Who Are We Documenting For? Putting Children Back at the Centre of Their Learning Stories

I want you to think about the last learning story or observation you wrote.

Who was it actually for?

Was it for the child? Their family? Your educational leader? An assessor? Or was it written because your service has an expectation about how many observations need to be completed each month?

Now, here’s another question.

When was the last time you saw a child independently pick up their own learning documentation, revisit an experience and use it to inform what they wanted to do next?

I think this is something we need to talk about more in early childhood education.

We spend an enormous amount of time documenting children’s learning. We take photographs, write observations, link experiences to learning outcomes and upload stories to digital platforms.

And yet, I sometimes wonder whether the children themselves are getting lost in the process.

We have become very good at producing documentation about children.

But are we equally good at creating documentation with children and for children?

When did documentation become something we produce rather than something we use?

I want to be clear that I am not questioning the value of documentation.

Quite the opposite.

I believe meaningful documentation is one of the most powerful tools educators have.

It helps us notice children’s thinking, recognise their strengths, understand their interests and make informed decisions about where learning might go next.

It allows us to share children’s experiences with families and reflect critically on our teaching practices.

Documentation can also make learning visible in ways that might otherwise go unnoticed.

But somewhere along the way, I think the process has become unnecessarily complicated.

In some services, educators are expected to produce a certain number of observations for every child.

There are learning stories to write, photographs to upload, outcomes to link and planning cycles to complete.

And while these processes are often introduced with good intentions, I think we need to ask whether they are always achieving what we hoped they would.

Are we documenting because something meaningful has happened?

Or are we searching for something to document because an observation is due?

These are two very different starting points.

The Early Years Learning Framework asks educators to engage in ongoing assessment and planning informed by children’s learning. It doesn’t prescribe a universal monthly quota of learning stories for every child.

So perhaps we need to be more critical about which documentation expectations genuinely support quality practice and which ones we’ve created for ourselves.

Documentation should be part of the learning, not just a record of it

One of the aspects of the 8 Ways of Aboriginal Learning that I particularly value is Learning Maps.

Within the framework, learning maps are a way of making learning pathways visible. They can help learners understand where they have been, what they are exploring and how different ideas connect.

In early childhood settings, I think project books and floor books can be wonderful ways of bringing this approach into practice.

Imagine a group of children investigating how things move.

They begin by experimenting with ramps and toy cars.

An educator photographs their constructions and records some of the children’s conversations.

Rather than uploading the photographs to a digital platform and moving on, the educator prints them and places them in a project book alongside the children’s drawings and theories.

The next morning, the book is available in the construction area.

One child notices a photograph of a ramp they built the previous day.

They point to it and say, “That one didn’t work because it was too flat.”

Another child responds, “We need to make it higher.”

Suddenly, the children are revisiting their earlier thinking.

They’re reflecting on what happened, identifying a problem and making plans to test a new idea.

The documentation has become part of the inquiry.

It isn’t simply evidence that learning occurred yesterday.

It’s helping to shape the learning that happens today.

And for me, that’s where documentation becomes really powerful.

The problem with documentation children can’t access

I think digital documentation platforms have brought some wonderful benefits to early childhood education.

They make it easier to communicate with families, share photographs and maintain records.

But I also think we need to consider what might be lost when most of our documentation exists behind a password on an adult’s phone or computer.

If a child wants to revisit something they did last week, can they?

If they want to show another child a photograph of something they built, is that possible?

If they want to compare their earlier drawing with a new one, where would they find it?

And if they want to contribute to the documentation itself, how much opportunity do they have?

I often encourage educators to think about documentation from the child’s perspective.

Imagine walking into a room where everyone is constantly photographing what you’re doing, writing notes about you and discussing your progress, but you rarely get to see what they’ve recorded.

It would feel rather strange, wouldn’t it?

Yet this can be the reality for some children.

We collect an enormous amount of information about their learning, but don’t always make that information available to them.

This is why I believe child-accessible documentation deserves much more attention.

And it doesn’t have to be complicated.

A project book sitting on a low shelf, photographs displayed at children’s eye level or a learning map that children can contribute to can make an enormous difference.

Project books as living documents

When I talk about project books, I’m not talking about beautifully presented scrapbooks that educators spend hours creating after the children have gone home.

In fact, I think the less precious we are about them, the better.

A project book should be something children can touch, explore, revisit and contribute to.

It might contain photographs, drawings, children’s questions, diagrams, maps, samples of mark-making and short transcripts of conversations.

Some pages might be messy.

Some might have arrows connecting ideas.

Others might contain a child’s drawing with a few words explaining their thinking.

And that’s perfectly fine.

The purpose isn’t to create something that looks impressive.

The purpose is to make the learning journey visible.

Let’s imagine children are investigating how plants grow.

On the first page, we might record their initial theories.

One child believes plants need sunlight.

Another thinks they only need water.

Someone else wonders whether plants can grow without soil.

As the inquiry develops, we add photographs of experiments, drawings of roots, measurements of seedlings and new questions.

A few weeks later, children revisit their earlier predictions.

They notice that some of their ideas have changed.

Perhaps they discover that seeds can begin germinating without soil, provided they have suitable moisture, oxygen and temperature.

Now they’re comparing what they thought before with what they understand today.

They’re recognising themselves as learners.

And importantly, they’re developing the capacity to reflect on their own thinking.

I would argue that this is far more valuable than simply producing a polished learning story about the experience.

Children’s voices should be heard, not just interpreted

Another issue I think we need to consider is how much of our documentation is written from the educator’s perspective.

We observe an experience and then interpret what we believe the child was learning.

We might write about problem-solving, collaboration, creativity or persistence.

These interpretations can be valuable, particularly when informed by our professional knowledge.

But I wonder how often we make space for children to explain their own thinking.

Sometimes the most insightful part of an observation isn’t what the educator writes.

It’s what the child actually says.

A child might explain why they chose a particular material, describe a theory they’re testing or share a connection to something that happened at home.

Without their voice, we might completely misunderstand the significance of the experience.

This is one reason I love recording children’s conversations, where appropriate consent and service policies allow.

A short audio recording can capture the richness of children’s language, questions and interactions.

We can then revisit the recording, transcribe meaningful sections and include children’s words in our documentation.

We can also invite children to listen to their earlier conversations.

Imagine a child hearing themselves explain a theory from several weeks ago and responding, “I don’t think that anymore!”

What a wonderful opportunity for reflection.

Of course, recording children comes with responsibilities. Services need appropriate consent, secure storage, clear retention practices and safeguards around how recordings are shared.

But when used ethically and intentionally, audio documentation can provide another way for children’s voices to remain central to their learning stories.

Could QR codes bring project books to life?

One strategy I discussed during a recent Eight Ways workshop was using QR codes within project books.

I think there is enormous potential here.

Imagine opening a project book and seeing a photograph of children investigating musical instruments.

Beside the photograph is a QR code.

When scanned using an educator-supported device, it plays a short recording of the children experimenting with different rhythms.

Or perhaps there’s a photograph of a child explaining how they constructed a bridge.

The QR code links to a recording of their explanation.

Now the documentation includes more than a photograph and an adult’s interpretation.

It captures the child’s voice, thinking and experience.

This can also be particularly valuable for children who communicate in different ways.

A child might demonstrate their understanding through movement, gesture, sound or construction rather than lengthy verbal explanations.

Short video or audio recordings can help preserve these forms of communication.

However, QR codes should link only to appropriately protected content, not publicly accessible recordings of children. Services also need to consider how recordings can be accessed, who has permission to view them and whether children and families have consented.

And we shouldn’t assume every family has access to the same technology.

QR codes can enrich documentation, but they shouldn’t replace accessible physical records or other ways of sharing learning.

What about AI? Can it actually help?

I think we also need to have a conversation about artificial intelligence.

Because if we’re being realistic, educators are already using AI tools, and this is likely to become increasingly common.

Personally, I can see opportunities for AI to reduce some of the administrative workload associated with documentation.

For example, an educator might have several pages of notes from a long-term inquiry.

With an approved, privacy-safe tool, AI could help organise those notes into themes, identify recurring questions or draft a summary of the learning journey.

It might help educators recognise connections between experiences that occurred weeks apart.

It could also support the organisation of planning reflections or help structure information for a project book.

But I think we need to be very careful about the role we allow AI to play.

AI should help educators organise and reflect on what they’ve noticed. It should never replace the professional responsibility to notice in the first place.

An AI tool wasn’t there when the child hesitated before trying something new.

It didn’t witness the excitement when a child finally solved a problem.

It doesn’t know the significance of a particular experience within the child’s family, culture or community.

And it cannot independently determine what learning has occurred simply because it has been given a photograph and a few notes.

That requires professional judgement, relationships and contextual understanding.

AI-generated text can also sound convincing while introducing inaccuracies or interpretations that aren’t supported by the evidence.

For that reason, educators must review, verify and take responsibility for anything they produce with AI assistance.

Most importantly, identifiable information about children, including photographs, recordings, names and observations, should not be entered into general-purpose AI tools without appropriate organisational approval, privacy safeguards and consent arrangements.

If technology can reduce unnecessary administrative work and create more time for educators to engage meaningfully with children, I think that’s worth exploring.

But if it simply allows us to produce more documentation, faster, without improving its quality or purpose, then I wonder what we’ve actually achieved.

Documentation as a form of relationship

When we think about documentation through the Eight Ways, I believe there is an opportunity to see it as something much more relational.

Documentation doesn’t have to be something an educator creates independently.

It can be a shared process involving children, families and communities.

Children can select photographs they want included in a project book.

They can dictate captions, draw diagrams, explain their theories or decide which experiences they want to revisit.

Families can contribute knowledge, stories and perspectives that help educators understand the significance of children’s learning.

Community members might share insights that extend an inquiry or help children connect their experiences with the world beyond the service.

And educators can bring these contributions together to create a richer picture of learning.

This is particularly important when we consider culturally responsive practice.

Not all children communicate their knowledge in the same way.

Not all families value the same forms of learning or expression.

And not all knowledge is best represented through written observations.

Aboriginal pedagogies remind us of the significance of relationships, storytelling, visual communication, experience and connections with place, although these practices and their cultural meanings vary across communities.

When we broaden our understanding of what documentation can look like, we create more opportunities for children’s diverse ways of knowing, being and doing to be recognised.

Are we documenting learning or collecting evidence?

I think this is one of the most important questions educators can ask themselves.

There is a difference between documenting learning to understand it and collecting evidence to prove that learning has occurred.

Of course, early childhood services have responsibilities relating to assessment, planning and quality improvement.

We need to be able to demonstrate that we are supporting children’s learning and development.

But I worry when documentation becomes primarily about producing evidence for someone else.

When that happens, we can lose sight of its pedagogical purpose.

We might prioritise experiences that photograph well.

We might focus on producing a certain number of observations rather than following a meaningful inquiry over time.

Or we might spend more time writing about children’s experiences than engaging in them.

I don’t think the answer is to stop documenting.

I think the answer is to become much more intentional about what we document, why we document it and how it is used.

A single project book that captures several weeks of meaningful inquiry may provide richer evidence of learning than dozens of disconnected observations.

A short transcript of a child’s conversation may reveal more about their thinking than a lengthy adult-written interpretation.

And a learning map that children actively revisit may support ongoing learning in ways that a digital story stored away in an online portfolio cannot.

Quality documentation isn’t necessarily about quantity.

It’s about purpose.

A challenge for your next team meeting

I’d encourage you to bring a piece of documentation to your next team meeting.

It might be a learning story, observation, project book, floor book or digital portfolio entry.

As a team, consider the following questions:

I think that last question is particularly important.

Because sometimes we continue doing things simply because they’ve become part of our routine.

We don’t always stop to question whether they’re still serving their original purpose.

Final reflections

I believe documentation should be much more than a record of what children have done.

It should help children understand themselves as capable learners.

It should provide opportunities to revisit experiences, test theories, make connections and recognise how their thinking has changed.

It should strengthen relationships between children, educators, families and communities.

And it should inform our teaching decisions in meaningful ways.

The Learning Maps approach within the 8 Ways of Aboriginal Learning offers us an opportunity to reconsider how we make learning visible and accessible.

It challenges us to move beyond documentation as an administrative task and recognise its potential as an active part of the learning process.

I don’t think we need more photographs, longer observations or increasingly elaborate learning stories.

I think we need documentation that actually does something.

Documentation that sparks conversations.

Documentation that invites reflection.

Documentation that children can return to, contribute to and learn from.

And perhaps most importantly, documentation that reminds children their ideas, experiences and voices matter.

Because children’s learning stories shouldn’t simply be something we write about them. They should be something children can see themselves in, contribute to and continue to shape.

Jessica Staines is the founder of Koori Curriculum and works with early childhood educators across Australia to support the meaningful inclusion of Aboriginal perspectives in early learning environments.

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.