most meaningful learning happens? What if the detour isn’t a distraction from the learning, but an important part of it?
This is something I often explore with educators when discussing the 8 Ways of Aboriginal Learning, particularly the concept of Non-linear Learning.
Why Are We So Attached To Linear Learning?
Much of our approach to education is structured around progression. We introduce a concept, provide opportunities for practice, assess understanding and then move on to something new. Our planning cycles often reflect this same sequence.
Observe. Plan. Implement. Evaluate. Reflect.
These processes can be useful. They encourage intentionality and help educators think critically about their practice. But children’s learning doesn’t always follow such a predictable pathway. Children revisit ideas. They make unexpected connections. They abandon investigations only to return to them weeks or months later.
They might demonstrate an understanding through play long before they can articulate it verbally. And sometimes, what appears to be a completely unrelated experience is actually helping them make sense of something they encountered much earlier. When we expect learning to progress in a straight line, we risk overlooking these connections.
We can become so focused on what comes next that we forget to look backwards, sideways and around us.
Understanding Non-linear Learning Through the 8 Ways
Non-linear Learning is one of the interconnected pedagogical approaches represented within the 8 Ways of Aboriginal Learning framework. It encourages us to recognise that learning can move between ideas, experiences, relationships and contexts rather than following a single predetermined sequence. Within the framework, non-linear learning also draws attention to the use of indirect pathways, familiar concepts and connections that help learners understand something new.
I think this is particularly relevant in early childhood education. Young children rarely separate their learning into neat subject areas. An interest in cooking might involve mathematics, science, literacy, family traditions, sensory exploration and cultural knowledge. A fascination with puddles might lead to questions about rain, evaporation, reflections, animal habitats and where water goes when it disappears.
Children don’t necessarily see these as separate learning experiences. For them, they are all part of understanding the world. And when we allow ourselves to follow these connections, we create opportunities for much deeper learning.
The Inquiry That Took an Unexpected Turn
Let’s imagine a group of preschool children who have become interested in shadows. It begins one morning when a child notices their shadow stretching across the playground. Another child joins them, and soon they are experimenting with making their shadows bigger, smaller and different shapes.
An educator recognises the interest and begins introducing opportunities to explore light and shadow. They provide torches, translucent materials, shadow puppets and opportunities for observational drawing. The children begin investigating how shadows change throughout the day. So far, the inquiry seems relatively straightforward.
But then something unexpected happens.
One child notices that their shadow disappears when a cloud moves across the sun. Suddenly, the children are talking about clouds. They begin watching the sky, comparing cloud shapes and wondering why some clouds are dark while others are white.
This leads to an interest in weather.
The children start recording rainy days, investigating wind and experimenting with materials that move in the breeze. A few weeks later, they begin constructing shelters in the outdoor environment to protect themselves from the sun and rain. Now they’re investigating design, construction and the properties of different materials. And eventually, during an afternoon of outdoor play, someone notices their shadow again.
The children return to their original investigation, but this time they bring a much broader understanding of sunlight, weather, movement and the environment.
- Was the inquiry about shadows?
- Or was it about weather?
- Or construction?
- I would argue that it was about all of these things.
The learning was interconnected. The children were making meaning through a series of experiences that built upon one another, even though the direction wasn’t always predictable.
This is a hypothetical example, but it illustrates the kinds of connections educators can observe when they remain responsive to children’s thinking.
Returning To Learning Is Not the Same as Repeating It
One of the things I find particularly interesting about children’s learning is how frequently they return to familiar ideas. An educator might observe a group of children building the same type of structure over several weeks and wonder whether it’s time to introduce something new. But repetition doesn’t necessarily mean that learning has stopped.
A child who repeatedly builds a tower might be investigating balance, stability, height, weight or the relationship between different materials. Each time the tower collapses, they gather new information. Each time they rebuild it, they have an opportunity to test another theory. And sometimes, they return to the same experience after encountering new information elsewhere.
This reminds me of Jerome Bruner’s concept of the spiral curriculum, in which learners revisit ideas over time with increasing depth and complexity. While Bruner’s theory and the Eight Ways emerge from different knowledge traditions and should not be treated as interchangeable, both can prompt educators to think about the value of revisiting concepts. We need to be careful not to interpret repetition as a lack of progress.
Sometimes, children are returning to an idea because there is still more for them to discover.
Following Children’s Interests Doesn’t Mean Following Every Tangent
Now, I think it’s important to make a distinction here. Embracing non-linear learning doesn’t mean that educators need to abandon intentional teaching or follow every new interest that emerges. If we did that, our curriculum could become a series of disconnected experiences. Instead, we need to become skilled at recognising meaningful connections.
When children introduce a new idea, we can ask ourselves:
- Is this connected to something they have been investigating?
- What prior knowledge might they be drawing upon?
- Does this new direction offer an opportunity to deepen their understanding?
- How might we support children to make connections between these experiences?
- And is this an interest that children are genuinely pursuing, or something we are introducing because it seems like a convenient activity?
These questions help us remain intentional without becoming rigid. I often think of educators as researchers alongside children. We are observing, listening, forming theories, testing ideas and making decisions based on what we discover. Our planning should reflect this process.
Rather than mapping out every step of an inquiry in advance, we can identify broad concepts and learning goals while remaining open to the different pathways children might take.
Learning Is Connected to Relationships, Place and Experience
Another important consideration is that children don’t arrive at our services as blank slates. They bring knowledge from their families, communities, cultures and lived experiences. These connections can shape the direction of their learning in ways we may not initially anticipate.
For example, an investigation into gardening might prompt one child to share how their grandmother grows vegetables.
Another child might talk about collecting fruit from trees near their home. A child with connections to farming might introduce knowledge about soil, rainfall or machinery. An Aboriginal child may bring knowledge of plants, animals, seasonal changes or cultural practices learned through relationships with family and Country. These contributions can open entirely new pathways for inquiry.
And they remind us that knowledge doesn’t exist only within the walls of our early childhood settings.
Within Aboriginal ways of knowing, being and doing, relationships between people, place, community and knowledge are deeply significant, although these relationships are understood and expressed differently across Aboriginal cultures. When we approach learning relationally, we begin to recognise that children’s understanding is shaped by the many different contexts they move between.
This is one reason I believe community connections and family knowledge should be integral to curriculum planning, rather than occasional additions.
What Happens When Our Documentation Is Too Linear?
I also think we need to consider how our documentation practices influence the way we understand learning. Often, we document experiences as individual events.
On Monday, the children investigated shadows. On Tuesday, they explored clouds. On Wednesday, they experimented with wind. Each experience might have its own photograph, learning story or observation.
But where are we capturing the connections?
Where are we showing how a conversation about shadows led to questions about clouds? Or how an investigation into weather influenced the children’s construction play? If we document each experience in isolation, we risk presenting learning as a collection of unrelated activities.
This is where I find learning maps and project books particularly valuable.
Rather than simply recording what happened on a particular day, we can document the evolving journey of an inquiry. We might include children’s initial theories, photographs of their investigations, questions that emerged, new discoveries and ideas that resurfaced weeks later. We could use arrows, mind maps and visual connections to demonstrate how one experience influenced another.
Most importantly, we can make this documentation accessible to children. Imagine children being able to revisit their earlier thinking, compare it with what they now know and identify connections that even the educators hadn’t noticed.
Documentation then becomes part of the learning process, rather than simply a record of it.
The Importance of Slowing Down
Sometimes I wonder whether our desire to keep moving forward is preventing us from recognising the learning that is already happening. We can feel pressure to introduce new experiences, demonstrate progression and continually extend children’s interests.
But meaningful learning often requires time.
Time to revisit. Time to experiment. Time to make mistakes. Time to observe. Time to return to familiar experiences with new understanding.
This doesn’t mean educators should become passive. It means we need to be thoughtful about when to introduce something new and when to allow children to continue exploring. Sometimes the most intentional teaching decision we can make is to provide more time.
We don’t always need a new provocation. We don’t always need a new resource. And we certainly don’t need to change the learning environment simply because another week has passed.
Sometimes children need the opportunity to continue an investigation that is already rich with possibilities.
What Might This Look Like in Practice?
If we genuinely want to embrace non-linear learning, there are several practical shifts we can make.
Plan with possibilities rather than predetermined pathways: When developing an inquiry, identify the different concepts and connections that might emerge. Use these as possibilities rather than a fixed sequence of experiences.
Document children’s theories, not just their activities: Pay attention to the questions children ask, the connections they make and the ideas they revisit. These often tell us more about their learning than the finished product.
Keep previous learning visible and accessible: Use floor books, photographs, learning maps and children’s drawings so they can return to earlier investigations.
Allow interests to resurface: Don’t assume an inquiry has finished simply because children have moved on to something else. Familiar ideas may reappear in new contexts.
Look for connections across the curriculum: When children move from construction to water, or from music to mathematics, consider how these experiences might be connected rather than treating them as separate topics.
Value children’s knowledge from outside the service: Invite families and community members to share their experiences and perspectives. These relationships can enrich inquiries in ways educators may not anticipate.
A Question for Your Next Team Meeting
I would encourage you to look back over your documentation from the past few months. Choose an inquiry that you believe has finished. Now look a little more closely.
- Have the children revisited any of the original ideas through their play?
- Have they applied knowledge from that inquiry in another context?
- Have new interests emerged that connect with something they explored previously?
- Could you create a learning map that shows these connections?
You might discover that an inquiry you considered complete is actually continuing in ways you hadn’t recognised. And perhaps this will change the way you approach your next planning cycle.
I think one of the greatest gifts we can give children is the freedom to explore ideas without feeling that learning must always move in a predetermined direction. The 8 Ways of Aboriginal Learning reminds us that knowledge can be developed through interconnected experiences, relationships and pathways.
It challenges us to recognise that learning isn’t always neat, predictable or easily captured within a planning template. Sometimes children move forward. Sometimes they circle back. Sometimes they take an unexpected detour. And sometimes they return to an old idea with an entirely new perspective.
Our role as educators isn’t to control every step of that journey. It’s to recognise the learning within it, provide opportunities for deeper investigation and help children make connections between their experiences.
Because sometimes the most meaningful learning happens when we stop worrying about where the inquiry is supposed to go and start paying attention to where the children are taking us.
Framework acknowledgement: The 8 Ways of Aboriginal Learning framework draws on Aboriginal pedagogical knowledge from Western New South Wales. Educators are encouraged to acknowledge its origins and engage respectfully with local Aboriginal communities and knowledge systems when applying the framework.
