Beyond The Walls and Into Wonderland.

Let me be frank. When I first proposed the idea of regular excursions for our children, my team told me they would rather go through the stress of Assessment & Rating on repeat. 

“What if something happens? Are we insured for that? What if we lose a child?”

Those fears were real. As early childhood educators, we are trained to anticipate, prevent, and intervene. To challenge the team I posed the question,

“What if we start with a short, trip to the park and see what happens?”

And that’s exactly what we did.

Our first excursion was all hands on deck: our entire team of educators, our approved provider, and additional parent helpers walking ten minutes to the local park. In the week leading up to the park excursion, we prepared the children with safety talks, discussions about expectations and in looking back, we bombarded the children with far too many rules. The night before the big trip, I was a nervous wreck, acutely aware that, as the Nominated Supervisor, the responsibility and outcomes rested squarely on my shoulders should anything go wrong. Yet I chose to trust the children’s capabilities. I trusted that they would listen, notice, and respond thoughtfully. 

And they did. What unfolded was not chaos but a calm, almost joyful rhythm. The children walked together with care, pointing out flowers, chatting to local elderly residents, noticing the smallest of details as if our familiar streets were suddenly something brand new. At the park, the children explored with curiosity but also with respect for the boundaries we had set. There was laughter, conversation, and a sense of shared adventure. When we returned to preschool, we were hot and we were tired, but we were happy and when that final head count was complete, we all took a collective sigh of relief to be back behind the safe fencing of our service.

It wasn’t always smooth sailing. By the fourth and fifth excursions we had delt with refusal to walk up the hill, toileting in a park with no toilets, swarms of mosquitoes and we even spotting a freshly shedded snakeskin in our path, but the gaggle of children and educators continued to focus on the job at hand and that was… play based learning. It was in those moments it was becoming clearer to me that risk was not an enemy anymore. Dare I say it, risk had evolved into a partner of learning.

These excursions have taught our team valuable lessons. The greatest risk is not injury; it is under exposure. If a child never moves beyond the service walls, never meets the river, the library, the cafe or the bush, we are denying them half their world and half their possibility. 

In my opinion that is a pedagogical failure that is far greater than any scraped knee.

Taking Learning Outdoors One Step Further

“I’ve never worn high-vis to the beach” ~ Ella de la Motte

This year our service was privileged to be featured in Semann & Slattery’s ‘Powerful Pedagogy’ newsletter. In conversation with Lisa Bryant, who authored the piece, I shared a photo of a child exploring the local museum in a fluro yellow high-visibility vest. Lisa’s response was simple and hard for me to swallow; she hated the vests and wouldn’t include the photo in our article. It was a moment that unsettled me and sat in the back of my mind. Do we dare to take it one step further, could we remove the high vis altogether?

What followed was not a quick decision, but a process of deep critical reflection with both our team and our families. We asked ourselves: What purpose do these vests really serve? Do they safeguard children, or do they signal to the world a lack of trust in their capability?

Together, we decided to remove them. And wouldn’t you know, nothing fell apart. In fact, our most recent excursion to a public beach was a powerful moment showing us that we had made the right decision. Without vests, the children moved with confidence, listened attentively, and respected the boundaries set. Strangers who witnessed the experience remarked on the remarkable level of autonomy the children were entrusted with and how gracefully they lived up to that trust.

What does the framework and theoretical perspectival tell us?

From a Reggio Emilia perspective, we know that children are “strong, powerful and competent,” and should be seen as citizens with rights. Drawing also on theUnited Nations Convention of the Rights of the Child, autonomy and agency are not privileges earned, but entitlements. Through a Vygotsky’s sociocultural lens, we recognised that children’s learning emerges through participation in authentic, share practices, including excursions where trust and responsibility are co-constructed. We see this every time we step out of our preschool gate. Our role isn’t to control the excursions; it is to walk in step with our children, to listen, guide, and trust.

The Early Years Learning Framework, highlights children’s relationships with their world, their agency, and their entitlement to meaningful learning opportunities beyond the confines of the service and so we must critically ask:

If our curriculum values connection, exploration, and belonging, why are excursions not embedded as part of our practice? And what underlying assumptions, fears, or systemic barriers constrain us from offering these experiences?

When viewed through the lens of the EYLF, its principles, practices, and learning outcomes I can confidently say that excursions and community outings are not optional enhancements to our curriculum, they are essential pedagogical experiences that strengthen children’s connections with their environment, foster a sense of community, and affirm their identities as capable, active participants in the world.

What are you waiting for?

To other services considering the leap outdoors, my encouragement to you is this: start small, know your community, and know the regulations that guide you. Risk assessments, supervision plans, and clear communication with families build the framework for safety, but courage and trust are what bring it to life. 

Excursions and their risks are not something to fear. Include your children in the planning, guiding them to assess risks and help them to recognise when things become too dangerous. This is your chance to deepen children’s understanding of the world and to strengthen your team’s shared practice. To say “no excursions” is, in many ways, to say you do not trust children with their own learning. 

Have faith in yourself, your colleagues, and most importantly, in the children. 

The rewards are richer than the risks.