Recently, I was flicking through an old exercise book filled with handwritten observations from my preschool days in 1992 and 1993. It was fascinating reading about myself as a little girl. Apparently, I was quite the character.
I had a vivid imagination, enjoyed telling elaborate stories and wasn’t afraid to speak my mind. One observation recorded me participating in an egg-and-spoon race. Despite repeatedly dropping the egg, I kept picking it up and continuing. At the end, I proudly announced:
“I won my race, didn’t I?”
Another observation captured me questioning why the scissors were so sharp, before confidently reassuring my educator that I knew how to be careful. Reading these snippets more than thirty years later, I can still recognise myself in that little girl.
But amongst the funny anecdotes and developmental observations, I came across one particular jotting that stopped me in my tracks. It was a conversation about Aboriginal people.
And what makes this observation especially interesting is that I am Aboriginal myself.
A Conversation About Aboriginal People in 1992
My educator documented an interaction that took place while children were colouring Aboriginal flags. I asked another child what she was making, and she explained that she was colouring an Aboriginal flag. The conversation then took an unexpected turn.
I asked: “Do you know Aboriginals don’t wear clothes?”
Another child, Alison, replied: “Yes, they do; they wear nappies.”
To which I responded: “That's silly, Alison; they are not babies, you know.”
Later that day, my educator found a book about Aboriginal people and showed it to me during rest time. She recorded that I looked at the pictures but didn’t have much to say. She then explained that Aboriginal people lived in cities and mentioned that another child at the preschool was Aboriginal.
According to the observation, I shook my head. Reading this as an adult, I have so many questions.
- Where had I developed these ideas about Aboriginal people?
- What books had I been exposed to?
- What images was I seeing on television?
- What conversations had I heard?
- And perhaps most importantly, how did I understand my own Aboriginal identity at that age?
I was an Aboriginal child, yet I appeared to hold an image of Aboriginal people that was disconnected from my own everyday experiences. It’s almost as though Aboriginality was something I associated with other people, rather than something I recognised within myself.
Of course, I can’t know exactly what I understood about my heritage at that particular moment. One observation cannot tell us everything about a child’s developing sense of identity.
But it does offer a fascinating glimpse into how children make sense of culture, difference and belonging.
When Children Don’t See Themselves Reflected
I often talk to educators about the importance of children having access to both mirrors and windows within their learning environments. Mirrors reflect children’s own identities, families, cultures and lived experiences. Windows provide opportunities to learn about people whose experiences may differ from their own.
But reading this observation made me think about what happens when the windows we provide don’t include mirrors for the children who need them.
I wonder what representations of Aboriginal people were available to me in 1992. Were Aboriginal families represented as living contemporary lives? Did the books show Aboriginal people living in cities and towns, attending schools, working in different professions and participating in everyday community life? Or were Aboriginal people predominantly represented through historical images and depictions of traditional lifestyles?
There is nothing wrong with children learning about traditional Aboriginal ways of life. That knowledge is important and valuable. But when those representations are presented without contemporary perspectives, children can develop a narrow understanding of what Aboriginality looks like.
And that matters enormously for Aboriginal children themselves. If the only Aboriginal people I encountered in books looked and lived very differently from my own family, perhaps it’s understandable that I struggled to recognise myself within those representations.
Children shouldn’t have to choose between the Aboriginal people they see in educational resources and the Aboriginal people they know in their everyday lives.
They need to understand that Aboriginal peoples have always been diverse, and that Aboriginal cultures are living, contemporary and continuing.
Cultural Identity Isn’t Automatically Understood
Sometimes we assume that because a child is Aboriginal, they must already understand what being Aboriginal means. But cultural identity is not something children necessarily comprehend in a complete or fixed way. It’s something that develops over time.
Through family stories. Through relationships with Elders and community. Through experiences on Country. Through language, cultural practices and everyday conversations. And through the representations children encounter in their homes, communities and educational environments.
An Aboriginal child might have a strong sense of belonging to their family while still developing an understanding of their broader cultural identity. Another child might know they are Aboriginal but struggle to connect that understanding with the images of Aboriginal people presented in books or learning experiences.
There is no single way to be Aboriginal, and there is no single pathway through which Aboriginal children come to understand their identity. This is why cultural safety and representation are so important. Our role as educators is not to define children’s identities for them.
It is to create environments where their identities are recognised, respected and affirmed.
Children Notice Difference. What Matters Is How We Respond.
One thing I appreciate about this observation is that my educator didn’t simply dismiss the conversation. She recognised that my understanding needed broadening. She found a book, initiated a follow-up conversation and explained that Aboriginal people also lived in cities.
Looking back through a contemporary lens, I would approach some aspects differently. I’d want to know what book she chose and whether it presented a diverse and contemporary understanding of Aboriginal peoples. I’d also question the original activity.
- Why were the children colouring Aboriginal flags?
- What understanding of the flag’s history and significance accompanied the experience?
- Was this part of an ongoing approach to embedding Aboriginal perspectives, or an isolated cultural activity?
- And perhaps most importantly, did my educators know that I was Aboriginal?
- If they did, how were they supporting my developing sense of identity?
If they didn’t, what opportunities existed for my family to share our cultural background, experiences and aspirations?
These aren’t questions I can answer from the records. But they’re questions educators should be asking today. When children make assumptions about culture, race or difference, our first response shouldn’t be to shame them or shut down the conversation. We need to become curious about their thinking.
- Where might this idea have come from?
- What representations could be reinforcing it?
- What experiences could help broaden their understanding?
- And how can we respond in ways that are respectful, accurate and culturally safe?
Anti-bias education isn’t about pretending children don’t notice difference. It’s about supporting them to understand difference without developing stereotypes, prejudice or a sense that one way of being is more valuable than another.
Coming Full Circle
There is something quite remarkable about reading this observation now. The little Aboriginal girl who once questioned whether Aboriginal people wore clothes grew up to spend much of her professional life challenging stereotypes and advocating for more authentic Aboriginal representation in early childhood education.
There’s a certain irony in that. But there’s also an important lesson.
We cannot assume that Aboriginal children automatically recognise themselves in the ways Aboriginal cultures are represented.
We need to be intentional about the books we choose, the images we display, the conversations we have and the relationships we build with families and communities. We need Aboriginal children to see themselves reflected in the curriculum. Not just through flags, artefacts or historical images, but through the diversity of Aboriginal families, communities, stories and contemporary experiences.
Because the stories we tell children about culture influence the stories they tell themselves about who they are. And every Aboriginal child deserves to grow up knowing that their identity is something to be recognised, celebrated and valued.
