by Nicole Sheath
On Wednesday 8 July 2026, I had the privilege of visiting Woden Valley Early Learning Centre. I arrived expecting to see an early learning service; I left inspired by a community that has thoughtfully woven nature, sustainability, belonging and children's agency into everyday practice.
From the moment I stepped through the small wooden gate at the entrance, there was a sense that this place was different. It felt welcoming, authentic and deeply connected to its community. Rather than polished displays designed for adults, there were signs everywhere of children's involvement and contribution.
The journey through the service began in a courtyard where families and educators shared responsibility for the environment around them. A community swap point held freshly collected duck eggs available for anyone to take home. Nearby, seedlings planted by families were beginning to sprout in planter pots, a visible reminder that learning extends beyond the preschool gate.
As we walked further, preparations for Floriade were underway. Tiny tulip shoots were emerging from the soil, accompanied by picture cards showing the stages of growth. These simple visual supports invited children to observe, wonder and make connections as the plants developed. Beside the garden stood a small community library. Opening its door revealed books ready to be borrowed, shared and exchanged. Gabby explained that the contents often changed, creating ongoing opportunities for curiosity and discovery.
Entering the preschool playground, I was immediately struck by the atmosphere. Despite being part of a 96-place service, the space felt remarkably calm. Children were deeply engaged in meaningful experiences. Some sat with educators listening to stories, while others quietly observed the ducks in the nearby Nurraganawilli garden.
There was no sense of rush or urgency—just children, educators and the environment working in harmony.
The garden itself felt magical.
Woodchips softened each step. Gumboots hung ready for exploration. There were shovels, mallets, pots and natural materials inviting investigation and creativity. A sensory garden provided edible produce for children to taste and care for. A chicken coop offered authentic opportunities for responsibility and connection with living things. Hay bales, autumn leaves and varied terrain encouraged movement and exploration.
One planter box existed for a simple but important purpose: digging. As Gabby sat down to turn the soil, a duck hurried over in anticipation of finding a worm. This small interaction perfectly captured the interconnectedness of the space.
There was an area where children could hammer pieces of wood into the earth, a swing bench positioned for quiet reflection, and archways overhead bearing fruit. Everywhere I looked, I could see evidence of children's work, ideas and contributions. Nothing felt staged or designed for social media. Instead, it felt real, purposeful and deeply respectful of childhood.
What stood out most was learning through experience rather than instruction.
The highlight of my visit was being invited to join the preschool children's fire gathering.
As the fire crackled, children gathered with their educators, sitting on sandstone blocks arranged in a circle. A second circle of logs created a clear visual boundary, supporting children's understanding of safety and risk. It was simple, effective and respectful of children's capability.
I sat quietly and listened.
The children noticed the smell of the fire. They talked about the warmth they could feel. They listened to the sounds around them. They wondered when the popcorn would be ready. Their observations were genuine and unprompted.
Gabby began with an Acknowledgement of Country unique to their service, incorporating local Aboriginal language. She then shared the story of The Wide-Mouthed Frog, weaving Aboriginal language throughout the telling. The children joined in confidently with both the language and actions, demonstrating how cultural learning becomes meaningful when it is embedded in everyday experiences.
The popcorn-making process became a lesson in itself.
The oil was added, the kernels placed in the pot, and the lid secured. The pot was placed over the fire, and everyone waited.
And waited.
The popcorn refused to pop.
What could have been viewed as an inconvenience became one of the richest learning moments of the morning. Children discussed why it wasn't working, offered solutions, questioned how the problem could be fixed, and repeatedly checked on the progress.
Some children drew on the sandstone with pieces of charcoal. Others suggested singing songs. One child requested tapping sticks, which educators promptly provided. Some sat quietly, gazing into the fire and chatting with friends. Others shared stories about camping and experiences with fire.
Throughout it all, conversations about safety emerged naturally and meaningfully.
There was no pressure to move children on or fill every moment. The waiting itself became valuable. Children were given time to think, contribute, problem-solve, connect, and simply be present.
Eventually, the popcorn was ready.
Children who had wandered off returned to share in the experience together. A second batch was then made for the younger children in the service, reciprocating a gesture from the previous day when popcorn had been shared with the preschool room.
It was a simple act of community, generosity and belonging.
As I reflected on the day, I realised that what made Woden Valley Early Learning Centre so special was not any one resource, garden feature or program. It was the intentional culture that sat underneath it all. The educators had created environments where children were trusted, where relationships were prioritised, where learning unfolded naturally through real experiences, and where community connections were visible in everyday practice.
I left feeling inspired, not because I wanted Engadine Preschool to replicate what I had seen, but because it prompted me to look more deeply at what is possible within our own context.
The visit challenged me to consider:
How can we create even more opportunities for children to connect with nature through authentic, everyday experiences?
How can we slow down and value the learning that happens in moments of waiting, wondering and problem-solving?
How can we continue to strengthen children's sense of belonging and contribution within our preschool community?
What existing strengths can we build upon to create richer opportunities for risk-taking, sustainability and connection to Country?
The most powerful takeaway from my visit was a reminder that meaningful learning does not come from expensive resources or perfectly curated spaces. It comes from relationships, intentionality and a belief in children's capabilities.
As a team, I look forward to exploring how we can build on the wonderful work already happening at Engadine Preschool, inspired by what I experienced at Woden Valley and guided by what is meaningful for our own children, families and community
