Australasian Journal of Early Childhood

1.5 Display, download or print the ECAPublication(s) for the purpose of internal marketingor testing or for training Authorised Users.2. Authorised Users may:2.1 Search, view, retrieve and display the ECAPublication(s).2.2 Electronically save individual articles and/orbook chapters, or items of the ECA Publication(s)for personal use.2.3 Print a copy of the ECA Publication(s) forpersonal use.2.4 Distribute a copy of individual articles and/orbook chapters, or items of the ECA Publication(s)in print or electronic form only to other AuthorisedUsers within the institution (for the avoidance ofdoubt, this subclause shall include the distributionof a copy for teaching purposes to each individualstudent Authorised User in a class at theSubscriber’s institution).4. Unauthorised Use1. Neither the Subscriber nor Authorised Users may:1.1 Remove or alter the authors’ names or thePublisher’s copyright notices or other means ofidentification or disclaimers as they appear in theECA Publication(s).1.2 Mount or distribute any part of the ECAPublication(s) on any electronic network, including,without limitation, the internet and the World WideWeb, other than the Institution’s Secure Network.1.3 Transmit electronic copies of the ECAPublication(s) or portions of the Publication(s) toothers, except for other Authorised Users.5. Data DeliveryThe ECA Publication(s) are currently delivered instandard internet formats such as HTML and/or AdobeAcrobat Reader PDF format. The Publisher reservesthe right to change delivery formats, as well as theaccess method, display or any other feature that mayaffect the manner in which Authorised Users accessand make use of the ECA Publication(s).The Publisher shall use reasonable efforts to providecontinuous availability of the ECA Publication(s)through the internet. Such availability will beperiodically interrupted due to maintenance of theservers, software installation and downtime relatedto equipment or services outside of the Publisher’scontrol.The Publisher reserves the right to withdraw from theECA Publication(s) any item or part of an item that itno longer retains the right to publish, or which it hasreasonable grounds to believe infringes copyrightor is otherwise offensive, defamatory or erroneous.In such event, the Subscriber must delete the ECAPublication(s) and destroy all paper and electroniccopies immediately.6. QueriesIf you have any difficulties concerning the terms ofthis Licence Agreement or if you have any questionsregarding ECA copyright, please contact:T: 1800 356 900E: publishing@earlychildhood.org.au2. The Publisher’s express prior written permissionmust be obtained in order to:2.1 Use all or any part of the ECA Publication(s) forany Commercial Use.2.2 Systematically distribute the whole or any partof the ECA Publication(s) to anyone other thanAuthorised Users.2.3 Publish, distribute or make available the ECAPublication(s), works based on the ECA Publication(s)or works which combine them with any othermaterial, other than as permitted in this Licence.2.4 Alter, abridge, adapt or modify the ECAPublication(s), except to the extent necessary tomake them perceptible on a computer screen oras otherwise permitted in this Licence. For theavoidance of doubt, no alteration of the words ortheir order is permitted.

Founding Editor Stewart HoustonAJEC Committee Executive Margaret Sims—EditorLennie BarblettCommittee Members Heather ConroyLyn FasoliSusan GrieshaberAlex GunnFay HadleyChris KilhamIn-house Editor Roslyn MertinProduction Supervisor Christopher JonesDesign Delene WhiteCurrent reviewersCopyright 2011. All rights reserved by Early Childhood Australia Inc.Material herein must not be reproduced in any form without thewritten permission of Early Childhood Australia Inc.Registered for posting as a publication – PP 232100/00037ISSN 1836-9391AJECThe Australasian Journal of Early Childhood (AJEC) ispublished quarterly and is sponsored by Early ChildhoodAustralia. It features up-to-date articles designed to impartnew information and encourage the critical exchange ofideas among practitioners in the early childhood field.The AJEC Committee invites contributions on all aspectsof the education and care of young children. The journalis controlled by an editorial board and all submissionsundergo a blind, peer-review process.Early Childhood Australia is listed as a commercialpublisher with DEST.Interested authors and reviewers should obtain a copyof the guidelines for contributors from Early ChildhoodAustralia’s website: www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.auT: +61 2 6242 1800F: +61 2 6242 1818E: publishing@earlychildhood.org.aumarketing@earlychildhood.org.auPO Box 86 Deakin West ACT 2600Early Childhood AustraliaEarly Childhood Australia is the peak early childhoodadvocacy organisation, acting in the interests ofyoung children, their families and those in the earlychildhood field. As a leading early childhood publisher,Early Childhood Australia aims to promote and supportbest practice in early childhood. Our advocacy work issupported by our members, who participate in statebranch activities and form part of a growing communitywilling to stand up for children. Members also enjoysignificant benefits such as savings on Early ChildhoodAustralia publications and conferences.Early Childhood Australia acknowledges the traditionalowners of country throughout Australia and theircontinuing connection to land and community. We pay ourrespect to them and their cultures, and to the Elders bothpast and present.The AJEC Committee and Early Childhood Australia do notnecessarily endorse the views expressed by contributors or thegoods and services advertised within AJEC.Joseph Seyram AbenyegaLeonie ArthurJean AshtonGlenn AuldDonna BerthelsenAli BlackJane BoneAlice BrownStig BroströmLauren BreenJackie BrienJo BrownleeCarol BurgessDawn ButterworthMarilyn CasleyYvonne CarnellorJennifer CartmelSandra CheesemanHeather ConroyKennece CoombeJoy CullenGlen CupitSusan DanbyKatey De GioiaSheila DegotardiSue DockettJulie DunnIris DuhnMarjory EbbeckSusan EdwardsKayte EdwardsLyn FasoliMarianne FenechTania FerfoljaLoraine FordhamStefania GiamminutiKen GlasgowAnne GloverJoy GoodfellowSue GrieshaberAlex GunnKaren GuoFaye HadleyLinda HandLouise HardLinda HarrisonDeborah HarcourtNarelle HargreavesDebra HarwoodRoslyn HeywoodHelen HedgesTeresa HutchinsChristine HowittAnne KennedyRos KitsonAnna KilderryChristopher KlopperLinda KnightWill LettsPeter LewisRosalind LittledykeHelen LoganChi Hung LeungAmy MacDonaldKay MargettsKaren MartinKaren McLeanFelicity McArdleLila Mauigoa-TekeneHeather MohayAnne-Marie MorrisseyMichael NagelDi NailonAndrea NolanBerenice NylandJane PageGlen PalmerCatherine PattersonChris PeersBob PerryFrances PressLouise PorterRosemary RichardsAvis RidgwayJill RobbinsKerry RobinsonColin SlatteryJen SkattebolKaren StagnittiMiriam SingerPrathyusha SanagavarupuJo ShannMargaret SimsJennifer SumsionReesa SorinAnna TargowskaMichael Tarren-SweeneyHelen ThomassonChristina Van StadenGraham VimpaniIrina VerinikinaAli WegnerChristy WardLaura WardSue WalkerJane WatsonJames WattersVictoria WhitingtonDiana WhittonKaarin WilkinsonNeil WiggKit-Mei Betty Wong

Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011Journal2 EditorialMargaret Sims3 Curriculum guidelines for early literacy:A comparison of New Zealand and EnglandKen Blaiklock10 Korean children’s cultural adjustmentduring transition to the early years ofschool in Australia*Ngaire Millar19 Child participation in the early years:Challenges for educationMaryanne Theobald, Susan Danbyand Jo Ailwood27 Learning to measure length in the firstthree years of schoolAndrea McDonough and Peter SullivanOnline AnnexAJEC Vol. 36 No. 3 includes an Online Annex component.Access and further information can be found at:www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/ajec74 Early childhood teachers’ professionaldevelopment in music:A cross cultural studyBonnie Yim and Marjory Ebbeck82 Assisting infants to achieve self-regulatedsleep:The KIDSCODE® baby process*Lisa Ford91 A preliminary exploration of children’sphysiological arousal levels in regularpreschool settingsMargaret Sims, Nina Sajaniemiand Eira Suhonen36 An analysis of New Zealand’s changinghistory, policies and approaches to earlychildhood educationClaire McLachlan45 It’s a mystery!:A case study of implementing forensicscience into preschool as scientific inquiryChristine Howitt, Simon Lewisand Emily Upson56 ‘I’m making it different to the book’Transmediation in young children’smultimodal and digital textsKathy Mills66 Evaluating the feasibility, effectiveness andacceptability of an active play interventionfor disadvantaged preschool children:A pilot study*Karen Stagnitti, Rachel Kenna,Mary Malakellis, Beth Kershaw, Majella Hoareand Andrea de Silva-Sanigorski* Denotes primary research articles100 Equity of access:Requirements of Indigenous families andcommunities to ensure equitable acess togovernment-approved childcare settings inAustralia*Stefanie Jackiewicz, Sherry Saggersand Katie Frances109 Personal reflection on research process andtools:Effectiveness, highlights and challenges inusing the Mosaic approachCheryl Greenfield117 An exploratory investigation on the influenceof practical experience towards shaping futureearly childhood teachers’ practice in the artsSusanne Garvis122 Exploring and evaluating levels of reflectionin pre-service early childhood teachersAndrea Nolan and Jenny Sim130 Financial implications for parents workingfull time and caring for a child with chronicillness*Ajesh George, Margaret Vickers,Vo l u m e 3 6 NLesley u m b eWilkes r 3 Sand e p tBelinda e m b e r Barton 2 011 1

EditorialSometimes I reflect on how vulnerable we areto changes in policies and changes in government. Iremember the frenzy in the Australian early childhoodcommunity at the time of the latest federal election aswe all tried to create space on the political agenda foryoung children and their families. I reflect on electionsin the past and the cycles of policy changes I haveexperienced over my time in early childhood. I rememberrestructuring degree courses based on my expectations ofoutcomes from government policy changes. McLachlansummarises this for us in the New Zealand context andpoints out the shifts in early childhood policy arising fromthe new government, their stronger focus on targetedservices rather than universal, and their withdrawal offunds from a number of early childhood initiatives thathad garnered New Zealand a leading reputation in earlychildhood over past years. And in reading this article,I wonder what this might presage for the rest of us inAustralasia. Will we see similar moves?Part of the political arena is the space we create (or don’tcreate) for children to participate in the decisions thatimpact upon them. Theobald, Danby and Ailwoodreview policy and research in Australia and identifya growing commitment for children’s participationcoupled with an ongoing challenge to translate this intodaily practice. Greenfield proposes one way this canbe addressed in research, using a mosaic approach tofacilitate children’s voice.Irrespective of the political agenda, we want to focus onexcellence in service delivery and the remainder of ourarticles in this issue do just that. A number of researchersreport work they are doing in specific areas of the earlychildhood curriculum. Stagnitti, Kenna, Malakellis,Kershaw, Hoare and de Silva-Sanigorski discuss theirintervention focusing on fundamental movement skillsfor children from disadvantaged backgrounds. Blaiklockundertakes a comparison of the UK Early Years FoundationStage and Te Whāriki in New Zealand, focusing particularlyon how these documents promote early literacy, and theimplications for this on local practice. McDonough andSullivan address learning to measure length in the firstthree years at school, using data from the 70 schools in theVictorian Early Numeracy Research Project. Howitt, Lewisand Upson take us on a forensic science experiencewith young children, demonstrating young children’scompetency in an area we often think as being associatedwith older children. They argue that such experiencesnot only impact on children’s science thinking but onimagination and oral language as well. Mills also makesthe point that experiences have multiple outcomes. Sheaddresses transmediation, the process of transferringinformation from one sign-system to another and arguesthat such experiences support generative thinking.Sajaniemi, Suhonen and myself investigate some of thebiological underpinnings impacting on children’s learningand propose a model linking children’s regulation of arousal,the synchronicity of the underpinning biology and children’slearning outcomes.In following the curriculum focus, the next two articlesaddress issues related to pre-service teacher education.Yim and Ebbeck discuss pre-service teachers and musiceducation, comparing experiences and perceptions ofmusic between students in South Australia and thosein Hong Kong. Garvis focuses on arts education anddemonstrate links between experiences on placementrelated to arts and students’ self-efficacy in arts education.Nolan and Sim focus on reflection, a key skill in improvingpractice and one used in many teacher education programs.They argue that reflection needs a structure or frameworkin order to be effective.Many of the papers in this issue focus on young childrenin the context of early childhood programs—children inclasses or groups. Millar looks at the transition of Koreanchildren from the home environment into classes injunior primary and identifies the importance of languageand relationships in facilitating successful transitions.Jackiewicz, Saggers and Frances discuss issues ofaccess and barriers to participation for Indigenous childrenparticipating in early childhood programs. They identifyfour key issues: accessibility, affordability, acceptability andappropriateness.Finally we offer two papers that address issues outside ofthe classroom; issues relating to young children and theirfamilies. Ford offers an evaluation of a program designedto support parents who experience difficulties related totheir infants’ sleep. George, Vickers, Wilkes and Bartonanalyse the cost of caring for a child with chronic illness forparents who are working full time. These parents are oftennot eligible to receive additional supports because they areworking, but are faced with the prospect of lower-paid jobs(in a trade-off for flexibility) and higher costs associated withtheir child’s needs.As we progress through 2011 and the world changesaround us, we also reflect on the changes in the earlychildhood landscape. Every day we learn more about qualityearly childhood service provision, and every day we striveto deliver the best we can to our children, their families andour students. Enjoy reading these articles and reflecting onwhat they mean for your practice.Margaret SimsUniversity of New England2A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Curriculum guidelines for early literacy:A comparison of New Zealand and EnglandKen BlaiklockUnitec Institute of TechnologyThe development of early literacy knowledge is generally seen as an importantaspect of early childhood education. The way early literacy learning is promoted,however, varies greatly in different national curriculum frameworks. This articlecompares the approach taken in the New Zealand early childhood curriculum(Te Whāriki) with the approach outlined in the curriculum for young children in England(The Early Years Foundation Stage or EYFS). The curricula are compared in relationto (1) the description of literacy-related learning outcomes; (2) guidance for teacherson how to foster literacy learning; and (3) guidance on formative and summativeassessment.The EYFS contains more detailed information in each area of comparison. The articlesuggests that the lack of information on literacy in Te Whāriki may mean that childrenare provided with an inadequate range of literacy experiences in New Zealand earlychildhood centres.IntroductionEarly childhood professionals in New Zealand areaccustomed to hearing praise for Te Whāriki, the earlychildhood curriculum (Ministry of Education, 1996).Praise for the innovative approach of Te Whāriki hascome from teachers and academics, nationally andinternationally (for example, Alvestad & Duncan, 2006;Fleer, 2003; Smith, 2003; Tyler, 2002).Te Whāriki contains many admirable statements aboutearly childhood education. There are few who woulddisagree with the introductory statement in Te Whārikithat declares the curriculum was founded on the followingaspirations for children: ‘to grow up as competent andconfident learners and communicators, healthy in mind,body, and spirit, secure in their sense of belonging andin the knowledge that they make a valued contribution tosociety’ (Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 9).It appears, however, that the rhetoric that surroundsTe Whāriki may not match the reality. No research hasbeen carried out to show whether the implementationof Te Whāriki has made a positive difference to thelearning and wellbeing of children across a range ofearly childhood services. Furthermore, concern hasbeen expressed that the lack of curriculum content inTe Whāriki (in areas such as language, literacy, music,mathematics, art and science) provides teachers withlittle guidance on how to provide children with a rangeof experiences in crucial areas of learning (see Hedges& Cullen, 2005).In this article, I focus on one essential area of learning,namely early literacy. I analyse the information that TeWhāriki provides on this topic and compare it to theapproach outlined in the curriculum used in England,the Early Years Foundation Stage (EYFS), (Departmentfor Children, Schools and Families, 2008a; Departmentfor Children, Schools and Families, 2008b).The EYFS is very different in structure and contentto Te Whāriki and therefore makes for an interestingcomparison. My analysis of the two curricula will bedivided into the following three areas:1. Early literacy goals and learning outcomes2. Guidance for teachers on how to foster literacy learning3. Assessment.Early literacy goals and learning outcomesTe Whāriki is divided into five broad strands: Wellbeing,Belonging, Contribution, Communication, andExploration. Each strand is subdivided into three or fourgoals and each goal includes a number of indicativeVo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 3

learning outcomes. Literacy outcomes are includedwithin the third goal of the Communication strand, whichstates: ‘Children experience an environment where theyexperience the stories and symbols of their own andother cultures’ (Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 78).Under this goal the following literacy learning outcomes(Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 78) are listed:Children develop:■■An understanding that symbols can be ‘read’ byothers and that thoughts, experiences, and ideascan be represented through words, pictures, print,numbers, sounds, shapes, models, and photographs.■■Familiarity with print and its uses by exploring andobserving the use of print in activities that havemeaning and purpose for children.■■Familiarity with an appropriate selection of thestories and literature valued by the cultures in theircommunity.■■An expectation that words and books can amuse,delight, comfort, illuminate, inform, and excite.■■Experience with some of the technology andresources for mathematics, reading, and writing.■■Experience with creating stories and symbols.The general nature of the above learning outcomes canbe partly explained by recognising that the outcomesare designed to be applicable to all children throughoutthe birth–five years age range. Hence the outcomes donot convey an expectation that older children may becapable of more complex learning than younger children.In contrast, the EYFS is more explicit about age-relateddevelopmental changes (see Practice guidance for theEarly Years Foundation Stage, Department for Children,Schools and Families, 2008a). The framework of theEYFS divides learning and development into six areas:■■Personal, Social and Emotional Development■■Communication, Language and Literacy■■Problem Solving, Reasoning and Numeracy■■Knowledge and Understanding of the World■■Physical Development■■Creative Development.Each of these areas is further divided into subsections.For example, Communication, Language, and Literacyis subdivided into the following: Language forCommunication, Language for Thinking, Linking Soundsand Letters, Reading, Writing, and Handwriting.Within each subsection, descriptive information isprovided about what children may typically learn withinthe following overlapping age ranges: birth–11 months,8–20 months, 16–26 months, 22–36 months, 30–50months, and 40–60+ months.Although information is provided about age-relatedchanges, the EYFS guidelines recognise that there isconsiderable variation between children. Cautions areprovided that the descriptions of learning should not beseen as age-related goals. It is also noted that ‘children willnot necessarily progress sequentially through the stages’and ‘some elements may appear to have been achievedvery quickly, others will take much longer (Department forChildren, Schools and Families, 2008a, p. 11).Specific goals are stated for the time that childrencomplete the Early Years Foundation Stage. These finalgoals (known as the ‘early learning goals’) are designedto be at a level that children can achieve ‘by the end ofthe year in which they turn five’. (Unlike New Zealand,where nearly all children start school on their fifth birthday,children in England start school in the term in which theyturn five. Hence some children will begin primary school afew months before they turn five, whereas other childrenmay be nearer five and a half years.)The Early learning goals for literacy occur within fivesubsections of the Communication, Language, andLiteracy division of the EYFS (Department for Children,Schools, and Families, 2008b, p. 13). (Additional goalsthat focus purely on listening and speaking are notincluded in the following list.)1. Language for Communication■■Enjoy listening to and using spoken and writtenlanguage, and readily turn to it in their play and learning.■■Listen with enjoyment, and respond to stories, songsand other music, rhymes and poems and make uptheir own stories, songs, rhymes and poems.2. Linking Sounds and Letters■■Hear and say sounds in words in the order in whichthey occur.■■Link sounds to letters, naming and sounding theletters of the alphabet.■■Use their phonic knowledge to write simple regularwords and make phonetically plausible attempts atmore complex words.3. Reading■■Explore and experiment with sounds, words, andtexts.■■Retell narratives in the correct sequence, drawingon language patterns of stories.■■Read a range of familiar and common words andsimple sentences independently.■ ■ Show an understanding of the elements of storiessuch as main character, sequence of events andopenings, and how information can be found in nonfictiontexts to answer questions about where, whoand how.4A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

■■Know that print carries meaning and, in English, isread from left to right and top to bottom.4. Writing■■Attempt writing for different purposes, usingfeatures of different forms such as lists, stories,and instructions.■■Write their own names and other things such aslabels and captions, and begin to form simplesentences, sometimes using punctuation.5. Handwriting■■Use a pencil and hold it effectively to form recognisableletters, most of which are correctly formed.A comparison of the early literacy outcomes forTe Whāriki and for the EYFS shows that the expectationsfor New Zealand children are markedly lower than thosesuggested for children in England. The comparison ismade more complicated by the fact that children maybe older or younger than five when they completethe EYFS. Nevertheless, it is readily apparent that theEnglish curriculum is aimed at developing a much morecomprehensive range of literacy skills than are coveredin Te Whāriki.The early literacy learning outcomes for Te Whāriki arephrased in general terms and focus on children gaining‘experience’ and developing ‘familiarity’ with print andstories. The EYFS covers these types of outcomes in thegoals that are listed under the ‘Language for Communication’subsection. The other literacy-related subsections in theEYFS (that is, Linking Sounds and Letters, Reading, Writing,and Handwriting) contain numerous literacy goals that arenot mentioned in Te Whāriki.Goals in these subsections focus on children developingskills that are crucial for beginning reading and writing(see National Early Literacy Panel, 2008, for a review ofresearch on early literacy skills). An emphasis is placedon learning about letters and letter sounds in orderto begin to be able to read and write simple words.In contrast, Te Whāriki makes no mention of letterknowledge in any learning outcomes.No rationale for the omission of letter knowledgeis provided in Te Whāriki, nor is this discussed inexplanatory writings about the development of thecurriculum (for example, Carr & May, 1996). Cullen(2007) has suggested that the lack of attention tothe component skills of literacy may link with thepervasiveness of the ‘whole-language’ approach in NewZealand primary schools. Furthermore, Cullen points outthat the sociocultural perspective underlying Te Whārikimeans that early childhood teachers may sometimesinclude literacy learning within other experiences butwould rarely plan to teach specific literacy skills.The greater attention to letter knowledge seen in theEYFS is reflective of the shift towards including morephonics teaching in the early school years in England.This follows a major review of research into methodsof teaching literacy (Rose, 2006). Although the reviewhighlighted the importance of early phonics, it alsoemphasised that speaking and listening skills are thebedrock of literacy development. Hence it is importantto see that the inclusion of letter knowledge in theoutcomes of the EYFS does not take away from theemphasis that the curriculum gives to the developmentof language for communication and thinking.Guidance for teachers on how to fosterliteracy learningTe Whāriki provides little information about the provisionof learning experiences related to the literacy outcomesthat are mentioned in the document. Statements aboutlearning that are included in Te Whāriki tend to bevery general and reflect the sociocultural basis of thecurriculum. For example, the introduction states:This curriculum emphasises the critical role ofsocially and culturally responsive relationships forchildren with people, places, and things. Childrenlearn through collaboration with adults and peers,through guided participation and observation ofothers, as well as through individual exploration andreflection (Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 9).Only minimal guidance is provided on how teachers canfoster learning in particular areas. Some examples oflearning experiences are included for the goals in eachstrand but these do not necessarily link with specificoutcomes and are phrased in broad terms. For example,suggested literacy experiences include the following:‘Adults read books to infants’, ‘The toddler’s name iswritten on belongings’, and ‘Children experience a widerange of stories’ (Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 79).Information on how to use Te Whāriki for programplanning is also very general. Early childhood servicesare advised to ‘develop their own distinctive patternfor planning, assessment and evaluation’ (Ministry ofEducation, 1996, p. 28). There is no requirement toensure that children are provided with experiencesrelated to a core set of learning outcomes. Insteadcentres are advised to ‘offer sufficient learningexperiences for the children to ensure that thecurriculum goals are realised’ (Ministry of Education,1996, p. 28). The breadth of the goals, however, meansthat it would be possible for a centre to consider thatit was covering all the goals of Te Whāriki even if theprogram contained no reading or writing experiences.The non-specific nature of the guidelines in Te Whārikimight not be such a concern if teachers were providedwith supplementary resources on how to fosterVo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 5

literacy. Currently, however, the Ministry of Educationprovides early childhood teachers with little informationabout ways to provide a range of literacy experiencesfor young children.A very different situation exists in England. The structureof the EYFS makes clear links between specific aspectsof literacy learning and guidance for effective practice.As noted above, EYFS publications include descriptionsof the literacy learning that typically occurs for particularage ranges (Department for Children, Schools andFamilies, 2008a). Teachers can use this information toassist their understanding of individual children. Ideason specific practice are given for each of the age-relateddescriptions of literacy learning that occur within therelevant subsections of the Communication, Languageand Literacy section of the EYFS (that is, Language forCommunication, Linking Sounds and Letters, Reading,Writing, and Handwriting).Extensive additional resources are available to assistEYFS teachers in the provision of appropriate literacyexperiences for children. Video clips of teachersengaged in effective activities can be found on the CD-Rom that accompanies Practice guidance for the EarlyYears Foundation Stage. The Department for Children,Schools, and Families provides publications on emergentwriting activities (Mark making matters, Department forChildren, Schools and Families, 2008c) and introducingchildren to letter names and sounds (Letters andsounds: Principles and practice of high quality phonics.Department for Children, Schools and Families, 2008d).Online professional development courses on languageand literacy are available to all EYFS teachers. In addition,commercial publishers have developed many resourcesthat link with the EYFS guidelines. (A directory of theseresources is located on the standards website of theDepartment for Children, Schools, and Families: www.standards.dcsf.gov.uk/phonics/clld/.)Both Te Whāriki and the EYFS emphasise theimportance of play for all areas of learning. The EYFSis clearer, however, on the role of the teacher inguiding learning. Although Te Whāriki suggests thatadults should support and extend children’s play andinterests, little information is given on the provision ofteacher-led activities. In contrast, the EYFS guidelinesstate: ‘All the areas must be delivered through planned,purposeful play, with a balance of adult-led and childinitiatedactivities’ (Department for Children, Schoolsand Families, 2009a, p. 10). Adult-led activities aredefined as follows:Adult-led activities are those which adults initiate.The activities are not play, and children are likely notto see them as play, but they should be playful—withactivities presented to children which are as openendedas possible, with elements of imaginationand active exploration that will increase the interestand motivation for children. … Practitioners planadult-led activities with awareness of the childrenin the setting and of their responsibility to supportchildren’s progress in all areas of learning. They willbuild on what children know and can do, and oftendraw on interests and use materials or themes,observed in child initiated activities (Department forChildren, Schools and Families, 2009a, p. 13).The advice in the EYFS to provide a balance of adultandchild-led activities is supported by the findings ofa recent European study of over 3000 children (agedfrom three years) in 141 early childhood settings (Sylva,Melhuish, Sammons, Siraj-Blatchford, & Taggart, 2004).The study found that ‘in effective settings, the balanceof who initiated the activities, staff or child, was aboutequal’ (p. vi). Furthermore, the study concluded that‘children’s cognitive outcomes appear to be directlyrelated to the quantity and quality of the teacher/adultplannedand -initiated focused group work’ (p. vi).Encouraging practitioners to provide adult-led activitiesmarks a distinct pedagogical difference between theEYFS and Te Whāriki. The provision of adult-led literacyrelatedactivities, particularly for three- and four-yearolds,is likely to result in greater opportunities forliteracy learning than is possible with the strategiesoutlined in Te Whāriki. Given that Te Whāriki is saidto be a sociocultural document, it is somewhat ironicthat the value of adult-led activities is not more clearlyacknowledged. A sociocultural approach is not just aboutteachers and children interacting within social contexts.A sociocultural approach allows for teachers, as ‘moreknowledgeable others’, to engage children in meaningfulactivities and to teach them specific skills in appropriateways (Daniels, 2001). This could include the planningand implementation of teacher-led activities aimed atenhancing the early literacy skills of particular children.AssessmentTe Whāriki includes some general statements aboutassessment (see Ministry of Education, 1996, p.30)but contains no requirement to assess any specificlearning outcomes for children. Additional information onassessment is available in Kei Tua o te Pae: Assessmentfor learning: Early childhood exemplars (Ministry ofEducation, 2004; Ministry of Education, 2007; Ministryof Education, 2009). The Ministry of Education hasdevoted large amounts of funding towards developingand promoting Kei Tua o te Pae but the value of theresource is limited by its almost exclusive focus on onetype of assessment, namely learning stories.Learning stories are an innovative form of assessmentdeveloped by Margaret Carr (1998; 2001). Thetechnique requires a teacher to first observe a childengaged in a particular experience. The teacher then6A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Korean children’s cultural adjustment during transition to theearly years of school in AustraliaNgaire MillarUniversity of South AustraliaThis study investigated Korean children’s cultural adjustment during transitionto South Australian junior primary school settings. Using case-study methodologyto provide a sociocultural perspective, data were collected during interviews with asample of South Korean international students aged five to eight years, their mothersand teachers. All participants were asked to identify experiences that facilitated orimpeded the children’s cultural adjustment to school life in Australia. The study foundthat language difficulties were a major concern for these children in adapting to anAustralian education setting. Successful cultural adjustment was found to link topositive interpersonal relationships with peers and teachers and the ability to adapt toAustralian classroom teaching methodology. The study identified cultural adjustmentissues which may also be relevant to other students from a non-English-speakingbackground and for teachers of international students.IntroductionIn recent years globalisation has precipitated thegrowth of an international knowledge economy inwhich acquisition of the English language is consideredto be a significant ‘marketable asset’ (Winkelmann &Winkelmann, 1998, cited in Butcher, 2004, p. 255),particularly in Asian countries. The governments ofmainland China, Hong Kong, Japan, Malaysia, Taiwan,Vietnam and Korea have education policies whichpromote English language teaching and learning. ManyKorean teachers, however, do not have the proficiencyor confidence to teach in English (Nunan, 2003). Koreanstudents travel to Australia to experience Westernculture and consolidate existing English skills, or beginlearning English, through immersion in an Englishspeakingculture (Kwon, 2000).In Australia, the government has internationalisededucation to increase education market share andstrengthen economic ties with neighbouring countries(Nelson, 2003). Particular emphasis has been placed onrecruitment of students from the Asia–Pacific region,causing a corresponding increase in Asian internationalstudent enrolments (Nelson, 2003). In 2007–2008,international education was rated as Australia’s thirdlargestexport industry ‘contributing $14.2 billion tothe Australian economy’ (SA DECS, 2010). Currently,international students from Reception to Year 7 enrolledin the DECS Primary School Study Abroad Program payup to $9160 for four terms tuition at South Australiangovernment schools (SA DECS, 2010).In this article the term ‘international students’ describesfull-fee-paying foreign students on student visas studyingin Australian schools. The students attend governmentschools in South Australia for a designated period, usuallyone year. After this time students return to their country oforigin, although some families choose to convert their visasand apply for immigration status. While Korean studentswere the second-largest group of international studentsenrolled in South Australian public primary schools by mid-2009 (SA DECS, 2010) little is known about the social andacademic needs of this culturally, and linguistically, uniquestudent population. As the number of Korean studentsnow attending South Australian junior primary schools isincreasing an investigation of the needs and expectationsof these children, and their families is warranted. Thefindings of such a study may provide helpful informationfor Korean families considering enrolling their children inAustralian schools, and inform teachers about the needsof these students and their families.The purpose of this study was to investigate factorsaffecting the cultural adjustment of young Koreanstudents after their relocation from Korean to Australian10A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

education settings. The term ‘cultural adjustment’may be described as ‘cultural involvement and ethnicidentity behaviour’ displayed through cultural practicessuch as social activities, customs, food (Sonderegger& Barrett, 2004, p. 352) and language (Renwick, 1997).Previous research has indicated that cultural adjustmentis affected by self-esteem, anxiety, social support,self-description, ethnic identity, and acculturation(Sonderegger & Barrett, 2004).Most Australians have little or no knowledge aboutKorean culture or lifestyle. Therefore, most Australianteachers may have difficulty addressing the needsof children from this ethnic group (Armitage, 1999).In order to specifically meet the needs of Koreanstudents (Dooley, 2003), early childhood educatorsneed to become aware of the factors affectingsuccessful cultural transition into Australian educationsettings (Okagaki & Diamond, 2000) and to developsome understanding of the nature of education incontemporary Korean society.In Korean society and education settings, relationshipsare vertically structured and patrilineal, reflectingConfucian values (Armitage, 1999). Korean parentshave high expectations for their children’s academicachievements (Kwon, 2000). Korean children are taughtto fulfil familial duties of obedience, attention andhonour. In return, Korean mothers devote themselvesto their children’s education and fathers provide socialposition, family leadership and decision making (Kim &Choi, 1994). The strength of adult–child relationshipsis also evident in the important bond between teacherand student. Like the child–parent connection, therapport between student and teacher is founded onConfucian values (Kwon, 2000).Koreans spend much money on their children’s education(Kim, 2004). Families often spend up to one-third of theirhousehold income on private tuition in art, music andEnglish (Nunan, 2003). Outside regular school hoursmany children attend intensive classes, particularly inEnglish, at private academies known as hagwon. In 2000,approximately 60 per cent of Korean students attendedsome form of hagwon (Kim, 2004). Anecdotal evidencesuggests many Korean parents are dissatisfied with theircountry’s contemporary English language curriculum,which is based predominantly on reading and grammar,so some choose to have their children educated inAustralia to acquire English oral language skills (Tran,2006). Previous research about the transition of Koreanstudents into Australian schools has mainly focusedon the experiences of secondary and tertiary students(Armitage, 1999; Kwon, 2000). To date, research withyounger Korean children has been limited to explorationof mother–child relationships in preschool settings (Rodd,1996). Therefore, this study focuses on the culturaltransition of young children in early childhood settings.Children studying in a country other than theirown encounter a variety of barriers they need toovercome to achieve social and academic success.Renwick (1997) suggests that poor English languageproficiency is the issue which most crucially affectsKorean students’ adjustment to Western educationenvironments. Studies of tertiary Asian internationalstudents in Australia indicate that English languageproblems seriously affect students’ social competenceand academic progress (Sawir, 2005; Wong, 2004). Aninability to communicate confidently in English presentsmyriad difficulties for tertiary students. In the presentstudy it was expected that similar problems may beencountered by younger students.In Korea, early literacy education has traditionallyused rote-learning (Lee, Park & Kim, 2000). Children’seducation experiences are usually teacher-directedand highly competitive (Kwon, 2000). In Australia,early childhood education teachers incorporate socialconstructivist approaches which emphasise languagerich,activity-based, interactive learning. This pedagogicalmethodology is based on sociocultural theory whichstates that successful close interpersonal relationshipsare critical to effective cross-cultural learning (Lim &Renshaw, 2001). In many Australian early childhoodclassrooms social constructivist approaches are evidentin the use of collaborative learning. In collaborativeclassrooms competition is not valued. Less importanceis placed on individual goals and achievement (Hill,1994). A growing body of evidence also indicates theimportance of social interaction during play (Bodrova,Leong, Hensen & Henninger, 2000).Australian settings often incorporate a play-centredcurriculum which stimulates children’s cognitive andsocial development while they participate in socialinteraction during planned play experiences (Van Hoorn,Monighan Nourot, Scales & Rodriguez Alward, 2003).Okagaki and Diamond (2000) have suggested that theactivities incorporated in play curricula, such as use ofmanipulatives, are beneficial for all children, particularlythose learning English as a second language. The useof small groups for play and structured activities alsoallows children to observe and follow peers’ modelling(Okagaki & Diamond, 2000). In addition to teachingand learning principles, based on social interaction, thepartnerships between teachers and parents of youngchildren are crucial to the children’s social and academicsuccess. Improved learning outcomes may be achievedwhen children see positive relationships between theirparents and teachers (Billman, Geddes & Hedges,2005). Australian junior primary school teachers oftenencourage parents and families to participate in theclassroom by listening to children read in the morningor assisting with a range of class activities.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 11

The Early Years Learning Framework for Australiaadvocates that teachers demonstrate ‘culturalcompetence’ which will enhance children’s selfesteemand capacity for lifelong learning (DEEWR,2009). Teachers may augment cultural competencethrough engagement in culturally responsive teachingpractices (Gay, 2002) and by increasing their knowledgeabout specific cultural groups (Kwon, Suh, Bang, Jung& Moon, 2010). Teacher understanding of the families’cultural background, beliefs and circumstances is crucialfor development of strong teacher–parent partnerships(Handscombe, 1994).Peer relationships are also important to development.Children may have improved academic outcomes ifthey form sound relationships with their peers at school.However, previous research has indicated that studentsfrom a non-English-speaking background spend mosttime with their own cultural group (Kagan, 1986 citedin Coelho, 1994) and they receive few invitations tohomes of families outside that group (Coelho, 1994).Review of methodology literatureCase-study methodology allows in-depth investigationof individual children’s relationships and environmentthrough comparison of life stories (MacNaughton, Rolfe& Siraj-Blatchford, 2001). Previous studies indicate theimportance of including the perspectives of students,parents and teachers as stakeholders in schooltransitions (Dockett & Perry, 2005). It was decidedearly in the project to include interviews with children,parents and teachers to give depth to the findings.Based on sociocultural perspectives, this studyexplored how children’s development may be affectedby relationships with others and cultural activities insociety (Rogoff, 2003). Cultural activities could refer to‘clothes, food, tools, holidays, rituals, crafts, artifacts[sic] and music’ (Garcia,1990 cited in Ramsey, 2004).The value of obtaining young children’s views inresearch has been established in previous studies,such as the Starting School Research Project (Dockett& Perry, 2005). In that project the role of children as‘social and cultural actors’ was stipulated. Children’sperspectives were gathered during group discussions(Dockett & Perry, 2005), but this method of datacollection was deemed unsuitable in the present studybecause the interpreter considered that individualinterviews would be easier for translation purposes.Using an interpreter gave participants flexibility toexpress their thinking in either English or Korean, orboth, and gave the interpreter time to gather moreinformation during interviews. Triangulation wasestablished using multiple data sources (Miles &Huberman, 1994), and reliability of data was validatedby cross-referencing participant responses.Park and Lahman (2003) suggest that researchers inthe field of multicultural studies face dilemmas andperplexity, particularly related to language differences,and that potential bias should be acknowledged early inthe project. The children and parents who participatedin this study were all Korean speakers, with varyingabilities when using English as a second language.As the researcher had little knowledge of the Koreanlanguage, she was assisted by an interpreter during sixof the eight interviews with Korean participants. Theinterpreter and researcher discussed issues of biasbefore and during the interview process.The following research questions were posed: Whatfactors facilitate the cultural adjustment of young Koreanchildren studying in South Australian junior primaryschools? What factors impede their cultural adjustment?It was expected that the identified factors may includeEnglish language difficulties (Renwick, 1997), teachingmethodologies and learning styles (Kwon, 2000; Leeet al., 2000), interpersonal relationships (Farver, Kim& Lee 1995; Lim & Renshaw, 2001) and differencesin educational and cultural experiences in Korea andAustralia (Kwon, 2000; Okagaki & Diamond, 2000).MethodDesignThis project used case-study methodology, with datacomprising interviews with children, their parents andteachers (Stake, 1995).ParticipantsParticipants were four international students fromKorea (three boys and one girl aged between five andeight years), currently attending one of two SouthAustralian DECS junior primary schools, their mothersand teachers. In all cases the parent was the child’smother since the father of each child remained inKorea, continuing his employment to support the familymembers living overseas.All child participants had experience of educationsettings in Korea. Three had attended Koreankindergarten before arriving in Australia, and had oldersiblings who attended school. One child had attendedthe first year of school in Korea. All Korean participantshad been in Australia between six and 18 months.The children’s ages are described from an Australianperspective calculating the number of years fromthe birth of each child. This differs from Korean agecalculation which includes the period prior to birth.ProcedureInitially, the researcher contacted the InternationalOffice of DECS to ascertain which schools had the12A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

most Korean international students. Four schools wereidentified. Principals at the schools were contacted andpotential participants identified at one school (purposivesampling). After initial interviews were concluded, asecond site was included to increase the sample size.The principal at this school approved inclusion of afamily suggested by the Korean interpreter.Information letters about the project and consentforms were translated into Korean and copies madein both Korean and English. It is the researcher’sunderstanding that Koreans place great importance onformal processes, so the forms were sent home withthe children in personally addressed envelopes. After afew days, the Bilingual School Support Officer (BSSO)asked older siblings of potential participants to remindtheir parents about returning the consent forms. Theclass teacher of each child was also provided with aninformation letter and consent form.Participants were given opportunities to share theirpersonal experiences and perceptions throughsemi-structured interviews. Interviews took placeover a period of approximately six weeks. Individualinterviews were conducted by the researcher withassistance from a Korean interpreter. The interpreterwas born in Korea but had been living in Australia for 15years. The child interviews were conducted in English,with minimal additional explanation provided in Korean.Parent interviews generally involved considerableverbal interpretation. Interviews took place either atthe school or the home of the participant, dependingon parental preference. There were many discussionsbetween the researcher and interpreter, during andafter each interview, regarding the content and intent ofthe Korean mothers’ statements. During each interviewthe researcher and interpreter regularly clarified themeaning of the vocabulary used.To identify factors affecting Korean children’s culturaladjustment, data were obtained through posing issueoriented,open-ended questions, recorded in the formof field notes. During preliminary discussion with theKorean BSSO and school principal it was decided torecord interviews in note form to reduce potentialparticipant discomfort.To establish relationships with the children beforebeginning the interview process (Miles & Huberman,1994) the researcher visited the children’s classroomsseveral times. The child interviews were conducted inthe presence of either a member of the school staffor the child’s mother. Two child interviewees requiredsome translation. Using the interview schedule, theresearcher asked questions regarding language skillsand experiences the child found positive or challengingat school in Australia. For example, ‘What has beeneasy for you at school in Australia?’ and ‘What has beenchallenging for you at school in Australia?’ Secondaryquestions were used to gain insight about learning inan English-speaking classroom, social conventions andrelationships. The interviewer posed questions such as,‘Are you finding it easy to understand what is happeningin an English-speaking classroom? and ‘What are thedifferences you have noticed between living in Australiaand living in Korea?’ These interviews lasted approximately10 minutes. The children participated willingly.The parent interviews focused on the same topics asthe child interviews but required parents to commenton their observations of the child’s experiences. Firsta question was posed in English and then translatedinto Korean. The answer was translated back intoEnglish and notes taken. In some cases, the interpreterexpanded questions to help the participant morefully understand what was being asked. The mothersappeared open and candid. Through smiles and nodsthey demonstrated enjoyment at having the opportunityto converse about their children in Korean. Each parentinterview lasted for approximately 45 minutes.Teacher interviews required the participant to comment ontheir observations of the child’s experiences. The teachersanswered using their observations of the focus child in theclassroom and playground. Teacher interviews focused onchildren’s attributes, such as speech and language, socialskills and perceptual-cognitive understanding.Data analysisData were ordered to make possible comparisonbetween child, parent and teacher responses toquestions. Sets of responses from each of the threegroups were displayed in four tables. Data were thenanalysed by classifying common themes evident ineach case and from the three data sources. Patternsand similarities among individual perceptions wereidentified (Miles & Huberman, 1994).ResultsThe results are presented as individual cases socommon responses connecting participant groups,relevant to the research questions, can be presented,compared and contrasted. For ease in reading, fictitiousKorean names have been assigned to each child.Case 1Kyung Min was a seven-year-old Year Two girl. Shehad been in Australia for nine months and was livingwith her mother and two siblings. She had attendedkindergarten and one year of school in Korea. KyungMin spoke English confidently and said she had beenable to ‘cope’ with English when she first arrived. Shesaid she liked going to school and had found makingfriends easy; she had two special friends in her class,one Korean and one Australian.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 13

Kyung Min said listening in class was sometimesdifficult owing to the rapid speech of her classmates,but often friends took the time to talk slowly to her.She said she found spelling challenging but generallyfound school ‘easier’ than in Korea. Her mother saidKyung Min was more relaxed at school in Australia thanin Korea; she enjoyed play-based activities in class anddid not realise she was learning new things. KyungMin’s mother also observed the pressure on Koreanchildren to succeed in their examinations. She thoughtthe different approach to learning in Australia was moresuccessful for young children.Kyung Min reported feeling sad and lonely in the first fewmonths of her stay. She said she missed her wider familyand old Korean school friends. She also found the singlestoreyhousing unusual since she was used to living ina multi-storey apartment block and could visit friendswhenever she wished. Kyung Min commented, ‘In KoreaI could go see friends in my [apartment] building’.Kyung Min’s mother said that in Korea even very youngchildren walk the few blocks from their apartmentbuilding to school unaccompanied by an adult. Shedescribed how Australian parents with young childrendrive their children to school, enter the grounds andstay with them until class time. She reported that inAustralia mothers arranged ‘play dates’ in advance andaccompanied children to friends’ homes rather than thechildren going alone.Case 2Sung Kook was a five-year-old boy in Receptionwho had been in Australia for nine months. He wasliving with his mother and older brother. Sung Kookrelied on an interpreter during the interview but saidhe understood what was happening in the Englishspeakingclassroom. He said he had no friends whenhe first arrived but now he could do ‘drawing, writingand playing with friends’. There was one other Koreanstudent in his class.Sung Kook said he had three close male friends andthey spent most break times playing soccer. Hereported that he often had friends over to play at home.His mother said he had adapted easily to school inAustralia because he was so young. She suggestedhe was learning social skills such as sharing throughplay and explicit teaching. She said, ‘I like talking toother mothers after school’ as other parents gave herpositive feedback about Sung Kook’s achievements.Sung Kook’s teacher said she thought positiverelationships with other students had facilitated hisadjustment. She said she provided a language-richenvironment and used a lot of role-playing and facialgestures during his first days at school. She reflectedthat at first it was difficult to assess if he understoodEnglish, or whether he was shy, lacked confidence,or deliberately did not maintain eye contact. Shesuggested that, although he had received a few hourstuition in English as a Second Language (ESL), initiallyhe would have benefited from an interpreter in class.Case 3Jae Hoon’s teacher said he displayed no Englishskills when he arrived nine months ago. She said hewas placed in a Reception class with no other Koreanstudents and no bilingual support. She rememberedthat in the early days, before his father returned toKorea, he would do simple interpreting for his son atthe beginning of the day but Jae Hoon would be quitedistressed when his father left. The teacher said sheestablished a buddy system and used peer literacytuition to support Jae Hoon. The other children in hisclass played alphabet games and did reading activitieswith him. She reported that he finally became moresettled when a short-term stay group of Korean studentsvisited the school. She recalled arranging for him to joinin as many of the group activities as possible. After thestudy group returned to Korea he stopped displayingseparation anxiety and no longer cried each morning.The teacher said she told the class about the difficultiesJae Hoon was having and encouraged their supportfor him from the beginning of his stay. She observedthat the rest of the class readily helped him and thegroup regularly ‘celebrated’ his learning achievements.She also introduced him to the Korean boy in the classnext door. His mother said Jae Hoon had fitted intothe school class very well because the teacher wasconstantly checking to see if he understood what washappening and what he had to do next.Jae Hoon reported that he is good at speaking andwriting English although he also stated that sometimes,‘it’s hard ’cause I don’t know much English’. He said henow had a group of male friends who all enjoyed playingAustralian Rules football. The differences Jae Hoonsaid he noticed between Australia and Korea were notwalking to school and needing to bring a packed lunchfrom home. He said food was served at school in Korea.Jae Hoon also observed the difference between singlestoreyhousing in Australia and apartment buildings inKorea. He said he liked school in Australia because hehad good friends.Case 4Dae Hyun attended a different South Australian schoolfrom the other participants. He had attended the schoolthroughout Year One and was now in Year two. He saidinitially it was ‘hard talking in English, but now OK’. Hesaid he had no friends at school when he first arrivedbut now ‘I play basketball, tennis, sand-pit with friends,and like to make things and do painting’.Dae Hyun’s mother said he had some English when14A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

During their interviews all four teachers revealed gapsin their knowledge about the Korean children and theirfamilies’ circumstances. Three teachers were unawarethat the children were living in Australia with only theirmothers and siblings. There was also an apparentmismatch between teachers’ perceptions and mothers’perceptions about the English language abilities of newKorean students. In all cases the teachers reportedthat the children came to Australia with ‘no English’,though two children had received intensive privateEnglish tuition for nearly six months before arrival.These findings indicated that some educators need tobecome better informed about the educational contextof the international students in their classes (Gay, 2002;Kwon et al., 2010). Deeper understanding would alsoreinforce development of stronger teacher–parentrelationships (DEEWR, 2009; Handscombe, 1994).Educational and cultural experiencesJae Hoon’s experience shows the importance ofinternational students’ accessibility to other studentsfrom the same country. Only after the teacher introducedhim to other Korean students did Jae Hoon begin todisplay signs of cultural adjustment. Consistent withSonderegger & Barrett (2004), his anxiety decreasedonce he formed relationships with these students.The two children who had received intensive Englishtuition in Korea were reported as showing signs ofquicker cultural adjustment. However, that thesewere the two eldest children may be relevant. Allfour children’s self-description indicated that duringthe early weeks at school in Australia they had poorself-esteem regarding English language skills andexperienced varying levels of anxiety. The mothers andteachers said the children’s process of acculturationwas ameliorated by social support from peers andteachers (Sonderegger & Barrett, 2004).Serendipitous findings involved the needs of the mothers.The families in this study had no contacts in Australia priorto arrival and needed to generate new social networks.Problems of social isolation were significant, particularlyfor one mother who arrived with no English skills.RecommendationsIn this study, three teachers expressed frustration atwhat they perceived to be limited language supportfor the Korean students in their classes. Since Englishlanguage difficulties are a barrier to cultural adjustment,the children may benefit from an initial intensivelanguage course similar to the New Arrivals programs.Korean students’ mothers may also benefit fromaccess to language support.Teachers voiced concern about lack of teacherprofessional development regarding internationalstudents. Professional development opportunitieswhich will increase cultural competence by learningabout Korean society, culture and the educationsystem could benefit teachers. In order to developstrong partnerships with the families, early childhoodeducators of Korean students should familiarisethemselves with the culture and circumstances oftheir students’ families. This could be achieved throughwelcome activities at the school, in addition to clearcommunication about the children’s education historyat the time of enrolment. Australian teachers couldinitiate teacher–parent relationships by acknowledgingthe central role of rote-learning in Korean education anddiscussing with Korean families why textbooks andhomework are not used with young Australian learners.Lists of Korean churches, shops and social organisationsin South Australia, translated into Korean, could also bemade available through schools to promote culturaladjustment for the whole family through a networkbased on shared linguistic and cultural background.School principals may facilitate smoother transitionby placing Korean children in classes with otherKorean students. The experiences of Korean mothersaccompanying young children on student visas may bean area for further investigation.Given the increasing number of Korean students enrollingin DECS schools (SA DECS, 2010) a larger, qualitativestudy is required to increase Australian educators’understanding about the cultural adjustment needs ofthese students. A large-scale study may also considerhow the presence of Korean international studentsaffects teaching approaches, learning experiences, andrelationships between teachers and other students.LimitationsThe case-study approach used meant only the viewsof full-fee-paying, international students were included.It was only possible to obtain a maternal perspectivebecause of geographic separation of parents. Languagedifferences may have affected the findings as parentparticipants all used a combination of Korean and Englishand the researcher relied on an interpreter. The interpreteralso acknowledged difficulty translating some words forwhich there is no equivalent meaning in Korean.This research was undertaken to fulfil the requirementsof the author’s Honours study and the sample size waslimited owing to time restrictions. Care should be takenin generalising the findings because of the small numberof participants and the limitations of purposive sampling.ConclusionThis study indicates that a number of factors mayfacilitate, or impede, the cultural adjustment ofKorean children transitioning into South Australianjunior primary schools. English language difficulties16A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

immediately impact on children’s capacity tocommunicate, causing complications for newly arrivedstudents as they commence relationships with peersand teachers. Social interaction affects development ofself-esteem and identity, therefore it is crucial to providean environment in which Korean children will establishpositive relationships as quickly as possible. Earlychildhood educators need to provide ample opportunitiesfor English language learning, including significant levelsof explicit instruction, rather than relying on immersion.After a number of months attending school in SouthAustralia the children in this study were found tohave adapted reasonably well to Australian teachingapproaches. However, to ensure successful and rapidcultural adjustment to Australian education settingsfor future students, educators should ensure theyunderstand the kinds of experiences children have hadprior to arrival in Australia. In conjunction with increasedknowledge about Korean culture, teachers will beable to confidently offer sensitive support to Koreaninternational students. The creation of this awarenessand knowledge is not solely the responsibility ofteachers but needs to be addressed by policy-makersthrough provision of professional developmentopportunities for staff working with Korean students,and increased funding for English language programs.AcknowledgementsThe author thanks the children, parents and teachers whoso thoughtfully participated in the study; Eun-Joo Lee forher assistance with participant recruitment and interpreting;and Dr. Victoria Whitington for her valued guidance.ReferencesArmitage, L. (1999). Factors affecting the adjustment ofKoreans studying in Australia. Queensland: SwinburneUniversity of Technology.Australian Government Department of Education, Employmentand Workplace Relations (DEEWR) (2009). Belonging, being &becoming: The Early Years Learning Framework for Australia(p. 16). Canberra: DEEWR.Billman, N., Geddes, C., & Hedges, H. (2005). Teacher-parentpartnerships: sharing understandings and making changes.Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 30(1), 44–48.Bodrova, E., Leong, D. J., Hensen, R., & Henninger, M.(2000). Imaginative, child-directed play: leading the way indevelopment and learning. Dimensions of Early Childhood,28(4): 25–30.Butcher, A. P. (2004). Educate, consolidate, immigrate:educational immigration in Auckland, New Zealand. AsiaPacific Viewpoint, 45(2): 255–278.Coelho, E. (1994). Social integration of immigrant and refugeechildren. In F. Genesee (Ed), Educating second languagechildren: the whole child, the whole curriculum, the wholecommunity (pp. 301–327). Cambridge: Cambridge UniversityPress.Dockett, S., & Perry B. (2005). Researching with children:insights from the Starting School Research Project. Early ChildDevelopment and Care, 175(6): 507–521.Dooley, K., (2003). Reconceptualising equity: pedagogyfor Chinese students in Australian schools. The AustralianEducational Researcher, 30(3): 25–42.Farver, J. M., Kim, Y. K., & Lee, Y. (1995). Cultural differencesin Korean- and Anglo-American preschoolers’ social interactionand play behaviours. Child Development, 66: 1088–1099.Gay, G. (2002). Preparing for culturally responsive teaching.Journal of Teacher Education, 53(2): 106–116.Handscombe, J. (1994). Putting it all together. In F. Genesee(Ed), Educating second language children: the whole child,the whole curriculum, the whole community (pp. 331–356).Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.Hill, S. (1994). Cooperative communities in early childhood.Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 19(4): 44–48.Kim, U., & Choi, S-H. (1994) Individualism, collectivism, andchild development: a Korean perspective. In P. M. Greenfield& R. R. Cocking (Eds), Cross-cultural roots of minority childdevelopment (pp. 227–257). New Jersey: Lawrence ErlbaumAssociates Inc.Kim, K. H. (2004). Expanded opportunity, persistent inequality:social class and gender differentials in school transitions inKorea, Paper presented at the Association Coreenne d’EtudesPolitiques Francaise’s International Conference. Japan: Centerfor the Study of Social Stratification and Inequality.Kwon, O. Y. (2000). Australia-Korea relations in education:issues and prospects. Korea Papers, 2: 6–31. Nathan, Qld:Australian Centre for Korean Studies.Kwon, K. Y., Suh, Y., Bang, Y-S., Jung, J., & Moon, S. (2010).The note of discord: examining educational perspectivesbetween teachers and Korean parents in the U.S. Teaching andTeacher Education, 26: 497–506.Lee, J., Park, E., & Kim, H. (2000). Literacy education in Korea:a sociocultural perspective. Childhood Education, 76(6): 347–351.Lim, L., & Renshaw, P. (2001). The relevance of socioculturaltheory to culturally diverse partnerships and communities.Journal of Child and Family Studies, 10(1): 9–21.MacNaughton, G., Rolfe, S. A., & Siraj-Blatchford, I. (2001).Doing early childhood research: international perspectives ontheory and practice. Crows Nest, NSW: Allen & Unwin.Miles, M. B., & Huberman, A. M. (1994). Qualitative dataanalysis: an expanded sourcebook (2nd edn). Thousand Oaks,Cal: SAGE Publications.Nelson, B. (Minister for Education, Science and Training)(2003). Engaging the world through education: ministerialstatement on the internationalisation of Australian educationand training. Canberra: Department of Education, Science andTraining, Commonwealth of Australia.Nunan, D. (2003). The impact of English as a global languageon educational policies and practices in the Asia-Pacific region.TESOL Quarterly, 37(4): 589–613.Okagaki, L., & Diamond, K. E. (2000). Responding to culturaland linguistic differences in the beliefs and practices of familieswith young children. Young Children, 55(3): 74–80.Park, S., & Lahman, M. K. E. (2003). Bridging perspectivesof parents, teachers and co-researchers: methodologicalreflections on cross-cultural research. Reflective Practice, 4(3):375–383.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 17

Ramsey, P. G. (2004). Teaching and learning in a diverse world(3rd edn). New York: Teachers College Press.Renwick, M. (1997). Your children: our schools. A guide forKorean parents in New Zealand: early childhood educationservices and primary schools. Wellington, NZ: New ZealandCouncil for Educational Research.Rodd, J. (1996). Socialization attitudes and practices of Koreanmothers of young children: the influence of context. ChildhoodEducation: International Perspectives, 63–73.Rogoff, B. (2003). The cultural nature of human development.New York, NY: Oxford University Press.Sawir, E. (2005). Language difficulties of internationalstudents in Australia: the effects of prior learning experience.International Education Journal, 6(5): 567–580.Sonderegger, R., & Barrett, P. M. (2004). Patterns of culturaladjustment among young migrants to Australia. Journal ofChild and Family Studies, 13(3): 341–356.South Australian Department of Education and Children’sServices (SA DECS) (2010). South Australian Department ofEducation and Children’s Services. Retrieved 11 March, 2010,from http:www.decs.sa.gov.au.Stake, R. E. (1995). The art of case study research. ThousandOaks, Cal: SAGE Publications.Tran, S. (2006, February 23). Australia offers many advantagesto attract students from Korea. The Korea Herald.Van Hoorn, J., Monighan Nourot, P., Scales, B., & RodriguezAlward, K. (2003). Play at the center of the curriculum (3rdedn). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education Inc.Wong, J. K-K. (2004). Are the learning styles of Asianinternational students culturally or contextually based?International Education Journal, 4(4): 154–166.18A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Child participation in the early years:Challenges for educationMaryanne TheobaldSusan DanbyQueensland University of TechnologyJo AilwoodUniversity of NewcastleThe view that children should have a say in and participate in the decision makingof matters that affect them is now an accepted position when considering researchand policy in the early years. This paper reviews the field of child participation inthe Australian context to show that, despite growing evidence of support withinpolicy and research arenas, young children’s participation rights in Australia havenot been key agenda items for early childhood education. While a significant part ofchildren’s daily experience takes place in classrooms, the actual practices of engagingyoung children as participants in everyday activities remains a challenge for earlychildhood education. Participation is an interactional process that involves managingrelationships between children and adults. Recommendations include further researchinto the daily experiences of young children to show what participation might look likewhen translated to the everyday activities of the classroom and playground.This paper examines the major social policy movementsand theoretical understandings that have driven aninternational agenda of child participation. Participationis a term used freely to signify many roles that childrentake on as they experience the varying contexts of theirlives. The concept of participation is ‘multi-dimensional’and can be interpreted in many ways (Kellett, 2009;Sinclair, 2004). Reviewing child participation agendas,one common understanding is that participation is aprocess, as children are involved in making decisionsabout matters that affect their lives, whetherindependently or as a group (Hill, Davis, Prout & Tisdall,2004). Continuing this idea, Alderson (2008) suggestsparticipation encompasses the activities of children‘talking, thinking and deciding’ (p. 79) and adultsresponding to and incorporating the views of children.While there is movement and a commitment toparticipatory ideals, change in key agendas and practicesfor early childhood education remains slow. First,this paper presents an overview of understandings,definitions and scope of child participation withinsocial policy and theory. With a focus on the Australiancontext, a review of the field of participation showsthat, while participation has been somewhat effectivein policy development in Australia, there is limitedresponse in the field and practices of early childhoodeducation. Next, the paper examines the impedimentsto child participation in early childhood education. Finally,we argue that child participation is an interactionallymanaged activity that relies upon specific child–adultpractices. Further research into the daily experiencesof young children may demonstrate what participationmight look like when translated at a foundational level;in other words, how children’s everyday participationwith each other, and with the teacher in the everydayactivities of the classroom and playground, is enacted.Child participation movements at times show littleunderstanding of children’s interactions in their socialworlds, even while attempting to position childrenas competent. Child participation, including howparticipation is understood from observing children’sinteractions, is relatively unknown.Children’s right to participation in matters that affectthem is not a new idea. It has been two decadessince the rights of children, including participation,were legally acknowledged and adopted by the UnitedNations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC)(United Nations, 1989). However, the concept ofchildren’s participation rights still are often viewed ascontentious and challenging (Alderson, 2008; Smith,2007) because children are considered too youngto form an opinion about decisions that affect themin their lives. As a field of inquiry, child participationremains contested and often disputed.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 19

Understanding child participationThe view that children should have a say in matters thataffect them is now an accepted position when consideringresearch and policy in the early years. Increasingly evidentis research involving children and youth (see Alderson,2005; Balen et al., 2006; Christensen, 2004; Hill, 2006;Kellett, 2009), accompanied by recent understandingsthat ‘social life for children often appears differently fromhow it looks from an adult perspective’ (Prout, 2002,p. 68). For example, recent campaigners for children inresearch advocate that children should be more thanparticipants; they should be positioned as co-researchersor leaders of research in their own lives (Kellett, 2010). Akey feature of a participatory framework is that childrenare conceptualised as competent interactional beings,able to participate in decisions that affect them.Whose perspective is heard and who gets to speak forwhom (Christensen, 2004; Danby & Farrell, 2005) aresignificant issues when considering child participationagendas. For example, at a surface level child participationmay be a consultative practice where children are givena means through which adults can obtain their views. Ifviews are heard but no action is taken, then consultationis seen mostly as a stand-in for participation (Hill et al.,2004). In other words, child participation is limited whendecisions are made without the direct involvement ofchildren (Hill et al., 2004; Thomas, 2007).Participatory initiatives that position children asexercising choice and having control over theirdecisions build democratic processes. Childrenbecome self-advocates in the fulfillment of their owninitiatives (Lansdown, 2001). In this understanding, thepractices of child participation enhance communicationso that each participant, including children, becomes ‘apractitioner of choice’ (Dahlberg & Moss, 2005, p. 160).The child rights movement, through recognising andpromoting children’s capabilities and rights as activecitizens, enables children’s active participation in social andpolitical issues. Perhaps because of the UNCRC (UnitedNations, 1989) decision, child participation in the Australiancontext has been most evident in the areas of policy,including recently emerging policy frameworks for the earlyyears. For example, the 2005 release of the United Nation’sGeneral Comment No 7: Implementing child rights in earlychildhood (United Nations, 2005) raises awareness of therights of young children in the early years (MacNaughton,Hughes & Smith, 2007b), calling for increased action inaddressing such rights (United Nations, 2005).Child participation in Australian policyIn Australia, increasing legislation for children’s viewsdemonstrates the importance that governmentbodies are giving to young people’s participation inservices and activities. This emphasis on childrenactively contributing is most recently recognised inthe latest national strategy for the development ofyoung children. The National Framework for ProtectingAustralia’s Children 2009–2020 and the Early YearsLearning Framework (COAG, 2009a; 2009b) bothposition children as active decision makers. For thefirst time in a federal government policy document,young children are acknowledged to have the right toparticipate in decisions that affect them and also are tobe seen as active users and employers of these rightsas they influence their own lives (COAG, 2009a). Theseearly childhood education reforms, however, remainconcentrated in settings before formal school.In addition to national policy agendas, a number ofstate-developed policy documents in Australia call forchildren’s opinions to be heard. The Commission forChildren and Young People’s (NSW & Qld) report A HeadStart for Australia: An Early Years Framework (2004, p.57) suggests that ‘children have valuable knowledgeto contribute to developing and evaluating the policiesand services that affect them’. The report recommendschild participation through policy action, awarenessraising and advocacy. The follow-up document, Whatabout the kids? (NSW & Qld Commissions for Childrenand Young People & NIFTeY Australia, 2006, p. 2)builds on ideas of recognising children as ‘people withentitlements’ and suggests policy development in twoareas: early childhood education, and care and family. Inaddition, the NSW Commission for Children and YoungPeople (2005) released a Taking participation seriouslykit that promotes ways for individuals and groups to getchildren involved in matters to do with them. As part ofthe Taking participation seriously advisory kit, Count mein! (NSW Commission for Children and Young People,2005) outlines participatory ways of conducting socialresearch with children and young people.With calls for children to be approached for theirviews and attention paid to the importance of youngpeople’s contribution, we see a shift in Australian policymaking. Some work within early childhood educationpolicy is occurring where child participation is seenthrough consultation with young children. For example,MacNaughton, Hughes and Smith (2007a) report ontwo studies that used action-research within childcaresettings involving children in policy formation. The firststudy, in 2003, asked children in child care to commenton factors that influence their wellbeing. The childrenidentified services they understood as having an impacton their everyday lives, such as school and play, as wellas broader factors to do with protection, communitysafety, community infrastructure and public space(MacNaughton et al., 2007a, p. 464). The second study,in 2004, focused on children’s views of gender. Thisstudy found the influence of gender relations affectshow children rated justice and fairness issues during20A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

their kindergarten day. A study by Thorpe et al. (2004),asking children to report on their daily experiences ina preparatory year, suggests that including such viewsin the research project helped adults understand whatwas important to children. These studies reinforcethe growing message about children’s capabilities inexpressing their views.The Australian Capital Territory’s Children’s Plan (ACTGovernment, 2003), which outlines a multi-phasedChildren’s Strategy Consultation Process, is anotherexample of child participation in policy formation. In thefirst phase, researchers worked with early childhoodeducators, nurses, social workers and carers from arange of early childhood services including playgroups,women’s refuge centres, family day care schemes,preschools and childcare centres. The aim was to buildthe practitioners’ skills in consulting with children. Thesecond phase of the project used participant reflectionson the first phase to design and implement a consultationproject. The resulting document, Hearing youngchildren’s voices (MacNaughton, Smith & Lawrence,2003), notes that involvement in the project increasedthe practitioners’ focus and skills in consulting with,and listening to, children. These documents suggestthat Australian government bodies are recognising thevalue of children’s contributions in the areas of policyand research. However, statements in documents suchas these show potential for participation that may ormay not come to fruition (Bae, 2009).The child competence paradigm:Advancing the child participation agendaAlongside the international child rights movementis the competence paradigm, framing participatorymodels in which children actively contribute asinformers in research studies (Balen et al., 2006;Christensen, 2004; Christensen & James, 2000; Clark,2005; Danby & Farrell, 2004, 2005; Grover, 2004; Hill,2006; Holland & O’Neil, 2006; Mayall, 2000; Theobald,in press). Competence is defined as children activelyengaging in everyday life events and interactions(Hutchby & Moran-Ellis, 1998; Speier, 1973). Theinteractional competence paradigm first emerged inthe 1960s, investigating children as active participantsin their own lives (Aries, 1967). Pioneering work bySpeier (1973) and Mackay (1974; 1991) focused onhow children accomplish interactional competence ineveryday activities, including school settings. This workemphasises the importance of empirical studies ofchildren’s lives to show how they organise and arrangetheir social relations. Speier (1973, p. 6) highlightsthe importance of social participants themselves andtheir ordinary experiences of ‘doing things together ina shared environment’. Further work in this field hasbeen undertaken by Waksler (1991) and, more recently,Cromdal (2004); Björk-Willén and Cromdal’s (2009)study of the social interactions of children who aremultilingual; Theobald’s (2009; in press) investigationof child participation in the playground; Butler’s (2008)study of children’s talk and interaction during schoolrecess; Danby (2002; 2005), Danby and Baker’s(1998a; 1998b; 2001) studies of how children managetheir social relationships in preschool; and Hutchby(2005) and Hutchby and Moran-Ellis’ (1998) review ofthe competence of young children. Waksler (1991)suggests that the lack of children’s explanations abouttheir own lives is ‘rarely missed’, because the possibilityof children having explanations is not acknowledged inthe first place.The interactional competence approach in research isechoed within the more recent sociology of childhoodperspective (Cromdal, 2006). The Prout and James(1997) framework, referred to as the ‘new’ sociology ofchildhood, recognises childhood as a social constructwhere children are active members. Viewing children associal agents challenges conventional ideas of childrenas passive subjects of social structures and processes(Corsaro, 2005; Mayall, 2002a; Prout & James, 1997).From this perspective, children do not simply mirrorwhat they see from the adult world, but rather usetheir experiences to add to, and make sense of, theirown lives (Corsaro, 2005). The standpoint of suchstudies is that ‘children are competent interpreters oftheir everyday worlds’ (Danby & Farrell, 2004, p. 35).From a competence paradigm, children’s competenceis understood as within children’s experiences in thehere and now, rather than according to the stage oflife trajectory (Wyness, 2000). Recognition is given tochildren’s contribution to society, and their influence insocial worlds or peer cultures (Corsaro, 2005; Wyness,2000). This recognition moves away from simplyidentifying particular aspects of childhood as childlike,or from a view that childhood means children speak oract in certain ways (Hutchby & Moran-Ellis, 1998).Participatory rightsEarly directions of participatory rights for children, whichhave been taken up within the sociology of childhoodframework, complement those of the UNCRC (UnitedNations, 1989). The work of the UNCRC (United Nations,1989) can be seen as an attempt to legalise children’sparticipation and influence. Acknowledging children’sright to influence and have a say in decisions aboutmatters of concern to them within family or societygives them opportunities to practise the principles ofdemocracy (Sheridan & Pramling Samuelsson, 2001).Similarities have been drawn between the twoperspectives of the children’s rights movement and thesociology of childhood approach. This ‘common ground’lies in the positions both perspectives take in relationVo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 21

to research and valuing children’s views (Freeman,1998, p. 434). Both perspectives take the view thatresearch should concentrate on the agency of childrenas constructors of their own social worlds; that childrenare persons and not property, subjects and not objects;and that they are participants in social processes ratherthan social problems themselves (Freeman, 1998).The reports of the Organisation for EconomicCooperation and Development (OECD), Starting strongand Starting strong II (2001; 2006), both emphasise thesignificance of child participation for political agendas.Starting strong (2001) identifies three early educationprograms that promote themes of child participation:the curriculum and pedagogy of Reggio Emilia (Italy), TeWhäriki (Ministry of Education, 1996), and Curriculumfor pre-school Lpfö 98 (Swedish National Agency forEducation, 1998). These case studies suggest that childparticipation and democratic principles are the basis ofexemplary pedagogy and curricula in early childhoodeducation (Bennett & Leonarduzz, 2004; Pramling,2004; Rinaldi, 2006). Starting strong II (OECD, 2006)found further evidence that OECD countries withmore successful education systems are more likely tovalue children’s freedom of choice, play and creativeexpression (Bennett, 2007).An important part of engaging with children inconsultation practices involves informing them abouthow their ideas were used (MacNaughton, Hughes& Smith, 2009). There is little evidence of seriousreconsideration of planning and provision of earlychildhood services that enable young children tomake a difference (Hill et al., Tisdall, 2004; Mayall,2006). Nimmo (2007) suggests we have much tolearn regarding advancing young children’s genuineparticipation in real life. Many child participationprocesses, while attempting to ‘hear the voices’ ofchildren, often fail to respond to children’s views(Kelley, 2006). Bae (2009) suggests that, while officialdocuments provide opportunities for child participation,it is now time to show how these possibilities are putto practice. Engaging young children as participants ineveryday social contexts remains a challenge.Impediments to participation in earlychildhood educationA central consideration in child participation debates,then, is not whether children and young people haveanything to say, but whether anyone is listening seriously(Holdsworth, 2005). There may be commitment to theidea of child participation in early childhood education,but transferring this idea into equitable practice iscomplex (Millei, 2008).The social processes and recognition of children ascapable beings is necessary to promote participatorypractice (Smith, Bjerke & Taylor, 2009). More than threedecades ago, Speier (1973) observed that children hadrestricted rights, and this view continues to resonatetoday, with studies observing that children lack statusin their world on adult terms. Bae (2009) notes that anemphasis on rules and procedures in early childhoodsettings may work to further limit children’s ‘free choice’and autonomy, and stifle children’s capacity to act asinteractional beings. Similarly, Nyland (2008) identifiesthat an emphasis on routines and schedules furtherimpedes participatory practices in early childhoodeducation settings.Significant portions of children’s daily activities takeplace in classrooms, yet the participation rights andsocial relations of young children remain impeded. Withan increasing focus on preparation for school (Bennett,2007), the Australian Federal Government’s visionfor education has a strong emphasis on academicimprovements for children with a ‘back to the basics’reform agenda in the new draft national curriculum(Maiden & Kelly, 2010). Within the draft AustralianCurriculum (ACARA, 2010), however, child participationis not identified as a key focus.It is difficult to find studies investigating participatoryprocesses in young children’s everyday affairs withinthe classroom and playground. MacNaughton et al.(2007b) propose that child participation is impededbecause early childhood professionals are often viewedas child development experts. The challenge is to moveunderstandings of teachers being ‘experts’ in childdevelopment who know what is best for children in ageneral sense, to being expert in ways to collaboratewith children (MacNaughton et al., 2007b). Similarly,Bennett (2007) suggests that the balance of powerin education is rarely in favour of the child, owing toteacher attention to tasks such as socialising children,organising the environment and ensuring children’sreadiness for school, rather than attending to theirrights to consultation and participation (Bennett, 2007).The few international and national studies with a specificfocus on child participation in early childhood educationhave found children’s influence to be limited. PramlingSamuelsson and Pramling (2009) note that, while itmay be expected that early childhood education beresponsive to children’s influences, evidence suggestsotherwise. For example, Markström and Halldén (2008)observe, from their studies of Swedish preschools,that the very nature of preschool as an institutionmeans that tensions exist between individual children’sinterests and the interests of the larger group. Thestrategies used by children to exert their own influencein these settings are often overlooked. Sheridan andPramling Samuelsson’s (2001) study of early childhoodeducation and care settings in Sweden found thatchildren rarely participate in and make decisions about22A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

the overall organisation, routines, content and activitieswithin preschool.Another example from Sweden is Emilson’s (2007) studyof young children’s influence in preschool. Examiningepisodes of ‘circle time’ in early childhood settings,Emilson found that opportunities for child participation andinfluence were dependent on teacher attitudes. Similarly,Bae’s (2009) study of children and teacher interaction inpreschools in Norway found that participation correlatesto how teachers follow children’s initiatives, respondto children and take children’s point of view. Danby,Farrell, Powell and Leiminer’s (2004) research examiningAustralian children’s decision making in their everydaylives suggests that time spent at school was governedmore than was their time at home. Rather than childparticipation principles being embraced, children’slives at school are impacted upon increasingly by adultdeterminedregulation and control (Danby et al., 2004).Research investigating older children’s participation inschools also found it was restricted by adult control.For example, Tholander’s (2007) study of teachers’practices found that co-constructing rules withstudents meant uncertain democratic relationships.He discussed how one teacher first invited students tocollaborate in making a list of rules, and then orderedsanctions for misbehaving. This study showed that thepractice of democracy was a role that children were in‘preparation for’ rather than a matter they attended toin their day-to-day activities (Tholander, 2007). Wyse’s(2001) study of child participation in two secondary andtwo primary schools in England found that children’sviews were not listened to. Despite the inclusion of aparticipatory body such as a school council, there waslittle opportunity for children to express their ideas andmake decisions. Similarly, a study of older children’sparticipation in Australian schools, by Bolzan, Mason &Michail (2005), found that adults controlled decisionsabout who may participate and how, as well as thematters to be discussed (usually adult agendas).Ways forward for early childhoodeducationProjects involving older school-age children in the UnitedKingdom report greater student learning, motivationand attainment, and a safer and more positive schoolenvironment as a result of child participation projects(Save the Children, 2007). For example, Davies, Williams,Yamashita and Man-Hing (2006) in their review of 75studies of child participation programs in UK schools, foundstudents who were in schools that emphasised democraticpractices had improved academic achievement. Thisimprovement was credited to an emphasis on studentengagement in teaching and learning processes.Better teacher–student relationships and school–homerelationships were also attributed to participatory methods.While research shows the benefits of child participationfor older children, participatory evidence for the early yearsremains limited (Brownlee, 2008). However, reviewingchildren’s conceptions of quality of early childhoodeducation and care settings in Sweden, Sheridan andPramling Samuelsson (2001) found a high correlationbetween quality of the early childhood setting, and thechildren’s ability to have influence over the program.Nyland’s (2008, p. 40) review of children’s participatoryrights within childcare contexts in New Zealand, Americaand Australia stated that ‘participation encourages growth,well-being, and imagination’ as well as children as ‘selfregulatedlearners’.Professionals within early childhood education andcare settings have a responsibility to be proactive intheir implementation of children’s rights, including childparticipation (Smith, 2007). Woodhead (2009) suggeststhat the implementation of children’s rights requires a shiftin the view of the child. Australian early childhood educationsettings can take lessons from New Zealand, where childparticipation offers early childhood professionals thepossibility of reframing their professional capabilities andknowledge bases. For example, the curriculum of NewZealand, Te Whäriki, promotes the autonomy of childrenand children as ‘active learners who choose, plan andchallenge’ (Smith, 2007, p. 5).By acknowledging the varied and complex interactionsof children in their care, teachers will come to knoweach child as an individual member of society withpersonal views and influence (Cannella & Grieshaber,2001). Similarly, MacNaughton et al. (2007b) note thatas early childhood professionals redefine their expertise,they may develop more equitable and collaborativerelationships with young children. Teachers, whochange their practices and beliefs of their role fromone as experts acting on behalf of children to one ofcollaborators with children, will advance concepts ofparticipation (MacNaughton et al., 2007b).Making the UNCRC a key document in strategicplanning for early childhood education is one way toimport a child participation focus into the early childhoodsetting (Smith, 2007). Another way to address childparticipation in early childhood education is to includeit as a ‘protocol’ for curricula documents (Bennett,2007; Smith, 2007). On the international scene,curricula documents have attempted to respond tothe UNCRC in their attention to child participation. Forexample, a participatory role for children is a key focusof the Swedish curriculum. The Swedish curriculumdocument, Curriculum for the pre-school (Departmentof Education, 2006), promotes and actively encourageschildren to have an opportunity to express their ownviews in order to influence their own situation, formtheir own opinion and make choices.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 23

There is a need to study and understand how childrensocially construct their everyday lives and how theseinteractions ‘fit’ with participation agendas. AsBae (2009) reminds us, while statements in policyand curriculum documents offer ‘possibilities’ forparticipation for children within educational practices,this does not mean that such participation will easilyoccur. Moves for increased recognition of childparticipation in early childhood settings are faced withthe difficulty of translating that view into examples ofwhat child participation might look like in the everydayactivities of the classroom and playground. Grahamand Fitzgerald (2008), researching the views of olderchildren in Australian school settings, suggest thatchildren view participation as an opportunity to instigateand manage their everyday relationships with others.Similarly, Björk-Willén’s (2007, p. 2155) study of thepreschool activities of multi-lingual children in Swedenfound that ‘participation in peer-group events are at theforefront’ of children’s concerns. Further research intothe daily experiences of young children would showwhat participation might look like when translated to theeveryday activities of the classroom and playground.Examining actual instances of children’s interactionsallows an investigation of how children draw on, and use,peer and adult structures in their everyday social practices.Such an examination is at a foundational level—howchildren manage their everyday participation in the earlyyears setting with each other, and with the teacher. Theamount of ‘relational space’ afforded to children by adultsdirectly affects their opportunities to freely give ideas andhave influence over decisions (Bae, 2009, p. 398).ConclusionIn Australia, there has been some advancement towardsa focus on child participation, particularly within policyframeworks. Overall, however, there is little ‘institutionaland organisational change that encourages and facilitateschildren’s voice’ (Prout, 2002, p. 75). Missing is asustained program of research examining the everydayinteractions of children with a view to understandingthe child participation agenda. Child participation in theearly years cannot be viewed as a gimmick or an item tocheck off a list at the end of the day.AcknowledgementThe authors sincerely thank the reviewers for theirhelpful comments.ReferencesAlderson, P. (2005). Designing ethical research with children.In A. Farrell (Ed), Ethical research with children (pp. 27–36).Maidenhead: Open University Press.Alderson, P. (2008). Young children’s rights: Exploring beliefs,principles and practice. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers.Aries, P. (1967). Centuries of childhood: A social history offamily life. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority(ACARA) (2010). The Australian curriculum. Retrieved 17January, 2010, from http://www.australiancurriculum.edu.au.Australian Capital Territory (ACT) Government (2003). AustralianCapital Territory’s children’s plan 2004–2008. Retrieved 17May, 2007, from http://www.youth.act.gov.au.Bae, B. (2009). Children’s right to participate: Challenges ineveryday interactions. European Early Childhood EducationResearch Journal, 17(3), 391–406.Balen, R., Blyth, E., Calabretto, H., Fraser, C., Horracks, C.,& Manby, M. (2006). Involving children in health and socialresearch: “Human becomings” or “active beings”. Childhood,13(1), 29–48.Bennett, J. (2007). Early childhood education, democracy andcitizenship. Asia-Pacific Journal of Research in Early ChildhoodEducation, 1(1), 65–81.Bennett, J., & Leonarduzz, S. (2004). Starting strong: Curriculaand pedagogies in early childhood education and care: Fivecurriculum outlines. Paris: OECD.Björk-Willén, P. (2007). Participation in multilingual preschoolplay: Shadowing and crossing as interactional resources.Journal of Pragmatics, 39(12), 2133–2158.Björk-Willén, P., & Cromdal, J. (2009). When education seepsinto ‘free play’: How preschool children accomplish multilingualeducation. Journal of Pragmatics, 41(8), 1493–1518.Bolzan, N., Mason, J., & Michail, S. (2005). Child participation:Some meanings and questions. An Australian case study.Paper presented at the Childhoods Conference 2005, Oslo.Brownlee, J. (2008). Contexts, pedagogy and participatorylearning: A way forward. In D. Berthelsen, J. Brownlee &E. Johansson (Eds), Participatory learning in the early years:Research and pedagogy (pp. 1–12). New York: Taylor & Francis.Butler, C. W. (2008). Talk and social interaction in theplayground. Aldershot: Ashgate.Cannella, G. S, & Grieshaber, S. (2001). Conclusion: Identitiesand possibilities. In S. Grieshaber & G. Cannella (Eds),Embracing identities in early childhood education (pp. 173–180). New York: Teachers College Press.Christensen, P. (2004). Children’s participation in ethnographicresearch: Issues of power and representation. Children &Society, 18, 165–176.Christensen, P., & James, A. (2000). Childhood diversity andcommonality. In P. Christensen & A. James (Eds), Researchwith children: Perspectives and practices (pp. 160–178).London: Falmer Press.Clark, A. (2005). Listening to and involving young children: Areview of research and practice. Early Child Development andCare, 175(6), 489–505.Corsaro, W. (2005). The sociology of childhood (2nd edn).California: Pine Forge Press.Council of Australian Governments (COAG) (2009a). Belonging,being and becoming: The Early Years Learning Framework forAustralia. Retrieved 24 August, 2009, from http://www.deewr.gov.au/EarlyChildhood.24A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Council of Australian Governments (COAG) (2009b). Investingin the early years – a national early childhood developmentstrategy. Retrieved 24 August, 2009, from http://www.deewr.gov.au.Cromdal, J. (2004). Building bilingual oppositions: Codeswitching in children’s disputes. Language in Society, 33,33–58.Cromdal, J. (2006). Socialization, Encyclopedia of Language &Linguistics (Vol. 11, pp. 462–466). North Holland: Elsevier Ltd.Dahlberg, G., & Moss, P. (2005). Ethics and politics in earlychildhood education. London: RoutledgeFalmer.Danby, S. (2002). The communicative competence of youngchildren. Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 27(3), 25–31.Danby, S. (2005). Preschool girls, conflict and repair. In J.Mason & T. Fattore (Eds), Children taken seriously in theory,policy and practice (pp. 172–181). London: Jessica Kingsley.Danby, S., & Baker, C. (1998a). “What’s the problem?”Restoring social order in the preschool classroom. In I. Hutchby& J. Moran-Ellis (Eds), Children and social competence: Arenasof action. London: Falmer Press.Danby, S., & Baker, C. (1998b). How to be masculine in theblock area. Childhood: A Global Journal of Child Research, 5(2),151–175.Danby, S., & Baker, C. (2001). Escalating terror: Communicativestrategies in a preschool classroom dispute. Early Educationand Development, 12(3), 343–358.Danby, S., & Farrell, A. (2004). Accounting for young children’scompetence in educational research: New perspectives onresearch ethics. Australian Educational Researcher, 31(3),35–50.Danby, S., & Farrell, A. (2005). Opening the researchconversation. In A. Farrell (Ed), Ethical research with children(pp. 49–65). Maidenhead: Open University Press.Danby, S., Farrell, A., Powell, K., & Leiminer, M. (2004).Children’s accounts of governance in everyday lives. Brisbane:Centre for Innovation in Education, Queensland University ofTechnology.Davies, L., Williams, C., Yamashita, H., & Ko Man-Hing, A.(2006) Inspiring Schools: Impact and outcomes. Taking up thechallenge of pupil participation. London: Carnegie and EsméeFairburn.Department of Education (2006). The curriculum for the preschool.Stockholm: Fritzeso.Emilson, A. (2007). Children’s influence in educational practice.International Journal of Early Childhood, 39(1), 11–38.Freeman, M. (1998). The sociology of childhood and children’srights. The International Journal of Children’s Rights, 6, 433–444.Graham, A., & Fitzgerald, R. (2008). Conversations with children:theoretical possibilities for progressing participation. Paperpresented at Inaugural International Child & Youth ResearchNetwork Conference: Child and Youth Research in the 21stCentury: A Critical Appraisal, Nicosia, Cyprus, 28–30 May.Grover, S. (2004). Why won’t they listen to us? Childhood, 11(1),81–93.Hill, M. (2006). Children’s voices on ways of having a voice:Children’s and young people’s perspectives on methods used inresearch and consultation. Childhood, 13(1), 69–88.Hill, M., Davis, J., Prout, A., & Tisdall, K. (2004). Moving theparticipation agenda forward. Children & Society, 18(2), 77–96.Holdsworth, R. (2005). Taking young people seriously meansgiving them serious things to do. In J. Mason & T. Fattore (Eds),Children taken seriously in theory, policy and practice (pp. 139–150). London: Jessica Kingsley.Holland, S., & O’Neil, S. (2006). “We had to be there to makesure it was what we wanted”: Enabling children’s participationin family decision-making through the family group conference.Childhood, 13(1), 91–111.Hutchby, I. (2005). Children’s talk and social competence. Children& Society, 19, 66–73.Hutchby, I., & Moran-Ellis, J. (1998). Situating children’s socialcompetence. In I. Hutchby & J. Moran-Ellis (Eds), Children andsocial competence: Arenas of action (pp. 7–26). London: FalmerPress.Kellett, M. (2009). Participation: myths, rhetoric and reality. In H.Montgomery & M. Kellett (Eds). Children and young people’sworlds: Developing frameworks for integrated practice. Bristol,UK: Policy Press.Kellett, M. (2010). Rethinking children and research: Attitudes incontemporary society. London: Continuum.Kelley, N. (2006). Children’s involvement in policy formation.Children’s Geographies, 4(1), 37–44.Lansdown, G. (2001). Promoting children’s participation indemocratic decision-making. Italy: UNICEF.Mackay, R. (1974). Conceptions of children and models ofsocialization. In R. Turner (Ed), Ethnomethodology: Selectedreadings (pp. 180–193). Harmondsworth: Penguin.Mackay, R. (1991). Conceptions of children and models ofsocialisation. In F. C. Waksler (Ed), Studying the social worldsof children: Sociological readings (pp. 23–37). London: FalmerPress.MacNaughton, G., Hughes, P., & Smith, K. (2007a). Youngchildren’s rights and public policy: Practices and possibilities forcitizenship in the early years. Children & Society, 21, 458–469.MacNaughton, G., Hughes, P., & Smith, K. (2007b). Early childhoodprofessionals and children’s rights: Tensions and possibilitiesaround the United Nations General Comment No.7 on children’srights. International Journal of Early Years Education, 15(2),161–170.MacNaughton, G., Hughes, P., & Smith, K. (2009). Engagingethically with young children: Principles and practices forconsulting justly with care. In G. MacNaughton, P. Hughes &K. Smith (Eds), Young children as active citizens: Principles,policies and pedagogies (pp. 31–43). Newcastle, UK: CambridgeScholars.MacNaughton, G., Smith, K., & Lawrence, H. (2003). Hearingyoung children’s voices. Canberra: Children’s Services Branch,ACT Department of Education.Maiden, S., & Kelly, J. (2010, March 1). Gillard takes schools backto basics under national curriculum. The Australian, Retrieved 1August, 2011, from http://www.theaustralian.com.au/politics/gillard-takes-schools-back-to-basics-under-national-curriculum/story-e6frgczf-1225835615868.Markström, A-M., & Halldén, G. (2008) Children’s strategies foragency in preschool. Children & Society, 23(2), 112–122.Mayall, B. (2000). Conversations with children: Working withgenerational issues. In P. Christensen & A. James (Eds),Research with children: Perspectives and practices (pp. 120–135). London: Falmer Press.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 25

Mayall, B. (2002a). Towards a child standpoint. In B. Mayall (Ed),Towards a sociology for childhood: Thinking from children’slives (pp. 112–139). Buckingham: Open University Press.Mayall, B. (2006). Values and assumptions underpinning policy forchildren and young people in England. Children’s Geographies,4(1), 9–17.Millei, Z. (2008). Problematizing the concepts of ‘citizenship’and ‘participation’ in the early years discourse: Are they soempowering? International Journal of Equity and Innovation inEarly Childhood, 6(2), 41–56.Ministry of Education (1996). Te Whäriki: He Whäriki mätauranga:Early childhood curriculum. Wellington: Learning Media.New South Wales (NSW) and Queensland (Qld) Commissionsfor Children and Young People (2004). A head start for Australia:An early years framework. Retrieved 1 September, 2006, fromwww.niftey.cyh.com/Documents/headstart_full.doc.New South Wales (NSW) and Queensland (Qld) Commissionsfor Children and Young People, & NIFTeY Australia (2006). Whatabout the kids? Surrey Hills, NSW: Crown in right of the State ofNew South Wales and the State of Queensland.New South Wales (NSW) Commission for Children and YoungPeople (2005). Participation: Count me in! Surry Hills: Universityof Western Sydney.Nimmo, J. (2007). Young children’s access to real life: Anexamination of the growing boundaries between children in childcare and adults in the community. Contemporary Issues in EarlyChildhood, 9(1), 3–13.Nyland, B. (2008). The guiding principles of participation. In D.Berthelsen, J. Brownlee & E. Johansson (Eds), Participatorylearning in the early years: Research and pedagogy (pp. 1–12).New York: Taylor & Francis.Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development(OECD) (2001). Starting strong: Early childhood education andcare. Education and skills. Paris: OECD.Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development(OECD) (2006). Starting strong II: Early childhood education andcare. Paris: OECD.Pramling, I. (2004). The Swedish curriculum: Goals for a modernpre-school system. In J. Bennett & S. Leonarduzzi (Eds), Startingstrong. Early childhood education and care: Five curriculumoutlines (pp. 21–25). Paris: OECD.Pramling Samuelsson, I. & Pramling, N. (2009). Children’sperspectives as “touch downs” in time: Assessing anddeveloping children’s understanding simultaneously. Early ChildDevelopment and Care, 179(2), 20–216.Prout, A. (2002). Researching children as social actors: Anintroduction to the children 5–16 programme. Children & Society,16, 67–76.Prout, A., & James, A. (1997). A new paradigm for the sociologyof childhood? Provenance, promise and problems. In A. James& A. Prout (Eds), Constructing and reconstructing childhood:Contemporary issues in the sociological study of childhood (pp.7–33). London: Falmer Press.Rinaldi, C. (2006). In dialogue with Reggio Emilia: Listening,researching and learning. London: Routledge.Save the Children (2007). Save the children’s participation forschools (website). Retrieved 17 May, 2007, from http://www.participationforschools.org.uk/.Sheridan, S., & Pramling Samuelsson, I. (2001). Children’sconceptions of participation and influence in pre-school: Aperspective on pedagogical quality. Contemporary Issues inEarly Childhood, 2(2), 169–194.Sinclair, R. (2004). Participation in practice: Making it meaningful,effective and sustainable. Children & Society, 18, 106–118.Smith, A. (2007). Children’s rights and early childhood education:Links to theory and advocacy. Australian Journal of EarlyChildhood, 32(3), 1–8.Smith, A., Bjerke, H., & Taylor, N. (2009). The meaning ofcitizenship for children. Childrenz Issues, 13(1), 43–55.Speier, M. (1973). How to observe face-to-face communication:A sociological introduction. Pacific Palisades, California:Goodyear Publishing.Swedish National Agency for Education (1998). Curriculum forthe pre-school Lpfö 98. Stockholm: Skolverket.Theobald, M. (2009). Participation and social order in theplayground. Brisbane: Queensland University of Technology(QUT).Theobald, M. (in press). Video-stimulated accounts: Youngchildren accounting for interactional matters in front of peers.Journal of Early Childhood Research.Tholander, M. (2007). Working with rules: Lived democracy inschool. Ethnography and Education, 2(1), 109–126.Thomas, N. (2007). Towards a theory of children’s participation.International Journal of Children’s Rights, 15(2), 199–218.Thorpe, K., Tayler, C., Bridgstock, R., Grieshaber, S., Skoien, P.,Danby, S., et al. (2004). Preparing for school: Report of theQueensland “Preparing for school” trial 2003/04. Brisbane:Department of Education and the Arts.United Nations (1989). Convention on the Rights of the Child.Retrieved 14 August, 2006, from http://www.ohchr.org/english/law/crc.htm.United Nations (2005). General comment No. 7: Implementingchild rights in early childhood. Geneva: Convention on the Rightsof the Child.Waksler, F. C. (1991). Studying children: Phenomenologicalinsights. In F. C. Waksler (Ed), Studying the social worlds ofchildren (pp. 60–69). London: Falmer Press.Woodhead, M. (2009). Respecting rights: Implications for earlychildhood policies and practices. In G. MacNaughton, P. Hughes& K. Smith (Eds), Young children as active citizens: Principles,policies and pedagogies. Newcastle, UK: Cambridge Scholars.Wyness, M. (2000). Contesting childhood. London: FalmerPress.Wyse, D. (2001). Felt tip pens and school councils: Children’sparticipation rights in four English schools. Children & Society,15(4), 209–218.26A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Learning to measure length in the first three years of schoolAndrea McDonoughAustralian Catholic UniversityPeter SullivanMonash UniversityMuch research on early measurement learning is small-scale and dependent onthe items used. While such research is helpful for indicating the key aspects of learninglength, it does not give teachers a clear indication of the expectations for studentlearning of them. This paper presents substantial data from a large project that usedindividual interviews to assess student learning against ‘growth points’ or key stagesin children’s learning, over a range of domains including length. Data from interviewsconducted twice a year with more than 1000 children in each of the first three yearsof school are used to indicate appropriate targets for student achievement. Basicallyit is suggested that the key targets for the learning of length in the first three years ofschool are, respectively, learning to compare, learning to use a unit iteratively, andmeasuring using formal units.Learning length in schoolPerhaps the first time students realise that themathematical ideas they meet in school are differentfrom those in their lives is when their teachers start toteach measurement. In their homes, children may haveheard someone say ‘that bag is heavy’, ‘we have to waita long time’, ‘this is a big bottle’, ‘it is a long way’, ‘you aregrowing tall’, ‘this room is big’, ‘that shoe is too small’,and so on. Of course, they may also have heard ‘one litreof milk’, ‘we have to wait one hour’, and even ‘the speedlimit is 60 kilometres per hour’. As necessitated by theschool curriculum, teachers seek to build on and givestructure to those informal experiences. Unfortunately,in school the curriculum and teachers tend to isolateparticular measurement domains, and formalise theaspects of measuring within each individual domain.Often teachers focus first on the domain of lengthmeasurement, and this emphasis is evident in thepublished curriculum and reports of research with youngchildren, including this report.This article draws on results from one component ofa large-scale project, the Early Numeracy ResearchProject (ENRP) which sought to measure children’snumeracy learning in the first three years of school.The data reported are from individual interviews withmore than 1000 students in each year of the first threeyears of school (children typically aged four to sevenyears), from schools with a spread of socioeconomic,geographic, and student language backgrounds. Thedata contribute important additional perspectives tothe significant studies conducted with small samplesof students (e.g. Bragg & Outhred, 2000; Kamii, 2006;McClain, Cobb, Gravemeijer & Estes, 1999; Nunes,Light & Mason, 1993). The sample size and the scope ofour project are both a disadvantage and an advantage.One of the disadvantages is that, being part of a muchlarger interview, the four items seeking data on themeasurement of length could explore only selectedaspects of the domain, and in the following someinferences are necessary about elements of learninglength that are between the concepts assessed bythe particular items. The advantage of these data fromthe four items is that the methods of data-collectionusing well-trialled items, with trained interviewersusing appropriate equipment, in a comfortable oneon-oneinterview to large numbers of students, cangive the reader confidence that the results representthe expected responses of students at these levels tosuch items. The results provide a useful indication toteachers, not only of the range of achievement theycan expect from their classes to such items, but alsoof key concepts they can seek to achieve with all of thestudents in their class.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 27

order (Carpenter, 1976; Stephan & Clements, 2003) atwhich ability to compare, including conservation andtransitivity, develops, we believe the data presentedbelow offer strong indication of the ages at whichteachers can intervene to support student learning.Using a unit iteratively to measureThe second of our key early measurement ideas relatesto using a unit when measuring. Clements and Stephan(2004) believe that ‘measuring consists of two aspects,identifying a unit of measure and subdividing (mentallyand physically) the object by that unit, placing that unitend to end (iterating) alongside the object’ (p. 300). Thissubdivision is also described as partitioning (Stephan& Clements, 2003). Within this process the size of theunit remains the same, the units or subdivisions mustbe identical (which builds on conservation), the unit isseen as part of the whole, and the unit is translatedsuccessively or iterated. These mental relationshipshave been referred to as logico-mathematicalknowledge as they do not have their source in theobject (physical knowledge), or in social conventions(social-conventional knowledge), but originate in aperson’s mind (Kamii, 2006).Kamii (2006) argues that unit iteration is demonstratedwhen only one unit is used and moved along the length,the one unit is used repeatedly and is seen as part ofthe whole. She states her research results support thefinding of Piaget et al. that unit iteration is constructedout of transitive reasoning. As she explains, wheretransitivity involves the comparing of whole units, unititeration involves making a part–whole relationshipbetween two wholes.A further principle applied in the use of the unit is tiling;units must not overlap (Wilson & Osborne, 1992) andmust fill the space without gaps (Lehrer, 2003). In usingunits, a count is made leading to the assignment of anumber to a continuous property (Clements & Stephan,2004; Wilson & Osborne, 1992). It is only with a unitthat a number becomes meaningful in measuring.In summary, whether the unit is used repeatedly, orwhether multiple copies of the unit are used, the notionof subdividing a whole and counting the number of unitsis a consistent theme in the literature as the key stagefollowing comparison, and this is evident in the datapresented below.Using standard units to measureThe third of our fundamental measurement ideasrelates to using standard units (such as centimetres) tomeasure with standardisation facilitating communicationof measures (Lehrer, 2003). Primary school childrencommonly use 30-centimetre and one-metre rulers astools to apply the use of standard or formal units of length.The ruler provides an abstract representation of thestandard unit, the centimetre (Bragg & Outhred, 2000),in that it is ‘an indirect method of laying down unitsof length end-to-end’ (Thompson & Van de Walle,1985, p. 8). The iteration and subdivision of units arealready given on the ruler for the benefit of its users(Nunes et al., 1993). However, students may use rulersincorrectly or in a rote fashion, without an awarenessof the component units or an understanding of theirrelationship to a linear scale (Bragg & Outhred, 2000;Kamii, 2006).In summary, the understanding and use of conventionalunits and related tools such as 30-centimetre rulersis an important element of the learning of lengthmeasurement. Use of a 30-centimetre ruler can posechallenges for students, as illustrated in the data below.It appears from the literature that there may be benefitsin linking informal units to the construction of a scale orruler (e.g. Bragg & Outhred, 2000) and by teaching in away that helps children develop understandings suchas zero point, that is, when using a scale to measure,any point can serve as the zero point or origin on thescale (e.g. Kamii, 2006; Lehrer, 2003).Further insights about children’s developingunderstandings of length measurementA goal of instruction about measurement is for childrento develop a theory of measure involving a web ofconnecting ideas, such as comparison, unit, iterationand tiling, as well as to develop practical knowledge oftools such as rulers (e.g. Lehrer, Jaslow & Curtis, 2003;Wilson & Osborne, 1992). To develop understandingwithin the complexity of measurement, and morespecifically of length, principles are a key element oflearning. It is not sufficient to teach techniques (Bragg& Outhred, 2000) as it is important for children to cometo understand concepts and procedures of measure andtheir mutual relationships (Lehrer et al., 2003). Thesecan be developed through the exploration of lengthconcepts through problem-based situations such asusing a range of different rulers or asking children tomake their own rulers (Kamii, 2006).The context of the researchIn discussing students’ developing understandings oflength, we draw on findings from the Early NumeracyResearch Project (ENRP), a three-year research projectconducted in Victoria, Australia, involving teachers andchildren in the first three years of school in 35 project(‘trial’) schools and 35 control (‘reference’) schools (fordetails see Clarke et al., 2002). Three key componentsof the ENRP were:■ ■ the development of a research-based frameworkof growth points in young children’s mathematicallearning (in Number, Measurement and Space)Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 29

■■a 40-minute, one-on-one interview■■extensive professional development.The impetus for the ENRP was a desire to improvechildren’s mathematics learning. To quantify suchimprovement a framework of pivotal growth points inmathematics learning, also described as key steppingstones along the path to mathematical understanding,was developed in nine domains including the threemeasurement domains of Time, Length, and Mass.The one-on-one interview consisted of 61 assessmenttasks created to match the growth points. Within theENRP, teachers interviewed each child in their class atthe beginning and end of the school year; children wereposed questions in each domain up to the point wherethey encountered difficulty. The teacher would thenmove onto the next domain, or sometimes to a detour.Relevant elements of length-learning andassociated interview itemsFour growth points from the ENRP form the basis ofthe data presented below. For each growth point therewas an interview item, each using particular equipmentsuch as string, paperclips and a ruler. The followingdiscussion presents the respective growth points, theinterview item, and consideration of associated issuesthat are inferred from the students’ responses to theitems. The interview items are shown as they werepresented to the teachers, with italics indicating whatthe teachers were to do, and the normal text indicatingwhat they were to say.The comparing lengths growth pointThe first of the ENRP growth points relevant for thediscussion is:■■Compares, orders, and matches objects by length.The interview item was as follows:The string and the stickDrop the string and the skewer ontothe table (See diagram at right).a) By just looking (withouttouching), which is longer: thestring or the stick?b) How could you check? (touchingis fine now)The string and the stickc) So … which is longer?Following the work of Piaget and his colleagues(Piaget et al., 1960), this item explicitly addressesmeasurement by direct comparison. We took asuccessful response to suggest that the student wasconserving length, even though we did not specificallyassess understanding of conservation nor developa growth point for this. Further, we did not includean item assessing transitivity, although clearly this isrelated to indirect comparison and forms part of thestudent’s learning in the early years.The quantifying lengths growth pointThe second of the ENRP growth points relevant for thediscussion is:■■Uses uniform units appropriately, assigningnumber and unit to the measure.The interview item was as follows:The straw and the paperclipsGet the straw and show the child the long paperclips.Here are some paperclips. Here is a straw.a) Measure how long the straw is with thepaperclips. (If child hesitates) Use the paperclipsto measure the straw.b) What did you find? (No prompting)If correct number is given (e.g. 4), but no units, ask‘4 what?’This item infers the use of non-standard but consistentunits to quantify a length measurement. This includesthe idea of iteration where the unit is seen as part ofthe whole and the unit is translated successively. Asindicated in the interview item detailed above, weprovided the children with multiple copies of a unit (8paperclips) and did not assume the stance of Kamii(2006), that unit iteration is demonstrated throughthe use of one unit, such as one block, being usedrepeatedly. However, our approach did allow us to seethe children who could use informal units and attend tomeasurement principles of iteration, tiling, identificationof unit and number assignment, as compared to thosewho had not moved beyond comparing. For example,those children who laid out all the paperclips and saidthey were longer than the straw, or who laid just onepaperclip next to the straw and said the straw waslonger, were judged as not yet quantifying length.We see iteration using a single unit repeatedly as anassociated idea, and one which can form part of thelearning experience for the students at this level.The using standard units growth pointThe third of the ENRP growth points relevant for thediscussion is:■■Uses standard units for estimating and measuringlength, with accuracy.The interview item was as follows:30A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Using the rulerHere is a ruler. (Give the ruler to the child in her/hishand.)Here is a straw (20 cm).a) Please measure the straw with the ruler.b) What did you find?If correct number is given (20) but no units, ask ‘20what?’Following the assessment of use of non-standard units,we investigated children’s use of standard units andrelated measurement tools. The present growth pointand interview item refer to the use of the formal unit,the centimetre, and an appropriate measurement tool,the ruler, to quantify lengths.Classroom teachers trained in interviewing andrecording conducted the one-on-one interviews, usingthe script and pre-prepared equipment. The datafrom this project arise from intensive interviews withlarge numbers of children, with trained interviewersand experienced coders, with double data entry. Theprocesses for assuring reliability of scoring and codingare outlined in Rowley and Horne (2000). As far aspossible in such situations, the profile of responsespresented here can be taken as a reasonablerepresentation of how students in Victorian schoolswould respond to such tasks.Our focus of interest in this article is on whether thedata support the contention that the proposed lengthgrowth points describe goals for student learning overthe first years of schooling, and on how teachers mighthelp children reach these goals.ResultsTo convey the sense of concept development that can begained from the data, we first examine overall trends inthe data, and then examine the three key learning stagesof comparing lengths, unit iteration, and using standardunits, using data from the most relevant year level.Overall trends in the dataTo examine the way the responses to the length itemsportray the increasing sophistication of the students’strategies, Table 1 presents a profile of students’achievement in the length domain over the first threeyears of school. In Victoria children start school at aroundfive years of age. The data represent the percentage ofthe project school students at their highest achievedgrowth point by grade level in the March interview in theirfirst year of school, and the November interview in eachof the three years of the project, along with the equivalentreference school students at the end of their third year ofschool. Only students in project schools who participatedin all four assessments are included in this analysis.As can be seen, the students in the project schoolsdemonstrated improvement over time on these items.In terms of progress on each of the key growth levels:■■at the end of the first year of school (Grade Prepin Victoria) only 5 per cent of students are notcomparing lengths, suggesting that this keyfoundational concept is learned by most studentsafter one year at school. There is still a need toconsider the implications for the 5 per cent, orroughly one student per class, who have notlearned to do this.■■by the end of the third year of school (Grade Twoin Victoria), 12 per cent of project school students,and 17 per cent of the reference school studentsdid not respond successfully to the unit iterationitem, which required the students to count thenumber of paperclips needed to quantify thelength of the straw. This seems to be an importantissue for these students, since presumably thiswould be a prerequisite to the learning of allsubsequent measurement concepts, and is animportant focus for teachers’ attention. That 31 percent of students in project schools did not respondsuccessfully to the unit iteration item at the end ofthe second year of school (Grade One in Victoria)suggests this would be a suitable year level forspecific teacher attention to ways of supportingthis aspect of students’ learning.Table 1. Students (per cent) achieving length growth points over timeSchool entry(n = 839)End of 1styear of school(n = 839)End of 2ndyear of school(n = 839)End of 3rdyear of school(n = 839)Reference schools: Endof 3rd year of school(n = 217)Not yet comparing 30 5 0 0 1lengthsComparing lengths 53 35 31 12 17Unit iteration 17 54 42 16 43Using standard units 1 7 22 53 32Beyond usingstandard units0 0 5 19 7Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 31

■■72 per cent of the project school students wereusing standard units or beyond by the end of thethird year of school (Grade Two in Victoria). Thecomparable number was only 39 per cent forthe reference school students, suggesting thatexpectations for students generally should besomewhere between these figures for studentswho have been taught well. It also suggests thatthe third year of school is an appropriate level forspecific attention to ensuring that students canprogress toward using standard units.Nearly all students moved to comparing lengths duringthe first year of school, but some did not progressbeyond that by the end of the third year. This hasimplications for teaching.It is interesting to note the extremes of achievement atthe end of the third year of school, even with teacherswho had had substantial professional development andactive supportive professional learning teams at theirschools. While on one hand 12 per cent of the cohortcould not respond successfully to the unit iterationitem (meaning they could not measure a straw withpaperclips), on the other hand 19 per cent could solvequite sophisticated application problems. This also hasimplications for teaching.Comparing lengthsThe first length task involved presenting the studentswith a skewer and a length of string, and inviting themto say which is longer, first estimating then physicallycomparing, with the expectation that they will both holdthe string taut and compare the lengths accurately,perhaps by having one end of the string aligned with anend of the skewer.Table 2 shows the number of students in the first yearof school (Grade Prep in Victoria) in each of the years ofthe data collection not comparing lengths of the stringand the skewer. The reason for using the negative ofthe data is to allow exploration of the characteristics ofthe students who could not complete the task.Table 2. Students (per cent) not Comparing lengths inthe first year of schoolMarch Novembernpercentnpercent1st year of the project 1238 34 1524 62nd year of the project 1488 24 1483 43rd year of the project 543 21 566 7While there is some variation in the March scores overthe years, the November scores are consistent. Aboutone-quarter of the students at the start of school couldnot perform this basic measurement task, but most ofthese were able to perform the task by the end of the year(at least in the project schools). Being able to completethis task is a reasonable indication of this fundamentalmeasurement skill, and it is appropriate that teachersin the first year of school find out about each individualstudent’s capacity to perform such tasks and providewhatever experiences and support are necessary.Note that the improvement in the March scores overthe three years is not attributable to the project, giventhat the students are just beginning their first year atschool in each case.While the breadth of the entire interview limited thedepth of the items in a particular domain, it did allowsome comparisons between domains of mathematics.For example, we can gain insights into characteristicsof the students in the first year of the project who couldnot compare the string and the skewer as follows:■■At the commencement of school, of the 34 percent who could not compare the objects, 34 percent could count a collection of 20 objects, and15 per cent could add 9 and 4 more seen itemscounting them all.■■At the end of the first year of school, 71 per cent ofthe students who could not compare the skewerand the string could count a collection of 20 objects,59 per cent could add 9 and 4 by counting eachobject, and a further 13 per cent could add 9 and 4objects with the 9 objects hidden (e.g. by countingon from the 9).The addition was presented as two groups of objectswhich were to be added. Initially nine objects werecovered and four objects seen, and the total sought but,if not given, then the nine objects were uncovered. Inboth forms, this seems to be much more complicatedthan comparing the string and the skewer.We can conclude that an ability to count does not implyan ability to compare lengths, neither does an ability tocombine and count two groups, and even the imaginingof a group where some counters are hidden does notseem to be related to a capacity to compare lengths.This suggests that the development of this lengthconcept is quite independent of the development ofnumber concepts, and that mathematics (and science)programs in the first year of school should offer specificexperiences on comparing lengths and conservation.Note that the distribution of the responses of the girlsand boys were indistinguishable.32A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Quantifying lengths (unit iteration)The evidence on whether students could use unititeration to quantify a length was determined by whetherthey could ‘measure the straw using the paperclips’. Todo this, presumably, it is necessary for the students firstto realise that it is possible, next that they can line uppaperclips to match the length of the straw, that theycan align them accurately, that they use only the numberof paperclips necessary, and finally that they can statethat the straw is four paperclips long. Table 3 presentsthe results of students in the second year of school(Grade One in Victoria) over the three years of the datacollection who could not solve the unit iteration task.Table 3. Students (per cent) in the second year ofschool not using Unit iterationMarch Novembernperperncentcent1st year of project 1233 60 1508 252nd year of project 1505 60 1512 343rd year of project 509 53 538 25The majority of students at the start of the year did notuse the paperclips iteratively to quantify the length ofthe straw. About half of these same students wereable to solve the item at the end of the year. By theend of the year there is a significant minority who stillcould not, indicating that it is an important challenge forstudents in the second year of school. Given that thereis substantial theoretical support for the importanceof the concept as a prerequisite for formal measuring,this can be a key focus for teachers of students in thesecond year of school.Again, it was possible from the ENRP data to seekinsights into the characteristics of the students who didnot improve in the quantifying length task that involvedunit iteration by comparing their performance in otherdomains. Of these students:■■nearly all could count a collection of 20 objects■■half could count up and back by ones from variousstarting points■■one-third could count by 2, 5, and 10■■45 per cent could read, record and compare 2-digitnumbers■■66 per cent could count on, in responding to theitem requiring imagining objects to count them.So it seems the difficulties with using a unit iterativelyare not because of a lack of counting skills, or aninability to imagine, or a failure to work with thenumbers. In other words, this measurement skill isquite independent of number skills, and students needspecific experiences in using units iteratively once theyhave shown that they can compare lengths of objects.Using a standard unitThe students were asked to use a ruler to measure thelength of a straw and to give the length of the straw incentimetres. For this, presumably, the students mustknow what a ruler is for, know what the marks (cm inthis case) on the ruler are, be able to align the 0 on theruler with the end of the straw (or compensate by usinga different point of origin), and read the appropriatenumber that aligns with the end of the straw.Table 4 presents the data on the students who couldnot measure the straw with the ruler in the third yearof school.Table 4. Students (per cent) in the third year of school notachieving the Using standard units growth pointnMarchpercentNovembernpercent1st year of project 1168 82 1448 402nd year of project 1554 77 1538 373rd year of project 1279 65 1243 29It seems there is a substantial number of studentswho could not perform the task at the beginning of thethird year of school (Grade Two in Victoria), and abouthalf of these students were able to measure the strawwith the ruler by the end of the year. So students inthe third year of school need specific experiences inmeasuring using standard units, and experiences needto be considered so as to create opportunities for theone-third of the students who may not achieve the skillunder normal circumstances.To gain some insights into the characteristics of thestudents who could not use the ruler to measure thestraw at the end the third year of school in the projectschools, the following is the performance of these 579students in the first year of the project on number tasksat the November interview:■■all could count a collection of 20 objects■■one-quarter could count by 2, 5, and 10 from anynumber■■79 per cent could read, create and compare twodigitnumbers, and 45 per cent could do this for3-digit numbers■■86 per cent could count on■■62 per cent could subtract a small single digitnumber■■43 per cent could use mental strategies for additionand subtraction■■21 per cent could solve multiplication problemswithout needing to see the objects.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 33

In other words, the difficulties these students experiencewith using standard units are not because of countingdifficulties, nor problems with reading the numbers, normanipulating numbers overall, nor being able to operatewith images. Indeed, many such tasks seem substantiallymore sophisticated than using the ruler to measure thestraw. It is possible that teachers have emphasised thenumber skills in their programs, but it also may be that usingstandard units requires specific structured experiences.ConclusionThe intention of this paper is to explore lengthunderstandings in light of experiences from the EarlyNumeracy Research Project (ENRP) and reflect uponthe value of the fundamental ideas underpinning thelearning of length in the early years of schooling.In terms of the results presented above, we confidentlyrecommend the following to teachers.Teachers of children in the first year of school canreasonably aim that nearly all students are able tocompare the length of two objects, to order three objectseven if not necessarily directly comparing them, andbegin to move towards quantifying lengths. It is relevantto note that in the ENRP an active decision was madenot to have assessment items that measure the transitiveproperty of length; nevertheless, structured activities thatprovide experiences in this element of length learning areimportant (e.g. asking students to compare the lengthsof two objects that cannot be placed next to each other).Teachers of children in the second year of school couldemphasise activities that facilitate the movement ofall students toward using informal units iteratively toquantify lengths, both using a single unit repeatedlyand using multiple versions of the one unit. It is worthnoting that approximately two-thirds of the students atthis level are either using or will become ready for usingstandard units during the year.Teachers of children in the third year of school shouldexpect most children to be moving towards usingstandard units such as the centimetre. Again it is notedthat many students are ready for more sophisticatedtasks involving measuring length.It is evident that the capacity to operate with numbersand these fundamental measurement concepts seemto be quite independent of each other, suggestingthat teachers need to incorporate measurement in astructured way in their teaching programs.It is noted that, even with well-supported teachers,there is great diversity of readiness after three years ofschool and, from the third year of schooling onwards,it is difficult to imagine that teachers can teachmeasurement without making specific provision for thedifferences in their planning.It is important to consider the implications of thesefindings for teaching and teacher learning. Hattieand Timperley (2007) argued that the most importantdeterminant of student learning is the feedback theyreceive. This includes the students knowing what theyare meant to be doing, how well they are doing it, andwhat they will do next. If the teacher is clear about theparticular learning goals, (s)he will be in a better positionto communicate those goals to the students, and toprovide ongoing feedback on their progress towardsachieving those goals. Having clear goals also allowsteachers to choose or create activities that can allowstudents to construct the fundamental ideas of, in thiscase, measurement of length for themselves.AcknowledgementsThe Early Numeracy Research Project (ENRP) wassupported by grants from the Victorian Departmentof Employment, Education and Training, the CatholicEducation Office (Melbourne) and the Association ofIndependent Schools Victoria.ReferencesBattista, M. T. (2006). Understanding the developmentof students’ thinking about length. Teaching ChildrenMathematics, 13(3), 140–146.Bragg, P., & Outhred, L. (2000). What is taught versus whatis learnt: The case of linear measurement. In J. Bana &A. Chapman (Eds), Mathematics education beyond 2000(Proceedings of the Twenty-third Annual Conference of theMathematics Education Research Group of Australasia,Fremantle, WA. Vol. 1, pp. 112–118). Perth, WA: MathematicsEducation Research Group of Australasia.Carpenter, T. (1976). Analysis and synthesis of existingresearch on measurement. In R. Lesh (Ed), Number andmeasurement (pp. 47–83). Athens, Georgia: ERIC/SMEAC,University of Georgia.Clarke, D., Cheeseman, J., Gervasoni, A., Gronn, D., Horne,M., McDonough, A., Montgomery, P., Roche, A., Sullivan,P., Clarke, B., & Rowley, G. (2002). Early numeracy researchproject: Final report. Melbourne: Australian Catholic Universityand Monash University.Clements, D. H., & Stephan, M. (2004). Measurement in Pre-Kto grade 2 mathematics. In D. H. Clements & J. Sarama (Eds),Engaging young children in mathematics: Standards for earlychildhood mathematics education (pp. 299–317). Mahwah, NJ:Lawrence Erlbaum.Hattie, J., & Timperley, H. (2007). The power of feedback.Review of Educational Research, 77(1), 81–112.Kamii, C. (2006). Measurement of length: How can we teach itbetter? Teaching Children Mathematics, 13(3), 154–158.Lehrer, R. (2003). Developing understanding of measurement.In J. Kilpatrick, W. G. Martin & D. Schifter (Eds), A researchcompanion to principles and standards for school mathematics(pp. 179–192). Reston, VA: National Council of Teachers ofMathematics.34A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Lehrer, R., Jaslow, L., & Curtis, C. (2003). Developing anunderstanding of measurement in the elementary grades.In D. H. Clements & G. Bright (Eds), Learning and teachingmeasurement (2003 Yearbook, pp. 100–121). Reston, VA:National Council of Teachers of Mathematics.McClain, K., Cobb, P., Gravemeijer, K., & Estes, B. (1999).Developing mathematical reasoning within the context ofmeasurement. In L. V. Stiff & F. R. Curcio (Eds), Developingmathematical reasoning in grades K-12 (1999 Yearbook,pp. 93–106). Reston, VA: National Council of Teachers ofMathematics.Nunes, T., Light, P., & Mason, J. (1993). Tools for thought: Themeasurement of length and area. Learning and Instruction, 3,39–54.Piaget, J., Inhelder, B., & Szeminska, A. (1960). The child’sconception of geometry. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.Rowley, G., & Horne, M. (2000, December). Validation ofan interview schedule for identifying growth points in earlynumeracy. Paper presented to the Australian Associationfor Research in Education Annual Conference, University ofSydney, New South Wales.Stephan, M., & Clements, D. H. (2003). Linear and areameasurement in prekindergarten to grade 2. In D. H. Clements& G. Bright (Eds), Learning and teaching measurement (2003Yearbook, pp. 3–16). Reston, VA: National Council of Teachersof Mathematics.Thompson, C., & Van de Walle, J. (1985). Let’s do it: Estimatehow much. Arithmetic Teacher, 32(8), 8–12.Wilson, P. A., & Osborne, A. (1992). Foundational ideasin teaching about measure. In T. R. Post (Ed), Teachingmathematics in grades K-8: Research-based methods (pp.89–121). Needham Heights, Massachusetts: Allyn & Bacon.Wilson, P. S., & Rowland, R. (1993). Teaching measurement.In R. J. Jensen (Ed), Research ideas for the classroom: Earlychildhood mathematics (pp. 171–194). Reston, VA: NationalCouncil of Teachers of Mathematics.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 35

An analysis of New Zealand’s changing history, policies andapproaches to early childhood educationClaire McLachlanMassey University College of EducationNew Zealand has an internationally unique approach to early childhoodeducation, which includes a bicultural early childhood curriculum, a robustinfrastructure of organisation and management overseen by the New Zealand Ministryof Education, and a growing reputation for innovation in early childhood teaching andlearning. This paper examines how the current model of early childhood educationemerged, the policy decisions that enabled current systems to be developed, theimportance of the early childhood curriculum, teacher education and professionaldevelopment, and recent developments during a time of recession in New Zealand.Some recommendations for early childhood education, based on the New Zealandexperience, are proposed.IntroductionAs in many countries, early childhood education as aformal construct is relatively recent in New Zealand,although there has been formal and informal provisionfor children younger than school age for around 120years. This paper will briefly explain how the NewZealand conception of ‘early childhood education’developed and how it has been adopted by governmentand formalised via regulatory and financial systems.The paper will conclude with some speculation on thedirections the National Government which came topower in 2008 is taking, along with recommendationsbased on the lessons learned in New Zealand.A brief history of early childhood educationin New ZealandEarly childhood education had its birth in New Zealandin 1889 in Dunedin, in the South Island, when the firstkindergarten was established to cater for the childrenof the poor who were left to play on the street whiletheir parents worked (Hughes, 1989). The initiative wasbased on Christian and philanthropic motivations bymiddle-class members of the Dunedin community. Thefirst childcare centre was established by the CatholicChurch in the capital city, Wellington, in 1908, againbased on Christian motivations of caring for children ofthe poor whose mothers were working (Cook, 1985).For the first part of the twentieth century, kindergartensdeveloped across the country, as they did in manyWestern nations, based on the philosophies of Germanphilosopher Friedrich Froebel and notions of childrenlearning through play in a natural environment and throughinvolvement with educational materials he called ’gifts’.Child care developed in a more ad hoc way with someestablished centres and a great deal of ‘backyard’ careor ‘baby farming’, where mothers took in other people’schildren during the day (Cook, 1985; May, 1997).The first Labour government in New Zealand in 1935brought about sweeping changes in education in allsectors, making secondary school compulsory forall children and promoting progressive notions ofeducation. These were based on Dewey’s theories,of young children learning through active participationwith real experiences such as blocks, carpentry andwater play. With the support of the then minister ofeducation, Peter Fraser, and the visionary directorgeneral of education, Clarence Beeby, Englisheducationalist Susan Isaacs was invited to New Zealandin 1937 to talk about the psychoanalytic notions ofchild development trialled in British nursery schools,such as the Malting House nursery. Such trials were36A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

ased on Freudian theories of the ‘natural child’ and theimportance of children’s ‘free play’ in building healthypsychological development. With encouragementfrom government, the first nursery play centres wereestablished in New Zealand, run initially by middle-classparent cooperatives throughout New Zealand, but alsobeing adopted by working-class families (Stover, 2011).Under the leadership of Beeby, ideas for post-wareducation were circulated in a publication in 1944entitled Education for today and tomorrow (Mason,1944, in Stover, 2011). This document posed challengingquestions about ‘preschool education’, including theneed for all-day nursery schools, collaboration betweenservices, and teacher education. The appointment of a firsteversupervisor of pre-school services in 1946 signalleda change in kindergarten practices, whereby teacherswere encouraged to let children ‘be free’ by giving themchoices, to minimise routines, and to encourage ‘free play’(May, 1997). Understandings of free play were publishedin a number of influential playcentre publications, whichwere used by the kindergarten training colleges forhelping student teachers to understand how to promote‘free play’ (Stover, 2011). In her analysis of the history ofthe role of play in New Zealand, Stover (2011) argues that‘free play’ was in its heyday across the diverse servicesfor young children from the 1950s to 1980s, althoughnot always well-understood or accepted by families andthe wider education community; and other services withdistinctly different philosophies emerged during thistime. In addition to the already-established kindergartens,childcare centres and playcentres, playgroups, Montessoripreschools, Steiner kindergartens, Māori language totalimmersion centres (Kohanga Reo), and more recentlyvarious Pacific Island language nests emerged, creating adiverse and complex early childhood sector. As Loveridgeand McLachlan have argued:Early childhood education in New Zealand is theresult of historical, cultural and political factors,as well as a response to dominant and emergingtheories of how children learn. It has variouslypromoted social regulation, philanthropic concernfor children, support for mothers, equality forwomen, cultural assimilation and survival, andeconomic outcomes. Services have emerged inresponse to these discourses and the sector hasbecome diverse and complex (2009, p. 22).Policy reform in the 1980sNew Zealand faced its next major overhaul of educationin the mid-’80s, following the election of the fourthLabour government, under the leadership of PrimeMinister David Lange. Labour took power in the face ofa fiscal and financial crisis, which precipitated a numberof major reforms, including many in education. Onewas the decision to move the governance of childcarecentres to the Department of Education (now Ministryof Education) from the Department of Social Welfare,where it had previously resided, to join the kindergartenassociations, which had traditionally resided in theDepartment of Education, under the governance of theState Sector Act and with full funding of kindergartensby the state. This decision was prompted by a numberof serious complaints about the quality of child careand prompted a reconceptualisation of how all earlychildhood services should be funded and regulated(May, 1997). This reorganisation meant that both childcare and education were funded from Vote Educationfunds, and all issues to do with children from birthbecame the responsibility of the newly formed Ministryof Education, while the funding of family financial supportand social welfare became the responsibility of theMinistry of Social Development. This was a significantand important development, providing the financial andregulatory framework that enabled the establishment ofan early childhood sector in New Zealand.Te One (2003) argued that the education system hadbeen seriously challenged in the years leading up tothe fourth Labour government: ‘The education systemwas considered over-centralised and unresponsive tocommunity needs, and to have failed to deliver socialand educational equity; indeed the educational failureof Māori had become a “statistical artefact” (p. 19). TeOne further argued that the Government undertooka bold social experiment, based on a philosophy ofindividualism and the supremacy of the market, whichinvolved market-driven provision of services, includingeducation. The rationale was that having children wasa personal choice and educating them was a privateresponsibility. Hence education belonged in the privatedomain. Te One challenged the assumptions thatfamilies were ready, willing and able to exercise choiceand that communities were in a position to providethem with choice.As part of this rationale, however, in 1988 theGovernment established a working group to ‘providea short restatement of the purpose, place, form andfunction of early childhood education’ (Departmentof Education, 1988a, p. iv). The resulting Educationto be more and Before five: Early childhood care andeducation in New Zealand documents (Departmentof Education, 1988a; 1988b) were the early childhoodequivalent of the compulsory sectors’ Tomorrow’sschools document (Department of Education, 1988c)released at the same time. One key element ofBefore five was the introduction of a contract with theGovernment called a ‘charter’, which was designed asa statement of objectives and practices, drawn up inconsultation with parents, in keeping with the nationalguidelines for early childhood. In return, chartered earlychildhood services would receive funding for the centreas a bulk grant.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 37

Before five also gave equivalent status to primary andsecondary education, and, although controversial, itwas accepted by both community- and privately ownedearly childhood services (Te One, 2003), enabling alegitimate teaching career pathway for teachers.Education to be more cites the outcomes of early childhoodeducation as increased educational achievement andreduced need for special education, increased likelihoodof employment, reduced delinquency and teenagepregnancy, and an economic outcome of paying foritself by saving the taxpayer $400–$700 for every $100spent on early childhood. The rationale underpinningthese documents was twofold: education was defined ineconomic terms as having long-term benefits for childrenand families; and for ensuring the Government’s longtermeconomic goals were realised. Education was thus a‘lever’ for achieving state goals. The Government had twogoals: to equip New Zealanders with twenty-first centuryskills; and to reduce systematic underachievement ineducation; sometimes known by the catchphrase ‘raiseachievement and reduce disparity’ (Adams & Bethell,2005, p. 144). The second agenda, achieved throughthe introduction of a ‘charter’ in each sector, concernedincreasing accountability and government control.The end result of these reforms in the late ’80s was theestablishment of an identifiable sector, known as ‘earlychildhood education’, which was unified at a policylevel, rather than in any commonality of philosophy orpractice. That unification was to come about throughthe 1990s and beyond through the development of anearly childhood curriculum, which, it has been argued,resulted from a series of residential courses run atLopdell House in Auckland on the implementation ofpolicy initiatives in this newly identified sector of earlychildhood education (Te One, 2003).Curriculum development in the 1990sThe intervention by the state in early childhoodeducation in the late 1980s led to a succession of newstatutory requirements, and a plethora of policy andguiding documents, including:■■a national curriculum for early childhood education,Te Whāriki (Ministry of Education, 1996)■■Quality in action (Ministry of Education, 1998)■ ■ the Education (Early Childhood Centre) Regulations(1998)■■The quality journey (Ministry of Education, 1999)■■a Strategic Plan for early childhood, Pathways tothe future (Ministry of Education, 2002)■■Kei tua o te pae: Early childhood exemplars(Ministry of Education, 2004)■■Self-review guidelines for early childhood education(Ministry of Education, 2007a)■ ■ Foundations for discovery (Ministry of Education,2005)■■Education (Early Childhood Services) Regulations(New Zealand Government, 2008)■ ■ Licensing criteria for early childhood education(Ministry of Education, 2008a).The curriculum itself was developed by twoacademics, Helen May and Margaret Carr, nowrespectively professors of education at Otago andWaikato universities, in consultation with membersof the Te Kohanga Reo Trust (representing indigenousMāori people) and representatives of the various earlychildhood groups. It was distributed in draft form fortrial in 1993 and significantly revised and distributed ina final version in 1996. It has been in use ever since,but never evaluated, unlike the National Curriculumwhich was distributed in 1993 and evaluated twice by arepresentative of the Australian and British Councils forEducational Research, with a significantly revised versionreleased in 2007. Of significance is that the new nationalcurriculum document has been aligned to Te Whāriki tosome extent. Te Whāriki, the early childhood curriculum,includes the following aspirational statement:This curriculum is founded on the followingaspirations for children: to grow up as competentand confident learners and communicators, healthyin mind, body, and spirit, secure in their sense ofbelonging and in the knowledge that they makea valued contribution to society (Ministry ofEducation, 1996, p. 9).The curriculum is designed for children from birth toschool entry, which typically is at the age of five (mostchildren start school on their fifth birthday), but childrendo not legally have to attend school until they are sixyears old. Early childhood education is not compulsoryin New Zealand, but it is highly recommended, and over90 per cent of four-year-olds have some form of earlychildhood education.The term curriculum is defined as the ‘sum total of theexperiences, activities, and events, whether direct orindirect, which occur within an environment designedto foster children’s learning and development’ (Ministryof Education, 1996, p. 10). The curriculum is biculturaland includes a section written in Māori for the useof Kohanga Reo centres (Māori language immersioncentres). The curriculum integrates care and education.The term whāriki means woven mat in Māori andimplies that curriculum will be woven from its principles,strands and goals along with the different structuresand philosophies of the early childhood services. Thecurriculum has four broad principles: empowerment,holistic development, family and community, andrelationships. In addition it has five interwoven strands:wellbeing, belonging, contribution, communication, andexploration.38A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Currently, all licensed early childhood centres (thosethat have met Ministry of Education licensing criteria)are required to demonstrate that they are enactinga curriculum within their service, although use ofTe Whāriki is implicit within licensing requirements,rather than an explicit requirement. Each centre isreviewed on a three-yearly cycle by the EducationReview Office, the evaluation arm of the nationaleducation system, using a set of Evaluation Indicatorsdesigned for early childhood education (ERO, 2004).The resulting reviews are public documents, whichparents can access as they are making decisions aboutuse of an early childhood service. The reviews providean overview of the strengths and weaknesses of eachcentre, rather than an analysis of children or theirachievement. The review cycle is shortened if thereare any issues or concerns identified at the three-yearreview. On-going and unresolved issues result in loss oflicence and closure of centres. In addition, the Ministryof Education can respond to complaints about servicesand can review whether services are meeting licensingrequirements between ERO reviews.When you examine curricula from around the world,there is great diversity in what is presented; some arespecific, some quite general. According to Scott (2008),a curriculum can be organised specifically to includefour dimensions:1. Aims, goals, objectives or outcome statements—what do we want this curriculum to achieve, whatwould we expect to be the outcomes as a resultof participating in the implementation of thatcurriculum?2. Content, domains, or subject matter—what will weinclude or exclude from our curriculum?3. Methods or procedures—what teaching methodsor approaches will we use to achieve these goals oroutcomes?4. Evaluation and assessment—how will we knowwhen we have achieved them?But what governments or society at large wantsfor its youngest citizens will vary depending uponthe community. Bernstein (1996) argues that thereare essentially two models of curriculum, eitherperformance or competence in orientation; andperformance models of curriculum are the mostdominant around the world. The performance modelhas its origin in the behavioural objectives movement.‘It is a model that clearly emphasises marked subjectboundaries, traditional forms of knowledge, explicitrealisation and recognition rules for pedagogic practiceand the designation and establishment of strongboundaries between different types of students’ (Scott,2008, p. 4). Implicit in this model is the sense thatexplicit criteria would save teachers and students frommuddle and confusion. In contrast, the competencemodel suggests that learners have some control overthe selection, pacing and sequencing of the curriculum.Competence models have been more common in earlychildhood education. New Zealand’s early childhoodcurriculum, Te Whāriki (Ministry of Education, 1996)is a good example of this sort of curriculum and isessentially learner-centred in orientation rather thanteacher-directed. It is associated with socioculturaltheories of teaching and learning which are basedon the child actively constructing knowledge throughactivity and play and through interaction with sensitiveteachers and other children (for a more detailed analysisof Te Whāriki, see McLachlan, Fleer and Edwards, 2010).It is also quite explicitly based on Bronfenbrenner’s(1979) ecological systems theory, and relationshipswith families and communities is a key feature of thecurriculum. However, the dominance of competencemodels of curriculum in early childhood education ischanging with the advent of some countries’ curriculumpolicies, such as the Foundation Stage curriculum inthe UK (Aubrey, 2004), which is more tightly aligned tothe national school curriculum and is subject-specific.Recent changes in New Zealand government policysuggest movements towards performance models ofcurriculum (see Ministry of Education, 2008c); with anincreased focus on literacy and numeracy achievement.There is evidence from international longitudinalstudies (see Barnett et al., 2008) that children whohave early childhood experiences that are learnerorchild-centred and based on a competencemodel have better long-term outcomes in terms ofschool achievement, behaviour, social competence,employment, avoidance of teenage delinquency andpregnancy. Much of our current understanding of theoutcomes of quality early childhood curriculum is basedon the outcomes of longitudinal studies of children inearly childhood settings. Most of these studies (e.g.Abecedarian Project, 1999; McCain & Mustard, 1999;Osborne & Millbank, 1987; Schweinhart & Weikart,1999) demonstrate clear links between the qualityof an early childhood program and children’s latereducational achievement. They also demonstrate longtermsocial outcomes, as well as short-term cognitivegains (Golbeck, 2001). Barnett et al. (2008) argue thatfurther research is needed on the effectiveness ofone model of curriculum design over another becausethere have been few studies which used randomassignment to groups, and non-experimental studieshave often confounded curriculum differences withother program characteristics or the characteristicsof the children attending the program. However, theyargue how some studies show that direct instructionmodels produce larger gains on achievement in subjectcontent knowledge over the first couple of years butthese gains do not persist over time. There is alsoVo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 39

some evidence that curriculum effects differ accordingto child characteristics, specifically gender and abilityat program entry, but this is not found in all studies.Finally, curricula produce differences in social andemotional outcomes, which may be more persistentthan the cognitive outcomes. In particular, directinstruction models have been found to produce worsesocial and emotional outcomes for children than dolearner-centred models of curriculum, with implicationsfor behavioural difficulties. Although there is littleformal evaluation of the outcomes of New Zealand’searly childhood education, there is some evidence fromNew Zealand longitudinal studies that children whohave attended early childhood centres are more likelyto make successful transitions to school and to achieveacademically, as well as developing social competence(Tagoilelagi-Leota, McNaughton, MacDonald & Ferry,2005; Wylie, Hodgen, Hipkins & Vaughan, 2009).It has been argued that many educators initially lackedthe professional and theoretical knowledge to effectivelyimplement New Zealand’s early childhood curriculum(Cullen, 1996; Nuttall, 2003). To this end, the Ministry ofEducation funded extensive professional developmentfor early childhood teachers on Te Whāriki and morerecently Kei tua o te pae (Ministry of Education, 2004),with the assessment exemplars designed to guideteachers on how to assess using Te Whāriki. Typically,this professional development was offered by a facilitatorwho worked with individual centres, rather than asworkshops on specific topics, although these wereoffered by some professional development providerstoo. As well, the Ministry assisted in the developmentof specific teacher education programs to supportMāori and Pasifika children and funded a large numberof scholarships for students to study teacher education.In addition, the Ministry funded 16 Centre of Innovationprojects, which examined aspects of implementing thecurriculum, as well as the Foundations for Discoveryproject aimed at investigating the use of ICT in earlychildhood centres. Some funding was also directedat evaluation of early childhood centres, using Thequality journey document, which promoted the useof self-review methods of evaluation. Difficultiesin implementing self-review in most centres led torevisiting The quality journey document, resultingin a revised set of guidelines for centres for usingself-review. Despite the inherent difficulties inimplementing (McLachlan-Smith, 2001; Nuttall, 2003;McLachlan, Carvalho, Kumar & de Lautour, 2006)and evaluating (Cullen, 2003) Te Whāriki, the earlychildhood sector has currently managed to hold ontoits right to have a different curriculum from that ofthe National Curriculum (Ministry of Education, 1993)despite increasing pressure for a closer articulation(evidenced by the revised national curriculum, Ministryof Education, 2007b).Issues of quality and accountability in themillenniumIn 2002, the Ministry of Education completed aconsultation process with the sector, which led tothe publication of a strategic plan for early childhoodfor 2002–2012, entitled Pathways to the future. TheStrategic Plan (Ministry of Education, 2002) includedthe following goals:■■Increase participation in quality early childhoodservices.■■Improve quality of early childhood services.■■Promote collaborative relationships.The initiatives put in place to help to achieve thesegoals included scholarships for early childhood staffto pursue an early childhood teaching qualification,Māori and Pasifika teacher education qualifications,increased funding to centres for higher numbers ofqualified staff, funding to support teachers to gainteacher registration, and a plethora of documentsand professional development, as discussed above. Itshould be noted that a primary teaching qualificationis not a recognised qualification for early childhoodteaching in New Zealand, so many primary-trained staffhad to retrain under this strategic plan.The strategic plan included a regulatory change so thatby 2005 all ‘persons responsible’ in a licensed earlychildhood centre needed to hold a benchmark three-yearteaching qualification, i.e. Diploma of Teaching (ECE),Bachelor of Education or Teaching (ECE) or equivalent,and by 2012 all staff in licensed early childhoodcentres needed a teaching qualification; the reasongiven being a strong correlation between quality andteacher qualifications. Many services were seriouslyaffected by these changes. As at 1 July 2009, 64.0 percent (11,780) of teaching staff at teacher-led serviceswere qualified. This was an increase of 14.3 per cent(1,475) from July 2008; of the remainder of staff, 53.2per cent (3,523) who were not qualified were in studyfor a qualification that leads to teacher registration withthe New Zealand Teachers Council. Finding qualifiedstaff has been a serious issue for many areas, leadingthe Ministry to offer financial incentives to teachers fortransferring to hard-to-staff areas. According to recentMinistry of Education statistics, as at 1 July 2009:■■The number of early childhood education serviceshad increased by 14.6 per cent (454) since 2005,to 4,890 services. This included 525 more licensedservices and 71 fewer licence-exempt groups.■■There were 4,123 licensed services.■■There were 767 licence-exempt ECE groups, oneless than at 1 July 2008.■■There had been a steady decline in the number ofkōhanga reo services since 1 July 2005.40A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

■■There were 180,910 enrolments in licensed earlychildhood education services, an increase of 10.0per cent (16,389) since 2005.In 2007, the then Labour Government introduced 20hours of ‘free ECE’ for three- and four-year-olds as partof delivering the first goal of participation. The Ministry’sargument about why this was necessary was:… 20 hours a week Free ECE has been madeavailable to encourage intensive participation inquality ECE. Children don’t benefit from qualityECE if their participation is not intensive enough tocreate positive education outcomes. New Zealandhas high ECE participation rates but children attendfor relatively few hours per week, at around 14–17hours per week for 3 and 4 year olds. That means alot of children are attending for 9 hours or fewer perweek (Ministry of Education, 2007c).The offer therefore aimed to ensure that parents helpthe Government to achieve its strategic and economicvision. What is implicit, however, is that parentsand parent-led services are not seen as providingadequate experiences for young children. Morerecently, the newly elected (conservative) NationalGovernment extended the provision of the 20 freehours to parent-led and community-led services suchas playcentre and Kōhanga Reo, a move applaudedby parents struggling under the effects of recession.The move clearly supported parent-led services andlanguage immersion programs and further underlinedthe perceived importance of early childhood to thecurrent government, but in the same week fundingfor teachers’ professional development and Centreof Innovation and Foundations for Discovery researchprojects was slashed.As part of the plan to increase quality, a change to thelicensing requirements (Ministry of Education, 2006)was introduced. This consultation document arguedthat early childhood has a ‘changing landscape’ and theproposed regulations provided an ‘integrated regulatoryframework’ for all ECE services (Ministry of Education,2006, p. 4). It had been proposed that the new licensingcriteria include a gazetted curriculum, which at the timewould have been Te Whāriki, but this was not undertakenin the final version of the licensing criteria released in2008. In this document, the following statement aboutcurriculum is made, in which it implies that Te Whārikiwill be used, but falls short of demanding it. It can bespeculated that the diversity of early childhood servicesmade this lack of standardisation necessary, as many ofthe language immersion programs, in particular, use avariety of other curriculum documents in addition to TeWhāriki. The curriculum statement from the new licensingcriteria is as follows (Ministry of Education, 2008a):(1) The curriculum standard: general is thestandard that requires every licensed serviceprovider to whom this regulation applies to—(a)plan, implement, and evaluate a curriculum thatis designed to enhance children’s learning anddevelopment through the provision of learningexperiences, and that is consistent with anycurriculum framework prescribed by the Ministerthat applies to the service.A change of government and a change ofdirection—2009 and beyondThe change of government in 2008 led to a changed set ofgovernment priorities and to a degree of fear and trepidationabout the future on the part of the sector. The new NationalGovernment took power in the face of worldwide economicrecession and an unexpected enormous deficit left by theprevious government. The briefing to the incoming Ministerof Education (2008b) discusses the following policy choicesand challenges for education:■■improving access to early childhood education■■enhancing the performance of the school system■■delivering high-quality Māori language education■■balancing quality and participation in tertiaryeducation■■improving engagement, participation and learningfor children with special education needs■■making better use of available resources.Building on this, the Government released the followingpriorities in its Vote Education budget for 2009:■ ■ extension of 20 free hours to Playcentre andKohanga Reo■■reduce truancy■■support for schools with disruptive children■■funding for top performing teachers■■professional development to raise Māoriachievement■■funding to increase literacy and numeracystandards■■voluntary bonding for low socioeconomic, hard-tostaffand isolated schools ($3500 per year).In this budget the Government also cancelled allfunding to the early childhood Centres of Innovationresearch projects and Foundations for DiscoveryICT projects, as well as signalling that professionaldevelopment contracts for Te Whāriki and Kei tua o tepae: assessment exemplars would run out at the endof 2009 and would not be renewed. The Governmentsignalled that future professional development wouldbe aligned with government priorities and wouldcommence in July 2010. These government prioritieswere revealed in the request for proposal in late 2009as primarily aligned to lifting literacy and numeracyVo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 41

achievement; aiding transition to school and increasingparticipation; supporting language and culture; care ofinfants and toddlers; and achievement of children ‘atrisk’. These changes suggested a significant policy shiftfrom raising quality in all centres to a more targetedfocus on raising achievement in specific children,communities and ethnic groups.In addition, in the 2009 budget, the need for all earlychildhood staff to be qualified by 2012 was rescinded,as was the requirement for 80 per cent of staff to bequalified by 2010. Eighty per cent is the new targetfor 2012. In addition, the requirement for qualified,registered teachers working with children under twoyears was reduced to 50 per cent. A proposed changein adult–child ratios was also rescinded, leaving ratiosat previously gazetted levels. The budget of 2010delivered further bombshells, with changes includingreducing funding for centres with fully qualifiedteachers to the 80 per cent level in line with thereduced licensing requirement from the 2009 budget,recognising primary-qualified teachers and overseastrainedteachers for the purposes of licensing, and notproceeding with the removal of the six-hour limit forfunding. The issues concerning funding have meantthat increased costs are being passed on to parents(Stover, 2010). Primary and overseas-trained teachershave typically had no training on the care and educationof infants and toddlers, they do not know the curriculumdocument, and may employ inappropriate pedagogieswith very young children. There is already evidence ofinappropriate literacy practices occurring because ofthese issues (ERO, 2010).Recently, the Finance Minister, Bill English, statedon national radio that the cost of early childhoodeducation has trebled in the past six years. He said theGovernment is moving to balance the support parentsreceive with the need to contain future costs. It couldbe argued that current government policy has swungalmost full circle back to its early origins of provision forthe children of the poor. The Government is declaringon one hand that early childhood education is valuablefor achieving educational, social, cultural and economicoutcomes, but on the other saying that parents who canafford to provide this should do so and that governmentfunding is really only available for vulnerable childrenand families and for managing social and economic risk.Clearly the days of funds being available to the wholesector are at an end, and in times of diminishedresources the Government is targeting resourcesat children and communities who are perceived willbenefit the most. It is unlikely that these moves willbe welcomed by the sector, but they are consistentwith the practices of other governments internationally,such as the American Head Start and British Sure Startprograms, which target funding at children of the pooron the basis of economic analysis. As Professors HelenMay, Margaret Carr and Anne Smith (2010) said in arecent press release:For some years New Zealand has beeninternationally regarded as a flagship in creating thenecessary infrastructure of early childhood policyaround issues of quality, qualifications, accessand curriculum. There was still more to do, andthe undermining of these policies is dispiriting,and even embarrassing, as there is continuingworldwide interest in our policy initiatives.ConclusionThis paper has examined the predominant themesin the development of the early childhood sectorin New Zealand over the past 120 years, with astronger emphasis on the policy reforms from themid-1980s onwards. There is little doubt that earlychildhood education has become an accepted partof raising children in the same period, in which therehave been commensurate changes in family structuresand women’s employment patterns. Early childhoodeducation has traditionally fared better in New Zealandunder a more socially oriented Labour Government, asthe brief history illustrates, and most significant changeshave occurred under governments whose policies includepromoting the benefits of supporting children and theirfamilies. However, although the current Government isclearly reducing its financial support of early childhood,it is still operating within an economic analysis of thebenefits of early childhood education to achievingoutcomes for the state. It is hoped we can be assuredthat funding will not ever be completely removed, but itis unlikely to be increased only on the basis of scientificevidence of the importance of early experiences inbrain development, language and cognition, because itdoes not fit comfortably with the cost-benefit analysisframework the current Government is utilising.Finally, what has been achieved through the major changesin the sector in New Zealand over the past 35 yearsis a sector that is inclusive in spite of its differences instructures and philosophies. The curriculum document andits assessment techniques, as well as the requirements forteacher education in the strategic plan, have had a unifyingeffect and have helped to develop a strong, professionaland cohesive early childhood network in New Zealand.Some conclusions that can be drawn about why the NewZealand early childhood education system has been sosuccessful, may provide insights for other countries:■■Coordination of all issues concerning care andeducation of children under the governance ofthe Ministry of Education provides a cohesiveframework for supporting children and theirfamilies in the early years.42A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

■■A robust regulatory and evaluation frameworkand substantial funding of fully licensed centressupports quality early childhood services andpositive outcomes for children.■■A coherent policy framework for early childhoodeducation and a strategic plan for a 10-year periodprovides clarity of vision for the sector and a clearframework for evaluation of effectiveness.■■A requirement for specific early childhoodteacher education of at least three years durationhighlights the importance of education for childrenunder age five and means that all teachers haveunderstandings of what care and education meanfor infants, toddlers and preschool children and canimplement appropriate curriculum and pedagogy.■■A national early childhood curriculum developedthrough intensive consultation with members ofdifferent types of early childhood services providesa flexible framework which is inclusive of diversephilosophies.■■A research program, aimed at shedding light onimplementation of the curriculum, strengthensconfidence in the effectiveness of the curriculumfor supporting children’s learning.■■Evaluation of strategic plan achievements at regularintervals can assure parents, teachers, policymakersand government that children’s needs arebeing met and that money is being spent well.■■A set of resources developed to support teachingpractice and assessment can aid teachers’understandings of how to implement curriculumand assessment.■■Ongoing programs of professional developmentcan help ensure that teachers maintain currencyin their understanding of recent theories andresearch related to children’s learning.Aspects which New Zealand could have improved includea stronger relationship with the other ministries thatsupport children and their families (Social Developmentand Health), as this would ensure that families arenot working with multiple agencies to get support forchildren; and a commitment to longitudinal researchon the outcomes and benefits of the curriculum, asthis would provide a stronger evidential base on theoutcomes of the approach to early childhood education.As has been argued elsewhere (e.g. Cullen, 2008), NewZealand research in early childhood education has beenfor too long focused on processes, and evidentially basedresearch on outcomes is of paramount importance,especially in times of recession when funding is shortand policy-makers are making decisions about where totarget it. New Zealand has a strong and proud history ofearly childhood education, but one which its educatorsnow have to take action to protect.ReferencesFrank Porter Graham Child Development Center. (1999). Earlylearning, later success: The Abecedarian Study. Retrieved 15January, 2010 from www.fpg.unc.edu.Adams, P., & Bethell, K. (2005). Shifting conceptions of educationand educational institutions. In P. Adams, K. Vossler & C. Scrivens(Eds), Teachers’ work in Aotearoa New Zealand (pp. 132–148).Southbank, Vic., Australia: Thomson Dunmore Press.Aubrey, C. (2004). Implementing the foundation stage in receptionclasses. British Educational Research Journal, 30(5), 633–656.Barnett, W. S., Jung, K., Yarosz, D.J., Thomas, J., Hornbeck, A.,Stechuk, R. et al. (2008). Educational effects of the Tools of theMind curriculum: A randomized trial. Early Childhood ResearchQuarterly, 23, 299–313.Bernstein, B. (1996). Pedagogy, symbolic control and identity:Theory, research, critique. London: Taylor & Francis.Bronfenbrenner, U. (1979). The ecology of human development:Experiments by nature and design. Cambridge, MA: HarvardUniversity Press.Cook, H. M. (1985). Mind that child: Childcare as a social andpolitical issue in New Zealand. Wellington, NZ: Blackberry Press.Cullen, J. (1996). The challenge of Te Whāriki for futuredevelopment in early childhood education. Delta, 48(1), 113–25.Cullen, J. (2003). The challenge of Te Whāriki: Catalyst for change?In J. Nuttall (Ed), Weaving Te Whāriki; Aotearoa New Zealand’searly childhood curriculum document in practice (pp. 269–296).Wellington: New Zealand Council for Educational Research.Cullen, J. (2008, November). Outcomes of Early ChildhoodEducation: Do we know, can we tell, and does it matter?Herbison Lecture, NZARE conference, Massey University,Palmerston North.Department of Education (1988a). Education to be more.Wellington: Government Printer.Department of Education (1988b). Before five: Early childhoodcare and education in New Zealand. Wellington: GovernmentPrinter.Department of Education (1988c). Tomorrow’s schools: Thereform of education administration in New Zealand. Wellington:Government Printer.Education Review Office (ERO) (2004). Evaluation indicators foreducation reviews in early childhood services. Wellington: ERO.Education Review Office (ERO) (2010). Literacy teaching andlearning in early childhood. Wellington, NZ: ERO.Golbeck, S. L. (2001). Instructional models for early childhood:In search of a child-regulated/teacher-guided pedagogy. In S. L.Golbeck (Ed), Psychological perspectives in early childhoodeducation (pp. 3–34). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence ErlbaumAssociates.Hughes, B. (1989). Flags and building blocks, formality andfun: One hundred years of free kindergarten in New Zealand.Wellington: New Zealand Free Kindergarten Union.Loveridge, J., & McLachlan, C. (2009). Accountability andcompliance versus diversity and democracy in early childhoodeducation. In A. St. George, S. Brown and J. O’Neill (Eds), Facingthe big questions in teaching: Purpose, power and learning (pp.22–31). South Melbourne, Vic., Australia: Cengage Learning.May, H. (1997). The discovery of early childhood. Wellington,NZ: NZCER & Bridget Williams Books.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 43

‘It’s a mystery!’A case study of implementing forensic science in preschoolas scientific inquiryChristine HowittThe University of Western AustraliaSimon LewisCurtin UniversityEmily UpsonHighgate Primary SchoolChildren have immense curiosity, a thirst for knowledge and a questioningattitude. They are innate scientists. The challenge for early childhood educators is tofuel this curiosity through the provision of appropriate learning experiences and anengaging environment within early learning centres. This paper presents a detailedcase study of how a pre-service teacher implemented forensic science as a formof scientific inquiry, in a preschool classroom for four-year-old children. Using thetheme of We’re going on a (forensic) bear hunt!, a series of integrated and engagingexperiences was delivered that allowed the children to solve the class mystery of wholeft behind the (bear) footprints. This paper describes the concept, process and skillsof scientific inquiry, outlines the basic principle of forensic science, provides a detaileddescription of the children’s learning experiences, and interprets these experiencesin relation to developing children’s scientific inquiry skills: exploring and predicting,observing and recording, using equipment, using observation as evidence, andrepresenting and communicating. It also illustrates how young children can readilyengage in inquiry-based learning; educators, however, must provide the opportunitiesand support to stimulate this learning. In summary, the paper argues that a complextopic such as forensic science can be successfully implemented with young children,highlighting the competence of these children.IntroductionBecause of their immense curiosity, thirst for knowledgeand questioning attitude, young children are innatescientists (Howitt, Morris & Colvill, 2007). Sciencebecomes a part of children’s everyday experiencesin their attempt to make sense of their own personalworld. This same scientific curiosity should be presentin the early childhood centre or classroom. The roleof the early childhood professional is to nurture thiscuriosity by providing opportunities, in a safe and caringenvironment, for young children to explore, question,observe, discover and share their wonder of the world(Howitt et al., 2007).Science, however, is a subject that teachers tendto avoid in the classroom (Harlen & Holroyd, 1997;Watters & Ginns, 2000). Various reasons have beengiven for this, including early childhood professionals’limited scientific knowledge and lack of confidenceand competence to teach science (Appleton, 2006:Harlen & Holroyd, 1997), their lack of understandingof what science looks like at the early childhood leveland where science occurs in everyday situations, andtheir inability to extend or capitalise on young children’sthinking (Fleer, 2009b; Fleer & March, 2008). The lackof support for the place of science in early childhoodeducation (with the emphasis instead focusing onliteracy and numeracy), along with the lack of resourcesfor supporting science education, have also contributedto the limited implementation of science within earlychildhood education (Eshach & Fried, 2005; Fleer& March, 2008; Peterson & French, 2008). Fleer(2009a) considered teachers’ philosophical beliefs andassumptions about how children learn science to be afurther limiting factor in the delivery of science in earlychildhood settings. These issues are considered to beeven more of a concern for pre-service teachers as theyinteract during practicum with experienced teachersVo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 45

who question the value and place of science (Fleer,2009a), with a subsequent lack of suitable role modelsfor observing effective science teaching and learningin the early childhood years (Skamp & Mueller, 2001).The purpose of this paper is to present a detailedcase study of how a pre-service teacher implementedforensic science within a preschool (four-year-old)classroom as a form of guided scientific inquiry. It notonly highlights how a complex topic can be modified forpreschool, but how young children can readily engagein inquiry-based learning. The first part of this paperintroduces inquiry learning, and the important placeof such learning in science. The fundamental principleof forensic science, along with the current image offorensic science in school education, is then described.Following this, the context of the study positions thispaper within a wider research project. The paper thenintroduces the case study research design, and presentsand discusses the findings from the case study whereforensic science was implemented in the preschoolclassroom. The paper concludes with a discussion ofthe sociocultural context of learning, highlighting theconnection between everyday concepts and scientificconcepts within the forensic science program.Science as a sociocultural practiceIn this paper, science learning is viewed as sociallynegotiated and situated in specific contexts andpractices. Such a sociocultural approach to learningacknowledges the place of personal, social and culturalaspects in children’s learning and the interactionbetween individuals, social groups and contexts(Robbins, 2005). Additionally, sociocultural practicesof science acknowledge that learning occurs throughthe co-construction of ideas, sharing of knowledge,modification of ideas and knowledge, and consensusof the interpretation of data (Samarapungavan,Mantzicopoulos & Patrick, 2008).Inquiry-based learningContemporary learning theory states that learning ismost effective when students are active participantswithin the learning process, when the learning proceedsfrom experiences to explanations, when students’existing knowledge is used as the platform to developnew explanations, and when teachers are prepared tosupport students in the learning process (Anderson,2002; Hackling, 2007). An inquiry-based approachto learning, where students are actively involved infinding answers to their own questions, incorporatesall of these conditions. Learning science through aninquiry approach involves students in asking questions,exploring and investigating phenomena through themanipulation of materials, gaining experiences andmaking observations, and then developing explanationsfor those experiences (Hackling, 2007). At the heart ofinquiry-based learning is the student trying to makesense of the phenomena under study (Crawford, 2009).As such, this approach actively engages studentsin learning, encourages curiosity and excitement ofdiscovery, develops knowledge and understandingof scientific ideas, supports students in using data asevidence, and allows students to experience workinglike a real scientist (Anderson, 2002; Crawford, 2007).Within early childhood education, inquiry learningappears to commonly follow that of guided inquiry. Aguided inquiry approach provides structured experiencesof the phenomenon and leads to the collection ofobservations that can be used to develop explanationsfor the phenomenon (Hackling, 2005). Guided inquirytherefore involves guided and collaborative participation(Hedges, 2000) between the teacher and childrenthrough steps that may involve manipulating materials;making observations or measurements; or recording,discussing or interpreting observations (Hackling, 2005).Guided participation acknowledges the role of childrenas ‘active agents and communicators in their ownlearning’ (Hedges, 2000, p. 18).One of the key issues in guided inquiry is to select anappropriate context and learning experiences that allowyoung children to create meaningful new knowledge,based on the cognitive resources they bring to thetask (Samarapungavan et al., 2008). These authorsfurther commented on the need to provide appropriateinstructional support, as young children are ‘universalnovices’ (p. 903), lacking experiences with science asa discipline as well as having limited cognitive toolsfor literacy and numeracy. Such support includedmodelling aspects of inquiry, guiding science discourse,and assisting young children to better understand thescientific inquiry process (Samarapungavan et al., 2008).There appears to be limited research on the outcomesof inquiry learning on young children. However, a fewrelevant studies were located. Samarapungavan et al.(2008) examined United States kindergarten (no agegiven) children’s science learning, using a guided inquiryapproach into the life cycle of the monarch butterfly.Their results indicated that kindergarten children wereable to successfully engage in the practices of scientificinquiry and to conduct empirical investigations to extendand revise their biological knowledge. As measuredthrough an analysis of portfolios, they found thechildren were highly proficient in generating questions,making predictions, observing and recording data, andcommunicating their findings, while proficient in usingempirical evidence to extend, elaborate or revise theirknowledge. Also in the United States, Peterson andFrench (2008) examined preschool (three- and four-yearold)children’s explanatory language through scienceinquiry in a five-week unit on colour mixing. Through46A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

analysis of discourse the children were found to engageas conversational partners, scientific investigators anddynamic co-constructors of explanations. These resultsdemonstrate that young children can successfullyengage in scientific explanation and inquiry.The approach taken in this research was to explorehow a forensic science unit of work was implementedin a preschool classroom to provide opportunities forthe children to engage in knowledge building and thescientific inquiry processes of generating questionsand predictions, observing and recording data, usingequipment, using observations as evidence, andrepresenting and communicating findings.Forensic scienceForensic science has a high profile. CSI, Silent Witnessand Cold Case are not only common words today,but also television series watched by thousands ofpeople each week around the world. While murder,blood, body parts and maggots are highly attractiveto children, early childhood teachers consider themas inappropriate images and ideas to be using in theirclassrooms. If the traditional images associated withforensic science cannot be used with younger children,how and why should this topic be taught?Forensic science describes the application of scientificmethods and knowledge to legal problems (Siegel,2009). A fundamental principle of forensic sciencehas been popularly summarised by the phrase ‘everycontact leaves a trace’. This phrase has been termedLocard’s Exchange Principle for the forensic scientistEdmond Locard, who was a pioneer in the area oftrace evidence (Siegel, 2009). Every time objects comeinto contact with each other there is an exchange ofinformation. This information could be fingerprints,hairs, fibres, soil or blood. For example, when youngchildren eat icecream and then place their dirty handson a clean surface, information is left behind in thechild’s fingerprints. Alternatively, if a white, long-hairedcat sits on the lap of a person wearing dark-colouredpants, the information left behind is the cat’s whitehairs. In the same way dust, hairs, glass fragments andeven pollen present at a crime scene can be found onthe clothing or shoes of a criminal. It may be transferredbetween the criminal and a victim or object and canestablish links between objects and/or people and acrime scene. The information left behind becomesevidence for the forensic scientist. This trace evidencehas also been called the ‘silent witness’, thus givingname to the popular television series.Forensic science has been taught in secondary schoolfor the past five to 10 years, with an emphasis onmolecular science, chemistry and biology. Forensicscience has also been taught in upper primary schoolover the past five years as an introduction to the scientificmethod, including the principles of forensic science,fingerprint analysis, basic paper chromatography, andcrime scene investigation (Howitt, Lewis & Waugh,2009). In contrast, forensic science does not appearto have been used as a vehicle to teach at the earlychildhood level.Context of studyThe forensic science resources implemented in thepreschool classroom in this research were developedas part of the Collaborative Science Project conductedbetween 2008 and 2010 at Curtin University in Perth,Western Australia, with funding from the AustralianLearning and Teaching Council. The CollaborativeScience Project took a cross-discipline approach tobetter preparing pre-service early childhood teachersto teach science. Collaboration between scienceacademics, teacher-educators and pre-serviceteachers was used to develop five science modulesand implement them in an early childhood ScienceEducation unit. The information presented in eachmodule aimed to provide a broad range of possibleideas and activities that could be used with three- toeight-year-old children. The modules were designedto be adaptive and flexible, rather than a set teachingprogram, so teachers could use them in a manner thatsuited their particular students and context (Howittet al., 2009). The five modules were subsequentlydeveloped into a book, Planting the seeds of science(Howitt & Blake, 2010).The pre-service teachers then had the opportunityto trial and evaluate these modules in the earlychildhood classroom during their practicum. Thus, theCollaborative Science Project aimed to increase preserviceteachers’ science content knowledge along withtheir confidence and competence towards teachingscience, as well to develop a new early childhoodscience resource. For a more detailed description of thecollaboration between the scientists, teacher-educatorsand pre-service teachers, refer to Howitt et al. (2009).In this study the first author, Christine, was the scienceteacher-educator; the second author, Simon, was theanalytical chemist specialising in forensic science; andthe third author, Emily, was the pre-service teacherwho implemented forensic science in her preschoolpracticum classroom.The five modules were implemented in a 12-weekScience Education unit during the third year of a fouryearBachelor of Education (Early Childhood Education)degree during Semester 2, 2008 at an Australianuniversity. The weekly three-hour workshops consistedof a mini-lecture followed by a range of hands-onactivities. The science learning experiences presentedwithin the workshops were characterised by activeparticipation, placement within an authentic earlyVo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 47

children’s ability to be involved in scientific inquiry ininvestigations, rather than their ability to describe ordefine scientific inquiry or its components. Thus, thispaper provides an interpretation of what it means foryoung children to be involved in and understand thescientific inquiry process through forensic science.FindingsThe findings from this case study are presented inchronological order that equates to Emily implementingher teaching program. The first five lessons arepresented as descriptions of the major events thathappened in the classroom. Table 3 presents asummary of the inquiry skills and knowledge observedin the classroom.Lesson 1: Discovering footprintsThe children’s excitement indicated that something wasdifferent. They were gathered around the classroomcomputer. Two ‘prints’ were on the floor and anothertwo ‘prints’ were on the computer table (see Figure 1).Once the excitement had settled down, Emily askedthe children three questions: What are these? Who leftthem? What were they doing in the classroom? Thesesame three questions were asked with each new pieceof evidence in each lesson.The children’s responses were enthusiastic and varied,and are summarised in Table 4. While it was clear thechildren had prior knowledge that enabled them tosurmise these were prints of some sort, a wide rangeof answers was provided as to what may have left theprints and what they were doing in the classroom.Table 3. Summary of the inquiry skills and knowledge observed in each lessonContentobservedExplore,question, predictObserve andrecordLessonFootprints Fur/Hair Paw prints/FingerprintsExplore,question, predictObserve withsight and touch;measure ownfootprint andcompare; recordchildren’s ideasExplore,question, predictObserve withsight and touch;collect fur;record children’sideasEquipment Magnifying glass Magnifyingglass, gloves,snap-lock bags,tongsUse observationsas evidenceRepresent andcommunicateThroughoutlessonOwn footprint,class discussionThroughoutlessonClass graph onhair colour, classdiscussionInquiry skillsExplore,question, predictObserve withsight, touch,smell and taste;record ownfingerprints;record children’sideasMagnifyingglass,cottonbudsThroughoutlessonClass discussion,set offingerprintsWho left theevidence?PlaninvestigationConductinvestigationBear huntQuestion, predict Explore, questionDrawing uponpreviousevidenceEvidence wallThroughoutlessonIndividualdrawing, recordclass ideas forinvestigationKnowledgeLiving things √ √ √ √ √Everydaymaterials√ √ √ √ √Observe withsight, touch andtaste; individualresults ofinvestigationMagnifying glassThroughoutlessonClass tally anddiscussion ofinvestigationresults50A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

ange of objects on the floor (such as feathers, foodand material), which they considered to be clues to helpsolve the classroom mystery.To relate this experience to the children, Emily helpedthem to develop a class hair colour pictograph. Usingphotos of the children’s head/hair and an existingtemplate for the pictograph, each child found theirphoto, identified their hair colour, and added the phototo the appropriate column on the pictograph. The classthen counted the number of children with each haircolour, and discussed the most common and leastcommon colours.Lesson 3: Discovering paw printsA messy ‘paw print’ was found in the classroom. Thechildren were invited to use their senses of touch, smelland sight to identify the substance on the print. Theywere provided with cottonbuds to take a small sampleof the substance. They went straight to the magnifyingglasses to allow a closer look at the evidence. Mostpredictions of what the substance might be centred onhoney. The children were finally allowed to test theirpredictions by tasting the substance (Emily having firstchecked for allergies). The messy handprint was indeeda honey handprint. Ideas of where the honey camefrom included ‘the bees made the honey and left it’,‘bad honey man’, ‘when the bear came in he droppedit’, ‘sneaking in and dropped the honey’, ‘bear pawswith honey’, and ‘eating the honey’.To relate this experience to the children, Emilyintroduced them to the concept of fingerprints and howeasy it is to leave marks behind that can indicate whereyou have been. The children were then invited to maketheir own set of fingerprints with blue ink, and observewhat they looked like with the magnifying glasses.Lesson 4: Who left the evidence?To draw the previous three lessons to a suitableconclusion, Emily reminded the children about theevidence they had collected, by referring to theevidence wall. She then asked each child to draw apicture of who left the evidence behind. Each childwas asked to provide an explanation of his/her drawingin relation to the evidence. Emily then wrote thesecomments onto the drawing.All children drew a picture. Six children drew a bear, threedrew a wolf/tiger/cat, three drew a monster, two drewbees, two drew dinosaurs, one drew a person, and onedrew a ghost. Two children believed a different animal/person was responsible for each piece of evidence.Table 5 presents a summary of the children’s drawingsand explanations in relation to the three types ofpossible evidence. Only six children drew pictures thatrelated to the evidence. Three children drew one typeof evidence, two children drew two types of evidence,while one child drew all three types. Footprints werethe main form of evidence drawn, occurring in 83 percent of the drawings. Fur occurred in half of thesedrawings, with paw prints/honey occurring in 33 percent. Figure 4 shows a drawing with two types ofevidence presented.Table 5. Summary of children’s drawings andexplanations in relation to the three types ofevidenceDrawingsrelated toevidenceEvidence n %respondingExplanationsrelated toevidencen %respondingFootprints 5 83 13 87Fur 3 50 6 40Paw prints/honey 2 33 7 47Childrenresponding6 15As highlighted by Ehrlén (2009), the children’sexplanations were found to be more detailed than theirdrawings. Fifteen children mentioned evidence in theirexplanation of their drawings (see Table 5). Of these,eight children mentioned only one type of evidence,three children mentioned two types of evidence, whilefour children mentioned all three types. Once again,footprints were the main form of evidence mentionedin the children’s explanation, occurring 87 per cent ofthe time. Fur and paw prints/honey occurred 40 percent and 47 per cent (respectively) of the time in thechildren’s explanations.Pooh bear because he eats honey. He has footprintseverywhere he goes (Explanation with drawing,child 1).The bear left the honey footprints. The bear tookit (the hair) off his skin and threw it on your coats.I want to talk about clue one. The bear left thefootprints (Explanation with drawing, child 2).A monster in a monster house. He was sneaking inand sloped honey on his foot and his hands. He tookthe hair off him and put it everywhere (Explanationwith drawing, child 4).A bear. He is trying to get the footprints (Explanationwith drawing, child 5).With assistance from Emily, the children then plannedan investigation around the question: What foods canwe make fingerprints with? The class decided whichfood they wished to use in the investigation and (againafter checking for allergies) Emily obtained the food.The five selected foods were Vegemite, butter, jam,52A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

honey and flour. Food was chosen for this fingerprintinvestigation as it allowed the children an opportunityto connect with their everyday experiences of eatingat home, how dirty fingers can leave marks, and theimportance of cleaning hands after eating. Food alsoallowed the children to consider a wide range ofoptions, and decide as a class which to select.Figure 4. Two examples of children’s drawingsshowing different evidence.Lesson 5: Conduct the investigationTo conduct the investigation in an orderly manner, Emilyspread a different food onto the bottom half of five plasticsheets. In groups of four, the children were encouragedto place their finger into the food and then press theirdirty finger into the top half of the plastic sheet to leavea fingerprint. Magnifying glasses were provided to allowthe children to observe their fingerprints in detail. Thechildren were also encouraged to use a different fingerfor each food to assist in developing their fine motorskills. After the children made their fingerprints, manyof them licked their fingers. Once finished, each childwashed their hands and completed a worksheet thatEmily had developed, which asked them to circle thosefoods that made prints, and then pick which food theythought made the ‘best’ fingerprint. Of the 17 childrenpresent during the lesson, the children’s response tothis last question was: Vegemite (9), jam (3), honey (2),flour (2) and butter (1).The children then went on a bear hunt in the playground.As they made their way around the play equipment,along the bike path, and across the sandpit, theydiscovered more evidence ‘planted’ by Emily, includingfur, honey handprints and footprints. They finally arrivedat a makeshift bear cave where they found a notefrom a friendly bear explaining that he had been in theclassroom to admire the children’s work; that he hadleft the footprints, fur and honey; and that he couldn’tbe there now as he was out collecting honey.DiscussionThe discussion relates to the opportunities providedto develop the children’s inquiry skills and knowledgethrough the forensic science program. It concludes witha discussion of the sociocultural aspects of the program.This series of lessons readily embraced the scientificinquiry skills. Exploration, questioning and predictionwere a continual part of the lessons, as each pieceof evidence was inspected in detail. While nearly allchildren predicted that a print had been left behindin Lesson 1, their responses on what had left thefootprint ranged from reasonable (bear, cat, dog, tigeror humans), incorporating the children’s own personalinterests (dinosaurs), to highly imaginative (monstersor giants). The children found it harder to justify whatthis unknown thing was doing in the classroom. Onceagain, responses ranged from logical (stealing thecomputer, trying to break the table, or sneaking in),attempting to understand how the prints were made,through to a realisation that this was a mystery to besolved (‘it’s a mystery!’). This last comment reflectsthe understanding of one child as to the purpose of theforensic science lessons.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 53

Observation and recording information formed a largecomponent of all lessons. Discovering and discussingeach piece of evidence required the use of particularobservational skills. While the emphasis was on sightand touch, smell and taste were also incorporated inthe lessons. Recording was made in a variety of waysappropriate for this young age group. Many of thechildren’s ideas associated with the various pieces ofevidence were recorded by Emily and written down fordisplay and discussion.In addition, the children used an array of newequipment within the forensic science sequence oflessons. This included magnifying glasses, gloves,snap-lock bags, tongs and cottonbuds, along withthe evidence wall. The magnifying glasses became afavourite item of equipment. Emily made them readilyavailable in each lesson and ensured that every childhad a turn to observe in detail any piece of evidencethat interested them.Evidence is fundamental to forensic science, thescientific concept being that every contact leavesa trace. Once the children were provided with theopportunity and equipment to collect evidence, theprogram took on a life of its own. In their play time,Emily found that the children displayed self-discoveryby looking for their own evidence.They went looking for clues and I left them incharge of their own discovery. And they found lotsof things. They came back with feathers and piecesof food that they found (Interview Dec 2008).Further, Emily recounted an anecdote to support thechildren’s transferability of their learning. Referring tothe night before, one boy informed Emily that ‘Whenyou get out of the bath and you stand on the bath matyou leave a footprint’ (Interview Dec 2008).The use of observation as evidence was presentthroughout the lessons by the nature of the forensicscience topic. However, the children’s ability to relatetheir conclusions to the evidence varied: some childrenclearly related their conclusions to the evidence, whileothers simply wanted their original idea (such asdinosaur) to remain correct. Similarly, some childrencould only relate their conclusions to one piece ofevidence, while others combined all three pieces. Thisillustrates preschool children’s ability to rememberisolated parts, but not necessarily see the ‘wholepicture’ (Kearns & Austin, 2010). As Samarapungavenet al. (2008) found, the children’s answers to variousquestions highlighted their attempts to develop logicalcasual relations and to interpret those relations throughthe evidence found in the classroom.Each lesson provided an opportunity for the children torepresent and communicate their findings in a mannerthat allowed them to become more familiar with theirown bodies. The comparison of the children’s feet, hairand fingerprints to the evidence allowed for multiplerepresentations, direct connections to the children,and time and opportunity to communicate findings.Class and individual discussions, along with graphsand individual drawings, added to the range of forms ofrepresentation and communication.The forensic science program provided an ideal contextfor developing children’s inquiry skills. The sequentiallearning experiences introduced three types ofevidence with which the children readily connected.The equipment used to collect evidence assisted andencouraged the children to investigate more closely.Many and varied opportunities were presented for thechildren to communicate and represent their findings.The interactions between Emily and the children werefocused on the fundamental principle of forensicscience. A resolution to the class mystery was reached,to the satisfaction of all the children. The researchpresented in this paper highlights how capable andactive young children are: to learn from observation andparticipation with peers and teachers, and to developnew skills and knowledge.Fleer (2009b) highlighted the importance of connectingeveryday concepts and scientific contexts to extendchildren’s thinking and practice, and the important placeof richly based contexts to achieve such connections.The learning experiences associated with the forensicscience program provided opportunities for the childrento connect forensic science knowledge with themselvespersonally and with their everyday experiences. Thisincluded recognition of footprints and fingerprints andthe knowledge that such prints occur in sand, whenyou get out of the bath, and when you have dirty hands.These are contexts which occur in children’s daily lives,highlighting the sociocultural aspects of their learning,and the everyday context in which science takes place.ConclusionThe forensic science program provided a highlycontextualised setting for scientific inquiry. It presenteda topic that was engaging, relevant and interestingto young children while also providing opportunitiesfor them to participate in scientific inquiry processes(generating questions and predictions, observing andrecording data, using equipment, using observationsas evidence, and representing and communicatingfindings) and knowledge building. These findings furthersupport the importance of context in early childhoodscience teaching and learning, and connectingscience with children’s everyday experiences.Additionally, the forensic science bear hunt contextprovided opportunities for the children to extend theirimagination, develop their oral language, and act likescientists.54A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

This case study has clearly illustrated that, withguidance, and given an appropriate context, four-yearoldchildren can readily participate in scientific inquiry.AcknowledgementsThis research was made possible by funding obtainedthrough the Australian Learning and Teaching Council,Grant Number CG8-724. Thanks are extended to theschool, teacher and children who participated in thisresearch.ReferencesAnderson, R. D. (2002). Reforming science teaching: Whatresearch says about inquiry. Journal of Science TeacherEducation, 13(1), 1–12.Appleton, K. (2006). Science pedagogical content knowledgeand elementary school teachers. In K. Appleton (Ed), Elementaryscience teacher education. International perspectives oncontemporary issues and practice (pp. 31–54). Dordrecht, TheNetherlands: Springer Academic Press.Christensen, P., & Prout, A. (2002). Working with ethicalsymmetry in social research with children. Childhood, 9(4),477–497.Cohen, L., Manion, L., & Morrison K. (2000). Research methodsin education (5th edn). London: Routledge-Falmer.Crawford, B. A. (2007). Learning to teach science as inquiryin the rough and tumble of practice. Journal of Research inScience Teaching, 44(4), 613–642.Crawford, B. A. (2009, November). Moving science as inquiryinto the classroom: Research to practice. In M. Kim, S. Hwangand A. Tan (Ed), Proceedings of the International ScienceEducation Conference. Science Education: Shared Issues,Common Future (pp. 574–599). Singapore: National Instituteof Education.Ehrlén, K. (2009). Drawings as representations of children’sconceptions. International Journal of Science Education, 31(1),41–57.Eshach, H., & Fried, M. N. (2005). Should science be taught toearly childhood? Journal of Science Education and Technology,14(3), 315–336.Fleer, M. (2009a). Supporting scientific conceptualconsciousness or learning in ‘a roundabout way’ in play-basedcontexts. International Journal of Science Education, 31(8),1069–1089.Fleer, M. (2009b). Understanding the dialectical relationsbetween everyday concepts and scientific concepts withinplay-based programs. Research in Science Education, 39(2),281–306.Fleer, M., & March, S. (2008, January). An investigation of thefeasibility of extending the Primary Connections programme topreschool settings. Retrieved 8 September, 2010, from http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/school_education/publications_resources/profiles/an_investigation_of_feasibility_extending_primary.htm.Hackling, M. (2007). Inquiry and investigation in primaryscience. In V. Dawson and G. Venville (Eds), The art of teachingprimary science. (pp. 127–148). Crows Nest, NSW: Allen &Unwin.Harlen, W., & Holroyd, C. (1997). Primary teachers’understanding of concepts of science: Impact on confidenceand teaching. International Journal of Science Education, 19(1),93–105.Hedges, H. (2000). Teaching in early childhood: Time to mergeconstructivist views so learning through play equals teachingthrough play. Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 25(4), 16–21.Howitt, C., & Blake, E. (2010). Planting the seeds of science:A flexible, integrated and engaging resource for teachers of3 to 8 year olds. Perth: Curtin University and the AustralianLearning and Teaching Council. (Available electronically athttp://www.altc.edu.au/resource-planting-seeds-sciencesecond-edition-2010.)Howitt, C., Lewis, S. W., & Waugh, S. (2009). Analysis of anexemplary Scientists in Schools project in forensic science:Collaboration, communication and enthusiasm. TeachingScience, 55(3), 46–51.Howitt, C., Morris, M., & Colvill, M. (2007). Science teachingand learning in the early childhood years. In V. Dawson and G.Venville (Eds). The art of teaching primary science. (pp. 233–247). Crows Nest, NSW: Allen & Unwin.Howitt, C., Blake, E., Calais, M., Carnellor, M., Frid, S., Lewis,S. et al. (2009, September). Collaborating with ‘real’ scientistsand engineers to increase pre-service early childhoodteachers’ science content knowledge and confidence to teachscience. Proceedings of the International Science EducationConference, Singapore, pp. 931–967.Kearns, K., & Austin, B. (2010). Birth to big school. FrenchsForest, NSW: Pearson.Merriam, S. B. (1998). Qualitative research and case studyapplications in education. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.Peterson, S. M., & French, L. (2008). Supporting youngchildren’s explorations through inquiry science in preschool.Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 23(3), 395–408.Robbins, J. (2005). ‘Brown paper packages?’ A socioculturalperspective on young children’s ideas in science. Research inScience Education, 35(2), 151–172.Samarapungavan, A., Mantzicopoulos, P., & Patrick, H. (2008).Learning science through inquiry in kindergarten. ScienceEducation, 92(5), 868–908.Skamp, K., & Mueller, A. (2001). A longitudinal study of theinfluence of primary and secondary school, university andpracticum on student teachers’ image of effective sciencepractice. International Journal of Science Education, 23(3),227–245.Siegel, J. (2009). Forensic science: A beginner’s guide. Oxford:Oneworld Publications.Watters, J. J., & Ginns, I. S. (2000). Developing motivation toteach elementary science: Effect of collaborative and authenticlearning. Journal of Science Teacher Education, 11(4), 301–321.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 55

‘I’m making it different to the book’:Transmediation in young children’s multimodal and digital textsDr Kathy MillsQueensland University of TechnologyYoung children shift meanings across multiple modes long before they havemastered formal writing skills. In a digital age, children are socialised into a widerange of new digital media conventions in the home, at school, and in communitybasedsettings. This article draws on longitudinal classroom research with a culturallydiverse cohort of eight-year-old children, to advance new understandings aboutchildren’s engagement in transmediation in the context of digital media creation. Theauthor illuminates three key principles of transmediation, using multimodal snapshotsof storyboard images, digital movie frames, and online comics. Insights abouttransmediation are developed through dialogue with the children about their thoughtprocesses and intentions for their multimedia creations.IntroductionMelissa, a reluctant eight-year-old writer, created thissingle storyboard frame in response to an oral readingof a chapter in Roald Dahl’s popular novel, The BFG—Big Friendly Giant (Figure 1).Figure 1. ‘There at the window ... was ... the GiantPerson, staring in. The flashing black eyeswere fixed on Sophie’s bed’ (Dahl, 1982, p. 8).This close-up image of the giant’s flashing eye, madesalient by its proportions and framing within Sophie’sopen dormitory window, translates Roald Dahl’s originaltext with generative creativity. This process requiredinventing connections between two sign-systems ormodes—written words and images.TransmediationMelissa’s translation of semiotic content across signmakingsystems constitutes a process of transformationcalled transmediation—a central process of knowledgegeneration in young children’s text creation (Siegel,2006). Transmediation denotes the translation ofcontent from one sign system into another. Suhor(1984, p. 250) coined the term to describe the structureof sign-systems and their conventions—written word,drawing, dance, music, web design, video production—and the connections between them for making senseof human experience.Transmediation is fundamental to meaning-making. Theterm has gradually receded in the literature with thedominance of work by Kress and van Leeuwen (1996),who describes the same process of shifting ‘semioticmaterial’ across modes, but refers to this principle56A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

as ‘transduction’ within his social semiotic account oflearning. Kress describes transduction as a process inwhich something that is configured or shaped in one ormore modes is reconfigured, or reshaped, according theaffordances of a different mode (Kress, 2003, p. 47).In this paper, I return to the original nomenclature,‘transmediation’ to acknowledge the genesis of theconcept in the literature by Charles Suhor (1984; 1992),extended by Semali (2002), Semali and Fueyo (2001),Siegel (1995; 2006) and others (Short, Kauffman &Khann, 2000; Wright, 2007). Each sign system or modehas unique organisational principles, involving elementsand conventions that do not have precisely equivalentmeanings (Semali & Fueyo, 2001). The term ‘modes’and ‘sign-systems’ are used interchangeably hereto describe socially and culturally shaped resourcesor semiotic structures for making meaning. Theyare organised, regular, socially specific means ofrepresentation, such as writing, drawing, dance, image,music or mathematics (Kress & Bezemer, 2008, p. 171;Suhor, 1984). The lack of equivalence between modesis the catalyst for transmediation, which is representedin Figure 2 as a process involving the transformation ofknowledge by varying degrees.Figure 2 represents the continuous process oftransmediation as a continuum of meaning transformation.I demonstrate how transmediation in children’s textualpractices can range from the simple transfer of semioticcontent, such as drawing a picture to match the wordsin a story, to a substantial transformation of semioticcontent, such as drawing a picture that depicts a newlyinvented narrative. Given that modes or sign-systemshave different materiality, shaped by histories of culturalwork, there can never be a perfect translation from onemode to another (Kress & Bezemer, 2008).Figure 2. Transmediation: Transformation ofknowledge by degreesSemiotics and multimodality in children’sdigital composingIt has been well-established that children combinemultimodal symbolic systems, such as talking, drawing,singing and role-playing, long before their communicativeinterests can be served by the written linguistic formsof their culture (Kress, 1997; Kress & Bezemer, 2008;Siegel, 2006). Multimodality is defined here as theinterrelationship of two or more modes (Mills, 2010c). Printbasedreading and writing has always been multimodal,since these practices require the interpretation or designof images, words, spatial layout, and other modes ofrepresentation (Jewitt, 2005; Jewitt, 2006). However, inthe new media-based environment, there is heightenedinterest in the role that multimodal ensembles of images,sounds, animations and other modes play in meaningmaking(Mills, 2009). Rather than regarding writtenlanguage as the sole channel for learning and generatingknowledge, it is argued here that young children learnand communicate through multiple sign-systems ormodes—each of which offers a distinctive way of makingmeaning (Kress & Bezemer, 2008). The increasing easeof producing multimodal and digital texts, such as webpages and podcasts, provides impetus for understandingthe semiotic process of transmediation.Research into children’s composing processes withinsocial semiotic frameworks has begun to focus ondigital media, extending semiotic principles establishedin studies of print-based writing to the incorporationof multiple media in compositions (Ranker, 2009).These have included exploring sign-making invideo-interaction (Adami, 2009), young filmmakers’deployments of semiotic tools (Gilje, 2010), youngwriters’ incorporation of multimedia to their writing ascompositional elements (Dyson, 2001; Ranker, 2007),and the semiotic potentials of combining modes indigital storytelling (Hull & Nelson, 2005). These studieshave contributed to understanding how childrencombine, shift or transform meanings in multimodalcontexts of digital composition.The multiplicity of communications channels andmedia tied to the expansion of mass media, multimediaand the internet has transformed the way childrenare socialised in textual practices (Mills, 2010a; NewLondon Group, 2000). In a digital age it is evidentthat speech and print-based writing are necessary,but not sufficient for young children’s communicationinterests. Many young children are becoming socialisedinto digital forms of communication before they beginformal schooling, such as using drawing software andinteractive websites. These social practices frequentlyrequire users to transmediate meanings flexibly acrossdifferent modes and media (Mills, 2010b; Jewitt, 2008).Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 57

Purpose and theoretical frameworkIn this study I ask, ‘What are the principles that governthe semiotic process of transmediation when childrencompose digital and multimodal texts?’ I aim to showhow children as meaning-makers of digital texts—storyboard frames, documentary films, and onlinecomics—shifted semiotic content from one modeor sign-system to another through transmediation.I analyse the epistemological significance oftransmediation as a form of knowledge reproduction ortransformation in children’s digital composing.Social semiotics provides a conceptual frameworkin this study because explanations of textual formsmust attend to their social origins (Bezemer, 2008). Iattend to the potentials and constraints of sign-makingsystems—storyboards, moving images, written words,dramatic performance, online comic creation, anddigital editing. I equally give attention to the potentialsand constraints of media—both printed media, suchas children’s storyboard drawings and writing, andelectronic media, such as online comics and digitallyedited documentary films. I demonstrate three keyprinciples of transmediation that are fundamentalin understanding children’s multimodal and digitalmeaning-making.1. Transmediation is more than the simple reproductionof knowledge, and involves a process of knowledgetransformation by degrees.2. Transmediation involves a process of continualadaptation of intentions for representing knowledgein response to the possibilities and limitations ofsign-making systems, including the affordances ofdigital systems.3. Transmediation is central to digital text productionbecause it involves translating semiotic contentvia the discrete sign-making systems inherent insoftware interfaces.Research description—Design-based researchThe findings reported here were observed in the contextof a four-year, design-based research project. Designbasedresearch is interventionist—it investigatesthe possibility for educational improvement ratherthan merely examining what already exists (Brown &Campione, 1994; Cobb, Confrey, diSesse, Lehrer &Schauble, 2003). A variety of print and digital mediacollaborative projects were generated with interestedteachers across the school. The aim of the researchreported here was to theorise the students’ shiftingof meanings—transmediation—across sign-systems inthe context of media-based textual design.Three teachers and their students (Year 3, averageeight years old) received training and support from theuniversity researchers, including six hours per week(two hours per class) of teaching and in-class support bya specialist media arts teacher and literacy researcher.The students were introduced to a range of digitalmedia design projects during the literacy block withinthe timetable each week, and the researcher visited theschool three times per week as a participant-observerand support person for teaching and assessmentwithin the English curriculum. The outcomes were alsomatched to Media Essential Learnings that form part ofthe Queensland Art Curriculum (Queensland StudiesAuthority, 2007).Site descriptionThe primary school has a student population drawn fromsuburbs in an economically and socially disadvantagedregion of Southeast Queensland, including the school’sadjacent State Housing Authority area. The mean Year3 writing scores of the student cohort were 30 percent below the national mean for all Year 3 students inAustralia. Approximately 10 per cent of the students wereAboriginal or Torres Strait Islanders, Pacific Islanders,and English as a Second Language (ESL) learners.Description of interventionThe data in this study was collected in the second yearof a digital media intervention, which was precededby 18 months of building rapport with school staffand teachers—providing regular media workshops,professional development, curriculum planning, andin-class learning support for students in writing. Aseries of digital media-based lessons was taught by aspecialist media arts teacher-researcher, in collaborationwith a literacy educator from the university and threeclassroom teachers. The teachers came to the studywith varied levels of teaching experience, from twoyears to senior, with little previous experience ofthe digital software introduced in the research. Theprogram included introducing students to the featuresof new digital text types—blog pages, podcasts,micro-documentaries, web profiles, digital storiesand online comics. They were also introduced to newmetalanguages to describe media texts (e.g. shot types,cutaways, transitions), and technical proficiencies witha suite of Apple media software.In the first six months of the media-based program, themedia arts teacher-researcher had the primary responsibilityfor implementing the digital lessons, which were planned incollaboration with teachers and researchers. In the secondsix months, the responsibility for implementing mediabasedliteracy was gradually released to the classroomteachers, who each took the program in unique directions.58A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

By the fourth quarter, the teachers were planning andimplementing media-based writing lessons withoutassistance, revisiting and extending the media-basedpractices introduced in first semester.Data collection and analysisThe data sets for this component of the project included:a) More than 200 print and digital artefacts produced by theYear 3 students—drawings, storyboards, scripts, digitalmovies and comics; b) Audio-recorded focus groupsand dialogue with individuals about transmediation; andc) Sixty focused lesson observations. Screen shots of worksamples reproduced in this article were selected fromthe total corpus of data, which repeatedly demonstratedthe processes of transmediation. Multimodal semioticanalysis was used to compare similarly intendedmeanings across multiple corresponding texts, such asstudents’ movie storyboard frames, script segments,movie frames, and comments about the design process.FindingsTransmediation: Degrees of transformationDescribed below is a task in which students wererequired to draw a single image adapted from The BFG,by Roald Dahl. Over several weeks, the children hadlistened to the reading of the first half of the novel, inwhich a giant captured Sophie, an orphan. The giant’sarms had extended through the window to snatch herfrom the bed in the dead of night, to take her to hiscave in the Giant Country. The teacher of this lessonexplained that they would ‘picture things’ from TheBFG and ‘show it as a storyboard’. She explained thatthe purpose of storyboards is to plan ‘frames’ for theirmovie to ‘get our idea across’. To prepare the studentsfor this task, the children participated in an oral retellingof the main events in the narrative. After a discussionof different shot types (e.g. long shot, medium shot,close-up), students were given a blank frame in whichto draw their storyboard image, requiring them to recalla key event in The BFG. Lauren produced the drawingshown in Figure 3 below.Lauren’s storyboard frame matches the words ofthe narrative: ‘The next moment, a huge hand camesnaking in through the window. This was followed byan arm, an arm as thick as a tree trunk, and the arm, thehand, the fingers were reaching out across the roomtowards Sophie’s bed’ (Dahl, 1982, p. 8).Lauren’s text demonstrates how the content ofone sign system—words—was mapped onto the‘expression plane’ of image via drawing (Wright,2007). This cross-channel of communication involvedinventing connections and weaving between two verydifferent symbolic forms. The meanings contained inDahl’s sentences and words were shifted fluidly torecognisable iconic images that reinterpreted the textthrough a transformative process. Lauren describedher drawing as a ‘long shot’ of Sophie in her room atthe orphanage. If translated into a scene within a film,she anticipated that it would be accompanied by soundeffects of ‘heavy breathing’.Lauren explained that she had included a lamp anda torch beside the bed ‘in case Sophie got scared inthe dark’. When I inquired about her representationsof a cupboard, bedside table, and the arrangement offurniture in the drawing, Lauren explained that thesewere features of her own bedroom—‘I’m makingit different to the book’. Thus Lauren drew upon herown experiences, and the material texts of her ownlife-world, to generate a visual text that interacts withDahl’s text in a way that had never occurred in preciselythe same way before. This representation involvedmore than a simple reproduction or transfer of semioticcontent from word to image, since the process ofcrossing modes involved imagining what was not madeexplicit by words alone.Figure 4. Sophie getting snatched.Figure 3. BFG arm coming to get SophieRachel’s image in Figure 4 exemplifies the transmedialprocess of meaning-making as she adapted the text:‘She flew across the dormitory and jumped into herbed and hid under the blanket ... still as a mouse ...Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 59

The fingers were reaching out across the room towardsSophie’s bed’ (Dahl, 1982, p. 8).Rachel wrote that the accompanying music wouldbe ‘scary and shaking’. Her image drew upon herknowledge of a ‘dormitory’ as a shared sleeping spacein the orphanage, making text-world-text connections.This act of translating meaning from one sign-systemto another allowed Rachel to engage in generative andreflective thinking as she projected her visualisation ofthe room using a one-point perspective drawing.A line dividing the wall from the floor created a singlevanishing point. Rachel visualised beds aligned alongthe wall, diminishing in size according to distance.While other characters were not mentioned in thissection of the novel, Rachel inferred the presenceof other orphans also preparing for bed, envisagingthe ordering of time and activity in orphanages. Sheinvented these connections between word and image,making new meanings. It illustrates the generativepotential of transmediation, even in a limiting case inwhich students were required to produce a seeminglyliteral translation of events in a novel.Figure 5. Hand and bedJack’s drawing provides an example of how theprocess of transmediating words to images can involveincremental changes in understanding for the learner(Figure 5). When we first approached Jack he said,‘Mine is just a hand and the bed. I don’t know whatelse to draw’. We encouraged Jack to add backgroundobjects to contextualise the scene. He proceeded toadd cracks in the wall, a patch on the giant’s elbow, anda spider’s web to communicate the passage of time. Bytranslating his understanding of The BFG into anothersign-system, experimenting with image enabled Jackto find an entry into the text. The movement acrossmodes played an important role in deepening hisunderstanding of possible meanings, resulting inthe augmentation of knowledge. Drawing serves animportant meaning-making resource for young studentswho are learning to write (Harste, Woodward & Burke,1984; Moore & Caldwell, 1993; Norris, 2004).Even when children reproduce content using a differentsign-system, there is potential for generative andreflective thinking. This is because text users create newconnections between multiple modes. Reinterpretingsemiotic content from its original representation asa novel requires more from the students than thesimple transfer or reproduction of meaning. It involvesinterpreting meaning between symbol systems, withvarying degrees of transformation.Transmediation: A continual process of adaptationto affordancesIn this section, I illustrate the centrality of adaptationin transmediation using filmic conventions. I draw fromthe students’ collaborative production of digital microdocumentaries,also based on The BFG. The microdocumentarieswere to include an introduction by anarrator, an observation, re-enactment of events, andan interview of the main characters. The students wereencouraged not to reproduce events in The BFG, butto change the story by imagining different events fromthose in the plot.Students spent several lessons learning the genreand textual features of micro-documentaries, fromstoryboard design and script-writing to acting,filming and digital editing. The process of translatingsemiotic content, expressed as images and words in astoryboard and script, to the realisation of this contenton the screen involves multiple acts of transmediation.I have chosen examples of transmediation becausestoryboards are intended to convey similar meaningsas the final film, but through different modes.Transmediation involves a search for commonalitybetween sign-making systems (Siegel, 2006). In thefollowing example, meanings were shifted from stillimagedrawings to moving-screen images. Both stilland moving images can be classified by shot type (e.g.close-up, medium, long shot). When asked to comparethe shot types, the students identified that they hadrelied on the use of medium shots in the final movie asopposed to the combination of medium and long shotsin the storyboard.Brianna, Ethan and Sarah translated the content of theirstoryboard to create a final micro-documentary thatwas very similar to their original intentions. The childrenwere asked to compare their storyboard to the finalmovie, and to explain any differences they observed.Researcher: Did the shot types end up looking likethese ones when you filmed it in yourmovie?Children: No. I don’t think so.60A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Ethan:Because all of them are medium shots inthe movie.Researcher: So you said that you were going to domedium shots, and you said that you’ddo a long shot there—the Queen withSophie?Let’s go andpack your stuffFigure 6. Queen adopts SophieDo you want me to helppack your stuff?Children: Yes.Researcher: You wrote, ‘Go and pack your stuff!’ Didyou actually use a long shot there?Children: Not really. No.Researcher: So why did you decide at the time offilming the movie that the long shot wasn’tgoing to be what you needed? ‘Let’s goand pack your stuff.’ ‘Do you want me tohelp pack your stuff?’Ethan: ... Because you couldn’t see from thatfar away. You couldn’t see their body ortheir face—all you could see was a blackshadow.Researcher: Right. So the lighting made it a bit difficultto see their face?Ethan:But when you went close you could see itmore.When transmediating semiotic content—from wordsand drawings in the storyboard, to moving images onthe screen—the students adapted to the affordancesand constraints of the filmic medium. Ethan revealedthat his decision to use a medium shot instead of theintended long shot was a conscious decision to adaptto the unanticipated lighting conditions and constraintsof the filmic medium. This example illustrates thatgenerative possibilities in transmediation arise out ofthe heterogeneity of modes.When transmediating semiotic content from thestoryboard script to spoken word children frequentlymodified the dialogue. For example, in the illustrationabove, the group had scripted the Queen’s words: ‘Let’sgo and pack your stuff.’ When Brianna played the role ofthe Queen in this scene, she changed the mood of thesentence from imperative to interrogative, formulating itas a question. She modified the vocabulary choice, andused an imitation of a thick Scottish accent. The shiftingof meanings from written to the spoken word wasinstantiated with originality rather than reproduction.Similarly, Lauren explained that they changed theirscript when they acted to ‘get it more in character’.Realising the affordances of speech for projecting thepersonality of a character, they adapted the script tobetter communicate their intended meanings.These examples highlight the tension betweensimilarity and difference when transmediating semioticcontent from one form to another. Transmediationestablishes an anomaly for the learner in the absenceof one-to-one correspondence between sign-makingconventions (Siegel, 2006). This tension invites learnersto invent a way to cross this gap by engaging in bothevaluative and generative thinking.Researcher: And what about shot types—were youthinking much about shot types?Rachel:We were thinking about, like, doingmedium shots and stuff, but some of it, itjust didn’t look right (on the screen) so wechanged it a bit.Researcher: Right. So when you saw it on film it lookeddifferent to what you expected?Rachel:Yeah, like the marriage—it was supposedto be a long shot but it didn’t look right sowe did a close-up.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 61

Figure 7. ‘I take this lovely lady to be my bride.’ ‘I dotake this lovely giant to be my husband.’Transmediation involves a process of continuallyanticipating, evaluating, and revising their intentions asthey shifted meanings across modes. In the exampleabove, the girls modified the use of shot type to betterrealise their intended message in a screen-based format.They later reasoned that the close-up shot overcame theabsence of costumes to portray their respective roles inthe marriage ceremony. The girls used the framing ofthe screen composition to conceal their school uniforms,requiring the viewers to imagine the wedding costumes.This example clearly illustrates how drawing still imagesand filming the moving image with a digital camera havedifferent potentials for meaning. Moving image combinesthe affordances of image, which is spatially organised,with a temporal organisation—it unfolds in time (Bezemer& Kress, 2008). These modes offer distinct resources,so that in the process of transmediating meanings fromdrawings to film, there are ‘gains’ (e.g. close-up shotscan be used for selectivity) and ‘losses’ (e.g. imaginedactors and props in drawings must be materialised infilm) (Bezemer & Kress, 2008).Having utilised filmic media and conventions for the firsttime, the children reflected that there were affordancesof filmmaking that were unanticipated. They werefamiliar with communicating through drama, but the useof digital editing techniques, such as inserting cutaways,titles, transitions and credits were remote from theirworld of experience. The children had to learn ‘how to putit together’—an apt way of describing movement acrossand between modes as they forged new connections.Filming an innovation of The BFG as a microdocumentaryprovided the opportunity for the childrento represent ideas through multiple modes, supportingmore complex and creative thinking, because eachsign-system has different potentials for meaning. Thetransmedial work from novel to storyboard to filmallowed different modes to become tools for thinking,imagining and publicising their ideas (Short et al., 2000).2007). I argue here that transmediation is central todigital text production because it involves translatingsemiotic content via the discrete sign-making systemsinherent in software interfaces.In the context of observing students engaged in digitalmedia production, it was recognised that each digitalinterface is more than a simple tool for sign-making,akin to a pencil or paintbrush. Theorists of semioticshave conceptualised digital technologies as mediatingtools. Yet what has not been acknowledged is that eachdigital interface requires users to understand a discretesign-making system (e.g. icons, navigational tools,drop-down menus) with an inherent logic that must beunderstood in order to mediate meaning.I also argue that crossing from print to digital modesadds an important layer of complexity to text andknowledge creation. The machinery of the computeris indeed a tool, but each of the ever-expanding arrayof media software systems draws upon independenticonic systems of meaning. Arguably, while softwaresystems possess some common features, icons andmeanings, they also contain meanings that are unique.To illustrate how transmediation functions in the contextof digital text production, I will use another case in whichthe direct reproduction of semiotic content was all thatwas seemingly required. The children were required tohandwrite a comic that contained only three frames, andthen present it digitally via a popular online comic creator(makebeliefscomix.com). The teacher provided the childrenwith 50 minutes of direct instruction in the classroom,using an online projection of the comic creator website onher electronic whiteboard (Figure 8). To prepare studentsfor the short time in the library, she required them to initiallydraft their comics on blank paper.Figure 8 Screen adapted with permission fromMake Beliefs Comix©.Transmediation: Fundamental to digitaltext creationThe role of digital technologies in understandingtransmediation has been little explored in theliterature—the dominant emphasis has been on writing,drawing and telling (Cox, 2005; Siegel, 1995; Wright,A transcript of the second lesson, recorded immediatelyprior to the students translating their handwritten draftsto the screen, is shown here. It demonstrates how theteacher, Margaret, focused the students’ attention onthe unique sign-making system of this digital interface:62A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

MargaretBarbaraMargaretWhat would I click on if I wanted to changethe size of the characters—Barbara?Scale.That’s right. If you click on scale, and thenon the object, you can make it bigger or youcan make it smaller (demonstrates objectincreasing and diminishing).Margaret: Ok. I want to ... flip him around and facehim the other way. What do I need to clickon Jack?JackMargaretEthan:MargaretEthanMargaretTristanMargaretAbigail:MargaretFlip.Click on ‘flip’ and click on him (the object toapply the action). What if I want to get rid ofhim? Tristan—ah, Ethan?Um, just delete.Click on delete. He’s still there.Then click on him.Click on him. OK. I’m going to put him backup there. All right. I want to ... move himaround. Tristan—how do I make him move?Move.And you can click on him to make himmove. Ok. Now I want a speech bubble.What do I want to do—Abigail?Go to that talk balloon.Click on ‘talk’ and I can come over here(menu window) and choose different sizesof speech bubbles to fit my words. And it’simportant ... to take note of which way thatarrow is facing to change the size.The comic creator interface required users to becomefamiliar with a digital sign-making system that containsunique icons and functions for mediating textualproduction. The teacher quickly reviewed the students’new knowledge of a digital symbolic system that wasboth similar to, and different from, other sign-makingsystems. A digital interface contains an original systemof meaning-making which must be acquired or learnedthrough instruction and use. Students became familiarwith this interface in a similar way to learning othermodes, such as written English, musical notation orperspective drawing.The transmedial work involved in translating a printbasedcomic to a digital presentation of similar contentvia an online comic creator is illustrated here. While theteacher anticipated that the children would reproducetheir draft in an equivalent form via the digital software,less than a quarter of the children identified their finaldigital comic as the same or similar to their original draft.For most children, it was easier to create a differentcomic than to work within the constraints of the iconicuser options for creating digital symbols of charactersand objects.Rachel chose to persist with her original comicdesign and work within the constraints of the onlinecomic creator. Rachel’s print-based comic centred ona character she had observed in the menu during theteacher’s online comic example who had bees in her‘sixties beehive’ hairstyle (Figure 9).Figure 9 Bad hair day—draft comicSpeaker 1:Why won’tthese beesleave mealone?Speaker 1:Hey Therese, canyou help me getthese bees away?Speaker 2:Stop using thathoney shampoo?Figure 10 The shampoo problemSpeaker 1:Thank you,Theresa. Thathelped.Speaker 2:That’s OK!Rachel said she needed to adapt her original comicbecause ‘I couldn’t get her, like, the bees out of her hair’(Figure 10). The central problem in Rachel’s comic wasresolved by following the cartoon friend’s suggestionto ‘stop using that honey shampoo’. In the final frameof the draft, Rachel had drawn the character withoutthe bees in her hair, but the digital comic creator didnot have an image of the same character without bees.Rachel explained that, to solve this problem, she used adifferent cartoon character that looked similar. To ensurethat readers understood that this new icon was the samecharacter, she explained in the accompanying dialoguethat the character had changed her ‘whole look’.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 63

Here, Rachel used substitution to replace intended objectsthat were unavailable in the menu, with the availabledigital images generating new ideas. The absence of aready-made link between the content and expressionplane created an anomaly that set generative thinkingin motion (Siegel, 1995). In this way, Rachel strategicallyworked within the constraints and possibilities of themediating technology to transmediate semiotic contentfrom print to a digital format.A second example is the ‘talk bubble’ that Rachelincluded to conceal unwanted cat-like ears on thecartoon. She wanted the personified cartoon animal tobe fully human. She overcame the lack of equivalencebetween modes by strategically covering symbols thatdid not communicate her intended meanings.These examples of online comic creation demonstrate thattransmediation involved a process of continual adaptationof intentions for representing knowledge in response tothe possibilities and limitations of the sign-making systems,including those embedded in digital software. Childrenengage in a continual process of problem solving as theyseek ways to work within the constraints and possibilitiesof the digital conventions to communicate meaning.ConclusionTransmediation is fundamental to digital text production,requiring the recasting of meaning through the contextand expression plane of multiple semiotic structures.The multimodality of meaning-making by youngchildren, and in society, necessitates that studentslearn to transmediate flexibly between modes.Transmediation involves transformation by degrees. Evenwhen retelling scenes from a novel through drawing, ortranslating a print-based comic to a digital format, a degreeof transformation is discernable. This is because each signsystem has unique organisational principles, involvingelements and conventions that do not have preciselyequivalent meanings. The potential for generative thinkingis heightened as children made connections betweenmultiple modes (Siegel, 1995, p. 458).Transmediation is a process of continual adaptation ofintentions for representing knowledge, demonstrated infilmmaking. It involves discovering the possibilities andlimitations of sign-making systems and their meaningpotentials. The search for commonalities across differentmodes, which do not have one-to-one correspondence,creates anomalies for the learners. This processof transmediation involves generative thinking andproblem solving as new connections are made betweenexpression planes.Transmediation is central to digital text production, observedin the context of online comic creation. This is becauseit involves translating semiotic content via discrete signmakingsystems inherent in the digital interface. Childrenneed to learn the sign-system in the digital interface (e.g.flip, move, delete) to mediate their intended meanings. Thedigital interface contains a set of iconic meanings, with aninternal logic that needs to be learned before its mediatingpotential for encoding texts can be realised.The increasing availability of digital technologies fortextual production generates new possibilities fortransmediation in young children’s compositions.Teachers are providing children with rich opportunitiesfor shifting meanings across multiple modes, ratherthan relying exclusively on the written word. Youngchildren make sense of their world through multiplesign-making systems, long before they have developedsophisticated control of written text (Kress, 1997). Aslinguist Michael Halliday (1975) argues, rather thanasking what a student knows, consider how many waysare available for this child to know. Encouraging childrento engage in digital media creation allows them to gobeyond the simple reproduction of literary content to thetransformation of meaning and knowledge; as Laurenproudly declared: ‘I’m making it different to the book’.AcknowledgementsThis research was funded by the Australian ResearchCouncil Linkage scheme project LP0990289. The viewsare those of the author, and are not necessarily those ofthe Australian Research Council.The author acknowledges research colleaguesProfessor Allan Luke and Dr Annette Woods et al. andresearch partners—the Queensland Teachers’ Unionand the school staff involved in this project.All students in this study provided consent fromcaregivers to participate.All names are pseudonyms.ReferencesAdami, E. (2009). ‘We/You Tube’: Exploring sign making invideo-interaction. Visual Communication 8(4), 379–399.Bezemer, J. (2008). Displaying orientation in the classroom:Students’ multimodal responses to teacher instructions.Linguistics and Education, 19, 166–178.Bezemer, J., & Kress, G. (2008). Gains and losses: A socialsemiotic account of changes in modes and media of learningresources, 1930–2005. Unpublished manuscript.Brown, A., & Campione, J. (1994). Guided discovery in acommunity of learners. In K. McGilly (Ed), Classroom lessons:Integrating cognitive theory and classroom practice (pp. 229–270). Cambridge: MIT Press.Cobb, P., Confrey, J., diSessa, A., Lehrer, R., & Schauble,L. (2003). Design experiments in educational research.Educational Researcher, 32(1), 9–13.64A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Cox, S. (2005). Intention and meaning in young children’sdrawing. Journal of Art and Design Education, 24(2), 115–125.Dahl, R. (1982). The BFG. London, UK: Puffin Books.Dyson, A. H. (2001). Donkey Kong in Little Bear Country: A firstgrader’s composing development in the media spotlight. TheElementary School Journal, 101(4), 417–433.Gilje, O. (2010). Multimodal redesign in filmmaking practices:An inquiry of young filmmakers’ deployment of semiotic toolsin their filmmaking practice. Written Communication, 27(4),494–522.Halliday, M. (1975). Learning how to mean. Wheeling, IL:Whitehall.Harste, J. C., Woodward, V. A., & Burke, C. L. (1984). Languagestories and literacy lessons. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.Hull, G., & Nelson, M. (2005). Locating the semiotic power ofmultimodality. Written Communication, 22(2), 224–261.Jewitt, C. (2005). Multimodality, “reading”, and “writing”for the 21st century. Discourse: Studies in Cultural Politics ofEducation, 26(3), 315–331.Jewitt, C. (2006). Technology, literacy and learning: Amultimodal approach. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge.Jewitt, C. (2008). Multimodality and literacy in schoolclassrooms. Review of Research in Education, 32(1), 241–267.Kress, G. (1997). Before writing: Rethinking the paths toliteracy. London: Routledge.Kress, G. (2003). Literacy in the new media age. London:Routledge.Kress, G., & Bezemer, J. (2008). Writing in multimodal texts:A social semiotic account of designs for learning. WrittenCommunication, 25(2), 166.Kress, G., & van Leeuwen, T. (1996). Reading images: Thegrammar of visual design. London: Routledge.Mills, K. A. (2009). Multiliteracies: Interrogating competingdiscourses. Language and Education, 23(2),103–116.Mills, K. A. (2010a). A review of the digital turn in the newliteracy studies. Review of Educational Research, 80(2),246–271.Mills, K. A. (2010b). The multiliteracies classroom. Bristol, UK:Multilingual Matters and Channel View Publications.Mills, K. A. (2010c). Shrek meets Vygotsky: Rethinkingadolescents’ multimodal literacy practices in schools. Journalof Adolescent and Adult Literacy, 54(1), 35–45.Moore, B., & Caldwell, H. (1993). Drama and drawing fornarrative writing in primary grades. Journal of EducationalResearch 87(2), 100–110.New London Group (2000). A pedagogy of multiliteracies:Designing social futures. In B. Cope & M. Kalantzis (Eds),Multiliteracies: Literacy learning and the design of socialfutures (pp. 9–38). South Yarra, Vic: Macmillan.Norris, S. (2004). Analysing multimodal interaction. London:Routledge Falmer.Queensland Studies Authority (2007). The Arts EssentialLearnings Year 5. Queensland Government: Spring Hill, Qld.Ranker, J. (2007). Designing meaning with multiple mediasources: A case study of an eight-year-old student’s writingprocesses. Research in the Teaching of English, 41(4), 402–434.Ranker, J. (2009). Redesigning and transforming: A case studyof the role semiotic import in early composing processes.Journal of Early Childhood Literacy, 9(3), 319–347.Semali, L. M. (2002). Transmediation in the classroom: Asemiotics-based media literacy framework. (Vol. 176). NewYork: Peter Lang.Semali, L. M., & Fueyo, J. (2001). Transmediation as a metaphorfor new literacies in multimedia classrooms. Reading Online,5(5).Short, K. G., Kauffman, G., & Khann, L. H. (2000). I just need todraw: Responding to literature across multiple sign systems.The Reading Teacher, 54(2), 160–171.Siegel, M. (1995). More than words: The generative power oftransmediation for learning. Canadian Journal of Education,20(4), 455–475.Siegel, M. (2006). Rereading the signs: Multimodaltransformations in the field of literacy education. LanguageArts, 84(1), 65, 65–77.Suhor, C. (1984). Towards a semiotic-based curriculum. Journalof Curriculum Studies, 16(3), 247–257.Suhor, C. (1992). Semiotics and the English language arts.Language Arts, 63(3), 228–230.Wright, S. (2007). Graphic-narrative play: Young children’sauthoring through drawing and telling. International Journal ofEducation and the Arts, 8(8).1–27.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 65

Evaluating the feasibility, effectiveness and acceptability of anactive play intervention for disadvantaged preschool children:A pilot studyKaren StagnittiMary MalakellisDeakin UniversityRachel KennaNelson Park Specialist SchoolBeth KershawMajella HoareGlastonbury Child and Family ServicesAndrea de Silva-SanigorskiUniversity of MelbourneAustralian children from disadvantaged families are at increased risk of delaysin acquiring fundamental movement skills, with physical inactivity and increased riskof the potential consequences of obesity. The aims of this pilot study were to: 1) assessthe fundamental movement skills of disadvantaged children; 2) evaluate the feasibilityand effectiveness of adapting an existing parenting and child development programto incorporate additional weekly play activities (the intervention); and 3) examine theacceptability of the intervention.Children aged 1.5–5 years were assessed pre-intervention (n = 26) and postintervention(n = 16) over a period of 22 weeks using the gross motor component of thePeabody Developmental Motor Scales – 2nd Edition (PDMS-2) (Folio & Fewell, 2000).Parents completed a demographic and environmental survey and those implementingthe intervention were interviewed to assess the feasibility and acceptability ofthe intervention. Pre-intervention the children from disadvantaged families hadlocomotion, object manipulation and Gross Motor Quotient (GMQ) scores significantlybelow the norm-referenced standards of the PDMS-2 (p < 0.05). The intervention wasassociated with improvements in the locomotion (8.35 to 9.5; p = 0.009), and objectmanipulation (8.6 to 9.6; p = 0.04) subtest scores and the GMQ scores (92.6 to 99.3;p < 0.01). The intervention was deemed feasible and acceptable by those implementingthe program. Low levels of physical activity in disadvantaged communities may berelated to delayed acquisition of fundamental movement skills in childhood. This pilotstudy raises the possibility of correcting this deficit in early childhood, and improvingthe potential for all children to lead an active life.IntroductionDisadvantaged populations have been identified asbeing at high risk of delays in motor skill acquisitionand physical inactivity for reasons including limitedneighbourhood facilities, less ability to affordcommercial physical activity, and poor neighbourhoodsafety (Giles-Corti & Donovan, 2002; Kavanagh et al.,2005; Najman, Bor, Morrison, Andersen & Williams,1992; Sanigorski, Bell, Kremer & Swinburn, 2007;Speakman, 2004). Further, children who perceivethemselves as competent in physically active play arelikely to engage in and enjoy it (Cavill, Biddle & Sallis,2001; Locke, 1996; Ziviani et al., 2006), suggesting theimportance of developing skills in active play early inchildhood.‘Active play’ is a term used for physical activity orgross motor activity for children under five years,and fundamental movement skills are the basicmovements learned through participation in active playas a child. Walking, running, rolling, and jumping arethe primary fundamental movement skills on whichother fundamental movement skills such as hopping,skipping and leaping are based, as well as manipulativeabilities such as kicking and throwing (McClenaghan66A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Figure 1. Study overviewto five years of age with published procedures andmarking criteria for each item in the scale (Folio &Fewell, 2000). Empirical research has establishedadequate levels of reliability and validity for the PDMS-2 (Folio & Fewell, 2000). For the purpose of this study,only the three gross motor subtests were conducted(stationary, locomotion, and object manipulation).Demographic, behavioural and environmentalparent surveyThis survey captured demographic, behavioural andenvironmental data on the child and their family.mentors by Glastonbury. Their experience of workingwith children ranged from two to 23 years, with a meanof 11.3 years (SD: 10.6 years). These five Glastonburystaff implemented the intervention and took part in afocus group (see details below).InstrumentsThe Peabody Developmental Scale – SecondEditionThe PDMS-2 is a norm-referenced standardisedassessment of both gross and fine motor skills. Thisassessment is composed of six subtests to measurethe motor abilities that develop from birth throughFocus groupThe Glastonbury PLAY workers (n = 5) participated in afocus group to provide feedback about their experienceof implementing the APP activities into the PLAYprogram. The focus group discussions were held twomonths after the follow-up PDMS-2 assessments werecompleted. Two researchers (MM & RK) facilitated thefocus group and asked the Glastonbury workers a seriesof key questions that explored their experiences of howwell the program adaptations for the intervention wereaccepted by the service and the participating families.EthicsEthical clearance for this study was obtained from theDeakin University Human Research Ethics Committee.68A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Table 2. Descriptive characteristics of participantsFamily characteristicsChild’s gender(%)Child’s age inmonthsMother’seducation (%)Father’seducation (%)Child’s livingarrangements(%)Number ofchildren in thefamilyScreen time perdayChildparticipants(n = 26)Male 65.4Female 34.6Mean in months 37.4±11.1± SDNon-completion of 42.3high schoolCompleted high 30.8schoolTertiary education 26.9Non-completion of 72.7high schoolCompleted high 22.7schoolTertiary education 4.5Single parent 30.8Two parents 65.4Other 3.8Mean ± SD 2.5±0.8Mean minutes ± SD 134.1±97.3Statistical analysisClinical data were found not to be normally distributedand Mann-Whitney U tests were used, first to determineif the children’s baseline PDMS-2 scores differedsignificantly from the norms specified by the PDMS-2.Second, a Wilcoxon Signed Ranked Test was usedto analyse changes in the children’s PDMS-2 scorespre- and post- their involvement in the interventionprogram. Data were analysed using the StatisticalPackage for Social Sciences (SPSS) Version 14.0 (SPSSInc., Chicago, IL, USA). The focus group discussionwas digitally recorded, transcribed, and verified throughchecking the key issues identified from the transcriptsby the researchers. All transcripts were coded, thencodes were categorised and placed into themes.ResultsIntervention programAfter adaptation for the intervention, the proportion ofAPP activities targeting specific gross motor functionin the PLAY program increased from 24 per cent to 37per cent (see Table 1). These gross motor activitiestargeted a range of fundamental movement skills. Ofthe 37 per cent gross motor activities in the adaptedprogram for the intervention, 69 per cent related todevelopment of locomotion skills; 18 per cent to objectmanipulation skills and 13 per cent to stationary skills.Table 3. The baseline PDMS-2 standard scores of the children at baseline and follow-up assessment and by genderVariablesPDMS- Baseline assessment participants Follow-up assessment participants2 Norm n Mean SD Min Max n Mean SD Min MaxAll ParticipantsStationary 10 20 9.4 2.5 5 15 16 10.5 2.9 6 16Locomotion 10 23 8.4 (*p = 0.002) 2.4 3 12 16 9.6 2.6 4 13Object10 25 8.6 (*p = 0.004) 2.2 4 13 16 9.6 2.4 4 15manipulationGross MotorQuotient100 23 92.6 (*p = 0.01) 12.8 70 113 16 99.25 13.9 72 119MalesStationary 10 16 8.8 2.6 5 15 10 9.9 3.0 6 16Locomotion 10 14 8.0 (*p = 0.01) 2.6 3 12 10 8.9 2.7 4 12Object10 16 8.4 (*p = 0.02) 2.4 4 13 10 9.6 2.9 4 15manipulationGross MotorQuotient100 14 90.5 (*p = 0.03) 14.0 70 113 10 96.5 14.4 72 119FemalesStationary 10 9 10.3 2.1 7 14 6 11.5 2.8 8 14Locomotion 10 9 8.9 2.0 6 11 6 10.7 2.2 8 13Objectmanipulation10 9 8.9 1.6 6 11 6 9.7 1.5 8 11Gross MotorQuotient100 9 95.9 10.5 76 111 6 103.8 12.9 87 117Notes: PDMS-2 = Peabody Developmental Motor Scales, 2nd Editionn = number of participants; SD = standard deviation.Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 69

Child participant characteristics and motor skillsThe characteristics of the participants (n = 26)are presented in Table 2. The sample was of lowsocioeconomic status. The following table, Table 3,summarises the baseline standard PDMS-2 scores.At baseline (pre-intervention), the children’s PDMS-2scores were significantly below the PDMS-2 norms inthe locomotion and object manipulation subtests and forthe gross motor quotient scores (p < 0.05). The boys’PDMS-2 scores were also found to be significantly belowthe PDMS-2 norms. At follow-up (post-intervention), therewas a significant difference for the overall Gross MotorQuotient (GMQ; p = 0.007), locomotion (p = 0.009) andobject manipulation (p = 0.035) improvements. Therewas no significant increase found for stationary skills.Although not shown here, there were no significantassociations between the PDMS-2 scores and the child’sage, confirming that the test is age-standardised in thispopulation. Over the course of the 22-week intervention,10 children dropped out of the study. Of these, onechild refused to participate and nine left the study owingto unrelated issues (see Figure 1 for a breakdown ofreasons for leaving the study). The reduction in numbersfrom baseline to follow-up was not related to theintervention program.Focus group results with worker participantsTwo themes emerged from the focus group discussion.The main theme was the acceptability of the APPactivities in the intervention program and adaptationsrequired to better suit the PLAY program and theGlastonbury clients in the future. Despite the need foradaptations, the intervention program was acceptableto the staff, and the most successful activities werethose that introduced classic outdoor play (for examplequoits, skittles, hula hoops). Examples of commentsmade by staff are below:I think [active play activities] fit very well into thebroader scheme of things. I think the parents wereused to having five activities and they just handledthat extra activity quite well.I think [active play activities] fitted into the program,really quite well and in a lot of ways the activitywas designed to fit into the rest of the flow of theactivities, the program was, so … I think that wasreally quite well done.… setting up the bowling, some of the kids justhadn’t done bowling before and they were justbeside themselves. They just loved it ... evenskipping ropes. How much fun did they have withthose?Staff reported that equipment and space were generallynot a concern. Comments were made such as:… if there wasn’t enough room [inside] you’d moveoutside into the yard or a joining area … [and] ifthey didn’t have skittles we’d ask them to get someempty milk cartons or soft drink bottles.The second theme was related to the characteristicsof the families who participated in the program. Staffidentified that some of the APP activities requiredadaptations to better suit the PLAY program, includingmore variety, simpler instructions, and adaptationfor suitability for only two players. The families’characteristics were related to why particular activitieswere thought to have worked well or requiredadaptation. The characteristics discussed were parent’slimited literacy skills and education; the presence ofmany single-parent families; that the families oftendon’t feel obliged or motivated enough to completethe active play activities; that the families did notunderstand that fundamental movement skill (FMS)activities require repetition; and that modelling wassometimes required to show parents how to play withtheir children. Examples include:… some of [the active play activities] were a bit toorepetitive … because you felt like you were doingthe kangaroo jumping and that sort of thing, somany times.I think in some cases the way that [the active playactivity] was written up was quite comprehensiveand perhaps beyond some of our families, sowithout us going through and saying, you know,this is what you do, I don’t think they would actuallysit and actually read the instructions and be able tofollow them.I think … that we need to keep in mind that a lotof the times in the families it’s just the motherand the child or the father and the child so to havesomething where you’re … like playing the game‘Duck, Duck, Goose’ where you need more thantwo people to play it’s really not appropriate for ourfamilies.DiscussionThis mixed-methods pilot study has shown that childrenfrom disadvantaged families have delays in theirdevelopment of gross motor skills. Despite this, anintervention targeting object manipulation, locomotionand stationary skills significantly improved the children’sskill level. Further, the incorporation of the APP activitiesinto the Glastonbury child development and parentingPLAY program was feasible and acceptable to the earlychildhood workers implementing the program. Valuablefeedback was also gained on ways to improve theintervention for use with this group and also inform theuse of the program in other children’s settings.70A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

The children in this study were from families of lowsocioeconomic position, and their level of fundamentalmovement skills was significantly below the referencelevels on the clinical test used. This means the childrenwere unable to perform skills such as throwing, kicking,jumping or hopping at the level expected for their ageand gender. These results are consistent with previousstudies which showed delays in fundamental movementskill acquisition in children from disadvantaged families.Children who lack the necessary fundamental movementskills and active play experiences have been shown tohave negative experiences such as stigmatisation andteasing, and low confidence which may contributeto a lifetime of avoidance of physical activity (Locke,1996; Poulsen & Ziviani, 2004). Achieving competencein fundamental movement skills before commencingschool is recognised as important so that children feelconfident, socially accepted, and maintain a positiveattitude towards physical activity throughout life(Boreham & Riddoch, 2001).The intervention tested in this pilot study involvedweekly modelling of activities to be performed daily todevelop a range of fundamental movement skills over afive-month period. The program was designed to be fun,developmentally appropriate and meaningful for childrenaged less than five years. Such programs have been foundto be more successful than skill-training interventions(Akbari et al., 2009; Apache, 2005). Post-interventionthe children’s level of fundamental movement skills hadincreased to the age-appropriate level. These results areof clinical significance for children’s development andhighlight that this may be a critical time for intervention.It is known that preschool children develop rapidly (Cech& Martin, 2005) with 90 per cent of the growth of thebrain occurring by three years of age (Sunderland, 2007).Importantly, the skills that improved post-interventionwere those targeted by the intervention activities. Forexample, nearly 70 per cent of the active play activitieswere locomotive-based (running, jumping, skipping etc.)and improvements in the children’s locomotive subtestscores were greater than for object manipulation andstationary subtest scores.The early childhood workers identified a number ofimprovements to the intervention program to make itmore suitable for the families they worked with. Thesebroadly fell into three areas: reducing the repetition ofplay activities, making adaptations to accommodatefewer participants, and clarifying instructions. Each ofthese is explained in more detail below.1. Workers recommended reducing the repetition ofthe ‘active play’ activities. This finding highlights theneed to convey to those implementing the programthe important and deliberately repetitious natureof the activities, as it is known that it can take aconsiderable number of trials to master a single skill(NSW DET, 2008). The acquisition of fundamentalmovement skills requires a child to be involved infrequent repetition of play activities as it can takehundreds of attempts to master a single skill (NSWDET, 2008).2. There was a need to make adaptations toaccommodate fewer participants. A number of theplay activities in the intervention program requirethree or more participants. This was an issue, as atleast one-third of the families involved were singleparentfamilies. Having a deeper understandingof the target group for the intervention nowallows refinement of the intervention to includeadaptations or alternatives for the activities wherethere are fewer than three people available.3. Clarifying instructions was recommended by theGlastonbury workers, as they felt a number oftheir families had difficulty understanding some ofthe instructions. For this reason, the Glastonburyworkers found demonstrating or modelling the playactivities the most effective delivery method as itshowed parents how to play with their children.This is consistent with a previous interventionstudy where the use of role-plays, videotapes toshow specific examples of procedures, handoutsadapted to parents’ reading levels, and the use ofmodelling were found to be effective (Hancock,Kaiser & Delaney, 2002).Strengths and limitationsThe strength of this study is the involvement offamilies of significant socioeconomic disadvantageand the application of the intervention under realworldconditions. However, the limitations includethe small sample size and lack of a control group. Alarger randomised controlled trial will be needed to fullytest the effectiveness of the intervention. A furtherlimitation is that the PDMS-2 was norm-referenced ona sample of American children and there are no knownstudies to determine if the norms of Australian childrencoincide with those of the PDMS-2. It may be that thisstudy underestimates the level of delay in fundamentalmotor skill acquisition.ConclusionDevelopmental delay in fundamental movementskills is a public health concern that can be observedvery early in a child’s life. Addressing this issue isimportant for increased competence and enjoymentand promoting active lifestyles for children. This pilotstudy has shown that a community-based interventiondelivered by early childhood workers is effective.Importantly, the improved skill development potentiallyincreases children’s engagement in physical activity,Vo l u m e 3 6 N u m b e r 3 S e p t e m b e r 2 011 71

which is important for lifelong good health and reducedrisk of chronic disease. Addressing this issue in childrenfrom disadvantaged families also has the potential todecrease the unequal distribution of physical inactivityacross the social gradient and reduce health inequalities.A large-scale trial to confirm the findings from this pilotstudy is warranted.AcknowledgementsWe thank the Glastonbury Child and Family Servicesstaff and families who participated in this study,VicHealth Australia for providing the financial grantfor this project, and Deakin University for providingadditional funding and support. We also acknowledgethe valuable contributions made by Narelle Robertsonand Leisure Networks in the development of the study.ReferencesAkbari, H., Abdoli, B., Shafizadeh, M., Khalaji, H., Hajihosseini,S., & Ziaee, V. (2009). The effect of traditional games infundamental motor skill development in 7–9 year-old boys.Iranian Journal of Pediatrics, 19(2), 123–129.Apache, R. R. G. (2005). Activity-based intervention in motorskill development. Perceptual & Motor Skills, 100(3), 1011–1020.Bell, A. C., Simmons, A., Sanigorski, A. M., Kremer, P. J.,Swinburn, B. A. (2008). Preventing childhood obesity: thesentinel site for obesity prevention in Victoria, Australia. HealthPromotion International, 23(4), 328–328.Boreham, C. & Riddoch, C. (2001). The physical activity, fitnessand health of children. Journal of Sports Sciences, 19(12),915–929.Cavill, N., Biddle, S., & Sallis, J. F. (2001). Health enhancingphysical activity for young people: Statement of the UnitedKingdom Expert Consensus Conference. Pediatric ExerciseScience, 13(1), 12.Cech, D., & Martin, S. (2005). Functional movementdevelopment across the life span (2nd edn). Philadelphia: W.B.Saunders Company.de Silva-Sanigorski, A. M., Bell, A. C., Kremer, P., Nichols,M., Crellin, M., Smith, M. et al. (2010). Reducing obesity inearly childhood: Results from Romp & Chomp, an Australiancommunity-wide intervention program. American Journal ofClinical Nutrition, 91(4), 831–840.Folio, M., & Fewell, R. (2000). Peabody Developmental MotorScales (2nd edn). Austin: Pro-Ed Inc.Giles-Corti, B., & Donovan, R. (2002). Socioeconomic statusdifferences in recreational physical activity levels and realand perceived access to a supportive physical environment.Preventive Medicine, 35(6), 601–611.Hancock, T., Kaiser, A., & Delaney, E. (2002). Teaching parentsof preschoolers at high risk. Topics in Early Childhood SpecialEducation, 22(4), 191–212.Kavanagh, A., Gooler, J., King, T., Jolley, D., Crawford, D.,& Turrell, G. (2005). Urban area disadvantage and physicalactivity: A multilevel study in Melbourne, Australia. Journal ofEpidemiology & Community Health, 59(11), 934–940.Locke, L. (1996). Dr. Lewin’s little liver patties: A parable aboutencouraging healthy lifestyles. Quest, 48(3), 422–431.McClenaghan, B., & Gallahue, D. (1978). Fundamentalmovement: a developmental and remedial approach.Philadelphia: W.B. Saunders Company.Najman, J. M., Bor, W., Morrison, J., Andersen, M.,& Williams,G. (1992). Child developmental delay and socio-economicdisadvantage in Australia: A longitudinal study. Social Science& Medicine, 34(8), 829–835.New South Wales Department of Education and Training (NSWDET) (2008). Fundamental movement skills. Retrieved 20October, 2008, from http://www.curriculumsupport.education.nsw.gov.au/primary/pdhpe/gamessport/fms001.htm.Poulsen, A. A., & Ziviani, J. M. (2004). Health enhancing physicalactivity: Factors influencing engagement patterns in children.Australian Occupational Therapy Journal, 51(2), 69–79.Sanigorski, A. M., Bell, A. C., Kremer, P. J., & Swinburn, B.A. (2007). High childhood obesity in an Australian population.Obesity, 15(8), 1908–1912.Speakman, J. R. (2004). Obesity: The integrated rolesof environment and genetics. Journal of Nutrition, 134,2090S–2105S.Stagnitti, K., Robertson, N., Sanigorski, A., van Herwerden, L.,Wolfe, A., & Kenna, R. (2008). Kids – ‘Go for your life’: ActivePlay Program. Australia: Romp & Chomp Project.Sunderland, M. (2007). What every parent needs to know.London: DK Books.Ziviani, J., MacDonald, D., Jenkins, D., Rodger, S., Batch, J.,& Cerin, E. (2006). Physical activity of young children. OTJR:Occupation, Participation and Health, 26(1), 4–14.72A u s t r a l a s i a n J o u r n a l o f E a r l y C h i l d h o o d

Vol. 36 No. 3 September 2011Australasian Journal of Early ChildhoodOnline Annex

Early childhood teachers’ professional development in music:A cross-cultural studyHoi Yin Bonnie YimDeakin UniversityMarjory EbbeckUniversity of South AustraliaThis paper deals with professional teacher development. It specifically focuses ona research study of early childhood teachers’ views and involvement in teaching musicto young children. It presents findings from a comparative study of 38 teachers in threechildcare centres in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region and 24 teachers infour childcare centres in South Australia. Two research questions are discussed andanswered: (1) What are early childhood teachers’ levels of involvement in professionaldevelopment in music? (2) Are there any significant relationships, that is differencesand commonalities, in the findings between teachers’ levels of involvement in thesetwo cultural contexts? A unique research tool entitled Teachers’ Music DevelopmentScale was devised to collect data and measure teachers’ involvement in musicdevelopment. Specific findings and their implications are presented in the paper.BackgroundProfessional development has been widely recognisedas one of the significant elements in the effectiveimplementation of quality curricula in early childhoodeducation (e.g. Clark & Huber, 2005; David, 2004;Girolametto & Weitzman, 2007; Lobman, Ryan,McLaughlin, & Ackerman, 2004; NAEYC, 2003).Professional development can be defined as ‘theindividual’s ability to conceptualize and carry outactivities which further personal growth in teaching’(McAlpine & Harris, 2002, p. 9). It can also be viewed asone’s ‘changes in knowledge, skills and attitudes for theimprovement of professional practice’ (San, 1999, p. 20).Contemporary researchers remind us that professionaldevelopment can be conducted in various forms (e.g.attending a workshop, seminar, and/or conference,and reading professional literature), but researchersconsistently emphasise that effective professionaldevelopment should be teacher-centred, ongoing, andable to foster collegiality, collaborative inquiry and criticaldiscourse (Ball & Cohen, 1999; Cochran-Smith & Lytle,1993; Diaz-Maggioli, 2004; Nieto, 2003a, 2003b).In this era of accountability, policy-makers viewprofessional development as the key to increasingteacher quality and improving student learning (Barrett,2006, p. 6). Within the early childhood education field,in both Eastern and Western contexts, professionaldevelopment has been emphasised in differentgovernment documents. In the Hong Kong SpecialAdministrative Region (HKSAR), for example, thelocal early childhood curriculum guidelines state thatteachers should ‘attach importance to professionaldevelopment through continuous study, andstrengthen their communication and co-operation withother teachers and fellow educators. This will helppromote effective co-ordination within a pre-primaryinstitution and foster the achievement of the aims ofearly childhood education’ (Education and ManpowerBureau HKSAR, 2006, p. 46). Additionally, under therecent Pre-primary Education Voucher Scheme inHKSAR (Education Bureau, 2008b; Student FinancialAssistance Agency, 2008), local eligible non-profitmakingearly childhood centres are given a grantknown as Teacher Development Subsidy (TDS) fromthe 2007/2008 to 2010/2011 academic years so as tosupport teachers’ professional development (EducationBureau, 2008a, p. 1). In South Australia there is alsoa section named Professional Development in its localcurriculum guidelines, South Australian Curriculum,Standards and Accountability (SACSA) Frameworkwhich aims at supporting leaders and educators to74Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

implement the curriculum effectively (DETE, 2001).More recently the development and implementationof the National early childhood curriculum—Belonging,Being and Becoming: The Early Years LearningFramework for Australia (DEEWR, 2009)—has createda new demand for professional development. This ispart of the Australian Government’s reform agendafor early childhood education, bringing with it specificneeds for professional development (Commonwealthof Australia, 2010).Music is well-recognised as one of the essentialelements in young children’s development. In the formaleducational system of most modernised countries(such as HKSAR, Australia, UK and Singapore) musicis included in the early childhood curriculum guidelinesas one of the fundamental learning experiences.Academics have also consistently emphasised thepositive impact of music on young children’s holisticdevelopment, including social-emotional wellbeing(e.g. Baker & Mackinlay, 2006; Young, Street, &Davies, 2007), neurological development (e.g. Balaban,Anderson, & Wisniewski, 1998; Ho, Cheung, & Chan,2003), and enjoyment of music (e.g. de Vries, 2004,2007). Hence, early childhood teachers are generallyexpected to integrate music into their programs toenhance children’s holistic development.Specifically, from the viewpoint of music education,the importance of professional development has alsohad a longstanding emphasis within the profession(e.g. Bowles, 2003; Conway, Hibbard, Albert, &Hourigan, 2005; Walls, 2008; Wonkling & Henry,1999). An early but important report of the MusicEducators National Conference (MENC) Task Force onMusic Teacher Education for the 1990s (Olson, 1987)devoted a chapter on planning for career growth whichcharacterised professional development as a lifelongprocess for both pre-service and in-service teacherswithin the music context. The report highlighted selfgrowthby portraying teachers as individuals who seekchange and advancement, rather than merely fulfillingrequirements for renewal of their teaching licences.More recently, Barrett (2006) stressed the importantrole of professional development in music education,especially as part of the current educational reform.However, most available literature on teachers’professional development in music has been conductedin the Western context (e.g. Bauer, Reese, & McAllister,2003; Kerchner & Abril, 2009; Koutsoupidou, 2010).There seems to be very few research studies donein the Eastern context or from a cross-cultural pointof view. In addition, most available literature onprofessional development in music teaching is notcentred on the early childhood context (e.g. Bauer,2007; Bowles, 2003; Conway, Hibbard, & Hourigan,2005). Indeed, Gruenhagen (2007, p. vi) confirmed thatresearch on the professional development of musiceducators in the early childhood context is ‘almost nonexistent’.In addition, research by Ebbeck and McDowall (2003)stated that early childhood programs in South Australiahad limited focus on teaching the arts and that there hadbeen a reduction in arts components, including music,while there had been an increase in the mathematicsand science components. A similar situation can alsobe found in the HKSAR context (Chan & Leong, 2006).This has created limited levels of confidence in musicteaching in both the East and the West (Ebbeck &Yim, 2007; Russell-Bowie, 2001). Hence professionaldevelopment for teachers can be a way for them toincrease their music education understanding.This study used a cross-cultural approach to broaden ourunderstanding of early childhood teachers’ professionaldevelopment in music in both the East and the West.Such a study could also deepen understanding ofcultural traditions, adding new insights for the earlychildhood music field.A research studyThis study was designed to examine and compareearly childhood teachers’ views and involvement inprofessional development in music in the HKSAR andSouth Australia. The two research questions were:1. What are early childhood teachers’ levels ofinvolvement in professional development in musicin HKSAR and South Australia?2. Are there any relationships between early childhoodteachers’ levels of involvement in professionaldevelopment in music and their cultural contexts?SampleParticipants in the research were 62 generalist earlychildhood teachers in seven childcare centres in HKSARand South Australia. These participants were not musicspecialists. The average class size in HKSAR was 30,with children aged 3–5 years. The teacher–child ratiowas 1:15. The average class size in South Australia was20, with children aged 3–5 years, and a staff–child ratioof 1:10. Teacher-participants were distributed with 38teachers from three childcare centres in HKSAR and 24teachers from four childcare centres in South Australia.Teacher-participants were selected by conveniencesampling (Cohen, Manion, & Morrison, 2007; Collins,Onwuegbuzie, & Jiao, 2006; Kumar, 2011). All teacherparticipantshad experience in conducting and/orsupporting group musical activities with children intheir centres. All centres were community-based in themetropolitan areas and were selected for the purpose ofminimising any possible organisational and geographic75Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

impact within each cultural context. In addition, theagreement of these teacher-participants and theircentres to participate voluntarily in the research alsocontributed to the sample selection.MethodThe overall study used a mixed mode researchapproach but this paper reports on the quantitative dataonly (Brewer & Hunter, 1989; Creswell, 1994; Johnson& Christensen, 2004; Tashakkori & Teddlie, 1998,2003). A research instrument named the Teachers’Music Development Scale (TMDS) was devised by thefirst researcher to collect quantitative data. The 6-itemscale is intended to measure teachers’ involvement inprofessional music development. The six items are:i. Attending music-related workshop(s)/seminar(s)/conference(s)ii. Reading music-related book(s)/article(s)/website(s)iii. Watching music-related video(s)/TV program(s)iv. Discussing music-related topic(s) with colleague(s)or friend(s)v. Practising music performance skill(s)vi. Collecting music-related teaching material(s).The statement on TMDS is ‘Please indicate below anyparticipation in the following activities in the past year’.Teacher-participants expressed their involvement inprofessional music development on a 4-point Likerttypescale that ranges from 1 (Never) to 4 (Always).TMDS was translated into the Chinese language fromits initial English version for teachers in HKSAR by usinga blind-back-translation strategy (Bracken & Barona,1991). The average percentage of match betweenthe two versions of TMDS was 94 per cent, which isconsidered acceptable (Brislin, 1980). The scale wasalso pilot-tested on five teachers, using conveniencesampling in each cultural context, resulting in noamendment.Within the current data set, an explanatory factoranalysis based on data from 62 teachers from bothHKSAR and South Australia samples retained onefactor solution that explained 36.8 per cent of thetotal variance extracted. Table 1 represents the factorloadings of this analysis.The reliability of TMDS using Cronbach o( was 0.60for HKSAR and 0.68 for South Australia. The overallreliability for both HKSAR and South Australian samples(n = 62) using Cronbach o( was 0.65. Such reliabilitylevels were just below optimal, but were still deemedto be acceptable.Table 1.Exploratory factor analysis of TMDSFactor/statement6 Collecting music-related teachingmaterial(s)2 Reading music-related book(s)/article(s)/website(s)3 Watching music-related video(s)/TVprogram(s)4 Discussing music-related topic(s)with colleague or friend(s)Factorloadings0.750.720.620.535 Practising music performance skill(s) 0.531 Attending music-related0.45workshop(s)/conference(s)Eigen value 2.21Note: n = 62ResultsFigure 1 shows that teachers in South Australia tendedto have higher levels of engagement in five of thesix types of professional development in music thanteachers in HKSAR. From the study, the most populartype of professional development in music amongteacher-participants in HKSAR was ‘Reading books/articles/websites’. In South Australia, ‘watching videos/TV programs’ was the most popular type. Coincidently,in both HKSAR and South Australia, ‘attending musicrelatedworkshops/seminars/conferences’ was theleast popular professional development type, althoughit is usually recognised as the most common mode ofprofessional development.Figure 1.HKSAR and South Australian teachers’engagement in professional developmentin music76Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Table 2. Mean differences between HKSAR and South Australian teachers’ engagement in professionaldevelopment in musicVariables/statisticAttending music-related workshop(s)/seminar(s)/conference(s)Reading music-related book(s)/article(s)/website(s)Watching music-related video(s)/TV program(s)Discussing music-related topic(s) withcolleague(s) or friend(s)Practising/acquiring music performance skill(s)Collecting music-related teaching material(s)CulturalcontextsHKSARSouth AustraliaHKSARSouth AustraliaHKSARSouth AustraliaHKSARSouth AustraliaHKSARSouth AustraliaHKSARSouth Australian M SD F (1, 60) d3824382438243824382438241.661.462.242.292.162.961.972.711.682.171.872.040.480.660.850.810.720.760.550.690.700.870.780.811.90 0.350.06 –0.0617.67* –1.0821.72* –1.195.78* –0.621.16 –0.21Note: n = 62, *p < 0.05. df = (1, 60). All means were expressed out of 4. d represents Cohen’s effect size(Cohen, 1960).One-way ANOVA analysis (Table 2) further showedthat significant differences were found in three typesof professional development between the two culturalcontexts: (1) Watching music-related video(s)/TVprogram(s); (2) Discussing music-related topic(s) withcolleague(s) or friend(s); (3) Practising music performanceskill(s). Such findings imply relationships betweenteachers’ cultural contexts and their involvement inprofessional music development.Figure 2. Mean differences between HKSAR and SouthAustralian teachers’ overall involvement inprofessional development in music.Figure 2 further indicated that teachers in South Australiahad a higher overall level of involvement in professionaldevelopment in music than teachers in HKSAR. Anindependent sample T-test analysis showed that such adifference was significant, F (1, 60) = .12, p > 0.01, d =–0.80, between teachers in HKSAR (n = 38, M = 11.58,SD = 2.23) and teachers in South Australia (n = 24, M= 13.67, SD = 2.94). This finding implies a relationshipbetween teachers’ cultural contexts and their overallinvolvement in professional music development.77Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Discussion and implicationsResults showed that ‘reading books/articles/websites’was the most popular type of professional developmentin music among teacher-participants in HKSAR. In SouthAustralia, ‘watching videos/TV programs’ was the mostpopular type. Among the six types of professionaldevelopment in music as indicated in TMDS, significantfindings were found in three professional developmentactivities in music between the two cultural contexts:1) Watching music-related video(s)/TV program(s);2) Discussing music-related topic(s) with colleague(s) orfriend(s); and 3) Practising music performance skill(s).Reading music-related books/journals/websitesWithin HKSAR, ‘reading music-related books/journals/websites’ was found to be the most popular type ofprofessional development in music among teacherparticipants.Reading is widely recognised as a usefulway for teachers to acquire individually appropriateknowledge and/or to reflect on their teaching practices.The importance of reading can be mentally visualised inthe Chinese proverb ‘A book holds a house of gold’ andthe German proverb ‘A book is like a garden carried inthe pocket’ (sources unknown). Researchers also foundthat reading professional magazines, journals and othermaterials can have a positive impact on teaching practices(Campbell & St J. Neill, 1994; Herzog & Koll, 1990; Smith& Lev-Ari, 2005). Nevertheless, Commeyras and DeGroff(1998) remind us that teachers may generally tend toread practitioner-focused journal articles, books andprofessional newspapers rather than research journals orelectronic resources.In HKSAR, however, there seems to be a lack of localisedand regularly published practitioner magazines/journals/books/websites, particularly in early childhood musiceducation. Most of the available music-related websitesare mainly based on Western contexts (e.g. www.isme.org; www.vosa.org). Even though one might argue that,while Chinese professional magazines/reading materialsare available from Taiwan and mainland China, both thelocalisation and heterogeneity of teaching materials shouldstill be a main goal for enhancing the quality of education.In addition to the translated materials from Westernresources, there is a need for more culturally relevantaudio and/or visual materials for local teachers in HKSAR.In South Australia, comparatively speaking, localised (e.g.Kazimierczak, 2004) and/or up-to-date country-wide musicreading materials (e.g. Russell-Bowie, 2008) are moreavailable to practitioners. However, the present studyshowed that reading professional materials may not bea popular activity for South Australian early childhoodteachers. No significant difference was found in thismatter between HKSAR and South Australia. Therefore,an examination of possible cause and consequence ofSouth Australian early childhood teachers’ professionalreading habits may be needed.Watching music-related videos/TVThe research found a relationship between teachers’cultural contexts and their involvement in ‘watchingmusic-related videos/TV’ as professional musicdevelopment. South Australian teachers had asignificantly higher level of engagement in ‘watchingmusic-related videos/TV’ than did those in HKSAR.Such a cultural difference may be because of thegreater availability of music-related TV programsfor adults in Australia. In South Australia, during theresearch period (academic year of 2007–2008), musicrelatedTV programs for adults such as Australian Idol,Dancing with the Stars, So You Think You Can Danceand It Takes Two were regularly available in free localTV channels. In 2008, besides the aforementionedongoing programs, Battle of the Choirs was also ontelevision during prime time in South Australia. Allthese music-related programs not only entertain thegeneral public, but also popularise music among thelocals by broadening South Australians’ understandingof musical genres and repertoires. In fact, watchingTV is the most popular leisure activity for Australians.A report (ABS, 2008, paragraph 4) showed that 87per cent of Australians watched TV for an average ofnearly three hours (179 minutes) per day (down slightlyfrom the 1997 figure of 182 minutes). Such a statisticsupports the results of this study that ‘watching videos/TV’ is Australian teachers’ most popular activity forprofessional music development. Watching video/TV programs has indeed been recognised as oneof the appropriate types of teachers’ professionaldevelopment (Villegas-Reimers, 2003).In HKSAR, relatively speaking, music-related TVprograms for adults during the research period werefewer. Programs are generally produced with thepurpose either solely for fun/entertainment (e.g.Minutes to Fame or Jade Solid Gold) or for professionals(Asian Youth Orchestra Hong Kong Concert 2006, ArtOdyssey or Young Chinese Performers). Although onemay argue that TV programs in-between these twoextremes are still available (e.g. We are the UnitedAsian by Radio Television of Hong Kong RTHK), thesetypes of programs are generally not shown on a regularbasis nor in prime time when local early childhoodteachers could easily access them. Moreover,statistically speaking, HKSAR people spend less timewatching television (162 minutes per day) (Censusand Statistics Department HKSAR, 2003, p. 21) than isdone in South Australia. A recent research study (Lee,Chang, Chung, Dickie, & Selker, 2007) confirmed thattelevision is still ‘one of the most popular entertainmentresources in the modern life. TV is a machine activelyparticipating in our daily life and providing information’(p. 329). The term ‘information’ may further indicateknowledge for teachers’ professional development inmusic. Also, watching educationally relevant television78Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

can be regarded as one of the informal experiencesof professional development for teachers (Ganser,2000). Therefore, television producers in both culturalcontexts should consider the possible direct andindirect impact of music-related TV programs on earlychildhood teachers’ professional development.Discussing music-related topics with friends/colleaguesThe present research found a relationship betweenteachers’ cultural contexts and their involvementin ‘discussing music-related topics with friends/colleagues’ as professional music development.These topics include their music teaching and learningexperiences with young children, and their personalmusical experiences. Such discussions enable teachersto share their music-related experiences and ideas ina socially interactive and peer-supportive environment.Results showed that South Australian teachers hadsignificantly higher levels of engagement in ‘discussingmusic-related topics with friends/colleagues’ than didthose in HKSAR. Such a finding may be owing to thedifferent work arrangement between the two culturalcontexts. In South Australia, early childhood teacherswithin the selected centres in this study were allocatedspecific and clear personal break times (e.g. morning/afternoon coffee breaks and lunch times) duringwork time. Teachers, therefore, were provided withopportunities to interact with colleagues/friends.Within the selected centres in HKSAR, however, suchbreaks were relatively few and unspecified. Becauseof the invisible pressure from the overloaded timetablefor children and their administrative workload, HKSARteachers rarely interact with colleagues during workinghours, except at formal staff meetings. As well as thisdifferent work arrangement between the two culturalcontexts, research by McAllister and Irvine (2000) andTang (1996) shows that ‘discussion’ is a relatively morecommon learning mode in the West than in the East.Another research study based on the Australian and Asiancontexts also provides similar findings (Ramburuth &McCormick, 2001). Therefore a short break with a cup ofcoffee/tea seems not only to be important for teachers’wellbeing but may also be indirectly beneficial tochildren’s musical learning. There is a need to encourageand to strengthen a discussion-based culture among earlychildhood teachers in both cultural contexts, especiallyas researchers (Atherton, 1999; Bransford, Brown, &Cocking, 1999; Halstead & Taylor, 2000) have found thatsuch a learning mode is effective and efficient.Practicing musical skillsThe present research found a relationship betweenteachers’ cultural contexts and their involvement in‘practising musical skills’ as a form of professionaldevelopment. South Australian teachers had significantlyhigher levels of engagement in ‘practising music-relatedskills’ than did those in HKSAR. Such a cultural differencemay be because of South Australian teachers’ morefrequent opportunities to interact with professionalmusicians. In SA, inviting professional music performers tocentres is quite a common practice. Teachers are not onlyencouraged to interact with professional performers, butare also able to learn musical skills from them. Welch andAdams (2003) confirmed that the learning of musical skillscan be enhanced by ‘appropriate guidance and feedbackfrom an “expert” teacher’, and ‘expert’ teaching could befrom ‘a peer, a specialist music teacher or just someonewho is more expert in a particular aspect of music’ (p. 10).Although practice is likely to have the greatest benefitwhen it is regular, systematic and structured, Green(2001) indicated that musical skill can also be developedand practised informally.In HKSAR, however, inviting ‘expert’ music performers tocome to childcare centres is relatively uncommon withinthe selected centres owing to more limited resources andnetworks. One may argue that there are some availablelinks between local ‘expert’ music organisations andeducational settings, such as the recent program entitledHSBC Insurance Creative Notes 09/10 by the Hong KongPhilharmonic Orchestra (2009). Similar arguments can befound in recent research by local educators who identifiedseveral available professional outreach and/or school-visitprograms in HKSAR (Ho & Law, 2009). Nevertheless,these ‘music-in-education’ programs by professionalmusicians mainly focus on students and/or teachers inlocal primary or secondary educational settings.ConclusionThis cross-cultural study has shown that early childhoodteachers are interested in and benefit from undertakingprofessional development which can extend theirgeneralist training in music. It has identified thesimilarities and differences in music professionaldevelopment in the cultures studied and highlightedteachers’ differing needs for increasing their musicskills. The study affirms the need for more researchin and support for the provision of skilled and expertmodels for early childhood teachers in order to supportthe development of their musical skills. Such researchcould include replicating the study presented here witha larger sample and investigating further the musiceducation components of pre-service early childhoodteacher training programs in Australia.In addition, a better allocation of resources for facilitatingteachers’ engagement in professional dialogue withthese skilled and expert models, both inside andoutside childcare centres, may also be desirable. Musicprofessional development will continue to be importantfor the early childhood field and needs constantupdating.79Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

ReferencesAtherton, J. (1999). Resistance to learning: a discussion based onparticipants in in-service professional training programmes. Journalof Vocational Education and Training, 51(1), 77–90.Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS). (2008). 4172.0 - Arts andCulture in Australia: A Statistical Overview, 2008 Retrieved 31August, 2008, from http://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs@.nsf/Products/98DC120893DF9897CA2574520010720A?opendocument.Baker, F., & Mackinlay, E. (2006). Sing, soothe and sleep: A lullabyeducation programme for first-time mothers. British Journal ofMusic Education, 23, 147–160.Balaban, M. T., Anderson, L. M., & Wisniewski, A. B. (1998).Lateral asymmetries in infant melody perception. DevelopmentalPsychology, 34, 39–48.Ball, D., & Cohen, D. (1999). Developing practice, developingpractitioners: Toward a practice-based theory of professionaleducation. In L. Darling-Hammond & G. Sykes (Eds.), Teaching asthe Learning Profession: Handbook of Policy and Practice (pp.3–32). San Francisco, CA: Jossey Bass.Barrett, J. R. (2006). Recasting professional development for musicteachers in an era of reform. Arts Education Policy Review,107(6), 19–28.Bauer, W. I. (2007). Research on professional developmentfor experienced music teachers. Journal of Music TeacherEducation, 17(1), 12–21.Bauer, W. I., Reese, S., & McAllister, P. A. (2003). Transforming musicteaching via technology:The role of professional development.Journal of Research in Music Education, 51(4), 289–301.Bowles, C. L. (2003). The self-expressed professional developmentneeds of music educators. Update: Applications of Research inMusic Education, 21(1), 24-–28.Bracken, B. A., & Barona, A. (1991). State of the art procedures fortranslating, validating, and using psycho-educational tests in crossculturalassessment. School Psychology International, 12, 119–132.Bransford, J. D., Brown, A. L., & Cocking, R. R. (1999). How peoplelearn: Brain, mind, experience, and school. Washington, DC:National Research Council.Brewer, J., & Hunter, A. (1989). Multimethod research: Asynthesis of styles. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.Brislin, R. W. (1980). Translation and content analysis of oral andwritten material. In H. Triandis & J. W. Berry (Eds.), Handbook ofCross-cultural Psychology (Vol. 2, pp. 389–444). Boston: Allyn andBacon.Campbell, R. J., & St J. Neill, S. R. (1994). Primary Teachers atWork. London; New York: Routledge.Census and Statistics Department HKSAR. (2003). ThematicHousehold Survey Report No. 14 Retrieved 31 August, 2008, fromhttp://www.censtatd.gov.hk/freedownload.jsp?file=publication/stat_report/social_data/B11302142003XXXXB0100.pdf&title=Thematic+Household+Survey+Report+-+Report+No.14&issue=-&lang=1&c=1.Chan, W. C. W., & Leong, S. (2006, July). Innovative vision for earlychildhood music teacher education in Hong Kong:perspectivesof preschool principals, teachers and preschool teachereducators on education reform. Paper presented at the 27thWorld Conference of the International Society of Music Education,Kuala Lumpur:University of Technology Mara.Clark, P., & Huber, L. (2005). Enhancing early childhood teachergrowth and development through professional development schoolpartnerships. Journal of Early Childhood Teacher Education,26(2), 179–186.Cochran-Smith, M., & Lytle, S. (1993). Inside/outside: Teacherresearch and knowledge. New York: Teachers College Press.Cohen, J. (1960). A coefficient for agreement for nominal scales.Education and Psychological Measurement, 20, 37–46.Cohen, L., Manion, L., & Morrison, K. (2007). Research methodsin education (Vol. 6th). London: Routledge.Collins, K. M. T., Onwuegbuzie, A. J., & Jiao, Q. G. (2006).Prevalence of mixed-methods sampling designs in social scienceresearch. Evaluation and Research in Education, 19(2), 83–101.Commeyras, M., & DeGroff, L. (1998). Literacy professionals’perspectives on professional development and pedagogy: A UnitedStates survey. Reading Research Quarterly, 33(4), 434–472.Commonwealth of Australia. (2010). Early Childhood: PolicyAgenda Retrieved 05 May, 2010, from http://www.deewr.gov.au/EarlyChildhood/Policy_Agenda/Pages/home.aspx.Conway, C. M., Hibbard, S., Albert, D., & Hourigan, R. (2005).Voices of music teachers regarding professional development.Arts Education Policy Review, 107(1), 11–14.Conway, C. M., Hibbard, S. A., Dan, & Hourigan, R. (2005).Professional development for arts teachers. Arts Education PolicyReview, 107(1), 3–10.Creswell, J. W. (1994). Research design: Qualitative andquantitative approaches. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.David, T. (2004, 23–25 September). Questions of Quality: TheContribution of Research Evidence to Definitions of Quality inEarly Childhood Education and Care Practice. Paper presentedat the Centre for Early Childhood Development and Education(CECDE) Conference ‘Questions of Quality’, Dublin Castle.de Vries, P. (2004). The extramusical effects on music lessons onpreschoolers. Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 29(2), 6–10.de Vries, P. (2007, 2–4 July). ‘I do music with my children because...’. Paper presented at the XXIXth AARME Annual Conference:Music Education Research, Values and Initiatives, Melbourne.Department of Education Employment and Workplace Relations(DEEWR). (2009). Belonging, Being & Becoming: The EarlyYears Learning Framework for Australia. Canberra: DEEWR.Department of Education Training and Employment (DETE). (2001).South Australian Curriculum, Standards and AccountabilityFramework (SACSA). Adelaide, South Australia: DETE Publishing.Diaz-Maggioli, G. (2004). Teacher-centered professionaldevelopment. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision andCurriculum Development.Ebbeck, M., & McDowall, J. (2003). Making the arts comealive through active researching. Asia-Pacific Journal for ArtsEducation, 2(1), 3–17.Ebbeck, M., & Yim, H. Y. B. (2007, 26 March). Music in EarlyChildhood Education: Teachers’ level of confidence and happiness.Paper presented at the de Lissa Centenary Public Conference,University of South Australia, Adelaide, South Australia.Education and Manpower Bureau HKSAR. (2006). Guide to thepre-primary curriculum. Hong Kong: The Curriculum DevelopmentCouncil.Education Bureau. (2008a). Guidance notes on completing theteacher development plan for 2008/09 school year Retrieved25 October, 2008, from http://www.edb.gov.hk/FileManager/EN/Content_5828/0809tdp_gn_e.pdf.Education Bureau. (2008b). Pre-primary education voucherscheme Retrieved 10 September, 2008, from http://www.edb.gov.hk/index.aspx?nodeid=5792&langno=1.80Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Ganser, T. (2000). An ambitious vision of professional developmentfor teachers. NASSP Bulletin, 84(618), 6–12.Girolametto, L., & Weitzman, E. (2007). Promoting peer interactionskills: Professional development for early childhood educators andpreschool teachers. Topics in Language Disorders, 27(2), 93–110.Green, L. (2001). How popular musicians learn. Aldershot: Ashgate.Gruenhagen, L. M. (2007). Investigating professionaldevelopment: Early childhood music teacher learning in acommunity of practice. Doctoral dissertation, University ofRochester, Rochester, New York.Halstead, J. M., & Taylor, M. J. (2000). Learning and teachingabout values: A review of recent research. Cambridge Journal ofEducation, 30(2), 169–202.Herzog, B., & Koll, P. (1990). The practitioner’s perspective. In P.Burke, R. Heideman & C. Heideman (Eds.), Programming for staffdevelopment: Fanning the flame (pp. 68–86). New York: FalmerPress.Ho, W. C., & Law, W. W. (2009). Sociopolitical culture andschool music education in Hong Kong. British Journal of MusicEducation, 26(1), 71–84.Ho, Y. C., Cheung, M. C., & Chan, A. S. (2003). Music trainingimproves verbal but not visual memory: Cross-sectional andlongitudinal explorations in children. Neuropsychology, 17(3),439–450.Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra. (2009). Education: HSBCInsurance Creative Notes 09/10 Retrieved 5 May 2010, fromhttp://www.hkpo.com/eng/education_outreach/education_programmes/hsbc_creative_notes.jsp.Johnson, R. B., & Christensen, L. B. (2004). Educational research:Quantitative, qualitative, and mixed approaches. Boston, MA:Allyn and Bacon.Kazimierczak, P. (2004). Simply music!: innovative musicexperiences for children under five. Croydon, VIC: Tertiary Press.Kerchner, J. L., & Abril, C. R. (Eds.). (2009). Musical experiencein our lives: Things we learn and meanings we make. Lanham:Rowman & Littlefield Education.Koutsoupidou, T. (2010). Initial music training of generalistkindergarten teachers in Greece: What do they ask for and whatdo they receive? Arts Education Policy Review, 111(2), 63–70.Kumar, R. (2011). Research methodology: A step-by-step guide forbeginners (3rd ed.). Frenchs Forest, N.S.W.: Pearson Longman.Lee, C. H. J., Chang, C., Chung, H., Dickie, C., & Selker, T. (2007,January). Emotionally reactive television. Paper presented atthe 12th International Conference on Intelligent User Interfacesarchive, Honolulu, Hawaii, USA.Lobman, C., Ryan, S., McLaughlin, J., & Ackerman, D. J.(2004). Educating preschool reachers: Mapping the teacherpreparation and professional development system in NewJersey. Retrieved 25 October, 2008, from http://www.fcd-us.org/usr_doc/EducatingPreschoolTeachers.pdf.McAllister, G., & Irvine, J. J. (2000). Cross cultural competency andmulticultural teacher education. Review of Educational Research,70(1), 3–27.McAlpine, L., & Harris, R. (2002). Evaluating teaching effectivenessand teaching improvement: A language for institutional policiesand academic development practices. International Journal forAcademic Development, 7(1), 7–17.National Association for the Education Young Children (NAEYC).(2003). Early childhood curriculum, assessment and programevaluation Retrieved 29 March, 2010, from http://www.naeyc.org/.Nieto, S. (2003a). Challenging current notions of “highly qualifiedteachers” through work in a teachers’ inquiry group. Journal ofTeacher Education, 54(5), 386–398.Nieto, S. (2003b). What keeps teachers going? New York:Teachers College Press.Olson, G. B. (Ed.). (1987). Music teacher education: Partnershipand process (a Report by the Task Force on Music TeacherEducation for the Nineties). Reston. VA: Music Educators NationalConference.Ramburuth, P., & McCormick, J. (2001). Learning diversity inhigher education: A comparative study of Asian international andAustralian students. Higher Education, 42, 333–350.Russell-Bowie, D. (2001, December). Student teachers’perceptions of anxiety and confidence in relation to musiceducation. Paper presented at the Australian Association forResearch in Education, Fremantle, Australia.Russell-Bowie, D. (2008). MMADD about the arts!: anintroduction to primary arts education (2nd ed.). Frenchs Forest,NSW: Pearson Education Australia.San, M. M. (1999). Japanese beginning teachers’ perceptionsof their preparation and professional development. Journal ofEducation for Teaching, 25(1), 17–29.Smith, K., & Lev-Ari, L. (2005). The place of the practicum in preserviceteacher education: The voice of the students. Asia-PacificJournal of Teacher Education, 33(3), 289–302.Student Financial Assistance Agency. (2008). Pre-primaryEducation Voucher Scheme Retrieved 10 September, 2008,from http://www.sfaa.gov.hk/eng/schemes/pevs.htm.Tang, C. (1996). Collaborative learning: The latent dimension inChinese students’ learning. In D. A. Watkins & J. B. Biggs (Eds.),The Chinese learner: Cultural, psychological and contextualinfluences (pp. 183–204). Hong Kong: CERC and ACER.Tashakkori, A., & Teddlie, C. (1998). Mixed methodology:Combining qualitative and quantitative approaches. ThousandOaks, Calif.: Sage.Tashakkori, A., & Teddlie, C. (2003). Handbook of mixed methodsin aocial and behavioral research. London: Sage.Villegas-Reimers, E. (2003). Teacher professional development:An international review of the literature. Paris: InternationalInstitute for Educational Planning.Walls, K. C. (2008). Distance learning in graduate music teachereducation: Promoting professional development and satisfaction ofmusic teachers. Journal of Music Teacher Education, 18(1), 55–66.Welch, G. F., & Adams, P. (2003). How is music learningcelebrated and developed? Southwell, Notts: British EducationalRresearch Association.Wonkling, S. W., & Henry, W. (1999). Professional developmentpartnerships: A new model for music teacher preparation. ArtsEducation Policy Review, 100(4), 19–23.Young, S., Street, A., & Davies, E. (2007). The Music One-to-Oneproject: Developing approaches to music with parents and undertwo-year-olds.European Early Childhood Education ResearchJournal, 15(2), 253–267.81Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Assisting infants to achieve self-regulated sleep:The KIDSCODE® Baby ProcessLisa FordThe KIDSCODE® Baby Process is a three-day, in-home intervention aimed atassisting parents to support their infant in developing self-regulation and achievingsleep easily. The program also aims to help parents to reduce their own stress,anxiety and depressive symptoms. This pilot study evaluated the outcomes of theKIDSCODE® Baby Process for families with an infant sleep problem. Ten families withan infant aged between six weeks and 15 months participated. Findings indicate that,after completing the KIDSCODE® Baby Process, infant night-time sleep increasedsignificantly in quantity. Infant sleep was also found to improve in quality. One weekafter the intervention, the number of night wakings, the number of aids needed tosettle to sleep, and the time taken to settle infants to sleep had all reduced significantly.Parents were able to maintain these changes over time. Following intervention,mothers also had significantly more sleep, and stress, anxiety and depression reducedsignificantly for both mothers and fathers over the month following intervention.IntroductionInfant sleep disturbance is one of the most commoncomplaints of parents (Boyle & Cropley, 2004). Jenniand O’Connor (2005) propose that many problemswith infant sleep are based on culturally constructeddefinitions and resulting parent expectations, and arenot necessarily based in sleep biology. Across differentcultures, ideas vary about how, where and why infantsshould sleep. As a result of these differences, muchof what is considered problematic sleep behaviour isproblematic only in relation to society’s expectations(McKenna, 2000). Jenni and O’Connor posit thatcultural norms interact with sleep biology to determinethe boundaries between ‘normal’ and ‘problematic’sleep. They consider sleep to be a biologically drivenbehaviour shaped and interpreted by cultural values andthe beliefs of the parents.Culture guides parental decisions regarding infantsleep. In turn, parental decisions influence infant sleepbehaviour, including arousal, sensitivity to the mothers’presence, amount of sleep, night-time crying, and theuse of transitional objects (aids) (McKenna, 2000).The expectations of infant sleep in the Western worldmay be further contributing to sleep problems, asparents feel a powerful concern for what looks morallyacceptable (McCune, Richardson & Powell, 1984) andthus put further pressure on themselves and theirinfant to conform to cultural expectations. McKenna(2000) reports that the rigidity with which parents aresocialised to hold on to infant sleep expectations canactually predict the relative likelihood that infant sleepproblems will manifest themselves.Frequent night waking and difficulties falling asleep arethe infant sleep problems most commonly reported byparents (Jenni & O’Connor, 2005). While definitions varyas to what constitutes a problem in sleep behaviour, it isclear, from research into infant sleep in the Western world,that, if untreated, sleep problems can become chronic,with implications for the mental health and wellbeingof the child. Frequent and disruptive night-waking latein the first year of life has been found to predict sleepproblems at age three, which are in turn related to otherbehavioural problems at that age (Baird, Hill, Kendrick &Inskip, 2009). Sleep disturbances have been found to bestrongly associated with a variety of childhood problems,including other behavioural problems (O’Brien & Gozal,2004), poorer neuro-behavioural functioning (Sadeh,2004) and poorer intellectual and academic functioning inolder children (Buckhalt, El-Sheikh, Keller & Kelly, 2009).Child sleep problems have also been shown to haverelationships with depressive and anxiety disorders,autism and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder82Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

(Buckhalt et al., 2009). Reduced quality and quantityof sleep can also have important implications foremotional development. Children with sleep disordersoften manifest a wide range of emotional problemsincluding disturbed mood (Sadeh, 2007).In addition to the many detrimental effects that sleepdifficulties can have on a young child’s development,infant sleep problems also have implications for thehealth and wellbeing of parents. Frequent infantnight-waking disrupts parent sleep, which can inturn predict maternal mood, stress and fatigue. Thedifficulties of mothers who are already vulnerable toanxiety and depression are exacerbated if they are alsodeprived of sleep (Baird et al., 2009). However, therelationship between infant sleep and parent stressand psychopathology is often bi-directional. Infantsleep is vulnerable to stress and trauma (Sadeh, 1996)and particularly so to familial stressors (Field, 1991).Sneddon (2007) claims that maternal depression,parent and family stress, and stress in parent–childrelationships are all likely contribute to, and maintain,sleep disturbance in children. Maternal psychopathy,insecure attachment and separation difficulties havealso been linked to infant sleep problems (Dennis &Ross, 2005; Van Tassel, 1985). Scher (2008) found thatmothers’ anxiety at separation contributed significantlyto infant night-waking of 10-month-olds, even after thechild’s fussiness was controlled.One way parent stress and coping may impact oninfant sleep is by shaping parent thoughts and resultingbehaviours. Tikotzky and Sadeh (2009) report significantpredictive and concomitant links between maternalthoughts and infant sleep, and proposed that this link ismediated through how parents interact with their child.These authors found that, when mothers’ thoughtsemphasised infant distress, they were more involvedin their infant’s settling-to-sleep routine and used moreactive soothing techniques, including touching, talking,nursing and feeding to sleep. The use of more activesoothing techniques was in turn related to poorerinfant sleep. These findings highlight the importanceof addressing parental thinking patterns in clinicalinterventions of sleep-disturbed infants, particularlyin terms of how these patterns influence parentinvolvement in sleep-settling routines.Some parents find it difficult to balance their infant’sneed for proximity and the infant’s need to developseparateness and autonomy, and thus can adopt anunbalanced approach of either over-involvement oravoidance. Over-involvement can create dependency,and interference with the development of selfregulatoryskills in infants (Calkins, Hungerford &Dedmon, 2004; Egeland, Pianta & O’Brien, 1993).It has also been shown that infants’ sleep canimprove dramatically when parents reduce theirbedtime involvement (Sadeh, 2005). However, thereremains current debate about the consequences ofsuch interventions for the infants’ social-emotionaldevelopment (Tikotzky & Sadeh, 2009). McKenna andVolpe (2007) suggest that expecting infants to selfregulatemay not support the infant’s basic biologicaland emotional needs. It appears what is needed is away to achieve a balance of involvement that maintainsa sense of security for both parent and infant duringbedtime interactions. Jenni and O’Connor (2005) reportthat current clinical recommendations are based onchanging infant or parent behaviours (such as reducingparental involvement at bedtime) and can fail to find abalance between the needs of the child and the needsof the parents.The KIDSCODE® Baby ProcessOne intervention which attempts to address the balanceof parental involvement and help infants to achieveself-regulated sleep is the KIDSCODE® Baby Process.This infant sleep intervention aims to assist parents tounderstand and change their cognitions and interactionsin order to create change in their infant’s ability to selfregulateand transition to sleep independently, while stillfeeling secure. This reference to independent transitionto sleep describes the infant’s ability to fall asleepwithout dependence on parent proximity or activesoothing. The program involves three full days of in-hometherapy, which allows the parents time to experiencethe changes in their infant’s behaviour as they changetheir own thought processes and behaviours. Parentsalso receive face-to-face and telephone support in themonths afterwards. In order to ensure the emotionalsafety of families struggling with their infant’s sleepbehaviour, the intervention process can be facilitatedonly by practitioners trained in KIDSCODE®.The KIDSCODE® Baby Process is theoretically basedon the premise that, from birth, children have an innateability to learn and adapt to their environment (Roberts,1999). Grace-Baron, Lipsitt and Goodwin (2006) agreethat all human beings manifest reflexes, learningcapacities, motivations and propensity for avoidance.Only in Western cultures are infants thought to needto ‘learn’ to sleep (McKenna, 2000). KIDSCODE® triesto establish a balance of parental involvement, in orderto allow the child to develop self-regulatory skills, anduse their innate intelligence in regard to sleep and otherbehaviours. The KIDSCODE® approach aims to slowdown parent behaviour and allow parent insight into theirinteractions with their child. This allows the infant spaceto self-regulate, and access their innate feed-sleep-playcycle, which in turn facilitates calmer infant behaviour.The past two decades have seen the emergence ofa focus on the role of cognitions in family life, withincreasing exploration of the links between cognitions,83Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

actions and emotions of family members (Tikotzky &Sadeh, 2009). The KIDSCODE® process looks at howthese cognitions in family life can impact on infantbehaviours and self-regulation.The KIDSCODE® program comprises an adult moduleand an infant module. Parents are introduced to thesemodules over the three days of in-home therapy andexperience the changes that occur as the principles areapplied to daily life.Parent moduleParents are first guided through the adult module whichhelps them to change their behaviours in order to createa balanced and calm approach to interactions withtheir child. This then allows the child space to navigatesituations independently, using their innate intelligencerather than relying on parental involvement. The aim isto reduce interactions between parent and child whichresult from anxiety, stress or unhelpful thoughts. Thepractitioner draws a model which shows parents thedifference in themselves and their interactions whentheir thoughts are calm. Parents also see how theiractions change when they are anxious and how theirbaby responds to this. The model is easily applied todaily life so that parents can monitor and respond to theirstress levels and anxieties and learn to develop calmwithin themselves and their interactions. Over the threedays, parents have many opportunities to observe themodel in practice, and to see and feel their own anxietywhen their baby isn’t settling. Through the process,parents begin to see how their thoughts are affectingthe situation, and as a result choose to make changes.Infant moduleThe KIDSCODE® process also incorporates an infantcomponent which provides parents with a series ofstrategies for responding calmly to their child’s sleepingdifficulties and behaviours without causing dependenceon the parent. The process provides a series of kinestheticstrategies that allow the parents to connect to the infantand support their child in achieving sleep independentlywhile still feeling supported. The process also addressesany problems with feeding and crying. Which strategiesare used and how often depends on the baby and howanxious, and how resistant to being calm they are.The process claims it does not focus on addingtools and instructions but rather on removing excessstimulation. Throughout the three days, parents learnhow their baby experiences sensory overload fromtoo much stimulation, and how to help them restorecalm. Harkness, Super, Keefer, van Tijen and van derVlugt (1995) found that Dutch babies slept an averageof two hours longer than American infants. Theauthors attribute this difference to the social valuesthat underlie infant sleep: while Dutch parents believechildren must not be over-stimulated during the day ornight, American parents worry that their children are notgetting enough stimulation. Harkness et al. also foundthat parent–infant sleep struggles common amongAmerican families were not as familiar to the Dutch.Assisting sleepThe process acknowledges that some amount ofnight-waking and difficulty settling is normal. It alsoacknowledges that use of aids can assist sleeptransitions. In fact, in Western cultures the use oftransitional objects is considered a natural stage throughwhich most children pass (Jenni and O’Connor, 2005).While definitions of sleep problems will vary from parentto parent, and from culture to culture, KIDSCODE®posits that, if parents are finding sleep behaviour to beinterfering significantly with child and family functioning,and the parent is concerned enough to ask for help, thena problem exists for that family. The Baby Process is allabout restoring balance so that parents feel they cancope, rather than trying to completely eliminate sleepbehaviours such as night-waking and use of aids.KIDSCODE® founder, occupational therapist JennyRoberts, claims the program cannot be learned from a bookor a website; it must be experienced. Every parent andchild has different needs and the practitioner must be ableto adapt the process to meet those individual needs.While the KIDSCODE® Baby Process aims to improvethe ease with which babies get to sleep, it has not yetbeen established whether the program results in anymeasurable improvements in the amount or quality ofinfant sleep. The aim of this study was to consider theoutcomes of the KIDSCODE® Baby Process for a smallnumber of families who are having difficulty with theirinfant’s sleep; to identify whether there was increasedquantity/improved quality of sleep. The quality of thesleep was measured by considering the time taken toget to sleep, the number of aids needed to assist sleep,and the number of night-wakings.The study also aimed to identify if, following theprocess, there was a reduction in parents’ levels ofstress, anxiety and depression. As first-time mothersare particularly influenced by the quality and quantityof their infant’s sleep (Quillin & Glenn, 2004), and moresusceptible to high levels of stress (Oronoz, Alonso-Arbiol & Balluerka, 2007), only families with a first-borninfant were invited to participate in the study.MethodParticipantsTen English-speaking families with a first-born infantaged between six weeks and 15 months were invitedto participate in the study. A newspaper advertisement84Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

invited families having difficulty with their infant’ssleep to contact an independent researcher. Inclusioncriteria were then discussed over the phone in order todetermine if families were eligible.To participate, the parents must have been experiencingdifficulty settling the baby, and the baby must be unableto attain sleep without parent assistance (for example,rocking or feeding to sleep, or dependence on sleepaids). Infants also needed to meet one of the followingcriteria: only sleeps for short periods during the dayand this is problematic; wakes frequently during thenight; or has colic. Those families who indicated sleepand settling difficulties impacted so much on dailyfunctioning that they felt they were at a point of crisiswere given priority for participation.One family did not complete the one month followupdata collection as they could not be contacted, sotheir results were excluded from analyses. One singleparentfamily also participated, resulting in a total ofnine mothers and eight fathers participating for the fulllength of the study.MaterialsParents were asked to separately complete theDepression, Anxiety and Stress Scales (DASS)(Lovibond & Lovibond, 1995) to determine their generallevel of stress, anxiety and depression in the past week.The DASS is designed to measure on three scales thenegative emotional states of depression, anxiety andstress. Parents also completed the Parental StressScale (Berry & Jones, 1995) to derive a measure ofstress that is directly related to parenting their child. TheParental Stress Scale comprises 18 items representingpositive and negative themes of parenthood. Each itemis self-rated on a 5-point scale in terms of the degree towhich parents agree with that item. All item scores arethen summed to compute the Parental Stress Score.Possible scores range between 18 and 90 and higherscores indicate greater stress. The Parental StressScale has been found to have satisfactory internal(0.83) and test-retest (0.81) reliability.Mothers also completed a basic sleep diary over threedays and nights, to help monitor their infant’s sleepinghabits. Thomas and Burr (2009) suggest that a threedayperiod is optimal for reliable results. The diaryrequired parents to track the hours of night/day sleep,the aids used to help settling to sleep, and the numberof night wakings. Night sleep covered 12 hours, from7:00pm to 7:00am. Day sleep covered the period from7:00am until 7:00pm. Information about the amount ofsleep parents had, and the amount of time it took tosettle the infant to sleep, was also obtained through awritten questionnaire.ProceduresThis study received ethical approval from the TasmanianHuman Research Ethics Committee, constituted underthe Australian National Health and Medical ResearchCouncil. All parents provided written consent forparticipation. Participating families were visited by theindependent researcher at home and completed thequestionnaires and the sleep diary one week prior tothe commencement of the KIDSCODE® Baby Process.Parents kept the infant sleep diary over the three daysand nights following this baseline data collection.Families then completed the in-home KIDSCODE®Baby Process with a qualified practitioner (an individualtrained and licensed in the methodology of theKIDSCODE® Baby Process) over a three-day period.One week later, parents completed the same series ofquestionnaires and infant sleep diary as completed atbaseline data collection. These were completed againone month after the three-day process. This one monthfollow-up documented the sustainability of any changeswhich had occurred. All data was collected by the sameresearcher and the questionnaires were completed inthe same order for all parents.After the three-day in-home process, parents wereprovided with one month of telephone follow-upsupport by the KIDSCODE® practitioner on an as-needsbasis. This follow-up support involved the practitionercontacting the parents by telephone two weeks aftercompletion of the KIDSCODE® Baby Process todetermine how the family was coping, and answerany questions in relation to their child’s sleep. Supportwas also offered when parents proactively sought thepractitioner’s assistance.Statistical designRepeated measures ANOVAs were used to assesschanges over time in all of the measures. Missing datawas excluded from analyses on a case-wise basis andan alpha level of 0.05 was used.ResultsInfant settling and sleepInfant sleep was measured by the infant sleep diarywhich parents kept for three days. The hours of nighttimeand daytime sleep were combined and averagedfor each infant, to create a single night and single daysleep value for that period. The time taken to settleto sleep was based on parent report. Table 1 displaysthe means and standard deviations for the number ofhours of infant day and night sleep, and the time takento settle to sleep.85Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Table 1.TimePreinterventionOne weekpostOne monthpostMean hours of day and night infant sleep,and time taken to settle to sleep at pre- andpost-intervention probes (n = 9)Day sleep(SD)Nightsleep (SD)Time tosettle (SD)4.24 (1.41) 8.90 (1.63) 0.92 (0.52)5.39 (1.60) 10.24 (0.84) 0.24 (0.19)4.07 (1.56) 10.49 (0.67) 0.16 (0.17)Note: SD = Standard DeviationRepeated measures ANOVAs revealed that a significantmain effect for time existed for both daytime sleep,F (2, 16) = 13.69, p < 0.001, and for night-time sleep,F (2, 16) = 5.10, p = 0.02. When the means displayedin Table 1 are considered, there appears to be trend foran increase in the hours of night sleep over time. Thistrend was examined using trend analysis and foundto be statistically significant, F (1, 8) = 6.15, p = –.04.Pair-wise comparisons revealed that night sleep didnot increase significantly from pre-intervention to oneweek post-intervention (p = 0.07), nor from one weekto one month post-intervention (p = 0.18). However, asignificant difference is noted from pre-intervention toone month post-intervention (p = 0.04), indicating thata more gradual and cumulative increase has occurredover time. Pair-wise comparisons were also made todetermine when significant increases in infant sleepoccurred. Day sleep was found to increase significantlyfrom pre-intervention to one week post-intervention(p = 0.01). It then reduced significantly from one weekpost- to one month post-intervention (p < 0.01).A significant main effect for time existed for the timetaken to settle infants to sleep, F (2, 14) = 17.61,p = < 0.001. In examining the means, there appearsto be a trend for the time taken to decrease. Trendanalysis revealed this trend to be statistically significant,F (1, 7) = 18.00, p < 0.01. Pair-wise comparisonsrevealed that there was a significant decrease in timetaken to settle to sleep between pre-intervention andone week post-intervention (p < 0.01). There was alsoa further significant decrease between one week andone month post-intervention (p = 0.04). The mean timeit took parents to settle their infant to sleep before theintervention was 55.5 minutes. One week followingintervention, this time was reduced to 14.5 minutes.One month after intervention, it took parents a meantime of 9.5 minutes to settle their child to sleep.The number of night wakings and the number of aidsused, measured by the infant sleep diary, were alsoanalysed to determine if changes in these variablesoccurred over time. Scores across the three days ofdiary keeping were combined and averaged to createsingle scores for each infant at each time point. Table2 displays the mean number of aids used during 24hours to assist settling to sleep, and the mean numberof wakings which occurred per night, over the period ofpre-intervention and post-intervention probes.Table 2. Mean number of aids used and number ofnight wakings per 24 hour period, pre- andpost-intervention (n = 9)TimeAids (SD)Night wakings(SD)Pre-intervention 7.52 (4.10) 2.85 (1.28)One week post 2.44 (2.52) 1.26 (0.43)One month post 2.30 (2.72) 1.07 (0.97)Note: SD = Standard DeviationAnalyses revealed a significant main effect of time for thenumber of aids used to settle to sleep, F (2, 16) = 12.17,p = 0.001. The means displayed in Table 2 suggest adecrease in the number of aids used over time. Trendanalysis indicated that this linear trend was statisticallysignificant, F (1, 8) = 13.81, p < 0.01. Pair-wise comparisonswere also made to determine when significant changesoccurred, and revealed a significant decrease in thenumber of aids used from pre-intervention to one weekpost-intervention (p < 0.01). A significant decrease frompre-intervention was still evident at one month postintervention(p < 0.01), indicating the sustainability ofthis change. However, there was no further significantreduction in the number of aids used from one week posttoone month post-intervention (p = 0.75).The number of night wakings was also analysed, and asignificant main effect of time was found, F (2, 16) =17.87, p < 0.001. There appears to be a decrease inthe number of night wakings over time, and this lineartrend was found to be statistically significant, F (1, 8)= 28.45, p = 0.001. Pair-wise comparisons revealed asignificant decrease in the number of night wakingfrom pre-intervention to one week post-intervention(p < 0.01). While there was no further significant decreasefrom one week post- to one month post-intervention(p = 0.55), scores remained lower, with a significantdecrease from pre-intervention still evident at one monthpost-intervention (p = 0.001).Parent sleepThe amount of sleep for mothers and fathers wasalso analysed to determine if changes in parent sleepquantity occurred following intervention. Table 3displays the means and standard deviations for hoursof mothers’ and fathers’ sleep from pre-intervention topost-intervention.86Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Table 3. Mean hours of mother and father sleep pernight at pre- and post-intervention probesTimeMothers’ sleep(SD) (n = 9)Fathers’ sleep(SD) (n = 8)Pre-intervention 6.13 (0.99) 7.31 (1.49)One week post 7.44 (1.66) 7.56 (1.02)One month post 7.94 (1.50) 7.75 (0.89)Note: SD = Standard DeviationFathers’ amount of sleep did not change significantly overtime, F (2, 14) = 0.53, p = 0.60. But there appears to be atrend for increase in hours of sleep for mothers over time.This was analysed with trend analysis and found to bestatistically significant, F (1, 7) = 13.17, p < 0.01. Pair-wisecomparisons were also made; there was a significantincrease in mother’s sleep between pre-interventionand one week post-intervention (p < 0.01). Increasedsleep was maintained, with a significant difference frompre-intervention still evident at one month post-intervention(p < 0.01), but no further significant increase between oneweek and one month post-intervention (p = 0.26).Parenting stressParenting stress was measured by the ParentalStress Scale (Berry & Jones, 1995). Table 4 displaysthe means and standard deviations for mothers’ andfathers’ parenting stress scores over three time points(one pre-intervention and two post-intervention).Table 4. Means and Standard Deviations forparenting stress scores pre- and postinterventionTimePre-interventionOne week postOne month postMothers(SD)(n = 9)36.89(11.68)33.67(10.48)32.33(13.45)Fathers(SD)(n = 7)34.14(10.93)31.86(8.09)29.14(6.38)Total(SD)(n = 16)35.69(11.07)32.87(9.26)30.94(10.75)Note: SD = Standard DeviationA repeated measures ANOVA with a between-groupsfactor of gender (mother/father) and a within-groupsrepeated measures factor of time (3 levels) wasperformed, finding no significant interaction betweengender and time F (2, 28) = 0.11, p = 0.90, and indicatingthat mothers and fathers in the present sampledid not differ significantly in their level of reportedparenting stress. Regardless of gender, the participantsexperienced significant changes in reported parentingstress. From Table 4 it is apparent that there is adecrease in parenting stress from baseline over time.This trend was tested for significance and was foundto be statistically significant, F (1, 14) = 8.68, p = 0.01.As well as trend analysis, pair-wise comparisons weremade to determine the significance of changes at differenttime points. This revealed that parenting stress did notdecrease from pre-intervention to one week post- (p =0.06), and from one week to one month post- (p = 0.22).However, there was a cumulative decrease in parentingstress which resulted in a significant reduction from preinterventionto one month post-intervention (p = 0.01).Parents’ general stress, anxiety and depressionParents’ general levels of stress, anxiety anddepression (not related specifically to parenting) weremeasured using the DASS. Tables 5, 6 and 7 displaythe means and standard deviations for maternal andpaternal stress, anxiety and depression (respectively)over three time points (one pre-intervention and twopost-intervention).Table 5. Means and Standard Deviations formaternal and paternal stress pre- and postinterventionTimePre-interventionOne week postOne month postMothers(SD)(n = 9)12.44(11.76)7.78(8.97)7.33(9.81)Note. SD = Standard DeviationFathers(SD)(n = 8)8.88(7.97)5.00(5.04)5.00(5.15)Total(SD)(n = 17)10.76(10.02)6.47(7.31)6.23(7.82)Table 6. Means and Standard Deviations formaternal and paternal anxiety pre- and postinterventionTimePre-interventionOne week postOne month postMothers(SD)(n = 9)6.44(8.44)3.11(6.05)2.22(4.71)Note: SD = Standard DeviationFathers(SD)(n = 8)1.88(1.55)0.63(0.74)0.50(0.76)Total(n = 17)4.29(6.50)1.94(4.49)1.41(3.48)87Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Table 7.Means and Standard Deviations for maternaland paternal depression pre- and postinterventionMothersTime(SD)(n = 9)Pre-intervention 9.67(12.85)One week post 4.11(6.74)One month post 4.78(9.15)Fathers(SD)(n = 8)5.00(7.45)0.88(1.81)1.25(1.39)Total(SD)(n = 17)7.47(10.61)2.59(5.18)3.12(6.78)Note: SD = Standard DeviationIn order to determine if significant main effects orinteractions for time and gender existed, a repeatedmeasures ANOVA with a between-groups factor of gender(mother/father) and a within-groups repeated measuresfactor of time (three levels) was performed for each ofthe three domains. Pillai’s Trace indicated that, for all threedomains, no reliable effects were present (Stress: Pillai’sTrace = 0.26, F (2, 14) = 2.40, p = 0.13, Anxiety: Pillai’sTrace = 0.286, F (2, 14) = 2.8, p = 0.10, Depression: Pillai’sTrace = 0.300, F (2, 14) = 3.01, p = 0.08).Pair-wise comparisons were considered to determine ifany significant changes occurred between time pointsfor each of these variables. For stress, there was asignificant decrease in scores between pre-interventionand one week post-intervention (p = 0.04), and no furtherdecrease or increase after this time (p = 0.79). Anxietydecreased significantly between pre-intervention andone week post-intervention (p = 0.03), but no furthersignificant changes occurred between one week andone month post-intervention (p = 0.20). For depression,scores decreased significantly between pre-interventionand one week post-intervention (p =0.03). Again, nofurther significant changes occurred between one weekand one month post-intervention (p = 0.38).Two case examples which provide an indication ofchange that can occur over the time of interventionare those of family ‘X’ and family ‘Y’. Family ‘X’appeared to experience a reduction in stress, anxietyand depression over the time of intervention. Forthe mother, pre-intervention, depression was in theextremely severe range, stress in the severe range,and anxiety in the normal range. One week postintervention,all three were in the normal range. Atone month post-intervention, scores were still in thenormal range. The father experienced moderate stressand depression pre-intervention, and at both oneweek and one month post-intervention, these were inthe normal range. For family ‘Y’, there also appearedto be a reduction in DASS variables over time. Preintervention,the mother’s scores were in the severerange for stress and anxiety. Depression was found tobe in the moderate range. One week post-intervention,stress, anxiety and depression were all found to bein the normal range. Scores were still in the normalrange at one month post-intervention. For the father,stress and depression were in the moderate range preintervention,and at both post-intervention time points,these were in the normal range.It is important to note that parents differed in theirinitial DASS scores and also in the level of changeexperienced over time.DiscussionAfter completing the KIDSCODE® Baby Process,families achieved increased quantity and improvedquality of infant sleep, increased quantity of maternalsleep, and decreased parenting stress for both mothersand fathers. It is important to note that the degree ofchange related to the intervention and the degree towhich it is related to temporal changes cannot be fullydetermined owing to the lack of a control group.During the first year of life, sleep evolves to be morestable and last longer (Harkness et al., 1995). Thus,infants in the current study may have changed insleep behaviour over the one month of data collectionwithout completing the intervention. However, it isdifficult to predict what changes would have occurrednaturally. McKenna (2000) asserts that, realistically,infant sleep development is different from family tofamily. Sadeh and Anders (1993) support this notionthat patterns of normal infant sleep development areextremely variable. These authors propose that infantsleep development is dependent upon a myriad ofvariables (including infant temperament, growth rateand neurological status at birth) significant to each child.In the current study, infant night sleep increasedgradually after intervention, with a significant increaseevident by one month after completion of the process.Infant day sleep increased significantly and immediatelyfollowing intervention, but reverted to pre-interventionlevels over time. An increased quantity of night sleepmay have resulted in reduced need for day sleep.Mothers’ sleep also increased significantly in the weekfollowing intervention. This was maintained until onemonth follow-up. No significant changes occurred tothe amount of fathers’ sleep.Quality of infant sleep also improved following theKIDSCODE® Baby Process. This was characterised bya significant reduction in the number of night wakings,in a significant reduction in the number of aids used, andin the time taken to settle infants to sleep, all of whichoccurred within a week of the intervention. Findingsindicate that this improved quality was maintained byparents for at least one month following intervention.88Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

A reduction in night wakings might be indicative of animproved ability to sleep through; however, it couldalso be because of improved self-regulation, in whichinfants still wake, but do not need to alert their parentsand are able to re-settle themselves.After completing the KIDSCODE® process, the amountof time taken to settle infants to sleep significantlyreduced, and continued to reduce over the monthfollowing intervention. Before intervention, it took anaverage of 55.5 minutes for parents to settle their infantto sleep. One week after intervention, the average timewas 14.5 minutes. One month after intervention, it tookan average of 9.5 minutes for infants to settle to sleep.One of the ways the KIDSCODE® Baby Process aims toimprove sleep is through helping parents to recognisehow stress, anxiety or depression affect their thoughtsand subsequent interactions with their infant, and howto cope with this.Parents’ stress, anxiety and depression all decreasedsignificantly following intervention. For one mother,depression reduced from the extremely severe range,and stress from the severe range, to be in the normalrange just one week after intervention. For anothermother, anxiety and stress fell from the severe rangeto the normal range within a week of intervention.For two fathers, stress and depression reducedfrom the moderate range to the normal range afterintervention. For all of these individuals, stress, anxietyand depression remained in the normal range at onemonth post -intervention, indicating these changes aresustainable over this time.These findings demonstrate that, followingintervention, some parents were able to reducetheir clinically significant levels of stress, anxiety anddepression to the normal range within just one week.However, families did differ in their responses, andfurther investigation into the ability of the process toaddress parent psychopathology is needed. It is likelythat improvements in infant sleep also contributedsomewhat to improvements in parent psychopathology.Parent psychopathology during pregnancy may also beimportant to consider in future infant sleep research,as there is some evidence that prenatal maternaldepression or other psychological distress may playa role in the development of infant sleep problems.Armitage et al. (2009) report that babies born todepressed mothers had little evidence of an in-born 24-hour circadian rhythm soon after birth, but other babiesdid. They suggest that infant sleep may be affected bythe mother’s level of cortisol, which is increased duringpregnancy and after delivery in depressed mothers.Baird and colleagues (2009) found that babies are ata 23 per cent increased risk of night-waking problemsat six months of age, and 22 per cent increased riskat 12 months, if born to women who suffered fromdepression, anxiety or other significant psychologicaldistress prior to conception. These findings wereindependent of whether mothers suffered frompost-natal depression. These studies indicate thatrecognising and treating psychological distress beforeand during pregnancy may promote improved infantsleep (Baird et al., 2009). While the KIDSCODE® BabyProcess is designed for delivery after pregnancy, itmay also be helpful to use the parent component asa pre-natal program for parents at risk of, or currentlyexperiencing, psychological distress.The significant changes that occurred in infant sleep andparent psychopathology following intervention appearto be sustainable by parents over a short period (onemonth). Longer-term follow-up studies are needed toexamine the sustainability of results beyond this time.The current study lacked a control group, and the samplesize was also small, thus results are considered to bepreliminary and should be interpreted with some caution.A larger scale, randomised, controlled study is neededto further examine the outcomes of the intervention.While infant sleep development is extremely variable(Sadeh & Anders, 1993), age-matching of infantsbetween experimental and control groups in a largesample size may provide a gauge against which naturalsleep development can be differentiated from changesowed to intervention. Including qualitative measures ofparents’ perceptions of the KIDSCODE® Baby Processwould also assist understanding of the process’spotential benefits for families.The findings of the current study support the notionthat changing parents’ thought patterns and sleeptimeinteractions may help to improve infant sleep. Byimproving an infant’s ability to self-regulate and achieveindependent sleep, it may be possible to reduce laterbehavioural and emotional problems.AcknowledgementThis project was funded by the Rotary Club of Heirisson,Perth, Western Australia.ReferencesArmitage, R., Flynn, H., Hoffmann, R., Vazquez, D., Lopez, J., &Marcus, S. (2009). Early developmental changes in sleep in infants:The impact of maternal depression. Sleep, 32, 693–696.Baird, J., Hill, C. M., Kendrick, T., & Inskip, H. M. (2009). Infantsleep disturbance is associated with pre-conceptual psychologicaldistress: Findings from the Southampton Women’s Survey. Sleep,32, 566–568.Berry, J., & Jones, W. H. (1995). The Parental Stress Scale: Initialpsychometric evidence. Journal of Social and InterpersonalRelationships, 12, 463–472.Boyle, J., & Cropley, M. (2004). Children’s sleep: Problems andsolutions. Journal of Family Health Care, 14, 61–63.89Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Buckhalt, J. A., El-Sheikh, M., Keller, P. S. & Kelly, R. J. (2009).Concurrent and longitudinal relations between children’s sleep andcognitive functioning: The moderating role of parent education.Child Development, 80, 875–892.Calkins, S. D., Hungerford, A. & Dedmon, S. E. (2004). Mother’sinteractions with temperamentally frustrated infants. InfantMental Health Journal, 25, 219–239.Dennis, C. L., & Ross, L. (2005). Relationships among infantsleep patterns, maternal fatigue, and development of depressivesymptomatology. Birth, 32, 187–193.Egeland, B., Pianta, R., & O’Brien, M. A. (1993). Maternalintrusiveness in infancy and child maladaption in early school years.Development and Psychopathology, 5, 359–370.Field, T. (1991). Young children’s adaptations to repeatedseparations from their mothers. Child Development, 62, 539–547.Grace-Baron, M., Lipsitt, L., & Goodwin, M. (2006). Scientificfoundations for research and practice. In M. Grace-Baron, L. Lipsitt,G. Groden & J. Groden (2006), Stress and coping in autism (pp.42–67). New York: Oxford University Press.Harkness, S., Super, C., Keefer, C. H., van Tijen, N., & van der Vlugt,E. (1995). Cultural influences on sleep patterns in infancy andearly childhood. Meeting of the Amercian Association for theAdvancement of Science, Atlanta.Jenni, O. G., & O’Connor, B. B. (2005). Children’s sleep: an interplaybetween culture and biology. Pediatrics, 115, 204–216.Lovibond, S. H., & Lovibond, P. F. (1995). Manual for the DepressionAnxiety Stress Scales (2nd edn). Sydney: Psychology Foundation.McCune, Y. D., Richardson, M. M., & Powell, J. A. (1984).Psychosocial health issues in paediatric practices: parents’knowledge and concerns. Pediatrics, 74, 183–190.McKenna, J. J. (2000). Cultural influences on infant and childhoodsleep biology and the science that studies it: toward a moreinclusive paradigm. In G. M. Loughlin, J. L. Carroll & C. L. Marcus(Eds), Sleep and breathing in children: a developmentalapproach (pp. 199–230). New York: Marcel Dekker.McKenna, J. J., & Volpe, L. E. (2007). Sleeping with baby: an internetbasedsampling of parental experiences, choices perceptions, andinterpretations in a western industrialized context. Infant and ChildDevelopment, 16, 359–385.O’Brien, L. M., & Gozal, D. (2004). Neurocognitive dysfunction andsleep in children: From rodents to man. Pediatric Clinics of NorthAmerica, 51, 187–202.Oronoz, B., Alonso-Arbiol, I., & Balluerka, N. (2007). A Spanishadaption of the Parental Stress Scale. Psicothema, 19, 687–692.Quillin, S. I. M., & Glenn, L. L. (2004). Interaction between feedingmethod and co-sleeping on maternal-newborn sleep. Journal ofObstetric, Gynecologic, and Neonatal Nursing, 33, 580–588.Roberts, J. (1999). The Kids Code: behaviour modificationsystem patent. Perth: Lord & Company.Sadeh, A. (1996). Stress, trauma, and sleep in children. Child andAdolescent Psychiatric Clinics of North America, 5, 685–700.Sadeh, A. (2004). A brief screening questionnaire for infantsleep problems: Validations and findings for an internet sample.Pediatrics, 113, e570–e577.Sadeh, A. (2005). Cognitive-behavioural treatment for childhoodsleep disorders. Clinical Psychology Review, 25, 612–628.Sadeh, A. (2007). Consequences of sleep loss or sleep disruption inchildren. Sleep Medicine Reviews, 2, 513–520.Sadeh, A., & Anders, T. F. (1993). Infant sleep problems: origins,assessment, interventions. Infant Mental Health Journal, 14,17–34.Scher, A. (2008). Maternal separation anxiety as a regulator ofinfant’s sleep. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 49, 618.Sneddon, P. L. (2007). Sleep problems in young children with andwithout behaviour problems. Unpublished doctoral dissertation.Utah State University.Thomas, K. A., & Burr, R. L. (2009). Accurate assessment of mother& infant sleep: How many diary days are required? The AmericanJournal of Maternal/Child Nursing, 34, 256–260.Tikotzky, L., & Sadeh, A. (2009). Maternal sleep-related cognitionsand infant sleep: A longitudinal study from pregnancy through the1st year. Child development, 80, 860–874.Van Tassel, E. B. (1985). The relative influence of child andenvironmental characteristics on sleep disturbances in the first andsecond years of life. Journal of Developmental and BehaviouralPediatrics, 6, 81–86.90Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

A preliminary exploration of children’s physiological arousallevels in regular preschool settingsNina SajaniemiEira SuhonenUniversity of HelsinkiMargaret SimsUniversity of New EnglandLearning new things is challenging. In these moments, children are functioningin the upper limits of their acquired capability: in Vygotskian terms, children arefunctioning in their zone of proximal development (ZPD). Acting in the ZPD iscognitively loading and stress-provoking, thus the ability to function optimally in thisstate of increased stress has fundamental effects on the development of learningabilities. Physiological measures of arousal have become more common and pave theway to understanding not only how children develop regulation but also the role of theenvironment (social and physical) in supporting that development. While cortisol hasbecome a popular measure of arousal, it is only one component of the physiobiologyof arousal. It is important to develop a more holistic understanding of arousal.Our study aimed to evaluate both cortisol and alpha-amylase responses in preschoolagedchildren in response to both an unusually challenging task as well as to normalearly childhood activities. We have used these to develop a model linking activationof the HPA and SAM systems to children’s cognitive performance, including themediating impact of daily activities.IntroductionLearning new things is challenging. In these moments,children are functioning in the upper limits of theiracquired capability: in Vygotskian terms, children arefunctioning in their zone of proximal development(ZPD). Acting in the ZPD is cognitively loading andstress-provoking (Sajaniemi et al., in press). Thus, theability to function optimally in this state of increasedstress has fundamental effects on the developmentof learning abilities. At the same time, we know thatchronic and/or extremely high levels of stress aredetrimental to learning (Gunnar & Quevedo, 2008;Marshall & Kenney, 2009). Effective learning occurswhen children are able to regulate stress to avoidchronic and/or extreme arousal and, at the same time,adapt to moderate arousal levels.Children learn the skills to regulate their arousal in theyears before starting school (Graziano, Reavis, Keane& Calkins, 2007) and poor emotional regulation skillsimpair children’s ability to think (Blair, 2002). Blair citesneuropsychological research identifying increasedactivation in specific parts of the pre-frontal cortexassociated with high levels of arousal which is foundto interfere with high level cognitive functioning. Suchassociations are experience-dependent and chronicactivation promotes ‘… use-dependent connectivitythat is detrimental to attention and executive cognitiveprocesses’ (Blair, 2002, p. 117).Such activation is mediated by two interrelated brain–body systems: the sympathetic-adrenomedullary (SAM)and the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenocortical (HPA)systems (Bales & Carter, 2009; Marshall & Kenney,2009). The SAM system is a part of the sympatheticautonomic nervous system and its activation leads torelease of adrenaline from adrenal glands. Increases incirculating adrenaline orchestrate flight/fight responses.Adrenalin facilitates the availability of energy to thebody and prepares the organism for various activities,including learning. The HPA system’s role is to helpcontain, or shut down sympathetic activation byproducing glucocorticoids (GC), cortisol in humans.91Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Adrenaline does not cross the blood–brain barrier toa significant degree whereas the brain is the majortarget of cortisol (Gunnar & Quevedo, 2007). Inability toregulate stress responses harms brain development inspecific areas including the hippocampus and prefrontalcortex, all fundamentally important in learning, memoryand executive functions (Gunnar & Vazquez, 2006).There has been a growing interest in children’s stressresponses to cognitive and emotional challenges(Dickerson & Kemeny, 2004; Dozier et al., 2006; Kestler &Lewis, 2008; Steptoe , van Jaarsveld, Semmier, Plomin, &Wardle, 2009). Examination of the stress-related HPA-axisis long established through non-invasive measurementsof salivary cortisol (Kirschbaum & Hellhammer, 1994).Both elevations and suppressions of diurnal cortisol levelsare known to indicate dysfunctions in stress regulativeabilities (Gunnar & Vazquez, 2001; Luby, Belden &Spitznagel, 2006). Either high cortisol levels or bluntedcortisol activity have been associated with behaviouralextremes and developmental disorders (Ellenbogen& Hodgins, 2009; Segerstrom & Miller, 2004; Smideret al., 2002; Young & Breslau, 2004). Further, cortisolreactivity during everyday challenges is suggested toindicate functionality of the stress regulatory system(Gordis, Granger, Susman, & Trickett, 2006, 2008; Lubyet al., 2006). According to previous studies, cortisolresponses to cognitive and emotional challenges arerelated to attention, effort and executive functions (Shin& Lee, 2007). However, findings have been inconsistent,showing both decreased and increased cortisol reactivityin response to various stressors (Luby et al., 2006).Recently, a small number of studies have focused on theother major component of the stress system, the SAMsystem. Activation of the SAM system can be evaluatednon-invasively by saliva alpha-amylase concentration(Granger et al., 2006). The HPA axis and SAM axis areconnected at multiple neural levels, and these twosystems should demonstrate some degree of symmetry(Young , Abelson & Cameron, 2005), although HPA andSAM show different timing in response to challenges:rates of activation and recovery are faster for alphaamylasethan for cortisol (Granger et al., 2006; Spinradet al., 2009). Optimal functioning of the stress regulativesystem occurs when HPA and SAM responses arebalanced (Bauer, Quas & Boyce, 2002). Concurrentactivation or deactivation is the most adaptive andactivation asymmetries are maladaptive. For exampleGordis, Granger, Susman and Trickett (2008) foundthat young people (9–14 years) who had experiencedmaltreatment were more likely to have asynchronousactivation of HPA and SAM systems compared to acomparison group of young people. Studies combiningboth HPA and SAM measures are rare, yet multi-systemapproaches (Bauer et al., 2002) offer ‘… significantpotential to extend our understanding of the role thatearly experiences play in shaping individual differencesin stress related psychobiology’ (Davis & Granger,2009, p. 3), particularly as there is some evidence thatSAM reactivity may moderate the link between cortisolreactivity and children’s behaviour (Spinrad et al., 2009).Individual differences in HPA and SAM reactivity arerelated not only to experiences of chronic stress butalso to the availability of attachment figures (Davis &Granger, 2009). Attachment figures function to initiallyoffer regulation of children’s arousal levels (Schore& Schore, 2008; Sims & Hutchins, in press). Youngchildren who experience this external regulation learnto self-regulate their arousal through the interactionsthey have with these attachment figures (Braungart-Rieker, Hill-Soderfund & Karrass, 2010; Graziano et al.,2007). Thus secure attachments, built through nurturing,reciprocal, and sensitive caregiving (Sims & Hutchins, inpress), function to reduce the cortisol peak in stressfulsituations (Gunnar, 2006) and, in the long term, shapethe physiology of the stress regulatory system andimprove self-regulation across the life span (Flinn, 2009).This is recognised in many early childhood servicesystems (for example child care, preschool,kindergarten programs) around the world, and secureattachment is often positioned as a key quality indicatorof these services (Sims, 2007; Sims, Guilfoyle, & Parry,2006, 2008). For example, a range of researchershave identified the importance of early childhoodeducators engaging with children’s interests andresponding to their attempts to communicate (Connor,Son, Hindman, & Morrison, 2005; Kugelmass & Ross-Bernstein, 2000; Mitchell, 2002; Sims & Hutchins, inpress; van Ijzendoorn, Tavecchio, Stams, Verhoeven &Reiling, 1998; Zaslow & Tout, 2002), and this researchis translated into practical performance indicators inquality assurance systems (such as those presentedin the Australian quality assurance process; NationalChild Care Accreditation Council, 2005). However,it may be that adults find it more difficult to respondcontingently to children whose regulatory systems arenon-synchronous (i.e. they do not show a synchronousHPA and SAM response to stimuli), particularly if thebehaviours exhibited by the children do not clearlyindicate their physiological arousal. For example,Spinrad et al. (2009) suggest that children with lowlevels of arousal may withdraw from situations (perhapsbecause they are easily overwhelmed by multiplestimuli?) whereas children with higher reactivitythresholds (i.e. children who appear on the surfaceto be well-regulated) may be more likely to behaveaggressively in order to seek sensation. Thus adultsworking with children giving these conflicting signalsmay prompt the withdrawn child to join activities when,in fact, maintaining homeostatic physiological arousallevels might better be served by supporting the child’swithdrawal. If this is indeed the case, these children mayexperience difficulty in learning self-regulation, as the92Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

adult support necessary for its effective developmentis sometimes asynchronous with their needs. This mismatchbetween children’s needs and adult responsesmay in part explain research findings (for example Blair,2002; Blair, Granger, & Razza, 2005) indicating poorercognitive outcomes for poorly regulated children.Our study initially aimed to evaluate both cortisol andalpha-amylase responses in preschool-age children inresponse to an unusually challenging task as well as tonormal early childhood activities, and we have reportedon the cortisol data elsewhere (Sajaniemi et al., in press).The purpose of this paper is to add the alpha-amylaseresponses to the previously reported cortisol data, anduse these to develop a model linking activation of the HPAand SAM systems to children’s cognitive performance,including the mediating impact of daily activities.MethodologyParticipantsThe study sample included 84 children (40 girls, 44 boys)attending separate preschool groups in five childcarecentres in metropolitan Helsinki. The childcare centresserved predominantly middle-class white families;the average annual family income was categorised asmedium or high in 86 per cent of the cases. Mean age ofthe children was six years, six months (range = 6;6–7;1).The children were without any major developmentaldisabilities or chronic illnesses.In Finland, children attend preschool in the year before theystart school. Many of the activities undertaken throughoutthe day are pencil-and-paper tasks, as these are seen aspreparation for school. Groups sizes ranged from 18 to22 children and the groups were run by a teacher whowas required to have a university Bachelor degree in earlychildhood pedagogy. Attendance at preschool is the normin Finland, with an attendance rate of 96 per cent.MeasuresCognitive abilityThe cognitive tasks were chosen from the DevelopmentalNeuropsychological Assessment (NEPSY-II) (Korkman,Kirk & Kemp, 2008). The subtests relating to designcoping, visual attention for faces, visual fluency andvisual-motor precision were used in this study. NEPSYprovides an overall standardised score with a mean of10 for each of the domains. These tasks were selectedbecause they could be administered in group situationsand because they challenged children’s attentive,executive and self-regulative skills. In addition, theseNEPSY tasks resembled the preschool paper-andpenciltasks children experience daily. The reliability ofthe NEPSY scale is 0.81.To assess children’s ability to orient toward cognitivedemands and to follow instruction in challengingtasks, as well as their language abilities, we used theBoehm Test of Basic Concepts (Boehm, 1993). The testmeasures the concepts that most frequently occur inchildren’s language. The tests effectively identify theconcepts children already know and those they need tolearn to be successful in school. The test has 47 itemsand a maximum score of 47. The validity of the test isknown to be good (reliability varies from 0.55 to 0.87); itis widely used and easy to administer in group situations.Play behaviourChildren’s play behaviour was assessed using the PreschoolPlay Behaviour Scale (PPBS) (Coplan & Rubin, 1998). ThePPBS is a widely used evaluation method in early educationalsettings to identify social immaturity, impulsiveness andrisk for externalising behaviour. It consists of 18 items ona five-degree Likert scale, with low scores indicating rarelyobserved behaviours. The PPBS is designed to evaluatethe multiple forms of young children’s behaviours duringfree-play sessions. The reliablity (Cronbach Alpha) is 0.75.In the PPBS, solitary-passive behaviour is identified asthe quiescent exploration of objects and constructiveactivity while playing alone. Reticent behaviour consists ofprolonged looking at the playmate without accompanyingplay, the child being essentially unoccupied. Solitary-activebehaviour is characterised by repeated sensory motoractions with or without objects and by solitary dramatisingin the presence of the social group. In addition, the PPBShas items for social play (group play, sociodramatic play andpeer conversation) and rough play (rough-and-tumble play).Cortisol and alpha-amylase reactivity samplesThe baseline cortisol and alpha-amylase were measuredwhen children arrived at their preschool, approximatelyone hour after awakening. The second saliva samplewas collected subsequent to watching the video andcompleting the cognitive assessment, approximately40 minutes after the first sample (post-test 1). The thirdsample was collected 20 minutes after the secondsample (post-test 2), after the children had been singing,listening to music or playing freely. Trained educatorscollected all the saliva samples. Reactivity was definedas notable if the values in post-test 1 sample were atleast 10 per cent above the pre-test values.The sampling procedures were simple and easy formost of the children. The children mouthed 2-inchcotton wads until they were wet. The cotton wadswere placed in Salivette tubes (Sarstedt, Nümbrecht)according to written instructions, and stored in arefrigerator until they could be mailed to the laboratoryresponsible for salivary cortisol and alpha-amylasemeasurements. In the laboratory the saliva wasseparated from the cotton wad by centrifugation93Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

(1000 G, 5 min.) and stored at –20°C until the analyseswere undertaken.ProcedureStudents of special education assessed children’scognitive abilities in day-care settings in November 2008.Preschool teachers assessed play behaviour duringseveral days in January 2009 in the normal preschoolsetting. Saliva and alpha-amylase were collectedfollowing a standard protocol for all children on onemorning in February 2009 as follows:■■Baseline cortisol and alpha-amylase weremeasured when children arrived at their preschool.■■The children first watched a movie with anexperimenter who was unfamiliar to the children.The movie was a Momin-movie which is known tobe emotionally appealing and exciting for averagepreschool-aged children (Korhonen, 2008).■■After this the children went to another roomwhere the experimenter undertook the Boehmand NEPSY-II.■■Cortisol and alpha-amylase were again taken (posttest1).■■The children were sent back to their classroomwhere, for each group, the teacher chose an activityperceived to be relaxing. Two of the groups sangtogether (n = 38), two groups listened to music(n = 28), and in one group the children played freely(n = 20). All the episodes through the protocolwere videotaped.■■Cortisol and alpha-amylase were taken after 20minutes of the relaxing activity (post-test 2).AnalysisThe salivary cortisol levels were analysed using acommercially available luminescence immunoassayfor the quantitative determination of cortisol in humansaliva (Cortisol Saliva LIA, IBL Immuno-BiologicalLaboratories, Hamburg, Germany). The assay is basedon the competition principle and the microtiter plateseparation. Briefly, an unknown amount of cortisolpresent in the sample and a fixed amount of enzymelabelledcortisol compete for the binding sites of theantibodies coated onto the wells. After three hours ofincubation the wells are washed to stop the competitionreaction. Once the luminescence substrate solutionis added, the relative luminescence units (RLUs) canbe read after 10 minutes and within 40 minutes; theconcentration of cortisol is inversely proportional tothe luminescence measured. Measuring range of themethod is 0.43–110 nmol/l. The Coefficient of Variationof intra- and inter-assay of the method is 5 per cent and8 per cent respectively.The salivary Alpha-Amylase activity was analysed witha Salivary Alpha-Amylase Assay kit (Salimetrics). Thekit is specifically designed and validated for the kineticmeasurement of salivary alpha-amylase activity. Themethod utilises a chromagenic substrate linked withmaltotriose. The enzymatic action of alpha-amylase onthis substrate yields 2-chloro-p-nitrophenol which canbe measured at 405 nm. The amount of alpha-amylasereactivity present in the sample is directly proportional tothe increase in absorbance at 405nm. The Cofficient ofVariation of Intra-assay is 2.5–7.2 per cent and inter-assay is3.6–5.8 per cent, depending on concentration.All the statistical analyses were conducted with SPPS forWindows 17.0. To determine whether there were changesand symmetry in children’s salivary cortisol and alphaamylaselevels across the three saliva collection points,General Linear Modelling (GLM) was performed. Fordetecting possible relations of cortisol and alpha-amylaseto cognitive performance and play behaviour, analysis ofvariance (ANOVA) was conducted. Probability levels of 0.05were considered to be statistically significant.ResultsOur results indicate that the study children were lowrisk,typically developing preschool-aged children.We found that children’s performance in Boehm testand in NEPSY tasks of design coping, visual attentionfor faces, visual fluency and visualmotor precisionwere age-appropriate. In play behaviour, the highestscores were in social play and the lowest in solitarydramatising play. We checked for gender differencesbut found none. The mean scores in NEPSY, Boehmtest of basic concepts and Preschool Play BehaviourScale are presented in Table 1.Table 1.Children’s scores in BOEHM, NEPSY andPreschool Play Behaviour ScaleMean SD Min MaxBOEHM 43.59 2.81 35 47NEPSYdesign coping 8.8 2.91 3 15visual attention 8.95 3.09 1 16visual fluency 9.91 3.19 4 18visuomotor precision 12.79 4.36 4 19Play behaviourreticent behaviour 2.43 0.75 1 5solitary-active 2.59 0.77 1 5solitary-dramatising 1.99 0.81 1 5social play 4.27 0.63 1 5rough-and-tumble 2.7 1.05 1 594Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Children’s cortisol and alpha-amylase values arepresented in Table 2. We further divided the children’sresponses into three groups based on the activity inwhich they participated after undertaking the formalassessments. There were no significant betweengroupdifferences in cortisol values (Figure 1).However, differences between groups were significantin all measurement points for alpha-amylase. Pre-testvalues were highest in the free-play group (p < 0.04),post-test 1 and post-test 2 values were highest inthe free- play group (p < 0.02, p < 0.04, respectively)(Figure 2). Cortisol changes between the three timepoints significantly decreased in the free-play group(p < 0.02) and music-listening group (p < 0.01). Thesinging group showed a different cortisol pattern, withincreasing values after the recovery session. However,the value changes were not significant (Figure 1). Therewere no significant differences between time pointsfor alpha-amylase values (Figure 2). These demonstratethat children from the different groups had differentbaseline levels of cortisol and alpha-amylase. Thesebaseline differences indicate that children in thedifferent groups are bringing different experiences intotheir early education settings. Because they start fromdifferent points, we were less interested in comparingthe absolute differences in their cortisol and alphaamylaselevels, but rather the changes between thedifferent time points.In all three groups children demonstrated a decline incortisol after viewing the video and undertaking thecognitive assessment. However, the alpha-amylasevalues indicate that only one group showed a declineat this point. This suggested to us that there must be anumber of children who had an asynchronous patternof reactivity and we explored this further below.Table 2: Children’s cortisol and alpha-amylase valuesCortisol valuesn Mean SDbaseline (ug/dl) 85 0.33 0.4Post-test 1 (ug/dl) 84 0.26 0.39Post-test 2 (ug/dl) 85 0.25 0.33Alpha-amylase valuesn Mean SDbaseline (U/ml) 85 49.1 33.9Post-test 1 (U/ml) 84 48.7 29.26Post-test 2 (U/ml) 85 47.8 30.58Figure 1 Children’s cortisol values differentiatedaccording to their post-test activityFigure 2 Children’s alpha-amylase values differentiatedaccording to their post-test activityA lack of cortisol reactivity to challenging tasks isoften seen as a cause for concern (for exampleShin & Lee, 2007 found a blunted cortisol responseto challenging tasks is often associated with poorcognitive performance). Children in our study did notshow an elevation in cortisol or alpha-amylase followingthe cognitive assessments. Reduced cortisol and alphaamylaselevels across all three measurement pointswere in congruence with the diurnal cortisol patternwhich is expected to decrease across the day (Gunnar& Vazquez, 2006). The absence of a cortisol responsecould be interpreted as a result of the stress hyporesponsiveperiod of the HPA-axis some researchershave observed amongst children of the same ageswhen responding to laboratory stress (Gunnar &Fisher, 2006; Maldonado, Trianes, Cortes, Moreno &Escobar, 2009). However, we prefer to believe thatchildren did not experience the task as challenging.This is supported by our finding that children’s level ofcognitive performance was at expected age-level, bothin NEPSY and Boehm tasks, indicating that the taskswere neither too difficult nor too easy for them. Wehad chosen the NEPSY because of its format, and itssimilarity to the pencil-and paper-activities with whichthe children were familiar. This choice appears to havesucceeded in being perceived as non-stressful.95Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

After the cognitive assessment, we asked teachers ineach group to select a task the children would be likelyto perceive as relaxing. We had left this to the teachersto choose, working on the assumption that they wouldbest understand the needs of the children with whomthey worked. Children who played freely and listened tomusic after the cognitive assessment showed a decline inboth cortisol and alpha-amylase (a decline from post-test1 to post-test 2). However, children who sang showed anincrease in both cortisol and alpha-amylase between posttest1 and post-test 2. This indicates that children foundsinging more arousing than either listening to music orfree play.Reactivity in singing sessions may be linked to the factthat the adults’ role was more prominent than during anyother activities, including in the cognitive assessment. Ourpreliminary analysis of the video recordings shows theteachers singing together with children. This engagementof the teachers with the children might have promotedchildren’s participation and excitement. Based on ourpreliminary video-analysis, these moments appeared tobe more emotional than those we observed in the musiclisteningor free-play groups. It seemed that teachers andchildren were in emotional tune with each other, whichcould have elicited some reactivity in our children. It mayalso be that the listening and free-play activities offeredchildren space to manage their arousal, whereas thesinging engaged children in a more structured way thatdid not allow them the flexibility to disengage. Researchby Steptoe, van Jaarsveld, Semmier, Plomin and Wardle(2009), demonstrating a decline in cortisol levels in childrenplaying computer games, supports our suggestion thatadult involvement in an activity might be more stimulatingthan playing alone.Given we had reason to believe that some children’scortisol and alpha-amylase reactions were notsynchronous, we re-examined our data and identifiedthose children with synchronous reactions (i.e. bothcortisol and alpha-amylase followed the same pattern)and asynchronous reactions (cortisol and alpha-amylasechanged in different directions). Only 19 per cent of thechildren (n = 16) demonstrated a symmetric increase inboth cortisol and alpha-amylase values from pre-test toboth post-test measurements. Looking at the changebetween pre-test and post-test 1 only, we see 43 percent (n = 36) of children demonstrated a symmetricchange. Symmetry of reactivity was not connected withperformance in NEPSY tasks. However, children withsymmetric reactivity across all cortisol and alpha-amylasemeasurement points had significantly higher scoresin Boehm Test of Basic Concepts (F (1) 5,3, p < 0.05).Symmetry of reactivity was also connected to reticentplay behaviour during free-play observations (F (1) 5,7,p < 0.05). No other significant connections were found.We next examined the cortisol responses ofsynchronous and asynchronous children (see Figure 3).The cortisol values between groups across the threemeasurement points are significantly different (F (1)4,6, p < 0.04).Figure 3 Cortisol levels for synchronous andasynchronous childrenWe can see that children whose responses aresynchronous (and who, we suggest, are likely tobe better-regulated) show an increase in cortisol inresponse to the cognitive assessments followed bya decrease. Children who are asynchronous (andwho, we suggest, are likely to be less well-regulated)show a decline in cortisol in response to the cognitiveassessments and little change subsequently. In addition,all NEPSY scores tended to be higher in synchronousthan in asynchronous children, although differences didnot reach significance. Does the elevation of cortisol forthe synchronous children suggest that these childrenwere more likely to be engaged in the learning tasks, asevidenced by improved understanding of basic conceptsneeded in preschool activities? Conversely, wereasynchronous children less engaged in the challengingassessment tasks, leading to a lower performance onthe Boehm? Supporting this possible interpretationis the preliminary video analysis which indicatesthat synchronous children were more task-orientedthan were asynchronous children. Alternatively, arethe asynchronous children more stressed by theassessment experience and reacting with a suppressedHPA pattern? The increase in reticent behaviour in thesynchronous children’s play may be a strategy usedto regulate after experiencing the heightened arousalassociated with the assessments. Unfortunately,numbers are too small to enable us to undertake aneffective comparison of synchronous/asynchronouschildren’s cortisol in the three different activities(listening, singing and free play) post assessment.96Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Connor, C., Son, S.-H., Hindman, A., & Morrison, F.(2005). Teacher qualifications, classroom practices, familycharacteristics and preschool experience: complex effects onfirst graders’ vocabulary and early reading outcomes. Journalof School Psychology, 43, 343–375.Coplan, R., & Rubin, K. (1998). Exploring and assessing nonsocialplay in the preschool: The development and validation of thepreschool play behavior scale. Social Development, 7(1), 75–91.Davis, E., & Granger, D. (2009). Developmental differences ininfant salivary alpha-amylase and cortisol responses to stress.Psychoneuroendocrinology, 34(6), 795–804.Dickerson, S., & Kemeny, M. (2004). Acute stressors andcortisol responses: a theoretical integration and synthesis oflaboratory research. Psychological Bulletin, 130(3), 355–391.Dozier, M., Manni, M., Gordon, M., Peloso, E., Gunnar,M., Stovall-McClough, K., et al. (2006). Foster children’sdiurnal production of cortisol: An exploratory study. ChildMaltreatment, 11, 189–197.Ellenbogen, M., & Hodgins, S. (2009). Structure providedby parents in middle childhood predicts cortisol reactivity inadolescence among offspring of parents with bipolar disorderand controls. Psychoneuroendocrinology, 34(5), 773–785.Flinn, M. (2009). Are Cortisol Profiles a Stable Trait During ChildDevelopment? American Journal of Human Biology, 21, 769–771.Gordis, E., Granger, D., Susman, E., & Trickett, P. (2006).Asymmetry between salivary cortisol and alpha-amylasereactivity to stress: Relation to aggressive behavior inadolescents. Psychoneuroendocrinology, 31, 976–987.Gordis, E., Granger, D., Susman, E., & Trickett, P. (2008).Salivary alpha amylase-cortisol asymmetry in maltreated youth.Hormones & Behavior, 53(1), 96–103.Granger, D., Kivilighan, K., Blair, C., El-Sheikh, M., Mize, J.,Lisonbee, J., et al. (2006). Integrating the measurementof salivary alpha-amylase into studies of child health,development and social relationships. Journal of Social andPersonal Relationships, 23(2), 267–290.Graziano, P., Reavis, R., Keane, S., & Calkins, S. (2007). Therole of emotion regulation in children’s early academic success.Journal of School Psychology, 45(1), 3–19.Gunnar, M. (2006). Social regulation of stress in early childdevelopment. In K. McCartney & D. Phillips (Eds.), Handbookof Early Childhood Development. (pp. 106–125). Malden, MA:Blackwell.Gunnar, M., & Fisher, P. (2006). Bringing basic researchon early experience and stress neurobiology to bear onpreventive interventions for neglected and maltreated children.Developmental Psychopathology, 18, 651–677.Gunnar, M., & Quevedo, K. (2007). The neurobiology of stress anddevelopment. Annual Review of Psychology, 58(1), 145–174.Gunnar, M., & Quevedo, K. (2008). Early care experiences andHPA axis regulation in children: a mechanism for later traumavulnerability. In E. de Kloet, M. Oitzl & E. Vermetten (Eds.),Stress hormones and post traumatic stress disorder. (Vol. 167,pp. 137–149). Amsterdam: Elsevier.Gunnar, M., & Vazquez, D. (2001). Low cortisol and a flatteningof expected daytime rhythm: potential indicies of risk in humandevelopment. Development and Psychopathology, 13, 515–538.Gunnar, M., & Vazquez, D. (2006). Stress neurobiology anddevelopmental psychopathology. . In D. Cicchetti & D. Cohen(Eds.), Developmental psychopathology: DevelopmentalNeuroscience (pp. 533–577). New York: Wiley.Kestler, L., & Lewis, M. (2008). Cortisol response toinnoculation in 4-year old children. Psychoneuroendocrinology,34(5), 743–751.Kirschbaum, C., & Hellhammer, D. (1994). Salivary cortisol inpsychoneuroedocrine research: Recent developments andapplications. Psychoneuroendocrinology, 19, 313–333.Korhonen, P. (2008). Lasten TV-ohjelmiin liittyvät pelot,painajaisunet ja pelonhallinta. Acta Universitatis Tamperensis1332. Tampere: Tampereen yliopistopaino Oy.Korkman, M., Kirk, U., & Kemp, S. (2008). Nepsy II - lastenneuropsykologinen tutkimus. Helsinki: Psykologien KustannusOy.Kugelmass, J., & Ross-Bernstein, J. (2000). Explicit and implicitdimensions of adult-child interactions in a quality childcarecentre. Early Childhood Education Journal, 28(1), 19–27.Luby, J., Belden, A., & Spitznagel, E. (2006). Risk factors forpreschool depression: the mediating role of early stressful lifeevents. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 47(12),1292–1298.Maldonado, E., Trianes, V., Cortes, A., Moreno, E., & Escobar,M. (2009). Salivary cortisol response to a psychosocial stressoron children diagnosed with attention-deficit/hyperactivitydisorder: differences between diagnostic subtypes. TheSpanish journal of psychology, 12(2), 707–714.Marshall, P., & Kenney, J. (2009). Biological perspectives onthe effects of early psychosocial experience. DevelopmentalReview, 29, 96–119.Mitchell, L. (2002). Differences between community ownedand privately owned early childhood education and carecentres; a review of the evidence. (available from http://www.nzcer.org.nz/pdfs/11743.pdf): New Zealand Council forEducational Research.National Child Care Accreditation Council. (2005). QualityPractices Guide. Quality Improvement and AccreditationSystem. (1st ed.). Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia.Rothbart, M., Posner, M., & Kieras, J. (2008). Temperament,attention and the development of self-regulation. In K.McCartney & D. Phillips (Eds.), Blackwell Handbook of earlychildhood development. (pp. 338–357). Malden, MA: BlackwellPublishing.Sajaniemi, N., Suhonen, E., Kontu, E. Rantanen, P., Lindholm,H., Hyttinen, S., & Hirvonen, A. (2011). Children`s cortisolpatterns and the quality of the early learning environment.European Early Childhood Education Research Journal, 19(1),45–62.Schore, J., & Schore, A. (2008). Modern attachment theory: thecentral role of affect regulation in development and treatment.Clinical Social Work Journal, 36, 9–20.Segerstrom, S., & Miller, G. (2004). Psychological stress andthe human immune system: a meta-analytic study of 30 yearsof inquiry. Psychological Bulletin, 130(4), 601–630.Shin, D., & Lee, S. (2007). Blunted hypothalamic-pituitaryadrenalaxis reactivity is associated with the poor intelligenceperformance in children with attention-deficit/hyperactivitydisorder. Neuropediatrics, 38, 298–303.98Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Sims, M. (2007). The determinants of quality care: Reviewand research report. . In E. Hill, B. Pocock & A. Elliot (Eds.),Kids Count: Better early education and care in Australia.(pp. 220–241). Sydney: University of Sydney Press.Sims, M., Guilfoyle, A., & Parry, T. (2006). Children’s cortisollevels and quality of child care provision. Child Care, Health andDevelopment, 32(4), 452–466.Sims, M., Guilfoyle, A., & Parry, T. (2008). Children’s stresslevels: an evaluation tool to determine programme quality.Illinois Child Welfare, 3(1), 17–29.Sims, M., & Hutchins, T. (2011). Program planning for infants andtoddlers. In search of relationships. Sydney: Pademelon Press.Smider, N., Essex, M., Kalin, N., Buss, K., Klein, M.,Davidson, R., et al. (2002). Salivary cortisol as a predictor ofsocioemotional adjustment during kindergarten: a prospectivestudy. Child Development, 73(1), 75–93.Spinrad, T., Eisenberg, N., Granger, D., Eggum, N., Sallquist,J., Haugen, R., et al. (2009). Individual differences inpreschoolers`salivary cortisol and alpha-amylase reactivity:Relations to temperament and maladjustment. Hormones andBehavior, 56, 133–139.Steptoe , A., van Jaarsveld, S., Semmier, C., Plomin, R., &Wardle, J. (2009). Heritability of daytime cortisol levels andcortisol reactivity in children. Psychoneuroendocrinology,34(2), 273–280.Steptoe, A., van Jaarsveld, S., Semmier, C., Plomin, R., &Wardle, J. (2009). Heritability of daytime cortisol levels andcortisol reactivity in children. Psychoneuroendocrinology,34(2), 273–280.Thompson, R., & Lagattuta, K. (2008). Feeling andunderstanding: early emotional development. In K. McCartney& D. Phillips (Eds.), Blackwell Handbook of Early ChildhoodDevelopment. (pp. 317–337). Malden, MA: BlackwellPublishing.van Ijzendoorn, M., Tavecchio, W., Stams, G., Verhoeven, M.,& Reiling, E. (1998). Quality of centre day care and attunementbetween parents and caregivers: centre day care in crossnationalperspective. Journal of genetic psychology, 159(4),437–451.Young , E., Abelson, J., & Cameron, O. (2005). Interaction ofbrain noradrenergic system and the hypothalamic-pituitaryadrenal(HPA) axis in man. Psychoneuroedocrinology, 30,807–814.Young, E., & Breslau, N. (2004). Saliva cortisol in posttraumaticstress disorder: a community epidemiologic study. BiologicalPsychiatry, 56(3), 205–209.Zaslow, M., & Tout, K. (2002). Child-care quality matters. TheAmerican Prospect, 13(7), 49.99Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Equity of access:Requirements of Indigenous families and communities toensure equitable access to government-approved childcaresettings in Australia.Stephanie JackiewiczTelethon Institute for Child Health ResearchSherry SaggersKate FrancesCurtin UniversityThis article is concerned with the interplay between Indigenous children andtheir families’ equitable access to government-approved childcare services and theirrespective participation in such services. Specifically, it focuses on key factors thataffect access and that serve as barriers to participation. The paper draws upon anational consultation funded by the Australian Government and conducted throughout2005–2006 to respond to these concerns, and is situated within a substantial bodyof work which already provides a context for Indigenous children’s access to, andparticipation in, early childhood services. In recognition of the diverse circumstancesand requirements of Indigenous families, the research methods included focus groups,community consultations, and interviews with other stakeholders in the childcaresector nationally. An analysis of national and international literature on the researchtheme was made. The research findings correspond with other studies in this area,highlighting that accessibility (availability of places and transport), affordability,acceptability, and appropriateness are indicators which measure how well—or not—aservice is meeting the needs of Indigenous children, their families and communities inrelation to child care. To ensure that all children have equitable access to the servicebest suited to their needs, the Commonwealth of Australia, together with all states andterritories, must understand and incorporate these requirements in childcare serviceprovision for all Indigenous children.IntroductionThe aim of promoting social justice and sociallyinclusive opportunities for all Australians is central tothe principle of equitable access to service provision,and is invoked across a variety of disciplines and sectors(SCRGSP, 2008). The term ‘equity’ has a number ofinterpretations, and generally incorporates ‘horizontal’and ‘vertical’ equity (SCRGSP, 2008). For the purposesof this paper, ‘horizontal equity’ refers to services whichare equally accessible to everyone in the communitywith a similar level of need. At present, most of thechildcare services in Australia exhibit this form of equity,regardless of ‘need’ (Bown, Fenech, Giugni & Millei,2008; Elliott, 2006; SNAICC, 2009). ‘Vertical equity’,on the other hand, refers to services which account forthe special needs of certain groups in the communityand adjust delivery to suit these needs (SCRGSP,2008). For Indigenous children and their families,exceptions to the horizontal form of equity do exist, insmall measure, and include Multifunctional AboriginalChildren’s Services (MACS) and other Indigenous priorto-schoolservices (Kelly & Vnuk, 2003; Rogers, 2004).Access relates to the ease with which a service can beobtained, and is often measured by availability of placesand affordability (Elliott, 2006; SCRGSP, 2008).100Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Equity in access is a principle usually implementedthrough policies and procedures that aim to improveboth outcomes and participation of some membersof the community who have difficulties accessing astandard service (SCRGSP, 2008). Reasons for thesedifficulties may include:■■language or literacy proficiency■ ■ gender■■age■■physical or mental capacity■■race or ethnicity■■geographic location (Gallagher & Clifford, 2000;SCRGSP, 2008).There is now widespread recognition that Indigenouspeople, in particular, experience significant barriersto accessing appropriate child care, with participationrates falling well behind those of the rest of theAustralian community (ABS, 2008). The effect of thisis felt across the spectrum of optimal outcomes forIndigenous children, including their care and protection,health and wellbeing, and transition to school (ACOSS,2006; ARACY, 2008; Hutchins, Martin, Saggers & Sims,2007). As noted by COAG (2009), ‘early childhoodcare and education is not a repeatable process for achild’ (p. 5). Equity in access plays a central role in boththe removal of barriers and the attraction of higherparticipation rates for Indigenous children (Bown et al.,2008; Pocock & Hill, 2007; Wannan, 2007).To this end, the Australian Government, in partnershipwith all state and territory governments, is implementinga range of national reforms to the early childhoodeducation and care sector in order to ensure that allAustralian children receive equal access to such services(COAG, 2009). For example, the recently introducedNational Quality Standard for Early Childhood Educationand Care and School Age Care (COAG, 2009)—which refers to equity as ‘fair and just treatment of allindividuals’ (p. 38)—has been developed in recognitionof the importance of a ‘focus on the early years toensure the wellbeing of [all] children throughout theirlives ...’ (p. 2).For Australia’s Indigenous children, COAG (2009)has determined targets that relate to early childhooddevelopment including:■ ■ ensuring all Indigenous four-year-olds in remotecommunities have access to early childhoodeducation (within five years)■■access for every child to a preschool program inthe 12 months prior to full-time schooling by 2013.The research we are reporting on here builds upon asubstantial body of work which has examined factorsaffecting equity in access to childcare services forIndigenous children and their families, and includeavailability of places and transport, affordability,acceptability and appropriateness (Aboriginal BestStart Status Report, 2004; Fasoli & Moss, 2007;SNAICC, 2002; Walker, 2004). The following discussionreviews this body of work and reports the findingsfrom consultations with Indigenous communities andservice providers funded by the Australian Governmentin 2005. The purpose of the consultations was toascertain indicators which measure how equitable—ornot—childcare services are for Indigenous children andtheir families.Availability of child careSupply and demand is an important issue in thediscussions about early childhood programs, withevidence of a shortage of childcare places (ACOSS, 2006;Pocock & Hill, 2007). There is, however, a lack of nationalevidence determining the extent to which available placesare meeting existing demand, and an incomplete nationalpicture of children’s participation in childcare programs(ABS, 2008; ACOSS, 2006; Elliott, 2006).Nonetheless, data from the 2004 Child Care Census(ABS, 2008) shows that, in 2004, 651,044 children wereaccessing Australian Government-supported childcareservices, with less than two per cent (11,971) beingIndigenous children. Indigenous-specific services, suchas MACS, had the highest proportions of Indigenouschildren (79%). One reason for the low participationof Indigenous children is the lack of specific servicesfor them in most of the major Indigenous populationcentres throughout Australia (SNAICC, 2002). Wheresuch services do exist, demand greatly outstrips supply(Aboriginal Best Start Report, 2004; SNAICC, 2002). Thediscrepancy between supply and demand affects bothmainstream and Indigenous-specific services (Elliott,2006; Fasoli & Moss, 2007). According to ACOSS,‘parents, childcare operators, MPs and the media allcite access to child care as a major problem’ (ACOSS,2006, p. 6). Furthermore, discrepancies in availabilityand quality of services, particularly in remote locationswhere significant numbers of Indigenous people reside,have also been identified as an issue (Report on theReview of Aboriginal Education in NSW, 2004).TransportRegardless of levels of availability of places withinchildcare services, transportation to and from suchservices is also identified as a barrier to Indigenousfamilies accessing the service. These families are farless likely than others in Australia to have access toreliable private transport. There is a correspondinglyhigher participation rate associated with services whichprovide transport compared with those which do not(Aboriginal Best Start Status Report, 2004; SNAICC,2002; Walker, 2004). Transport is also important for101Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

excursions, which have been reported as essential insome communities in order to ensure the children areexposed to cultural experiences such as collecting bushtucker, fishing and hunting (SNAICC, 2002).Affordable child careAffordability has been identified as another constantproblem for parents wishing to access childcare services(ACOSS, 2006; Walker, 2004). Access depends uponthe capacity of parents/carers to pay for such services(Hill, Pocock & Elliot, 2007). Elliott (2006) notes howfew free early childhood services of any type exist inAustralia, with other research also highlighting howthe costs of child care in this country are increasingmuch faster than inflation and, particularly for familieson low or average incomes, affordability has beendeclining since the 1990s (Elliott, 2006; Hill, Pocock& Elliot, 2007). This situation led the Government tointroduce the means-tested Child Care Benefit (CCB) in2000 as a way of helping families to meet such costs(AIHW, 2006). Nonetheless, it has also been reportedthat Australia’s overall expenditure on early childhoodservices is lower than that of other OECD countries(OECD, 2006) and this, together with the substantiallyincreasing costs in child care, wipes out the effect ofthe CCB (AIHW, 2006; Pocock & Hill, 2007).Mainstream child care is prohibitively expensive formost Indigenous families (Aboriginal Best Start StatusReport, 2004; SNAICC, 2002), especially for thoseliving in rural and remote locations where the costof living and housing is significantly higher than inmost metropolitan areas (Penter, 2000). Other issuesaffecting affordability for many Indigenous familiesinclude high unemployment rates, low incomes, andlack of knowledge about subsidy entitlements (Reporton the Review of Aboriginal Education in NSW, 2004).Acceptable child careOf equal importance to Indigenous children, theirfamilies and communities is the need for childcareservices to be acceptable (SNAICC, 2009). The issueof acceptability relates to culturally safe environmentsfor all involved—children, parents and extended familymembers—environments which have been reported aslacking in many mainstream childcare services (Fasoliet al., 2004; SNAICC, 2002; Priest, 2005). Culturallysafe services are defined as those where individuals,families and communities feel comfortable in theknowledge that the service understands, respectsand acknowledges their culture and background, andembeds this information in practices, standards, policiesand attitudes (Bamblett & Lewis, 2007; Hutchins et al.,2007; SNAICC, 2005). Indigenous families’ reports offeeling culturally unsafe include racist and judgementalremarks, dismissive comments, and a general lack ofsensitivity to their experiences (Bamblett & Lewis,2007; Report on the Review of Aboriginal Education inNSW, 2004; Walker, 2004).It is for these reasons that Indigenous families havea preference for Indigenous staff working within theirchildcare services (Bamblett & Lewis, 2007). It is welldocumented,however, that there is a shortage of bothIndigenous and non-Indigenous qualified childcarestaff and early childhood educators, a situation thatexists within both mainstream and Indigenous-specificservices. Such deficiencies impact on both the qualityand availability of services, creating, particularly forIndigenous families, barriers to accessing services(Report on the Review of Aboriginal Education in NSW,2004; Walker, 2004).Appropriate child careThe literature identifies a number of interrelatedcultural values important to service provision (includingbut not limited to child care) for Indigenous peoples,including acknowledgement of history; the importanceof community control of services; and the inclusion ofparents and families in childcare programs (Fasoli et al.,2004; Priest, 2005; SNAICC, 2002). Child care for manyIndigenous peoples is seen as ‘the focus for buildingcommunity, maintaining language and supporting familiesand their children to grow’ (RPR Consulting, 2005, p. 3).In 1997, the Multifunctional Aboriginal Children’sServices (MACS) were developed, and are thepredominant model servicing the childcare needs ofIndigenous children, their families and communities.MACS provide an example of culturally strong childcareprogramming, with services offering long day care,outside-school-hours care, transport to and from theservice, provision of food, cultural activities, and familysupport programs (Indigenous Professional SupportUnit, website).MethodologyEthics approval to undertake the research was grantedby Edith Cowan University’s Human Research EthicsCommittee. The research was conducted withattention to NH&MRC’s (2003) Guidelines for ethicalresearch in Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander healthresearch. These guidelines require all researchers toconduct their work according to Indigenous prioritiesand processes, and with respect for Indigenous valuesat all stages of the project. Importantly, the broadresearch team included Indigenous and non-Indigenouspeoples with many years’ experience of working withIndigenous communities.102Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

The national sample consisted of Indigenous childcareproviders (n = 202), Indigenous community members(n = 210), and state and territory governmentrepresentatives (n = 66). A minimum of one capitalcity consultation and one rural/remote consultationof service providers and community members wasundertaken in each state and territory. Metropolitanconsultations were held during the Secretariatfor National Aboriginal and Islander Child Care’s(SNAICC) state conferences where possible. Rural/regional/remote sites were nominated by SNAICC,the Australian Department of Families, CommunityServices and Indigenous Affairs (FaCSIA) and state andterritory government representatives.Qualitative data was obtained through focus groupdiscussions and individual consultations, using semistructuredinterview guides. Three guides weredeveloped, each relevant to the respective participantgroups. For community members, the guide was pilotedwith a reference group and modified to ensure the styleand wording of questions, and the general context andpurpose, was appropriate. The guide was then approvedby Edith Cowan University’s Ethics Committee. Thequestions evolved, however, throughout the datacollection phase to take into account local themes andneeds. Where appropriate and consensual, focus groupand interview discussions were audio-recorded andtranscribed verbatim. Field notes and observations werealso collected by interviewers when visiting communitiesand government, providing a further source of data.Analysis of the data was done by all members of theresearch team and focused on designated topics. Thisdata was coded by an independent analyst into thematiccategories and then brought to team meetings, undergoingconstant review. Written drafts were then combined andorganised under the headings reported below.Limitations of the study included time constraints andthe limited sample. In addition, many participants raisedtheir objections to the presence of FaCSIA staff at theconsultations and, as a result, may have been moreconstrained in voicing their opinions. Overall, however,robust and exhaustive deliberations were generated bythe issues of the study.The consultationsAccessible child careLack of available childcare places was identified asone of the predominant barriers to accessing childcare—‘not having any!’ being a frequent response. Thisshortage of places was reflected across all geographiclocations. Where services did exist, many Indigenouschildcare providers spoke of extensive waiting lists andhaving to turn families away:We have only been open two weeks this yearand we are full, now we are turning families away(Service provider, regional).A lack of qualified staff is one of the factors impingingon the availability of child care, with services frequentlyrequired to close their doors until qualified staff can befound. Remote communities, in particular, suffer fromthis issue, sometimes closing several times per year forstaff to complete training, take holidays and sick leave:There is a million dollar centre on X that has beenclosed all year because they can’t get staff. Thelights have been on since it has closed and theweeds are growing high They need to get the staffright before they build these centres (Communitymember, remote).For metropolitan areas, a significant issue revolvedaround childcare centres training Indigenous staff onlyto have them leave upon gaining their qualificationsbecause the centre was not able to offer them a trainedstaff position:After you get qualified it is like who can afford you?(Service provider, metropolitan).Centres can’t afford to pay staff they train oncethey become qualified (Government, metropolitan).TransportThe lack of transport proved to be a key barrier tochild care for Indigenous families. This was an issueacross the country, and not simply confined to rural andremote areas. At one of the consultations participantstalked about children leaving the centre if there was notransport. Staff from another centre talked about theimportance of a larger bus:If the children can’t get on the bus they have towalk home with the older children from school.They also have problems with having to share thebus (because of other community commitments).If they miss the breakfast bus they go withoutbreakfast (Service provider, metropolitan).According to one government representative:The bus is the umbilical cord to the service, if it breaksdown it’s really low (Government representative,metropolitan).Where transport and a dedicated driver were available,the driver and his/her role were seen as essentialcomponents of the service: As one driver describedhimself:I am the bus carer (Community consultation,metropolitan).Having licensed drivers, not simply the lack of a vehicle,was also a problem for some communities:103Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

We need a bus but we also need a staff memberthat is licensed to drive a bus and enough staff to goon the bus with the kids. Sometimes we borrow thebus to go to the library (Service provider, remote).The general consensus among those service providersnot having transport was that more children wouldaccess the service if they were picked up and droppedoff, as many community members did not have access toprivate vehicles, or they were too expensive to operate:We don’t have a bus so some people car pool andthis is dangerous and illegal as there are not enoughseat belts. Sometimes the cars break down and theycan’t get the children to the crèche (Service provider,metropolitan).In some remote communities the lack of transport wasan issue owing to adverse weather conditions, despitedistances between homes and the childcare centresbeing relatively short. As parents explained, the heat formany months of the year was scorching, often reaching47°C. One parent commented:If you have to walk from the office to here (child carecentre) in the middle of the day that is too far in theheat, ‘specially for a little one (Community member,remote).Transport is also important for excursions, which wereseen as essential in some communities in order to ensurethe children were exposed to cultural experiences:… the boys go out in the bus and pick the wildplums. They love it (Service provider, rural).Affordable child careThe affordability of child care for Indigenous familiesvaried greatly across the country, depending upon thetype of their community and the type of care availableand/or accessed. Nevertheless, most service providersand community members identified the cost of formalchild care as prohibitive to most Indigenous families,with mainstream services costing more than Indigenousspecificservices:[Mainstream] child care can cost $50–$100 per dayper child (Government representative, metropolitan).It is cheaper at Aboriginal services but it can still bea problem for families to pay this (Service provider,metropolitan).There appears to be a range of fee structures in placefor Indigenous child care. For example, parents in oneIndigenous community told us they do not pay childcarefees—the fees are paid by the community council.In other instances, childcare services only require thefamilies to make a contribution towards the cost of food.However, even this can pose a difficulty or some:Some mothers feel that the $20 per fortnight thecrèche asks them to contribute for food is toomuch, although some are really fine about this.Even I chuck in $20 a fortnight, even though I don’tget to eat much (Service provider, remote).Community members said that between $2 and$5 per day per child was a reasonable fee for childcare. However, with the size of Indigenous familiesvarying—the largest number of children we identifiedin one family was 15—the cost of child care becomesincreasingly out of reach the more children there are.Even inexpensive child care—for example, $10 per dayper child for a family of six children—is prohibitive forfamilies on low incomes and with inadequate access tosubsidy entitlements.Management of subsidyConfusion about childcare subsidies led to some familiespaying more fees than necessary. Confusion revolvedaround eligibility, accessibility and cost:My daughter is doing the sums now; she has to seewhat she can afford. Before, parents only had to paya percentage and not the full amount (Communitymember, metropolitan).Completing the Centrelink requirements, or in some casesaccessing the Centrelink officer, proved to be difficult formany of the participants:Centrelink don’t know what they are doing. I spenthalf an hour on the phone, always on the phoneto Centrelink, they keep doing things wrong. It isexpensive to go into Centrelink, $8 on the ferry eachway (Community member, remote).Those families who accessed childcare subsidies freelyoften relied on the centre’s staff to assist them with thearrangements:We take time to get the Centrepay forms with theclient, but Centrelink charge the operator a fee to havethis facility (Non-Indigenous service provider, regional).Collection of feesCollecting fees from Indigenous families was reportedby some service providers as difficult. Falling behind infee payments often resulted in non-payment notices,the child and family leaving the centre, and verbalabuse and threatened violence to staff attempting tocollect fees:If we have parents that owe money we tell themthat the children cannot attend until the bill is paid.Some centres have a debt limit of $100 before youstop accessing services but this can be unfair wherethere is more than one child due to the rates of theaccumulating date (Service provider, metropolitan).104Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

I was threatened by parents for asking for fees(Service provider, regional).Different strategies were in place across the serviceproviders to deal with the collection of fees, including:deduction from CDEP wages; assisting with theCentrepay service; allowing families to do voluntarywork in the centre in lieu of fees; payment of feesin advance; providing positive reinforcement for billpayment; and having a culturally appropriate approachto collection of fees.Acceptable child careIndigenous families characterised acceptable child carein different ways but it was primarily having a choicein care options as well as a culturally safe service.The ‘one size fits all’ approach is not one that suitsIndigenous families and communities:Not all Aboriginal families are in need … we are notcloned (Community member, metropolitan).The three main options for child care as described byIndigenous families include children being cared forby family members; children attending mainstreamservices; or children attending an Indigenous-specificservice. The latter was the most popular optionamongst our participants, although by no means theonly one. Making use of family members for childcare—not an option available to all families—involvedissues of availability, cost, flexibility, trust and tradition:People think grandparents are better because theydon’t have to pay them (Service provider, remote).A couple of our children used to be with theirgrandparents and speaking to them last week theyare glad they are here. We had another parent whotook their children out and the grandmother hit theroof ’cause she couldn’t cope (Service provider,remote).Some communities have no services. In thesecommunities children are cared for informally(Service provider, remote).Mainstream childcare services were a consideredoption for some Indigenous families. These reasonsvary, ranging from non-identification as an Indigenousperson to a desire for their children to experiencemainstream culture. One grandmother sent hergrandson to a mainstream service because she:… wanted him to have a white experience (Serviceprovider, regional).One father, who moved from an Indigenous communityto the city, said:My kids they went to day care here with white kids.‘Cause you have to learn how to be with others. That’sthe world now (Community member, metropolitan).Mainstream services, however, are not an optionfor many Indigenous families. For these families,acceptable child care is a place where they feel theirchildren are culturally safe. For this reason, familiesfeel comfortable and safe in Indigenous childcarecentres where their family’s background is understood.Indigenous services operated by local people and whichmeet the needs of that specific community are clearlypreferred, and more are needed:The feel of the centre is important, for example, thelook of the centre should be culturally appropriate,sleep times and the approach must be culturallyappropriate, foods need to be appropriate, systemsneed to meet needs of Indigenous families(Government representative, metropolitan).Indigenous child care services view the childholistically, as part of the family and community.All their needs are dealt with together (Serviceprovider, metropolitan).There was a strong sense among community membersthat both Indigenous-specific and mainstream childcareservices should be staffed with Indigenous staffmembers. This criterion was seen as more essentialthan having staff with formal childcare qualifications,although families did want qualified staff caring fortheir children. Having Indigenous parents involved incaregiving roles and understanding how children arebrought up was an important issue, as one father said:My daughter is five, she has always got bruises,I don’t want someone sitting there going oh yeahblackfella beating up his kids, she always hasbruises on her legs … I guess another Aboriginalparent can understand how hyperactive they can be… I always fear that because Aboriginal people havebeen a bit more strict with their kids (Communitymember, metropolitan).White workers, they should not be teachingblack stuff … that’s why mothers won’t attend(Community member, metropolitan).Issues faced by Indigenous families need to beunderstood and dealt with by staff members. Theseissues can involve, for example, feuding betweenfamilies and groups, which can affect the attendance ofchildren at the childcare centre:There is too much politics involved in communitymanagedservices so they don’t work all that well,it can make it hard for staff and families with familyfeuds. Some families might be told that there are nospots for the children if they don’t want a particularfamily in the centre. They might tell other peoplein the community that a family can’t pay their fees(Community member, rural).105Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Appropriate child careIndigenous families consider appropriate child care to bethat which acknowledges their histories, cultures andlanguages in all aspects of the service. Appropriate childcare requires programs and services to be culturally strong.Culturally strong services and programsMany parents were critical of services which did notacknowledge their Indigenous heritage:There is a lack of programming for Koori kids.They don’t know how to run culturally appropriateprograms—creating an environment where familiesfeel welcome, use of the flag, recognition of culturein the centre—not willing and don’t know how(Community member, metropolitan).This lack of acknowledgement included ignoranceof Indigenous kinship systems and how they mayinfluence the way families use services. One Aboriginalchild, attending mainstream care, told his caregiver:‘Mum X [his mother under the classificatory kinshipsystem] is picking me up today.’ The caregiver said‘She is not your Mum, she is your Aunty’. He said‘No, she is my Mum X’. The caregiver continuedto argue with the child and he became upset. Thechild does not want to return to the centre andthe parents will not send him back there (Serviceprovider, regional).Incorporating Indigenous culture into the childcareprogram in a meaningful manner is very important toIndigenous people:There’s a survival instinct when kids are verysmall—they have to have all of the hunting andfishing and learning. The child care should be aplace to see the continuance of that sort of learning,of childcare stuff, to allow them to keep moving on(Service provider, metropolitan).Do culturally inclusive activities in kindy, Aboriginalstories on mat using puppets, show the flag andtalk about it, use the didgeridoo and Aboriginalmusic (Community member, regional).Knowledge of the role of child careThe importance of development in the early years, therole child care can play in this development, and thebroader role child care can play in family support, is notalways understood in some Indigenous families andcommunities. Some communities were reported asseeing child care as merely a babysitting service:The family and community are unaware of anddo not value the contribution good child care canmake to the child’s development and wellbeing(Government representative, metropolitan).There was confusion for some parents around thereasons for accessing child care, with them thinking,for example, that this care is available only to workingparents. This reflects a general lack of accessibleinformation to Indigenous families:People are not confident to approach us; they thinkthey need to be working to get their kids in here(Service provider, metropolitan).In addition, many Indigenous parents of young childrentoday did not have positive early childhood experiencesthemselves. While the parents want their children tobe educated, these negative experiences come to thefore as soon as issues arise for their children within thechildcare environment, the result being that they mayremove the child from the service:Children’s services need to build trust withfamilies. The parents of today did not have greatearly childhood experiences, so when somethinggoes wrong they don’t send children anymore(Government representative, metropolitan).Shame was also cited as a reason for Indigenousfamilies choosing to not send their child to child care,feeling that they and their family will be judged byothers both in the community and in the childcarecentre for attending the service:It’s shame hey. They scared to come (Communitymember, remote).Well, she is not working, why can’t she look afterher own kid? (Community member, remote).For some, extended family members themselves werenot comfortable with the children going to child care,seeing it as the family’s responsibility to bring up thechildren:I looked after my children and grandchildren, Ican’t do it now ’cause I am too old. My greatgrandchildrengo to child care. I don’t think it is rightbecause they need loving. How can you love allthose children? I don’t think it is right to send themto child care. Children need loving up (Communitymember, remote).DiscussionThis research does not stand alone as an attempt toemphasise some of the barriers to Indigenous children’sparticipation in government-approved childcare settingsacross Australia. Rather, it contributes towards alarger body of research which calls for the realisationof equity in access for Indigenous children and theirfamilies in these settings (Aboriginal Best Start StatusReport, 2004; Fasoli & Moss, 2007; SNAICC, 2002;Walker, 2004). Improvements in the wellbeing ofIndigenous children, families and communities require106Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

that Commonwealth, state and territory governmentspay attention to the research findings that result fromIndigenous peoples’ participation in such studies.In this and similar studies, the issues of accessibility(availability of places and transport), affordability,acceptability and appropriateness have been reportedas significant barriers to access and participation andmust be addressed in current and future Indigenousearly childhood development.Where services for Indigenous children do exist, the lackof available places and transport are significant barriersto their access to both mainstream and Indigenousspecificservices (ACOSS, 2006; SNAICC, 2002;Walker, 2004). Many of these existing services alsoclaim long waiting lists, and both the literature and theconsultations highlight that many more children couldbe placed if those services were expanded (Pocock& Hill, 2007). On the other hand, the establishmentof services in many communities with significantIndigenous populations—typically rural and remoteareas—is limited owing to the lack of trained staff andproper acknowledgement of the comparatively highcosts associated with living in such areas, and highcosts of child care (SNAICC, 2002).Affordability of child care is a complex issue, particularlyas it relates to Indigenous families, and involves theissues of both absolute and relative poverty, knowledgeof and access to existing childcare subsidies, andthe capacity of large households to meet the costsof child care where other demands on income areprioritised. These factors, whether existing in isolationor combined, make accessing child care—particularlymainstream services—very difficult, even impossible,for some families (ACOSS, 2006; Report on the Reviewof Aboriginal Education in NSW, 2004; SNAICC, 2002).While the consultations highlighted that very few of theparticipants use mainstream services—most preferringIndigenous-specific services for a number of reasons—those that did spoke of their struggles to pay their highfees. This was also an issue within Indigenous-specificservices, with attempts made by many of those servicesto assist parents/carers with dealing with this problem. Itwas also clear, however, that many Indigenous familiesdo not take advantage of the Child Care Benefit owingto, for example, being unaware of their eligibility, poorliteracy skills, and/or insufficient assistance fromgovernment officials charged with its administration.The interrelated issues of culturally safe and culturallyappropriate child care are central to the choices thatIndigenous families make about service provision(Fasoli et al., 2004; SNAICC, 2002; Priest, 2005;SNAICC, 2009). Many mainstream services have beenreported as being either unaware of the special needsof Indigenous families; openly racist in their commentsabout Indigenous people; and/or judgemental of theirstyles of parenting (Bamblett & Lewis, 2007; Fasoli etal., 2004; Hutchins et al., 2007). Experiences such asthese leave families feeling unsafe, with feelings ofshame when confronted with such treatment (Reporton the Review of Aboriginal Education in NSW, 2004).While some of the issues experienced by Indigenouschildren and families are similar to those experienced bythe mainstream population, the socio-historic context inwhich the Indigenous population is positioned furtherexacerbates these barriers (Bamblett & Lewis, 2007;Hutchins et al., 2007). The benefits of equity in accessto childcare services for children are far-reaching, notonly in the goal of providing for ‘fair and just treatmentof all individuals’ (COAG, 2009, p. 38), but also in theenhanced outcomes of their participation in suchservices: their care and protection, their health andwellbeing, and their transition to school (ACOSS, 2006;ARACY, 2008; Hutchins et al., 2007; SNAICC, 2009).Acknowledgements:The research this paper is based on was funded by theAustralian Department of Families, Communities andIndigenous Affairs (now Families, Housing, Communitiesand Indigenous Affairs), although the opinions expressedare those of the authors alone and do not necessarilyrepresent the views of the department. The researchteam comprised Sherry Saggers, Andrew Guilfoyle,Teresa Hutchins, Margaret Sims and Anna Targowska,Centre for Social Research, Edith Cowan University;Stephanie Jackiewicz, Colleen Hayward, Steve Zubrickand Ellen Seymour, Telethon Institute for Child HealthResearch; Terry Dunbar, Charles Darwin University;June McLoughlin and Frank Oberklaid, Royal Children’sHospital, Melbourne; and Collette Tayler, QueenslandUniversity of Technology. Susan Teather was employedas a research associate on the project and Katie Francesis currently employed to work with the research teamon publications arising from the research. We alsoacknowledge the important role of the Secretariat ofNational Aboriginal and Islander Child Care in assistingwith the organisation of consultations and for commentson the initial research report.ReferencesAboriginal Best Start Status Report (2004). Community CareDivisions. Melbourne: Victorian Government Department ofHuman Services.Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) (2008). The health andwelfare of Australia’s Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanderpeoples, 2008 (cat. no. 4704.0). Canberra: Australian Bureauof Statistics.Australian Council of Social Services (ACOSS) (2006). Fairstart: 10-point plan for early childhood education and care.Strawberry Hills, NSW: ACOSS.107Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Australian Institute of Health and Welfare (AIHW) (2006).Trends in the affordability of child care services 1991–2004.Bulletin No. 35. AIHW Cat. No. AUS 71. Canberra: AIHW.Australian Research Alliance for Children and Youth (ARACY)(2008). Inverting the pyramid: Enhancing systems forprotecting children. Perth: ARACY.Bamblett, M., & Lewis, P. (2007). Detoxifying the child andfamily welfare system for Australian Indigenous peoples: Selfdetermination,rights and culture as the critical tools. FirstPeoples Child & Family Review, 3(3), 43–56.Bown, K., Fenech, M., Giugni, M., & Millei, Z. (2008). SJIECResponse to the National Quality Framework discussion paper.NSW: Social Justice in Early Childhood.Council of Australian Governments (COAG) (2009). Towards anational quality framework for early childhood education andcare. Report of the Expert Advisory Panel on Quality EarlyChildhood Education and Care. Canberra: Department ofEducation, Employment and Workplace Relations.Elliott, A. (2006). Early childhood education: Pathways to qualityand equity for all children (Australian Education Review No.50). Camberwell, Victoria: Australian Council for EducationalResearch.Fasoli, L., Benbow, R., Deveraux, K., Falk, I., Harris, R., Hazard,M., et al. (2004). ‘Both ways’ children’s services project:A study of children’s services development, change andsustainability in six remote Indigenous communities in theNorthern Territory. Batchelor, NT: Batchelor Press.Fasoli, L., & Moss, B. (2007) What can we learn from‘Innovative Child Care Services’? Children’s services purposesand practices in Australia’s Northern Territory. ContemporaryIssues in Early Childhood, 8(3), 265–274.Gallagher, J., & Clifford, R. (2000). The missing supportinfrastructure in early childhood. Early Childhood Research andPractice, 2(1), 1–24.Hill, E., Pocock, B., & Elliott, A. (2007). Introduction. In E. Hill,B. Pocock, & A. Elliott (Eds), Kids count: Better early childhoodeducation and care in Australia (pp. 1–12). Sydney: SydneyUniversity Press.Hutchins, T., Martin, K., Saggers, S., & Sims, M. (2007).Indigenous early learning and care. Discussion paper. Canberra:ARACY.Indigenous Professional Support Unit (IPSU) (2006). Retrieved10 October, 2009, from http://www.ipsu.com.au.Kelly, L., & Vnuk, M. (2003). Linking early intervention programsto training and work pathways. Paper presented at the AustralianInstitute of Family Studies conference, ‘Steps Forward forFamilies: Research, Practice and Policy’, Melbourne. NetworkSA / Department of Family and Community.National Health and Medical Research Council. (2003). Valuesand ethics: guidelines for ethical conduct in Aboriginal andTorres Strait Islander Health Research. Canberra: AustralianGovernment National Health and Medical Research Council.Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development(OECD) (2006). Starting strong II: Early childhood educationand care. Paris: OECD.Penter, C. (2000). Wheatbelt child care assessment project.Canberra: Department of Family and Community Services.Pocock, B., & Hill, E. (2007). The childcare policy challenge inAustralia. In E. Hill, B. Pocock & A. Elliott (Eds), Kids count:Better early childhood education and care in Australia (pp. 15–37). Sydney: Sydney University Press.Priest, K. (2005). Exploring quality assurance for Aboriginaland Torres Strait Islander child care: a literature review andbackground paper. Canberra: Department of Family andCommunity Services.Report on the review of Aboriginal education in NSW (2004).Yanigura Muya: Ganggurrinyma Yaarri Guurulaw Yirringin.gurray. Freeing the Spirit: Dreaming an Equal Future. NSWAboriginal Education Consultative Group Incorporated andNSW Department of Education and Training.Rogers, R. (2004). Early childhood – case studies. Victoria:SNAICC. Retrieved 10 October 2009, from http://www.snaicc.asn.au/_uploads/rsfil/00077.pdf.RPR Consulting (2005). Review of the Aboriginal and IslanderChild Care Agency (AICCA) Program, Final Report. Canberra:Department of Family and Community Services.Secretariat of National Aboriginal and Islander Child Care(SNAICC) (2002). Improving access to childcare for Indigenousfamilies. Briefing paper for Commonwealth Child CareReference Group. Victoria. SNAICC.Secretariat of National Aboriginal and Islander Child Care(SNAICC) (2005). Footprints to where we are. A resourcemanual for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children’sservices. (Vol. 110). North Fitzroy, Vic: SNAICC.Secretariat of National Aboriginal and Islander Child Care(SNAICC) (2009). Submission on the Consultation RegulationImpact Statement for Early Childhood Education and CareQuality Reforms. Victoria: SNAICC.Steering Committee for the Review of Government ServiceProvision (SCRGSP) (2008). Report on government services.Indigenous compendium. Canberra: Productivity Commission.Walker, C. (2004). National Preschool Education Enquiry. For allour children. Southbank: Australian Education Union.Wannan, L. (2007). Getting the basics right – goals that woulddeliver a good national children’s services system. In E. Hill,B. Pocock & A. Elliott (Eds), Kids count: Better early childhoodeducation and care in Australia (pp. 112–133). Sydney, NewSouth Wales: Sydney University Press.108Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Personal reflection on research process and tools:Effectiveness, highlights and challenges in using the MosaicApproachCheryl GreenfieldManukau Institute of TechnologyThis reflection on using the Mosaic Approach as a framework for undertakingresearch with young children contributes to the dialogue around qualitative researchmethodology. The provocation of social constructivist theory challenges researchers toconsider and explore innovative ways to position themselves so the multiple voices ofchildren can be heard, valued, respected and listened to. Three underpinning principlesare identified and each of the methodological tools used by Greenfield (2007a) isdiscussed. Trustworthiness or situated validity in research is vital. It is argued thatthe Mosaic Approach provides an effective, flexible and authentic methodology whenundertaking research with young children.BackgroundInitially, a small-scale pilot study was undertaken toexplore ways to research children’s perspectives onwhat being outdoors meant to them (Greenfield, 2004).This pilot study aimed to explore what a group of sixfour-year-old children in full-day child care thought aboutbeing outdoors, what they liked to do outside and whatelse they would like to have outside. The children sharedtheir feelings and views about their outdoor playgroundthrough the medium of photography and discussionsusing the photos they had taken. The study was steppinginto unknown territory by using new research tools thatempowered the child within the process.The voice of children was just beginning to be heardin academic research at the turn of the century(Brooker, 2001; Robbins, 2002). The 2004 study,where children were each given a disposable camerato photograph their favourite places outside, affirmedthat ‘handing the camera over to the child’ provideda very appropriate means of discovering what wasimportant to the child, as Clark (2005) and Einarsdottir(2005) had found. More detailed reflection on ways tolisten to children’s views at that time can be found inGreenfield (2006). Two weaknesses of the 2004 studywere overlooking the importance of observing childrenas they played outside and seeking the views of thechildren’s teachers and their families. The child is partof a wider context, not just a child with isolated viewsand behaviour unconnected to anything else. Additionalresearch tools were sought that allowed furtherinvestigation of children’s perspectives in a meaningful,uncontrived way.The Mosaic ApproachThe next research project was a much larger qualitativestudy on children’s, teachers’ and parents’ perspectiveson the outdoors, using multiple data-collecting toolssuch as touring, photography, observations, drawing,and photo elicitation. It was exciting to discover thaton the other side of the world Peter Moss and AlisonClark were exploring similar research tools (Clark &Moss, 2001, 2005). The Mosaic Approach developedby Moss and Clark affirmed the use of multiplemethods to research children’s perceptions and views.Children’s perspectives are much better understoodif the researcher spends time in the setting with theparticipant children. This time outdoors, in the children’sworld, requires the researcher to use all their senses totruly listen to the children, in order to capture the manyways they have of communicating.109Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

The Mosaic Approach relies on children being giventhe time and opportunity to express themselves indifferent ways. This acknowledges the ‘Hundredlanguages’ (Malaguzzi, 1996) that children may use toexplore and represent their experiences, and includesgiving the child space to take the lead in the research.As Langstead (1994, cited in Clark & Moss, 2005, p.83) describes, it is about re-establishing children as‘experts in their own lives’. The Mosaic Approach, asits name suggests, is about piecing together multipletypes of data to help understand children’s views.It became the framework for the second study(Greenfield, 2007a), a much larger qualitative, semiparticipatorycase study. This was conducted one daya week over 14 weeks, with 14 children aged betweentwo years-nine months and four years-nine months, inone early childhood centre. The purpose was to exploreyoung children’s views on their outdoor experiences aswell as the perspectives of their parents, teachers andthe centre owner. The research questions were:■■What are children’s perspectives of theirexperiences in the outdoor setting of their earlychildhood centre?■■What are children’s views on the role of the teacheroutside?■■What are teachers’, parents’ and the centreowner’s perspectives on outdoor experiences forchildren and their provision at the centre?The investigation was undertaken using a variety of thedata-collecting tools (see Table 1) adapted from those usedin the Mosaic Approach by Clark and Moss (2001; 2005).The Mosaic Approach is a way of researching thatis participatory, reflexive, adaptable and focused onchildren’s lived experience. It occurs in the setting wherethe children are, is embedded in practice, and provides avalid framework for listening to children (Clark & Moss,2001; Greenfield, 2007a, 2007b). The Mosaic Approachhas three stages. Stage one is the gathering of thedata using multiple research tools; the second stage isthe piecing together of the information for discussion,interpretation and reflection with participants; and thethird stage is where findings are used for decision makingand action. The Mosaic Approach informed all stages ofthe investigation of children’s, teachers’ and parents’views on being in the centre’s outdoor environment.This reflection focuses on stages one and two.Underpinning principlesIn order to use the Mosaic Approach in research, itis vital to understand the three main principles thatare considered to underpin the approach and are atthe forefront of all research undertaken with children(Greenfield, 2006). The first principle is the beliefthat children have ideas, feelings and opinions worthTable 1.Research toolsObservationChildconferencing/conversationsPhotographyand photonovellaDrawingFocus groupsInterviewPhoto-elicitationJournalsTouringBook-makingDocumentationAudio-recordingResearch tools used adapted from the MosaicApproachCommentsQualitative participant observation,narrative accounts, photographicobservations and time-samplingparticipation charts (both scheduledand spontaneous)Semi-structured interviewsconducted one on one or in smallgroups, as well as conversationschildren initiatedDigital (researcher and children) anddisposable cameras (children) usedto photograph important people,places, events and thingsCollaborative drawings of whatchildren like outsideSemi-formal discussion withparents and teachersSemi-formal with centre ownerLooking at pre-selected picturesof familiar and different outdoorplaces and equipmentParents, teacher and researcherkept during data collectionTours of the outdoor setting led bychildrenChildren selecting photos andcreating their own pagesCentre brochure and websiteAll conversations, interviews, focusgroups recordedlistening to (Dahlberg, Moss, & Pence, 1999). Researchwith young children must be situated in the beliefthat children seek to understand and make sense oftheir world. It was hoped that the children could offerinformation which, in combination with other evidence,would enable the researcher to see how they perceivedtheir centre’s outdoor environment. From this stance Ipositioned myself, not as the expert, but as the ‘authenticnovice’, a term used by Clark and Moss (2005) to describethe researcher who is genuinely seeking the child’sperspective. ‘Handing over of the camera to children was asignificant aspect of building trust and helped diminish thepower difference between the researcher and children.Children can become research partners if given the timeand the tools to be involved’ (Fasoli, 2003). One way thiswas accomplished was by giving each child their owncamera, whereas all other studies to date, such as Clarkand Moss ( 2001), Cremin and Slatter (2004) and Docketand Perry (2003), had children all sharing one camera.110Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

The second principle is that establishing and maintainingpositive professional relationships with everyone in theresearch setting is crucial. This principle, when kept atthe forefront, ensures the researcher is always mindfulthat being in the children’s environment is a privilege.Research, especially in early childhood centres, mustalways have a benefit for the children and the teachers.This starts from negotiating entry to the early childhoodsettings right through to the end of the project andbeyond, including the publication and presentation offindings. This involves ensuring that photographs usedin the research, and those made available for publicscrutiny, will do no harm.The third principle is that, throughout the datacollectionphase, the research procedures should notbe too tightly constrained. Appropriate and flexibleactivities for eliciting the children’s views were usedin order to enhance the validity of the findings, aswell as to avoid stress on participants. This requireda continual reconsideration of what strategies wereneeded to enable the children to remain in control ofthe photography, their drawing, their participation inthe other research activities, and when and wherethey talked to the researcher. This can entail respectingand acknowledging that small children like to engagein conversations about all manner of things, which areoften not related to what you, the adult, wants to talkabout (Robbins, 2002). Respecting a child’s choice notto participate at a particular point is vital and signals tothe child that you were sincere about them talking withyou on their terms. The ability to reflect on strategiesbetween each visit to the centre and to be responsiveto what was important for the children at the time wasimperative (Hatch, 1990) .Discussion on research toolsData from the planned observations (running records,time-sampling) was useful for discovering the outdoorareas and equipment used at specific times and by whom.This data provided a general picture of the usage of thesetting. The findings highlighted the fallibility of equatingusage with preference if only children’s observations arebeing used to gather data. For example, a grass spacein the middle of the outdoor area had the highest usage,but the actual equipment on it was not used as muchas the large, moveable climbing equipment, and noneof the children identified the middle grass space as afavourite (Greenfield, 2007a).Targeted time-sequenced photographic observationsof all the participant children, using the digital camera,captured a few minutes of their engagement witha particular piece of equipment or area. Thesephotographs were formed into a photographic essay(Banks, 2001; Pink, 2001; Prosser & Schwartz, 1998).This provided useful data for inductive analysis(Edwards, 2005) and supported and enriched the writtenobservations (Kervin, Vaille, Herrington, & Okely, 2006).These photographs provided evidence of the stages ofan action or an experience. The photographic essays,when placed alongside the transcripts’ comments,contributed to ongoing understanding of a child or groupof children (Banks, 2001; Prosser & Schwartz, 1998).Child interviewing requires a great degree of sensitivity,so natural conversations and open-ended interviews(semi-structured)/child conferencing with the childrenwere used. Patton (2002) calls them ‘conversationalinterviews’. These are most appropriate for youngchildren, allowing the researcher to ask the key questionswhen the opportunity arises and to be flexible andresponsive (Gillham, 2000) to whatever is happening atthe time and to whatever the child may want to talk about.Sometimes conversations were held with just one child,sometimes several children, and talking with children insmall groups added richness to the data collected. Otherstudies have also found that small-group interviewsrevealed consensus views and facilitated richer responses(Gillham, 2000; Wiltz & Klein, 2001).The framework for child conferencing used by Clark andMoss (2001; 2005), and an essential aspect of usingthe Mosaic Approach, provided the basis for the semistructuredinterviews/child conferencing conversation.After some initial refining the following statements andquestions were used:■■Tell me about the places outside you like the best.■■Tell me about the parts of the outdoors you do notlike.■■Why do you like to go outside?■■Tell me about your most favourite place outside.■■What would you like to see changed or added tothe outdoor space?■■Tell me about what teachers do outside.■■What do you think teachers should do outside?Multiple copies of the framework questions (one foreach child) stayed on a clipboard that was availablenearby at all times. This enabled the recording of achild’s answers to the questions when the child choseto engage in dialogue with the researcher. The childconferencing framework allowed flexibility to revisitthe questions and their responses in an informal waywhen at the centre. During conversations with thechildren, the rephrasing of the framework questionswas sometimes required, as was having conversationsabout all manner of things, and responding to theirrequests and questions.Photographs taken by the participants and researcherwere used in three ways: (1) as ‘aides memoires’ in thecourse of fieldwork; (2) as sources of data in their ownright; and (3) as prompts for discussion by research111Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

participants (Altrichter, Posch, & Somekh, 1993; Kervinet al., 2006), all of which added to the richness of thewritten observations, the descriptions developed,discovering the children’s perspectives on outdoorsettings and authenticating the findings.Photo-elicitation as a method of interviewing workedmuch more effectively than expected, as found byClark and Moss (2005), Warming (2005) and Wiltz andKlein (2001). Using assorted pre-selected pictures ofequipment and outdoor play settings proved to be anon-threatening way of opening up conversations andgave an insight to how the children felt about outdoorexperiences not provided within the centre setting orthat the researcher had not been around to observe. Eachpicture was numbered and recorded on a master sheet.As children indicated whether they or not they thoughtthey liked to play with that particular piece of equipmentor in that natural outdoor space, it was noted. Thismaster sheet also stayed permanently on the clipboard.All the children made clear choices as to what they liked/disliked that stayed true during subsequent sessions.What had not been anticipated was that looking at theassorted pictures would be such a social event, a timewhen the children sought each other’s opinions.Some of the most satisfying moments in the studywere those when the children took complete controlof the data collection and the researcher became verymuch a participant, under their direction:—‘record this’,‘photograph that’, ‘write this’, ‘do that’. Most memorablewere the times when two of the boys took over the roleas ‘interviewer’ of the other children: ‘Do you like this?’,‘Who likes this …?’ ‘Who loves that …?’. On occasionthis went on for 30 minutes. They proved to be effectiveinterviewers of each other, and this is a research toolworth exploring further.Photo Novella is about handing the camera over to thechild. Each child having their own disposable camera touse seemed to be an empowering learning experiencefor all children and validated the decision to not restrictthem to only a few frames, as seems to be the trendin many studies (such as (Clark & Moss, 2001; Dockett& Perry, 2003). Empowering children in this way alsomeans the researcher does not have control of whatis photographed; the children are providing the data.The children were excited and proud to have their owncamera. This seemed to give them a sense of realimportance, and even more so when they got to usethe researcher’s digital camera. The cameras at thecentre were for teachers’ use only at that time. PhotoNovella proved to be a highly effective research tool inproviding another avenue for children to communicatetheir perspectives besides the spoken word.Through the children’s photographs it was discoveredhow much notice they take of the natural world. Thenatural elements of the outdoor environment werethe most photographed. This finding is consistent withother studies where children have taken photos of theimportant places and people in their early childhoodcentres (Clark, 2005; Einarsdottir, 2005; Greenfield, 2006).Not only did the children’s photographs offer unrivalledinformation in understanding the children’s perceptions(Brooker, 2001), Photo Novella proved to be an enjoyableexperience and one that has subsequently led to childrendiscovering a new interest and area of expertise. Thisproject empowered the children to see themselves ascompetent in taking photographs. As the birthdays ofseveral of the participant children occurred at this time,it was good to see that grandparents and parents gavecameras as gifts to these children.Talking with children about their photographs wasspread over many weeks, as they finished using theirfilm on different days. This allowed time to be spentwith individual children or naturally forming small pairs/groups looking at their pictures together and talkingabout them. Several parents had commented that theirchildren talked a lot about their photographs at home.Children showed their photographs and talked aboutthem with other children and teachers. Surprisingly,though, looking at their own photos with others did notgenerate as much discussion as had been anticipated.This was disappointing in some ways, but at the timethere was a tension between wanting children to talkabout their photos and respecting their responses suchas short answers, nods, smiles and grins. In askingthem to photograph the things and places they likedoutside, they had indeed done as asked; it was a matterof trust that their photos were of the places, spacesand people they valued most. Certainly this assumptionhas been validated by the findings from the other datasources and findings from similar studies, such asthose of Clark and Moss (2005) and Einarsdottir (2005).However, in hindsight, the strategy Hart (1979) usedof asking the children to order their photos from mostfavourite to least, may well have been a more effectivestrategy to promote discussion.Collaborative drawings added a valuable piece tothe mosaic of finding out children’s perceptions ofthe outdoor setting that would otherwise have beenoverlooked. In particular, the inclusion of naturalelements in their drawings became highly significant,especially when analysed in combination with theaudio-taping of their conversations while drawing.Other researchers, such as Clark (2005) and Dockettand Perry (2003), have also found there is more togain from listening to young children’s talk during thedrawing process rather than afterwards.Touring or ‘walking interviews’ have been usedsuccessfully in several of the studies mentioned (seeClark & Moss, 2001; 2005; Dockett & Perry, 2003) andthis method was particularly useful with the younger112Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

children. As we walked, assistance could be given withwinding on the film in the disposable cameras, which wasquite hard to do for some of the youngest participants,while talking about what was capturing their interest andabout other things. The physical nature of walking was inline with what other researchers had found, that childrenlike to go to the places they are talking about (Clark &Moss, 2001; 2005; Dockett & Perry, 2003).Audio-recording was an exceptionally valuable researchtool in relation to its complementary use with othertools. The children appeared very comfortable with thetape recorder and either ignored it or specifically askedto be interviewed so their voices could be played back.The audio-recorder became just another expected itemlike the camera and research journal.Making books has a long tradition in early childhoodeducation practice in New Zealand, and is becomingrecognised as a useful tool when researching with youngchildren (Clark & Moss, 2005; Dockett & Perry, 2003).This tool was not part of the original research design but,as the study was drawing to a close, its use seemedan appropriate way of further listening to children andsignifying that the time spent together was nearly over.Disengaging should be considered as important anaspect of the research design as any other (Berg, 2004;Bryman, 2004). Book-making provided a tangible way ofdisengaging from that phase of the study.The most noticeable aspect of the book-making was thatthe children were so excited to see so many photos ofthemselves, photos that had been taken by other childrenor the researcher. As they created their individual pagesof the book it became apparent that having pictures ofthemselves on their own page was very meaningful. Theyounger children had seemed a little disappointed thatthey could not find themselves in their own photos. Theyoungest participant asked, when looking at his photos,‘Where is Hamish?’ By the provision of many copies ofphotographs the researcher and other children had taken,the younger ones were able to include photographs ofthemselves on their pages. The book became a wonderfulway for the children to see themselves engaging in theoutdoor setting, doing what was most important to them,‘playing’. Each child received a photocopy of the finishedbook and the centre was given the master copy.Focus groups provided an informal way of interviewing theparents and teachers (Bryman, 2004). The views of thesignificant adults in the children’s lives contributed to theunderstanding of the children’s behaviour in the outdoorsetting and of the connections between home and centre.The parent focus groups also provided opportunity for theparents to hear each other’s view about the outdoors,discovering much in common. All the participant parentsperceived the outdoor environment of the early childhoodcentre and the wider outdoors as having a highly importantrole in the holistic development of children.Journal-keepingKeeping a reflective research journal proved worthwhileand is viewed as vital in qualitative participatoryresearch (Altrichter et al., 1993; Gillham, 2000). Abook with a purple cover, with glittery green and pinkbutterflies, was chosen for our journal so it wouldbe appealing to children. Right from the first day thechildren were attracted to the book and commented onit, asking what it was for. This provided a good vehiclefor explaining what the research was about, as wellas for self-reflection on the research over time. It waswhere things that needed to be done were recorded,questions to ask and notations about new ideas. Itbecame the place where the small drawings by someof the children were stored, and it was useful in thedata analysis and write-up phase.The parent journal provided lots of insightful data,especially for those children who did not talk verymuch while at the centre, yet told their parents aboutwhat they liked to do outside when at the centre. Theparent journal also provided a greater understanding ofthe sorts of outdoor activities the family engaged in.It was especially useful for those parents who couldnot attend the focus group meetings. A semi-formalinterview was used when talking with the centre ownerabout her views on the role and value of the outdoorsfor young children.Reflection on processesMultiple roles of the researcherThe first role of the researcher was to participate bystaying sufficiently detached in order to observe andanalyse but needing to build trusting relationships withchildren, teachers and parents (Merriam, 1988, 1998).For example, it was explained to the children that itwas fine if they did not want to talk at a particular time.Several children on occasion said they were busy rightnow and would look at the pictures or talk later, andtheir choice was always respected. Parker (1984), citedin Browning and Hatch (1995), warns against usingadult status to coerce children to participate or respond,as the way the interviews are structured could havepowerful effects on children’s responses.Second, Gold’s (1958) classification of ‘observer asparticipant’ (Bryman, 2004) also fitted the researcher’srole and aligned with the Mosaic Approach. Spendinga minimum of three hours one afternoon a week for12 weeks allowed the researcher to be available tothe children and become ‘part of the furniture’, soto speak. ‘Observer as participant’ also allowed forobservation of the natural play and behaviour of thechildren outside. Third, as time went on, the researchertook on an increasingly active role while maintaining113Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

distance. This involved trying to be helpful to the staffrather than a hindrance; for example, helping to packaway the outdoor equipment at the end of the day. Thisrole of the participant researcher is described as activemembership within the setting (Merriam, 1988).The fourth role included being a ‘reactive participant’(Corsaro & Miller, 1992) when approached by nonparticipantchildren. This required responding to thechildren, listening to their views, letting them take aphoto with the digital camera but not recording theirviews or retaining their photos. It also meant directlyintervening in a situation only if there was physicaldanger, but engaging in small tasks at children’srequests, such as holding a toy for a child or taking offa sweater.The Mosaic Approach is not the easiest or simplest wayto research. Having multiple roles along with multipledata-collection tools adds to the complexity of the task.It meant a far greater time commitment in order to be inthe centre with the children regularly and resulted in avast amount of data to analyse. However, by using theMosaic Approach, the triangulation and integrity of thefindings were exceptionally high.Trustworthiness and situated validityThe notion of trustworthiness or validity stems fromensuring that the perceptions of the participants ratherthan those of the researcher take precedence (Siraj-Blatchford & Siraj-Blatchford, 2001). Combining visualmedia with participant observations enabled an indepthexploration of what ‘being outside’ meant to theparticipants and provides triangulation. This in turn ledto being able to assess and justify the extent to whichthe children shared a particular attitude or opinion.The use of visual documentation made the competenceand the feelings of the children more visible, trustworthyand transparent, in ways that are sometimes morepowerful than the written word (Warming, 2005).Further, the Mosaic Approach provided a platform thatgave greater visibility to the children’s voices (Clark &Moss, 2005), and provided ‘situated validity’ (Denzin& Lincoln, 2003). The reporting of the findings mustprivilege the participants’ voices.Flexibility and inclusionThe entire process was one of critical inquiry as theresearcher dealt with whatever each day in the centrebrought forth and whatever the study revealed. Theinitial idea of working with just 12 participants, insmall groups of three or four children at a time, wasdiscarded fairly quickly. This was after finding out thatthere were other children very keen to participate andalso discovering that all the children aged over twoyears shared the same outdoor space and had freeaccess to this space most times during the day. Thissituation required engagement in some way with all thechildren who approached the researcher and showedan interest in what was happening. Inclusion of nonparticipantchildren called upon all my skills as a teacherand parent but was non-negotiable given the principlesthat underpinned the study.Inclusion is justified through the following example ofchild X, who became intensely interested when thechildren started to use the disposable cameras. He wasoffered the digital camera to use, as was successfulwith other non-participant children on severaloccasions, but he kept looking for and asking wherehis camera was, referring to the disposable cameras.The teachers were asked if they were agreeable fora disposable camera being purchased for him to usesolely for his own benefit, not for research purposes.Agreement was given, influenced by the fact that hewas often excluded by the other children outside, andthe teachers and researcher felt that having his owncamera may support and foster his inclusion within thelarger group. The research journal entry for November2nd reads:Child X approached me as soon as he spotted me,asking, as usual, if I had a camera for him, and Iwas so delighted that I had I bought a camera forhim – he was absolutely rapt – huge smile, showingit to all the other children, and went off taking hispictures. He used up all the film and brought itback to me. I explained that I had to get the filmdeveloped and would bring his photos in an albumnext week.He carried the album around, proudly showing hisphotos to everyone. Upon returning to the centre twomonths after the completion of the project child Xran up, a big smile on his face, and wrapped his armsaround the researcher’s legs. A heart-stopping momentin knowing that the decision to include him (yet notinclude technically), had been the right one.Disengaging: Bringing closureDisengaging was something that needed seriousconsideration. It is very disappointing that ways to bringlong-term field work to a close, for both researcher andthe participants, have been under-described and underdiscussedin the research literature. There is a needto bring closure to the fieldwork stage of the projectfor all involved, particularly when young children areparticipants and responsive, reciprocal relationshipshave been established and maintained over time. Berg(2004) points out that exiting the field setting ‘involvestwo distinct operations: first, the physical removalof the researchers from the research setting and,second, emotional disengagement for the relationshipsdeveloped during the field experience’ (p. 187). Socreating a book with the children about our time114Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

together not only helped bring closure, but also becamepart of the data collected. The book was given to thecentre, but one of the children said she would not beable to look at it because she was entering school,so she and every participant child got a photocopyof the original. Giving the books to each child was anexceptionally meaningful and precious moment and feltlike the fieldwork stage was well and truly over.Analysis phaseThe Mosaic Approach in the analysis phase meant thatit was an holistic one that combined the study of theindividuals and groups with the study of the outdoorenvironment itself (both spaces and equipment), andwhich together formed a large study of the whole (Patton,2002). Using inductive analysis which involved discoveringpatterns, themes and categories within the data andcreating multiple mosaics, the findings emerged (Bryman,2004; Patton, 2002), thereby creating a summary mosaicof preferences. These summary mosaics emerged foreach child, from (1) all data gathered from children and(2) all data sources (researcher observation, parents andteachers).The Mosaic Approach supported qualitative dataanalysis, requiring an interpretative process that beganwith data collection and continued until the conclusion ofthe research. It was a process of trying to blend togetherand ‘make sense of the various images, sounds, andunderstandings’ (Denzin & Lincoln, 2003, p. 6).ConclusionOn reflection it is apparent how important the moreintuitive aspects of participant observation are. Thereis no argument that participation and listening areextremely complex and problematic concepts; andenabling children to describe what being outside meantto them, in their own way, in their own time, using somany different tools, was a demanding and challengingtask as noted by Pramling Samuelsson (2004).When working with young children, researchers needto be mindful of the reality that conversations aboutother things will occur. Children are often more openand trusting when the adult is honest with them. Thathonesty applies to the researcher explaining to thechildren why the research is being done and informingthem that the time spent with them is coming to an end.Challenges arose, but what was important was facingthem in a flexible, adaptive way.This paper has highlighted the importance of usinga diverse range of research tools, as advocated inthe Mosaic Approach. Of particular value was usingPhoto Novella and photo elicitation, as a means ofgaining children’s perspectives. The use of non-verbalresearch tools such as photography, drawing, touringand observation proved immensely valuable, especiallyfor the more reticent children. Providing children withseveral ways to share their views enabled the moretaciturn children to register their interest (Carr, Jones,& Lee, 2006; Gollop, 2000).The Mosaic Approach provides an effective, flexibleand authentic methodology. By adapting and addingto the methods used by Clark and Moss (2001; 2005),the researcher was able to further explore otherresearch tools that were empowering for participantsand provided various ways for them to share theirviews. The use of multiple tools resulted in datawhich significantly increased the trustworthiness andauthenticity of the research findings.ReferencesAltrichter, H., Posch, P., & Somekh, B. (1993). Data collection.Teachers investigate their work: An introduction to themethods of action research. London, United Kingdom: London.Banks, M. (2001). Visual methods in social research. London,United Kingdom: Sage Publications.Berg, B. L. (2004). Qualitative research methods for the socialsciences. Boston, N.Y.:Pearson Allyn & Bacon.Brooker, L. (2001). Interviewing children. In G. McNaughton,Rolfe, S., & I. Siraj- Blatchford (Ed.), Doing early childhoodresearch: International perspectives on theory and practice(pp. 162–177). Buckingham, England: Open University Press.Browning, P. C., & Hatch, J. A. (1995). Qualitative researchin early childhood settings: A review In J. A. Hatch (Ed.),Qualitative research in early childhood settings (pp.99–114).Westport, United States of America: Praeger.Bryman, A. (2004). Social research methods (2nd ed.). Oxford,United Kingdom: Oxford University Press.Carr, M., Jones, C., & Lee, W. (2006). Beyond listening: Canassessment practice play part? In A. Clark, A. Kjorholt & P.Moss (Eds.), Beyond listening: Children’s perspectives on earlychildhood services (pp.129–150). Bristol, UK: The Policy Press.Clark, A. (2005). “The silent voice of the camera”? Youngchildren and photography as a tool for listening. Early ChildhoodFolio: A Collection of Recent Research(9:2005), 28–33.Clark, A., & Moss, P. (2001). Listening to children: The mosaicapproach. London National Children’s Bureau: RowntreeFoundation.Clark, A., & Moss, P. (2005). Spaces to play: More listeningto young children using the Mosaic approach. London, UnitedKingdom: National Children’s Bureau.Corsaro, W., & Miller, P. (Eds.). (1992). Interpretive approachesto children’s socialisation. San Francisco,Ca: Jossey BassPublishers.Cremin, H. S., & Slatter, B. (2004). Is it possible to access the‘voice’ of pre-school children? Results of a research project in apre-school setting. Educational Studies, 30(4), 457–470.Dahlberg, G., Moss, P., & Pence, A. (1999). Beyond quality inearly childhood education and care: Postmodern perspectives.London, United Kingdom: Falmer Press.Denzin, N., & Lincoln, Y. (2003). Introduction: The discipline andpractice of qualitative research. In N. Denzin & Y. Lincoln (Eds.),The landscape of qualitative research: Theories and issues (pp.1–46). Thousand Oaks, Ca.: Sage Publications.115Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Dockett, S., & Perry, B. (2003). Children’s views and children’svoices in starting school. Australian Journal of Early Childhood,28(1), 4–18.Edwards, A. (2005). Let’s get beyond community and practice:the many meanings of learning by participating. The CurriculumJournal, 16(1), 49–65.Einarsdottir, J. (2005). Playschool in pictures: children’sphotographs as a research method. Early Child Developmentand Care, 175(6), 523–541.Fasoli, L. (2003). Reflections on doing research with youngchildren. Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 28(1), 7–11.Gillham, B. (2000). Case study research methods. London:Continuum.Gollop, M. (2000). Interviewing children: A researchperspective. In A. Smith, N. Taylor & M. Gollop (Eds.),Children’s voices: Research, policy and practice (pp. 18–36).Auckland: Pearson Education Limited.Greenfield, C. (2004). Can run, play on bikes, jump the zoomslide, and play on the swings: Exploring the value of outdoorplay. Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 29(2), 1–5.Greenfield, C. (2006). Enabling children’s voices to be heard:The journey of one researcher. In G. Whiteford (Ed.), Voice,Identity and Reflexivity (pp. 177–186). Albury, NSW, AustraliaCentre for Research into Professional Practice, Learning andEducation (RIPPLE).Greenfield, C. (2007a). A case study of children’s and adults’perceptions of ‘being outside’ in one early childhood centre.Massey University, Palmerston North, New Zealand.Greenfield, C. (2007b). Review of New Zealand research onoutdoor play in early childhood education. Early Education, 41(Autumn/Winter 2007), 24–29.Hart, R. (1979). Children’s experience of place. New York,NY:Irvington.Hatch, T. (1990). Young children as informants in classroomstudies. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 5, 251–264.Kervin, L., Vaille, W., Herrington, J., & Okely, T. (2006).Research for educators. Melbourne, Australia: Thomson,Social Science Press.Malaguzzi, L. (1996). The hundred languages of children: Exhibitioncatalogue. Reggio Emilia, Italy: Reggio Children.Merriam, S. (1988). Case study research in education: Aqualitative approach. San Francisco, Ca,: Jossey-Bass.Merriam, S. (1998). Qualitative research and case studyapplications in education (2nd ed.). San Francisco,Ca: Jossey-Bass Publishers.Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative research and evaluationmethods. Thousand Oaks, California, United States of America:Sage Publications.Pink, S. (2001). Doing visual ethnography: Images, media andrepresentation in research. London, Great Britain: Sage.Pramling Samuelsson, I. (2004). How do children tell us abouttheir childhoods? Early Childhood Research and Practice, 6(1),1–16.Prosser, J., & Schwartz, D. (1998). Photographs within thesociological research process. In J.Prosser (Ed.), Image-basedresearch: A sourcebook for qualitative researchers(pp.115–189).London, United Kingdom: Falmer Press.Robbins, J. (2002). Shoes and ships: Taking a socioculturalapproach to interviewing young children. New ZealandResearch in Early Childhood Education, 5, 13–30.Siraj-Blatchford, I., & Siraj-Blatchford, J. (2001). An ethnographicapproach to researching young children’s learning. In G.MacNaughton, Rolfe, S., & Siraj-Blatchford, I. (Ed.), Doing EarlyChildhood Research: International Perspectives on Theory andPractice (pp.193–207). Birmingham, England: Open UniversityPress.Warming, H. (2005). Participant observation: a way to learnabout children’s perspectives. In A. Clark, A. Kjorholt & P.Moss. (Eds.), Beyond listening: Children’s perspectives onearly childhood services (pp. 51-70). Bristol, UK: The PolicyPress.Wiltz, N., & Klein, E. (2001). “What do you do in childcare?”Children’s perceptions of high and low quality classrooms.Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 16(2), 209–236.116Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

An exploratory investigation on the influence of practicalexperience towards shaping future early childhood teachers’practice in the artsSusanne GarvisGriffith UniversityAccording to the National Education and the Arts Statement (Ministerial Councilfor Education, Early Childhood Development and Youth Affairs, 2007), all children andyoung people should have a high-quality arts education. The statement also supportsthe notion that arts experience can be the first meaningful point of engagement inthe education system for students. To achieve quality arts education, teachers requirea high level of skill and training (Andrews, 2004). This suggests teachers requiresignificant training to help develop a strong sense of perceived capability towardsteaching in the area of arts education.This study explores the beliefs of early childhood teachers in their first three years ofteaching. Focusing on self-efficacy beliefs, this study used Bandura’s (1997) model ofself-regulated learning as a base from which to consider sources of an early childhoodteacher’s sense of agency related to teaching the arts. Findings suggest teachersdevelop beliefs about arts education during practical experience that shape attitudestowards teaching arts in the early years. These findings have important messages forimproving arts education.IntroductionEarly childhood teachers gain skills for teaching the artsin teacher education.Without sufficient teacher training in music and the arts,teachers can develop negative perceptions about theirown confidence and competence (Bartel, Cameron,Wiggins & Wiggins, 2004). The teaching of the arts isalso influenced by life experience, personal experienceand perceptions of confidence (Robinson, 2001).Recent national inquiries suggest the standard of artsteaching within Australia is inadequate (DEST, 2005;DEST, 2008). In 2005, the National Review of SchoolMusic Education (DEST, 2005) raised a number ofquestions in relation to the training generalist teachersreceive in music. The review highlighted a decline in thenumber of hours given for generalist primary pre-serviceeducation courses (Pascoe et al., 2005), suggesting preserviceteachers did not have adequate time to enhancetheir teaching skills in music. Similar findings were madein First We See: The National Review of Visual Education,highlighting the decline of visual art education in teachertraining (DEST, 2008). Both reviews highlight the absenceof status and support for music and visual arts in mostteacher education programs for primary educators, callingfor improvement in pre-service teacher training andongoing professional learning. Further investigation ofbeliefs towards teaching the arts is therefore necessary inteacher education and during professional development.In this paper, we focus on the factors that affect quality artseducation through the lens of self-efficacy. We examinehow self-efficacy information is likely to influence theartseducation practices of beginning teachers. In particular,we look at the influence of supervising teachers.Theoretical connectionsSelf-efficacy is defined as ‘beliefs in one’s capabilities toorganise and execute the courses of action required toproduce given attainments’ (Bandura, 1997, p. 3). Theconstruct of teacher self-efficacy is grounded within selfefficacytheory, emphasising that people can exerciseinfluence over what they do (Bandura, 2006). A teacher’sbeliefs system about the arts will therefore determine thequality of arts education in the classroom. Self-efficacydevelops over time and through personal and vicarious117Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

experiences (Bandura, 1997). Beliefs are created throughdecisions influencing actions, attitudes, emotions andthoughts. Thus, self-efficacy acts as a motivationalconstruct, determining the actual amount of effort anindividual will bring to the task of teaching as they assesstheir ability to perform the task successfully (Tschannen-Moran and Woolfolk Hoy, 2001).Teacher self-efficacy has been related to greatercommitment to teaching (Coladarci, 1992), greaterlevels of planning and organisation (Allinder, 1994),decreased teacher burnout (Brouwers & Tomic,2003), a wider variety of teaching material with thedesire to search for a new teaching formulae, and theuse of innovative teaching methods (Ghaith & Yaghi,1997; Wertheim & Leyser, 2002). Woolfolk Hoy (inShaughnessy, 2004) suggests that, if teachers seekto help students increase their academic and selfregulatoryself-efficacy, they should first attend to thesources underlying their own teacher beliefs.Teacher self-efficacy beliefs are influenced by foursources, including (1) mastery experiences; (2) vicariousexperience (modelling); (3) verbal persuasion; and(4) emotional arousal (Bandura, 1997). These mayhappen simultaneously or in isolation. Mastery isconsidered the strongest source (Bandura, 1997;Tschannen-Moran & Woolfolk Hoy, 2001). When anexperience (or performance) is perceived as successful,self-efficacy is raised. When the performance isperceived a failure, self-efficacy beliefs are lowered.The level of emotional arousal (either excitementor anxiety), adds to the feelings of mastering a task.Vicarious experiences are associated with the modellingof a task. If the observer can identify the skills with themodeller, teacher self-efficacy can be enhanced. Thefinal source, verbal persuasion, consists of discussionsaround the task being performed. The potency of verbalpersuasion depends on the credibility, trustworthinessand expertise of the persuader (Bandura, 1997).Within arts education, research has explored the influenceof specific knowledge and skills to teacher self-efficacy.Previous research by Temmerman (1997) and Barteland Cameron (2002) has shown that a perceived lack ofcompetency to teach the knowledge and skills required inmusic was a significant internal factor affecting teachers’perceptions of their musical ability. Furthermore, in acomparison between one New Zealand and one Canadiangeneralist teacher, self-efficacy towards music, levels ofcompetency and self-efficacy clearly influenced curriculum(Bartel et al., 2004), with few teachers able to show anunderstanding of students’ musical thinking. These twoteachers were also unable to make judgements ‘about thevalue or importance of the consequences of an action forthe arts’ (Bartel et al., 2004, p. 88). These results suggestteacher self-efficacy strongly influences the ways artseducation is taught in classrooms.Focus of studyThis study focuses on the following two questions:1. What sources of arts education self-efficacyinformation do beginning teachers receive duringpractical experience?2. How are these sources of self-efficacy informationlikely to influence their own arts education practices?The participantsFor purposes of this study, beginning teachers (definedas teachers in the first three years of their careersince graduating from a teacher education institution)working in early childhood education from both privateand public schools in Queensland, Australia wereinvited to complete a questionnaire on teacher selfefficacyin relation to arts education. Ultimately, 21 outof 60 questionnaires were returned from participants, aresponse rate of 35 per cent.Participants answered a ‘call for participants email’sent though the Beginning Teachers Association to allearly childhood beginning teachers. They were currentmembers of this organisation.Participants were assured that the survey wasanonymous. They were sent an online survey thatcould be completed outside of school hours.Research methodsThe survey consisted of 10 open questions designed toelicit descriptions of beginning teachers’ experienceswith arts education, as part of the professional experiencecomponent of their teacher education program.Duringthis time, the then pre-service teachers were supervisedby a teacher with at least three years’ experience.Results were analysed using content analysis,‘aresearch technique for making replicable and validinferences from texts to the context of their use’(Krippendorff, 2004, p.18). An adapted version ofCavana, Delahaye and Sekaran’s (2003, p.171) 15 stagesof content analysiswas used as a guide to identify keythemes and meanings. Coding for ‘manifest content’(Wallen& Fraenkel, 2001) was used, acknowledgingwhat was directly written in the online survey.Results of the content analysisIn general, the participants described negative experiencesthat had occurred during the professional experiencecomponent of their pre-service teacher educationprogram. Overall, these experiences were shaped byeither supervising teacher practices (a form of modelling),or supervising teacher feedback (verbal persuasion). The118Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

participants also talked about the tensions they sawbetween the arts and other subjects, showing links tovicarious experience and emotional arousal (contextualinfluences). Tensions were shown by supervisingteachers, with the curriculum being overcrowded anda greater focus placed on the teaching of literacy andnumeracy. This appeared to create negative teacher selfefficacybeliefs for teachers about the arts in school.Three main categories emerged from the content analysis:1. supervising teacher practice (vicarious experience),2. supervising teacher feedback(verbal persuasion), and3. the profile of arts as a subject experienced by theparticipant (vicarious experience). Each category isdiscussed below.Supervising teacher practiceThe first category supported the proposed vicariousexperience as a source of efficacy (Bandura, 1997).Vicarious experiences (also known as modelling)allowed participants to personally experience artseducation teaching practices. Experiences described byparticipants showed a clear lack of mastery experiencein supervising teachers. This suggests that supervisingteachers did not model suitable arts education practice.One beginning early childhood teacher described anegative experience with a supervising teacher in akindergarten. She felt disheartened that arts practiceswere not being modelled within this particular earlychildhood education setting:One of the saddest moments of my practicalteaching was when I was studying my GradDiploma and I was at a well-regarded kindergarten.I was there for two weeks and basically the sameactivities were set out. I questioned the director asto why some children were not getting involved inthe art activities and she told me that ‘this lot arenot very creative!’ This went against all my beliefsabout early childhood education and I felt very sorryfor those children (Beginning Teacher, B).Another beginning teacher also commented on the lackof quality arts education she saw in practice during herprofessional experience:I did little arts work on practical experience. If I didit was art and the activities were always related tothe unit I was teaching at the time. Very restrictedthough (Beginning Teacher, A).Unfortunately, lack of arts education appeared commonamongst the beginning early childhood teachers whocompleted the survey. Thirteen teachers (62%) wrotethey had not seen any form of arts education in theearly years during their professional experience:I never saw it used on any teaching prac. (BeginningTeacher, C).Many of my prac teachers did not do the arts(Beginning Teacher, J).These findings suggest the participants did notexperience positive modelling during teacher practicalexperience that would lead to positive teacher selfefficacyfor the arts. Without adequate opportunities forpositive vicarious experiences, pre-service teachers mayneed to draw on other sources of efficacy to developperceived capabilities towards teaching the arts.Supervising teacher feedbackSome beginning early childhood teachers describedhearing negative comments (negative verbalpersuasion) from their supervising teacher regardingthe teaching of arts education. The participants whodescribed these experiences felt that the supervisingteacher did not value the arts, which influenced thebeginning teachers’ values in relation to the teaching ofthe arts in early childhood classrooms.One beginning teacher described a negative experiencewith a Year 1/2 classroom teacher:On my first prac at a public state school I wasinvolved in art groups that consisted of all of thingsthat I had avoided in my work in early childhoodcentres. Stencilled outlines of horses that childrenhad to collage over, bubble blowing painting…where was the freedom of expression in that?When doing a maths lesson in subtraction for a Year1 and 2 composite class I sang 10 green bottleswith the class. The children sang along happily butmy supervising teacher told me to keep the noisedown so as not to disturb the children next door(Beginning Teacher, F).Another beginning early childhood teacher alsodescribed the negativity from a supervising teacherwhen she tried to teach the arts to students:My teacher thought the arts weren’t as important.When I started teaching them, I got in trouble(Beginning Teacher, I).Verbal persuasion appeared to influence the selfefficacyof the participants during their practicalexperience. The verbal feedback given by supervisingteachers appeared to shape current understandingsabout the arts in the early years classroom.The profile of arts as a subjectTypically, early childhood educators do not have formaltraining in the arts (Eisner, 1988; Eisner & Day, 2004) inpre-service education programs, but are encouraged to‘integrate’ arts into the core curricular areas.Beginningearly childhood teachers wrote about the place of arts in119Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

the curriculum while on their professional experience.These teachers suggested that this lack of exposure tothe arts as part of the curriculum impacted upon theircurrent beliefs and may potentially have an impact ontheir future practice.One participant suggested that some teachers deintellectualisedthe arts, making it a ‘fun’ subject:Many teachers allow students to developthis ‘bludge’ mentality by not valuing the artsthemselves. It is a difficult battle to reform students’opinions (Beginning Teacher, L).One beginning teacher also wrote about poor teachertraining leading to inadequate teaching of the artsin schools. Subsequently, she suggested generalistteachers teach only certain subject areas:I don’t think teachers that have been around along time see the benefit of it or have the trainingor ability to implement it. They just teach reading,writing and maths (Beginning Teacher, M).The portrayal of the arts would lead the supervisingteacher to model the teaching of the arts with certaincharacteristics. The pre-service teacher would seethis negative modelling and may also start to developnegative beliefs about the arts.SummaryWhat is clear from comments from the 21 participants isthat there is a negative arts profile in some early childhoodclassrooms in Queensland, Australia. These experienceswere based on professional experience in classroomsunder the guidance of supervising teachers during preserviceteacher education programs. It is unclear towhat extent these negative experiences have shapedthe participants’ current teaching practice as beginningearly childhood teachers. While some of the participantssuggested it influenced their teaching of the arts as abeginning teacher, without observation of the teacher itis hard to provide an empirical recount. What is known isthat participants remembered the negativity towards thearts while on practical experience.Final thoughtsThe previous results provide an interesting startingpoint for analysis in the investigation of beginningearly childhood teachers’ beliefs on their pre-serviceteacher education. It appears that supervising teacherpractices, supervising teacher feedback, and the profileof the arts as a subject contribute to a teacher’s selfefficacy.The previous discussion, which focuses onbeginning early childhood teachers’ perceptions of theirarts education experiences in their pre-service teachertraining, provides an insight into sources of self-efficacyinformation about the teaching of arts education.Without positive experiences created through Bandura’s(1997) proposed sources of efficacy (mastery experience,vicarious experience, verbal persuasion and emotionalarousal), beginning early childhood teachers may feelthey have little capability when teaching the arts in theirown classroom. In the long term, these experiencesmay contribute to lower teacher self-efficacy for the arts,creating a cyclical problem of failure for arts education inearly childhood.From this study, a major concern of teacher-educatorsappears to be helping pre-service teachers understandthe importance of arts education in the early years and tocritique experiences while on practical experience. Basedon the data collected, it appears participants remember thenegative events with arts education. This could suggestthat, since these events were remembered, they are heldas possible sources of efficacy for the beginning teacher.From this research, two issues are raised: (1) teachereducation and (2) professional development. First,how do universities control how supervising teachersdemonstrate quality arts education practices? Ifsupervising teachers’ self-efficacy for the arts is low,how can they be equipped to model and critique suitablearts practice in the classroom? Their lack of teaching inthe arts will then affect the beginning teacher they aresupervising, possibly creating a continual cycle of failure.As Bandura (1997) suggests, giving teachers a senseof efficacy is critical if they are going to even attemptthe task.The second issue raised is ensuring professionaldevelopment opportunities in arts education for earlychildhood teachers. To improve teacher self-efficacy forthe arts in early childhood greater support is needed inthe form of professional development for early childhoodteachers working in schools and early childhood centres.Through ongoing professional development, theseteachers can begin to value the arts in the decisions aboutimplementing curriculum.In conclusion, current practices in arts education courseswithin early childhood teacher education must bereviewed if teachers are expected to learn skills they canuse in the classroom. Closer links must be made withsupervising teachers. This study has also raised questionsabout future research for arts education in the early years.For example, what are the current influences on teacherself-efficacy for early childhood teachers in schools? Canprofessional development and community involvementhelp improve arts education in schools? Can a generalistteacher have strong teacher self-efficacy for all keylearning areas? Such research would provide teachereducators,schools and policy-makers with evidence ofcrucial periods where beginning early childhood teachersrequire greater support. This would allow teacher selfefficacyfor arts education to be supported throughout thebeginning phase of teaching.120Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

ReferencesAllinder, R. M. (1994). The relationship between efficacy andthe instructional practices of special education teachers andconsultants.Teacher Education and Special Education, 17,86–95.Andrews, B.W. (2004). Curriculum renewal through policyevelopment in arts education. Research Studies in MusicEducation, 23, 76–93.Bandura, A. (1997). Self-efficacy: The exercise of control. NewYork: Freeman.Bandura, A. (2006). Adolescent development from an agenticperspective. In F. Pajares & T. Urdan (Eds.).Self-efficacy beliefsof adolescents, (Vol. 5., pp. 1–43). Greenwich, CT: InformationAge Publishing.Bartel, L. R.,& Cameron, L. M. (2002). Self-efficacy in teachersteaching music. Proceedings of the American EducationalResearch Association (AERA) Annual Conference, NewOrleans.Bartel, L., Cameron, L., Wiggins, J., & Wiggins, R. (2004).Implications of generalist teachers’ self-efficacy related tomusic. In P.M. Shand (Ed), Music education entering the 21stcentury (pp. 85–90). Nedlands, AU: International Society forMusic Education.Brouwers, A., & Tomic, W. (2003). A longitudinal study ofteacher burnout and perceived self-efficacy in classroommanagement.Teaching and Teacher Education, 16, 239–253.Cavana, R.Y., Delahaye, B.L., & Sekaran, U. (2001). Appliedbusiness research: Qualitative and quantitative methods.Brisbane, Queensland: John Wiley and Sons.Coladarci, T. (1992). Teachers’ sense of efficacy andcommitment to teaching. Journal of Experimental Education,60, 323–337.Department of Education, Science and Training (DEST)and Centre for Learning, Change and Development (2005).National Review of School Music Education: Augmentingthe diminished. Retrieved 10 March, 2009, from http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/school_education/publications_resources/profiles/school_music_education.htm.Department of Education, Science and Training (DEST) (2008).First We See: National Review of Visual Education. Retrieved28 April, 2010, from http://www.dest.gov.au/sectors/school_education/publications_resources/profiles/First_We_See_The_National_Review_Visual_Education.htm.Eisner, E. W. (1988). The role of discipline-based art educationin America’s schools. Los Angeles: Getty Center for Educationin the Arts.Eisner, E.W., & Day, M. (Eds) (2004). Handbook of research andpolicy in art education. Canada: University of British Columbia.Ghaith, G., & Yaghi, H. (1997). Relationships among experience,teacher efficacy and attitudes towards the implementation ofinstructional innovation.Teaching and Teacher Education, 13(4),451–458.Ministerial Council on Education, Training and Youth Affairs(MCETYA) (Federal) and Cultural Ministers’ Council (2007).National Statement on Education and the Arts. Canberra:Department of Communication, Information Technology andthe Arts.Krippendorff, K. (2004). Content analysis: An introduction to itsmethodology (2nd edn). Beverly Hills, CA: Sage.Pascoe, R., Leong, S., MacCallum, J., Mackinlay, E., Marsh,K., Smith, B., et al. (2005). National review of school musiceducation: Augmenting the diminished. Retrieved 15 March,2009, from www.dest.gov.au/sectors/school_education/publications_resourcces/profiles/school_music_education.htm.Robinson, K. (2001). Out of our minds: Learning to be creative.Oxford: Capstone Publishing Limited.Shaughnessy, M.F. (2004). An interview with Anita Woolfolk:The educational psychology of teacher efficacy. EducationalPsychology Review, 16(2), 153–176.Temmerman, N. (1997). An investigation of undergraduatemusic education curriculum content in primary teachereducation programmes in Australia. International Journal ofMusic Education, 30, 26–34.Tschannen-Moran, M.,& Woolfolk Hoy, A.W. (2001). Teacherefficacy: Capturing an elusive construct. Teaching and TeacherEducation, 17(7), 783–805.Wallen, N., & Fraenkel, J. (2001). Educational research: A guideto the process (2nd edn). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.Wertheim, C.,& Leyser, Y. (2002). Efficacy beliefs, backgroundvariables, and differentiated instruction of Israeli prospectiveteachers. The Journal of Educational Research, 68(2), 202–248.121Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Exploring and evaluating levels of reflection in pre-serviceearly childhood teachersAndrea NolanVictoria UniversityJenny SimRMITThe purpose of this study is to add to the current literature that focuses onapproaches to assessing and evaluating reflection. It adds to this literature by developingand trialling a method of assessing reflection occurring in student teachers’ reflectivetasks. The reflective tasks were taken from a Self-Assessment Manual (SAM) developedspecifically for early childhood practitioners and student teachers, and piloted with sixearly childhood student teachers. Through the application of an adapted version of theBoud, Keogh & Walker (1985) framework (Sim, 2006), six levels of reflection processeslearners might experience were identified and responses aligned to these stages. Initialresults show this model was able to provide an effective framework for objectivelyevaluating student teachers’ levels of reflection, enabling a defined level of analysis forthe assessor. What is also noted is the correlation between the type of reflection taskand the reflection level demonstrated in the student teacher responses. Introducingthe student teachers to the framework so they can self-assess, in order to deepen theirunderstanding of their own reflection levels, is the next step of the project.IntroductionThe benefits of reflection as a practice for teachers hasbeen well-documented (Artzt & Armour-Thomas, 2002;Margolis, 2002; Mayes, 2001; Moore, 2002; Rock &Levin, 2002; Swain, 1998), along with the understandingthat the ability to systematically and deliberately usereflection as a learning tool in professional practicerequires conscientious development over time in preserviceand post-service courses (as cited in Atkins,2005). Requiring student teachers to take part inactivities that involve some form of reflection is anaccepted practice in teacher training courses; however,Plack, Driscoll, Blissett, McKenna & Plack (2005)remind us that ‘While reflection is generally acceptedas a critical component of learning from experience andessential to professional education, limited researchhas been conducted to address the issue of how toassess reflection’ (p. 210). This is something manyteacher educators grapple with when having to markor grade reflective tasks. Student teachers are askedto reflect on their experiences but then there is oftenno sure way of evaluating these reflections, owing tothe subjective and personal nature of these reflectivetasks. This study attempts to address this dilemmaby applying a model able to identify and categorisethe level/s of reflection students are engaging in.It is hoped that this framework, once tested by thestudent teachers themselves, will provide them witha greater insight into their own reflection processes,ultimately enabling them to strive for a higher level ofcritical reflection. With assessment driving much ofthe learning process, there needs to be a sound wayof assessing reflection to remove the problems oftenrelated to the notion of assessing reflective tasks forboth educators and students (Sim, 2006).While there appears to be many definitions of reflectionin the literature, Atkins and Murphy (1993) maintain thatthere are elements which are essential to the reflectiveprocess; an awareness of uncomfortable feelings andthoughts which is followed by a critical analysis of boththe feelings and the experience. It is deemed that,through this analytical process, a change in practiceoccurs. The critically reflective teacher provides space122Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

for ‘new possibilities to be explored and realised’(Moss & Petrie, 2002, p. 145). In our experience,simply completing specific reflection tasks does not initself ensure that reflection takes place, as often thereflection is more of a description about an experiencedevoid of the critical process of analysis.Schön (1983; 1987), Mezirow (1990), Brookfield(1995), Barnett (1995) and Fisher (2003) identifiedcharacteristics afforded to critical reflection, such asthe ability to articulate a contextual awareness of one’sown position through identifying the impact of one’sown influences and background. To be able to identifyone’s own values, beliefs and assumptions, considerother perspectives or alternative ways of viewingthe world: being able to identify what perspectivesare missing from one’s account; identify how one’sown views can have a particular bias that privilegesone view over another; perceive contradictions andinconsistencies in one’s own account of events; andimagine other possibilities (i.e. a capacity to envisionalternatives, Fisher, 2003, p. 317) have all beennoted as important characteristics to add the criticalcomponent to reflection. These characteristics areoften not clearly identifiable in student teachers’ workand, as such, a judgement about the criticality of theirreflection is problematic. The very act of assessmentdictates setting of criteria, which, according to Boud,is inappropriate, as ‘effective reflective practiceneeds to be unboundaried’ (as cited in Bolton, 2001,p. 83). There is a mismatch between reflection andassessment, since the nature of reflection requires oneto question pre-suppositions and uncertainties and yetthe very same reflective task is often being assessedfor understanding of subject matter (Boud & Walker,1998). Hence, education researchers question thevalue of assessment of reflection while others cautionthat the very process of creating assessment criteriawill stifle the spontaneity of reflection (Beveridge,1997; Sumsion & Fleet, 1996).Rationale for our studyIn order to produce reflective practitioners, we feela need to have some type of measure to assess astudent’s capacity to reflect, which will also allowfor feedback on learning to students, educators andorganisations (Plack et al., 2005; Bourner, 2003). Oncea successful measure is developed and tested, studentteachers could be made aware that there are differentlevels to the reflective process and how their progressin reflective thinking fits within the levels. Working inthis way, we believe, will help them develop a betterunderstanding of the process. By making the processexplicit, it is hoped they will begin to internalise theprocess which will transfer in time to their everydaypractice as a teacher. As Fisher (2003, p. 314), referringto the work of Fay (1987), states ‘human beings,through critical self-reflection, can come to see thetrue nature of their existence and act to change theirsituation, based on this understanding’. Before this ispossible a suitable measure must be established.Developing a reflective evaluationframeworkThere are studies which have drawn on both qualitativeand quantitative methods in an attempt to evaluateproficiency in the reflection process, with varyingrates of success. Like Bourner (2003), initially wesaw one way of progressing the idea of developing aframework to apply in the assessment of the reflectionof our students as separating content and process,which would allow for assessment of the reflectiveprocess without judging the subjective nature of thereflection. Studies which appear more successfuldraw on the work of Boud et al. (1985), who definedstages in the reflective processes, and Mezirow (1990),who developed a theoretical framework around thecomponents of the reflective process. A study byWong, Kember and Chung (1995) combined thesetwo concepts while another study (Plack et al., 2005)added a time dimension (reflection in action, reflectionon action, reflection for action), drawing from the workof Schön. However, a study by Williams, Sundelin andFoster-Seargeant (2000) chose to exclude Mezirow’scategories, saying they ‘preferred to focus on theprocess of reflection rather than on what they suggestto be categorization of the different types of reflection’(Plack et al., 2005, p. 205).We decided that, for our study, we would use levels ofreflection, and chose an adaptation by Sim (2006) of theframework of Boud et al. (1985) which had been usedsuccessfully with health care professionals undertakingfurther training. Boud et al. (1985) proposed a genericframework of reflection that describes six levelsof reflection processes learners might experience.The categories relate to the stage of reflectionand returning to experience, attending to feelings,association, integration, validation and appropriation.These are hierarchic in nature: returning to experience,a basic recounting to appropriation where knowledgeis internalised and leads to changes in behaviour, thelearner’s affective state and perspectives. Following isa brief description of each level.Level 1: Returning to experienceThis is an essential step of recounting past experiencesso that subsequent reflections are based on actualrecollection of events. This usually entails describingevents and activities, and while not consideredreflection as such, it is a precursor to reflection.123Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Level 2: Attending to feelingsThis level recognises the importance of feelings infacilitating or obstructing the learning experience since‘utilising our positive feelings is particularly important asthey can provide us with the impetus to persist in whatmight be very challenging situations’ (Boud et al., 1985,p. 29). Allowing learners to articulate their feelingshelps them understand their emotions in the learningcontext, an important characteristic of self-directedlearners (Patterson, Crooks & Lunyk-child, 2002).Student reflections would demonstrate awarenessof their feelings at the beginning of the reflectiveexperience and recognition that these feelings caneither assist or hinder the learning process.Level 3: AssociationThis refers to relating new knowledge to pre-existingunderstanding, feelings or attitudes, and involves theconsideration of multiple perspectives. Reflections atthis level show how perhaps exchanges at discussionforums, etc. have forced the student to considermultiple perspectives by reconciling new ideas withexisting workplace knowledge.Level 4: IntegrationThis involves synthesising old and new knowledge,resulting in the formation of new insight. Reflectionsshow that, as a result of the knowledge the studenthas acquired or been made more aware of, came the‘new’ insight.Level 5: ValidationTesting and verifying the proposed synthesis for(internal) consistency are characteristics of this level.Reflections reveal how the students, instead ofsimply using motherhood statements, deliberatelyconceptualise ways to incorporate a new concept.Level 6: AppropriationThis calls for using the knowledge together with one’sown. Reflections show how the student is usingthe process of reflection in her awareness and dailyapproach towards work, leading to outcomes rangingfrom changes in behaviour, changes in the learner’saffective state and changes in perspectives (perspectivetransformation or transformative learning—Brookfield,2000; Mezirow, 1990). It involves ‘becoming criticallyaware of how and why our presuppositions have cometo constrain the way we perceive, understand and feelabout our world’ (Mezirow, 1990, p. 14). It requires amajor shift in one’s basic assumption and a consequentchange in perspective and personal paradigm. Changes inbehaviour could be viewed as Action outcomes, changesin the learner’s affective state as Affective outcomes andchanges in beliefs as Perspective outcomes.Action outcomes involve a new way of doing things,development of new skills, commitment to actionand or readiness for application. This would be seenin the student’s readiness to apply her newly acquiredreflective skills to action.Affective outcomes involve a change in attitude oremotional state. It involves a ‘positive attitude towardslearning in a particular area, greater confidence orassertiveness, or a changed set of priorities’ (Boudet al., 1985, p. 34). The student’s changed attitudeto wanting to find out more about a certain aspect ofpractice, along with her increased motivation towardslearning, would be evidence of this.Perspective outcomes involve changes in perspectivesand beliefs and values. This is characterised by thestudent changing her perspective on reflection.It must be noted, however, that these levels do notnecessarily occur in sequence, neither do learners needto experience each level of the reflective process. Infact, validation and appropriation, which form the higherlevels of the reflection process, could also be viewed asa form of reflective outcomes.Another factor to consider is that assessment tasks,unless thoughtfully designed, may not make it easy toidentify subtle shifts in student teachers’ transmissionof knowledge or how this impacts on their practice. Thishighlights the importance of designing the reflectivetasks and the questions that will guide this task.MethodologyThis research project applied Sim’s (2006) adaptedversion of Boud et al.’s. (1985) model of assessingreflection to the work of pre-service early childhoodstudent teachers. The reflective evaluation frameworkwas piloted with a group of six early childhood studentteachers, who undertook reflective tasks taken froma Self-Assessment Manual (SAM) (Raban et al.,2007). This manual, specifically designed to guideearly childhood practitioners and student teachersin the reflection process, provides the opportunity tothink through and record past and present trainingand professional experiences, and plan for futureprofessional growth and development. The studentteachers, through guided reflection, undertake aseries of tasks encouraging the documenting of pastexperiences, reflection on beliefs and values in relationto teaching and learning, mapping current practiceacross theoretical perspectives, and setting challengesfor the future. The tasks are designed to capturethinking around practical experiences, influences ondevelopment and knowledge acquisition, and feelingstowards both the reflective process and their own124Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

journey as a developing professional. At three pointsin the manual the student teachers share their taskreflections with each other in small group forums. TheSAM is divided into four sections as follows:Section 1: Past experienceThis section asks participants to recount motivations forchoosing a career path in early childhood, the mentorsand role models who have guided their development tothe current point, previous work experience in the field,and previous experience that might add to their skills asan early childhood practitioner.Section 2: Present experiencesIn this section questions relate to the practicalexperiences each participant has undertaken duringtraining in early childhood settings, the positive aspectsof the combined experience in these settings (Whathave they been able to achieve? What have theylearned?), knowledge of professional organisationsthat could support their own work/development in thefield, and professional learning outside of their ownstudy. Finally, each participant is asked to consider thequalities, dispositions and behaviours they believe to beneeded for their future career in the field. Within thissection there is an ‘Individual Reflection’ task askingfor the identification of significant influences on theiremerging profile as an early childhood practitioner,particular areas of professional learning that arebecoming significant to them and areas thought to be agrowing strength or specialisation.Section 3: Beliefs and valuesStem statements to be completed by the participantaround their philosophy are located in this section,leading to the articulation of personal philosophies/approaches to teaching and learning. The accompanying‘Individual Reflection’ task asks for a summary of thesecompleted stem statements, guiding the participantin the recognition of the most significant beliefs andvalues impacting on their practice. Also in this sectionis the task ‘Developing a Practitioner Profile’, whichenables participants to map their current practice totheoretical perspectives to produce a matrix which isthen reflected on to see how well this fits with personalbeliefs, values and understandings.Section 4: Future experiencesThis section concentrates on the consideration offurther study possibilities, and the identification ofskills/knowledge for further development.The six student teachers who took part in this studywere part of the larger cohort undertaking a Bachelor ofEarly Childhood Education degree in Victoria in 2007. Allwritten responses, as captured by the Self-AssessmentManual, became the data set after the completion andassessment of the unit, along with a post-evaluationsurvey of the process.To analyse the data, Henri’s (Herrington & Oliver,1999) thematic unit of analysis was adopted owingto its flexibility in coding data. Henri’s thematic unitrefers to counting each ‘unit of meaning’ by extractingthe meaning from the text without the constraint ofword, sentence or paragraph limitation (Herrington& Oliver, 1999). Therefore, the length of the unit ofmeaning is dependent on the participants’ writingstyle, allowing for flexibility when coding. As the datainvolved participants’ learning and reflections, explicitstatements were the norm, with subtle meanings ararity. Thus the issues of increased subjectivity and lowcoding reliability associated with coding for more subtlethemes posed less of a problem in this study (Rourke,Anderson, Garrison & Archer, 2001).Some educational researchers maintain that usingthe highest level of reflection outcomes give ‘overestimatedreflective scores’, and propose instead theuse of the mean reflective score of each participant as amore accurate measure (Hawkes & Romiszowski, 2001,p. 292). However, as the reflection coding recorded thestudent teachers sharing their learning at each stageof the topic, rather than a record of the continuum oftheir reflective processes, it would be inappropriate toobtain the mean reflective score from these reflectionresponses. In addition, the researchers were interestedin finding out if particular reflective activities embeddedin SAM attracted a higher level of reflective response.The results therefore give an indication of the level ofreflective process experienced by each student teacherand the extent of the reflection outcomes. Thus,although this approach does not indicate the meanreflective scores of each student teacher, relying onthe frequency count of the reflective process was anappropriate and adequate methodology for this study.The adapted Boud et al. model served to inform andguide the researchers regarding the criteria for analysingand assigning the data into the reflection levels; however,coder stability and inter-rater reliability were importantaspects needing to be developed before coding couldbegin. For reliable analysis both researchers neededto form a consensus on the criteria for each level ofreflection in the model. Time was devoted to developinginter-rater reliability where the extent to which bothcoders, each coding the same content, came to thesame decisions. To ensure inter-rater reliability, bothresearchers independently coded the six sets of SAMdata. Attention was focused on the correct application ofconcept and definition of reflective process rather than onthe agreement of starting and ending of the code. This isbecause the latter is often arbitrary and thus not a goodmeasure of reliability (Gibbs, 2002).125Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

This process to ensure coder stability (Rourke et al.,2001) took time, as one researcher was familiar withthe Self-Assessment Manual and early childhoodcontent delivered within the unit and course, while theother researcher was more experienced with applyingthe model to health-care professionals.FindingsBased on the reflective evaluation framework, allstudent teachers demonstrated some level of reflectiveprocess, except integration and, in terms of outcomesof reflection, perspective change. The following Table1 shows each participant in relation to the levels ofreflection attained.In terms of the first level of reflection (Returning toexperience), all participants showed evidence of thisin their responses. For the second level (Attending tofeelings) most of the student teachers were codedas expressing their emotions in their SAM workbook.Examples included:I have found this style of reflective thinking veryworthwhile as I am really enjoying learning moreabout philosophy, having done my previous trainingin only one philosophy (Montessori) (Participant 4).One member of the group spoke of her despondencywith the industry but we all shared that if everyonebanded together to achieve a system that couldenhance the children’s learning despite the systemand maybe in spite of it, then we have brought goodto the industry (Participant 5).Three of the student teachers (50%) were coded asdemonstrating validation, while three showed associationand appropriation. This suggests these student teacherswere able to relate their pre-existing experiencesand knowledge to their newly acquired knowledge(association), testing the validity of new concepts(validation) and incorporating the process of reflection intheir awareness and daily approaches towards teachingpractices (appropriation) as the following excerpts illustrate:The ability to be open to dialogue and change is thefoundation upon which all professional developmentis constructed (Association from Participant 1).Furthermore this high score under the ecologicalsystem correlates with my view that because ourlives are constantly changing for instance when wemove house, settle in a new job, have a baby ortravel, this impacts on the relationships within thefamily, childcare environment and beyond. Theseimpacts need to be recognised and utilised to addmeaning to the program the child experiences and tolink it to family. The ecological approach is one whichis strongly influenced by a layering of relationshipsand networks (Validation from Participant 1).The impact that these beliefs will have on my futureas an early childhood professional are that I need toproduce a program that will facilitate each child’slearning, it will need to be open-ended and caterfor each child’s way of learning (Appropriation fromParticipant 6).According to Wong et al. (1995), it is common for morelearners to show evidence of association (lower level ofreflection), with relatively fewer learners demonstratingTable 1.Coding results of reflection process by the first researcherParticipantsLevel of reflective process Code 1 2 3 4 5 6 TotalReturning to experience 0A 1 1 1 2 1 6Attending to feelings 1Positive feelings 1A 1 1 2Negative feelings 1B 2 1 3Association 2 1 1 1 3Integration 3 -Validation 4 1 1 1 3Appropriation 5 1 1Outcomes of reflection 6Action 6A 1 1Affective (emotions) 6B 1 1 2Perspectives 6C -Total 6 2 2 2 5 4 21126Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

higher levels of the reflective process. However, thefact that not all participants demonstrated the validationand appropriation levels does not necessarily indicatetheir inability to reflect at these levels. It may be simplythat the student teacher participants here did notarticulate that aspect of reflection during their SAMactivities. Another possible explanation is that someparticipants (for instance Participant 5) were able toachieve reflection outcomes without the need toexperience each reflection level (Boud et al., 1985).Not all student teachers were coded to demonstratereflection outcomes. Only two of the six participantsshowed affective outcomes while four were codedto demonstrate action outcomes (see Table 1). Anexample of affective reflection outcome is illustrated inthe following comment:I will try to adopt a willingness to adapt, to be flexibleto change and be more reflective and to participatein regular self assessment (Participant 1).Action outcomes refer to the participants’ explicitviews about their commitment to action, readinessto apply their new knowledge and skills, or simplyindicating development of new skills, as illustrated bythe following comments:If I was to run a centre, I would like to develop aprogram centred around family grouping which Ibelieve is a more true to life manner of organisingrooms and settings, a layering of children, toddlersand adults all interacting, supporting and assistingeach other in learning and cooperation (Participant 1).I will make a difference and I will. I will humblemyself to keep gaining knowledge to take outand share in the community and spread the wordaround my colleagues in the industry (Participant 5).When considering the SAM tasks and the levels ofreflection elicited by the various tasks, no clear patternis discernable (See Table 2). However, many of theSAM tasks begin by asking participants to recountexperiences before moving into reflective questionsabout these experiences, and, as such, the studentteachers are guided to return to their experiences,hence the fact that all student teachers showed Level1 reflection. It is also interesting to note that Sections2 and 4 provided the most Level 5 reflections, but thiswas not the case for all participants; and for one studentteacher, only one section of SAM provided reflectionsthat could be coded—Section 2.Individuals reflect at different levels and the disparityof frequency of reflections between different sectionsis indicative of the differing levels of reflections byindividuals. In addition, one possible reason for notall students displaying reflection outcomes could bebecause this cohort of student teachers is only inthe early stages of their undergraduate program, hasentered the course with varying levels of experience,and is still in the early stages of reflective learning.Table 2.Coding of student responses to SAM tasks—applying levels of reflectionSAM tasksSection 1:Past experiencesSection 2:Present experiencesSection 3:Beliefs & valuesSection 4:Future experiencesParticipants1 2 3 4 5 6Level 1Level 1Level 2 (x 2)Level 6: ActionLevel 6: AffectiveLevel 5Level 6: ActionLevel 3Level 6: ActionLevel 6: AffectiveLevel 1 Level 1 Level 1 Level 1 (x 2)Level 2 (x 2)Level 6: AffectiveLevel 5 Level 2Level 3Level 2Level 3Level 5 (x 2)Level 6:ActionLevel 2Level 2Level 6: ActionLevel 6: AffectiveLevel 1Level 2 (x 2)Level 3Level 6:ActionLevel 1: Returning to experienceLevel 2: Attending to feelingsLevel 3: AssociationLevel 4: IntegrationLevel 5: Validation Level 6: Appropriation = Outcomes: A) Action B)Affective C) Perspectives127Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

DiscussionStructured reflective processIt is important to ensure that reflection does not occur ina ‘vacuum’, rather that students are guided through theprocess of reflecting within their context of learning.Thus, as part of the student teacher development, SAMprovided a structured process of guided reflection,leading the students through the process of reflectingon their past and present experiences, beliefs, valuesand practices, and relating and reflecting on their futureaspirations of professional growth. The learning andreflection process was further enhanced with reflectionoccurring both at an individual and group level. Eachof these guided activities provided opportunities forstudents to go through the reflective process asdescribed by Boud et al. (1985): returning to experience,association, integration, validation, appropriation, andoutcomes of reflection including action, affective andchange of perspective at their own pace and stage.Reflection evaluation frameworkWhat has become apparent is the ability of theevaluation framework to provide a structure for theassessment of reflective writing. The flexibility of theframework to the individual responses of the studentteachers demonstrates that it can pinpoint the depth ofreflection the student is applying to their work. This isuseful when faced with the difficult task of assessingreflection tasks: it clearly shows the reflection levelsapplied by the student and constructive feedbackrelating to the differing levels of reflection and whatthey entail. If introduced to the student, the evaluationframework will provide a structured process byshowing students how they can move betweenthe different levels of reflection and what might beconsidered within each level. By creating an awarenessof where students are reflecting within this framework,they could be assisted in their ability to self-evaluate,thereby facilitating subsequent reflective opportunitiesto reflect at a higher level. Thus, information obtainedfrom the evaluation framework can be used to empowerlearners in their future reflective experiences.Implications and recommendationsA number of conditions need to be in place to ensurethat the proposed combined model of structuredreflective process and evaluation framework succeeds.First, reflection has its risks. Challenging or questioningone’s own practice puts the practitioner in a vulnerableposition (Ghaye & Lillyman, 2000; Hillier, 2002). This isespecially true when the issues discussed are political,social or ethical, subjecting participating practitioners toa higher level of personal or professional risk (Bolton,2001). The self-evaluation process may also lead to arange of negative emotions such as frustration, despair,fear or disgust. Another outcome of reflection may beconfrontation in the workplace. Public expression ofone’s reflections may result in disagreement at theworkplace and may lead to awkward situations forsome (Ghaye & Lillyman, 2000). Hence, it is importantthat reflection be effectively facilitated and conducted ina safe, supportive and structured learning environment(Bolton, 2001; Boud et al., 1985; FitzGerald & Chapman,2000; Hawkes & Romiszowski, 2001).Second, the reflective activities must be authentic,contextualised and meaningful in order to encouragestudent engagement (Herrington & Bunker, 2002).Third, there must be protected ‘thinking time’ so as toensure sufficient time is set aside for students to reflectinstead of performing a cursory reflection. Fourth,educators should also employ multiple reflectivetechniques to facilitate the development of reflection.By using a variety of reflective techniques, it is morelikely that students will fully engage in the reflectionprocess (Nolan, 2008).Last but not least, activities should be designed so asto encourage individual and collaborative reflection.Individual and collective reflections can provide thenecessary encouragement and new perspectives,allowing practitioners to understand their ownassumptions and validation of presuppositions of theirwork practices (Bolton, 2001; Mezirow, 1990).There are recommendations for future studies. First,owing to the small number of participants in this study,there is a need for the study to be replicated with alarger cohort of student teachers to see if results aresimilar. Second, a similar study could be conducted withother professions, such as healthcare professionalswho are also required to be reflective practitioners, toascertain if the combination of carefully crafted tasksdoes facilitate higher levels of reflections in students.ConclusionA structured reflective guide that is contextualised canbe used to guide practitioners in their reflection process,thereby facilitating the development of practitioners’reflective practice (Bulman, 2000; Burnard, 1991;Cranton, 1996; Ghaye & Ghaye, 1998; Mezirow, 1981).When used in conjunction with a reflective evaluationframework, the level of reflection can be assessed. Itis hoped this framework will prove useful for educatorswho have the task of assessing reflection, and that,once the evaluation framework is introduced to studentteachers, they will also find it a useful tool to considerwhen completing reflection tasks. Assessing the levelsand quality of reflection is an achievable task.128Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

The study is now ready to progress to the next stage,which will involve introducing the evaluation frameworkto student teachers to establish whether or not informinglearners of the levels of reflection will indeed result inenhancing their reflective skills. If successful, this proposedmodel of developing and enhancing learners’ reflectiveprocess will have significant implications on how educatorsassist learners in their journey towards becoming reflectivepractitioners. For now, we view the reflective frameworkas enabling a defined level of analysis of reflective tasks forassessors of student teachers work.ReferencesArtzt, A.F., & Armour-Thomas, E. (2002). Becoming a reflectivemathematics teacher: A guide for observations and selfassessment.Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.Atkins, S., & Murphy, K. (1993). Reflection: A review of theliterature. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 18, 1188–1192.Atkins, S. (2005). Developing underlying skills in the movetowards reflective practice. In C. Bulman & S. Schutz (Eds)(3rd edn) Reflective practice in nursing (pp. 25–44. Oxford:Blackwell.Barnett, B. G. (1995). Developing reflection and expertise:Can mentors make a difference? Journal of EducationalAdministration, 33(5), 45–60.Beveridge, I. (1997). Teaching your students to think reflectively:The case for reflective journals. Teaching in Higher Education,2(1), 33–42.Bolton, G. (2001). Reflective practice: Writing and professionaldevelopment. London: Paul Chapman Publishing.Bourner, T. (2003). Assessing reflective learning. EducationTraining, 45, 267–272.Brookfield, S. (1995). Becoming a critically reflective teacher.San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.Boud, D., Keogh, R., & Walker, D. (1985). Promoting reflectionin learning: a model. In D. Boud, R. Keogh & D. Walker (Eds),Reflection: Turning experience into learning (pp. 18–40).London: Kogan Page.Boud, D., & Walker, D. (1998). Promoting reflection inprofessional courses: The challenge of context. Studies inHigher Education, 23(2), 191–206. Retrieved 19 April, 2005,from ProQuest database.Brookfield, S. D. (2000). Transformative learning as ideologycritique. In J. Mezirow and Associates (Ed), Learning astransformation: Critical perspectives on a theory in progress(pp. 125–148). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.Bulman, C. (2000). Exemplars of reflection: A chance to learnthrough the inspiration of others. In S. Burns & C. Bulman (Eds),Reflective practice in nursing: The growth of the professionalpractitioner (2nd edn, pp. 173–196). Oxford: Blackwell Science.Burnard, P. (1991). Improving through reflection. Journal ofDistrict Nursing (May), 10–12.Cranton, P. (1996). Professional development as transformativelearning: New perspectives for teachers of adults. SanFrancisco: Jossey-Bass.Fisher, K. (2003). Demystifying critical reflection: defining criteriafor assessment. Higher Education Research & Development,22(3), 313–325.FitzGerald, M., & Chapman, Y. (2000). Theories of reflection forlearning. In S. Burns & C. Bulman (Eds), Reflective practice innursing: The growth of the professional practitioner (2nd edn,pp. 1–27). Oxford: Blackwell Science.Ghaye, A., & Ghaye, K. (1998). Teaching and learning throughcritical reflective practice. London: David Fulton Publishers.Ghaye, T., & Lillyman, S. (2000). Reflection: Principles andpractice for healthcare professionals. London: Mark AllenPublishing.Gibbs, G. (2002). Qualitative data analysis. Explorations withNVivo. Buckingham: Open University Press.Hawkes, M., & Romiszowski, A. (2001). Examining the reflectiveoutcomes of asynchronous computer-mediated communicationon inservice teacher development. Journal of Technology andTeacher Education, 9, 285–308. Retrieved 28 February, 2005,from Expanded Academic ASAP database.Herrington, A., & Bunker, A. (2002). Quality teaching online:Putting pedagogy first. In A. Goody, J. Herrington & M.Northcote (Eds), Quality conversations: Proceedings of the2002 Annual International Conference of the Higher EducationResearch and Development Society of Australasia (HERDSA)pp. 305–312. Perth, Western Australia: HERDSA. Retrieved 6September, 2002, from: http://www.ecu.edu.au/conferences/herdsa/main/papers/ref/pdf/HerringtonA.pdf.Herrington, J., & Oliver, R. (1999). Using situated learning andmultimedia to investigate higher-order thinking. Journal ofEducational Multimedia and Hypermedia, 8(4), 401–421.Hillier, Y. (2002). Reflective teaching in further and adulteducation. London: Continuum.Margolis, J. (2002). Re-form-ing reflection (and action) in Englisheducation. English Education. 34(3),136–214.Mayes, T. (2001). Learning technology and learning relationships.In J. Stephenson (Ed), Teaching & learning online: Pedagogiesfor new technologies (pp. 16–26). London: Kogan Page.Mezirow, J. (1981). A critical theory of adult learning andeducation. Adult Education, 32, 3–24.Mezirow, J. A. (1990). Fostering critical reflection in adulthood:A guide to transformative and emancipatory learning. SanFrancisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.Moore, K. B. (2002). Reflection for a program improvement.Scholastic Early Childhood Today, 16(7),12–12.Moss, P., & Petrie, P. (2002). From children’s services tochildren’s spaces: Public provision, children and childhood.London: Routledge.Nolan, A. (2008). Encouraging the reflection process inundergraduate teachers using guided reflection. AustralianJournal of Early Childhood, 33(2), 31–36.Patterson, C., Crooks, D., & Lunyk-child, O. (2002). A newperspective on competencies for self-directed learning. Journalof Nursing Education, 41, 25–31.Pee, B. Woodman, T., & Fry, H. (2002). Appraising and assessingreflection in students’ writing on a structure worksheet. MedicalEducation, 36, 575–585.Plack, M., Driscoll, M., Blissett, S., McKenna, R., & Plack, T.(2005). A method for assessing reflective journal writing. Journalof Allied Health, Winter 34(4),199–208.Raban, B., Waniganayake, M., Nolan, A., Brown, R., Deans,J., & Ure, C. (2007) Building capacity: Strategic professionaldevelopment for early childhood practitioners. SouthMelbourne: Thomson Learning.129Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Rock, T. C., & Levin, B. B. (2002). Collaborative actionresearch projects: Enhancing preservice teacher developmentin professional development schools. Teacher EducationQuarterly, 29(1),7–21.Rourke, L., Anderson, T., Garrison, R., & Archer, W. (2001).Methodological Issues in the Content Analysis of ComputerConference Transcripts. Retrieved 17 November, 2005, fromhttp://aied.inf.ed.ac.uk/members01/archive/vol_12/rourke/full.html.Schön, D. A. (1983) The reflective practitioner: Howprofessionals think in action. New York: Basic Books.Schön, D. A. (1987) Educating the reflective practitioner. SanFrancisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.Sim, J. (2006) Continuing professional development in MedicalRadiation Science: journey towards reflective practice incyberspace, PhD thesis. Access from RMIT University,Library Web site: http://adt.lib.rmit.edu.au/adt/public/adt-VIT20061201.102703/index.html.Sumsion, J., & Fleet, A. (1996). Reflection: can we assess it?Should we assess it? Assessment and Evaluation in HigherEducation, 21(2), 121–130.Swain, S. S. (1998). Studying teachers’ transformations:Reflections as methodology. The Clearing House, 72(10), 28–34.Williams, R., Sundelin, G., & Foster-Seargeant, E. (2000).Assessing the reliability of grading reflective journal writing.Journal of Physical Therapy Education. 14, 23–26.Wong, F. K., Kember, D., & Chung, L. (1995). Assessing thelevel of student reflection from reflective journals. Journal ofAdvanced Nursing. 22, 48–57.130Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Financial implications for parents working full time andcaring for a child with chronic illnessAjesh GeorgeMargaret VickersLesley WilkesUniversity of Western SydneyBelinda BartonThe Children’s Hospital at WestmeadThe cost of caring for a child with a chronic illness is a serious concern for parents.Unfortunately, there is limited knowledge about the financial challenges facing fulltimeworking parents who also care for a child with chronic illness. This paper sharessome findings from a large mixed-methods study situated in Australia, and presentsdata from both qualitative interviews and a national survey which explored thechallenges and support needs of such parents.The findings reveal that parents are not benefiting financially from full-time employment,as one would normally expect. We argue that this is because many are employed inlow-paid jobs in direct response to their need for flexibility to undertake their caringresponsibilities. As well, while taking lower-paid employment, these parents facedhigh-cost specialised care for their child. Further, owing to their often unique supportarrangements, many of the existing support entitlements available in Australia are notavailable to them. Full-time working parents who care for a child with chronic illnessstruggle financially to care for themselves and their child. They are in need of morespecific financial support from government to help them balance their dual roles.IntroductionOver the past 20 years, advances in medical managementand technology have resulted in an increasing number ofchildren living with a chronic illness (Isaacs & Sewell, 2003).Chronic illness is defined for the purposes of this study asa significant illness or disability which may be physical,emotional or cognitive and which continues for at leastsix months, requiring medical intervention to treat acuteepisodes and/or ongoing problems (George, Vickers, Wilkes& Barton, 2006; 2008a; 2008b; Vickers, 2005a; 2005b;2006; Vickers & Parris, 2005; Vickers, Parris & Bailey, 2004).Examples of childhood chronic illnesses might include (butare not limited to) asthma, cancer, diabetes and cysticfibrosis. Estimates indicate that approximately 31 per centof children under the age of 18 years have one or morechronic illnesses (Melnyk, Feinstein, Moldenhouer & Small,2001). In Australia, there are almost 300,000 children agedbetween 0 and 14 years (7.5%) with a disabling chronicillness, with most being cared for at home (AIHW, 2002).This study focused on the challenges presented to thecarer of a child with significant chronic illness who is alsoworking full time, rather than any medicalised definitionof the child’s condition, or the child’s experiences(George et al., 2006; 2008a; 2008b; Vickers, 2005a;2005b; Vickers & Parris, 2005; Vickers et al., 2004).The increase in the number of children with chronicillness has highlighted the extra caring responsibilitiesof these parents and the possible potential difficulties.Research has shown that parents who care forchildren with a chronic illness experience greateremotional and psychological distress than do parentsof healthy children (Meleski, 2002; Isaacs & Sewell,2003). Recent reports from Australia (Cummins et al.,2007; Edwards, Higgins, Gray, Zmijewski & Kingston,2008) indicate that carers (of adults or children) havesignificantly more mental health issues and higher ratesof depression than does the general population. Thishas been attributed to the high levels of stress theseparents experience when dealing with the various131Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

issues encountered in their caring role (Ievers & Drotar,1996). Specific concerns include the unpredictability ofthe child’s illness (Melnyk et al., 2001), complicationsand frequent hospitalisation of the child (Fisher, 2001),time limitations (Hedov, Anneren & Wikblad, 2002), andstrain on personal relationships (Sen & Yurtsever, 2007).We present here another issue of particular concernfor parents of children with chronic illness: the costsassociated with providing their child with ongoing care.Expensive health care, coupled with costly lifestylemodifications, special equipment and specialisedchild care can mean an additional burden for families(Emerson, 2003; Mutlu, Demir, Karen & Livanelioglu,2003). A national study in the United States of Americashowed that, compared with healthy children, thehealth-care cost of children with special needs was threetimes higher (Newacheck, 2005). And, as we will furtherhighlight, while the associated costs of caring for a childwith chronic illness are higher, it is also far more difficultto maintain full-time work for a parent who is also caringfor a child with chronic illness because of the parent’sneed for flexibility to accommodate that child’s needs.Recent demographic trends also demonstrate furtherimpacts on those with caring responsibilities. The risein single-parent families (Bianchi, 2000), the increasein women employed outside the home (ABS, 2004a),and the rise of dual-earning families (Lewis, Kagan &Heaton, 2000) have all contributed to the increase inthe number of working parents caring for a child with achronic illness. The few studies that have tackled this areahave identified numerous added challenges confrontingthese parents: the need to locate appropriate child care(Einam & Cuskelly, 2002; Vickers, 2006); the requirementto attend their child’s medical appointments while alsomeeting job responsibilities (Newacheck et al., 1998); andthe difficulties of accessing support services tailored tothe needs of working parents (Einam & Cuskelly, 2002).Working and caring for a child with a chronic illness isextremely difficult. However, despite the difficulties,many of these parents need to continue to work, andmany maintain full-time employment. While we wereunable to locate statistics specifically about parents whowere working full time and caring for a child with chronicillness in Australia, we confirm that, according to theAustralian Bureau of Statistics (ABS), in 2003 there werealmost 2.6 million such carers in Australia, half of whomwere in paid employment (ABS, 2003; 2004b). Further,another Australian study showed that, out of 547 parentswho cared for a child with chronic asthma, 85 per centof fathers and 45 per cent of mothers were in full-timeemployment (Mihrshahi et al., 2002).For parents who are working full time and caring fora child with chronic illness, the stressors involved inbalancing work and caring duties are intense. The mainlimitations of existing Australian studies in this area havebeen: a lack of focus on parents who are working fulltime (Einam & Cuskelly, 2002; Leiter, Krauss, Anderson& Wells, 2004); reductionist studies that focus onlyon specific chronic illnesses such as Down syndromeand asthma rather than chronic illness more generally(Hedov et al., 2002; Smith, Hatcher & Wertheimer,2002); the lack of generalisable findings because of thework being qualitative and exploratory in nature (Vickers,2006); and the limited number of studies conducted inAustralia (Cuskelly et al., 1998; Einam & Cuskelly, 2002;Vickers, 2006). Of those studies conducted in Australia,only Vickers (2006) specifically focused on parents whowere working full time, undertaking a phenomenologicalexploration of the lives of nine full-time working motherswho were also caring for children with chronic illness.These findings vivified the overload, disconnection, griefand lack of social support these women experienced, aswell as confirming their need to continue to work evenwhile facing significant challenges (Vickers, 2006).The lack of research into working parents of children withchronic illness in Australia can also be attributed to someassumptions evident in the literature. It is assumed thatparents of children with chronic illness do not work, andcertainly do not work full time. Mothers, in particular, areassumed to stay at home to care for their child (Vickers,2006). It is also assumed that the support needs ofworking parents are similar to those of non-working orpart-time working parents of children with chronic illness.Assumptions such as these are evident in the fact thatso few studies have explored the interplay between fulltimeworking and caring for a child with a chronic illness.Many that have investigated this area have investigatedpart-time working parents only (see Shearn, 1998; Einam& Cuskelly, 2002). We claim it is reasonable to assumethat the challenges associated with working and caringfor a child with a chronic illness would be greater forparents working full time than for those working parttime, especially as many of the issues of concern revolvearound time constraints.As the number of children being diagnosed with achronic illness continues to rise in Australia, especiallyas this coincides with an increasing number of dualearningfamilies, it is important to investigate the needsof these working parents more comprehensively in orderto challenge existing assumptions and identify variousareas of need. The focus of this paper is on the financialchallenges these parents encounter. We suggest thatfinancial challenges are especially significant for full-timeworking parents as they grapple with the impact theircaring responsibilities have on their working lives. Theseparents’ caring responsibilities limit the work roles theycould maintain, which, in turn, limit the level of incomethey could command. And it is with this considerably lessincome and job security that they then face the additionalcosts of caring for a child with chronic illness.132Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

MethodA mixed-methods approach was adopted for thisstudy. Mixed-methods research effectively combinesquantitative and qualitative research techniques,methods and approaches (Creswell, 2003; Greene,Caracellli & Graham,1989; Johnson & Onwuegbuzie,2004, p. 17; Patton, 2002; Tashakkori & Teddlie, 1998)enabling both qualitative and quantitative data to begathered and examined in a single study (Rocco, Bliss,Gallagher & Perez-Prado, 2003). This paper reflectsthe successful use of a mixed-methods approach,including both analysed qualitative interview data andquantitative findings to support our argument.DesignThis study involved three phases. Phase 1 involvedqualitative, in-depth, semi-structured interviewsexploring the experiences of parents working full timeand caring for a child with a chronic illness. Qualitativemethods have been recommended for use whenexploring support needs for individuals as their needsand constraints can be easily assessed (Williams,Barclay & Schmeid, 2004). Phase 2 involved thedevelopment of a questionnaire focused on the supportneeds of these parents, based on the findings fromPhase 1. Phase 3 involved the identified issues beingtested and confirmed by piloting the questionnairethrough a national survey. Presented here are thequalitative and quantitative findings from both the indepthinterviews and the pilot study, especially as theyrelated to the theme of financial concerns.Selection criteria of the studyFor inclusion in this study, parents had to be workingfull time or equivalent; taking care of a child, definedas 18 years or younger, with a chronic illness; live ina capital city or metropolitan area of Australia; and befluent in the English language. The term ‘full time orequivalent’ was used to include parents who wereself-employed, or undertaking multiple part-time/casual roles or full-time study, or were in the full-timepermanent paid labour force. Metropolitan areas werechosen for this study because this is where more thantwo-thirds of Australian children live (ABS, 2003). Inaddition, other studies have shown the support needsof people living in rural and remote areas of Australia tobe different from those in metropolitan areas (Wilkes,White, Mohan & Beale, 2006). Compared to familiesin metropolitan areas, rural families require moresupport in dealing with challenges such as lack oftransport, lengthy travel to health-care services, limitedinformation on services available, and associatedaccommodation needs (Wilkes et al., 2006).Phase 1: Qualitative interviewsRecruitment: Purposive sampling was used to selectparents for participation in this phase (Creswell, 2003).Parents were recruited through a modified chainreferral technique (Vickers, 2006; Watters & Biernacki,1989) that made use of informal referrals to the studyinvestigators and word-of-mouth; contact via chronicillness support organisations; local newsletter andmagazine advertising; and advertising flyers beingdistributed and displayed at a large children’s hospitalin Sydney.SampleNine females and three males were recruited for thequalitative interviews. Their ages ranged from 30 to 50years with an average age of 42. All parents workedfull time (or equivalent) with 11 having partners whoalso worked full time. Parents were employed invarious types of jobs, such teaching, administration andinformation technology. Two interview respondentshad to care for another adult as well. The childrenin this study were aged from three to 18 years andhad diverse chronic illnesses such as cerebral palsy,muscular dystrophy and spina bifida.Data collection: Twelve in-depth, semi-structuredinterviews were conducted at locations convenientfor participants; in most cases in their homes. Eachinterview was audio-taped and lasted for approximately90 minutes, and all interviews were conducted bythe same interviewer. Before the interviews, signedinformed consent was obtained and brief demographicdetails about the child and the parents were collected.During the interviews, parents were asked abouttheir experience of working full time while caring fora child with chronic illness, with special attention tothe identification of areas where support was required.The interviews were conversational in nature, the flowof which was governed by the participant. They wereguided by, but not restricted to, the following focusareas: caring responsibilities; getting carers; financialimplications; family and partner relationships; dealingwith professionals; work life; current employmentconditions; grief; sources of information; and practicalneeds. These focus areas were formulated afterreviewing relevant literature, including results from anearlier exploratory study (Vickers, 2006), and as a resultof discussions by the research team. Interviews wereconducted until a point of information redundancy wasreached (Lee, Mitchell & Sablynski, 1999), that is, untilthe interviews no longer provided any new insights intothe experiences of these parents.Data analysis: All interviews were transcribedverbatim and analysed using qualitative contentanalysis (Sandelowski, 2000). The transcripts wereread line-by-line in order to identify recurring patterns133Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

pertaining to the impact and support needs of theseparents. These patterns were then coded using QSRNUD*IST VIVO software (NUD*IST Vivo, 2003) andarranged into categories (Braun & Clarke, 2006). Each ofthe transcripts was explored and statements relating to thecodes identified were extracted and then organised intothe various coding categories. Sub-categories were alsoidentified by combining and cataloguing related patterns,thus adding meaning and depth to the main category.Quotes from the analysed data (together with pseudonymsreplacing parents’ real names), were used to illustrate eachcoding category and sub-category. The categories werediscussed with the research team in order to verify that thedata was appropriately clustered, and that the categoriesmade sense and fitted the data. This process added to therigour of the analysis (Lee et al., 1999).Phase 2: Development of the questionnaireThe questionnaire was developed from the findings ofPhase 1 (Qualitative interviews), as well as the existingliterature on caring for children with chronic illness. Itwas pre-tested for clarity and readability (Foddy, 1993)and then distributed to an expert panel to establish itscontent validity. The panel consisted of experts in the fieldof academic research, questionnaire development, familysupport, paediatric medicine and children’s education. Thequestionnaire consisted of 38 questions (closed, openendedand Likert scale questions) that addressed thesupport needs of parents in different aspects of their lives.Phase 3: Pilot studyRecruitment: Purposive sampling was utilised toselect participants for the pilot study (Srivastava,Shenoy & Sharma, 2002). They were recruited as forPhase 1. Interested parents then contacted the studyinvestigators and survey packages containing aninformation sheet, the questionnaire and a reply-paidenvelope were sent to them, either directly, or via thevarious organisations that supported the study.Data collection: Altogether, 6310 questionnaires weredistributed. Parental consent was assumed upon returnof the completed questionnaires to the research team.Sample: Only 579 completed questionnaires werereturned during the pilot study, giving a response rateof 9.2 per cent. A possible reason for this low responsemay have been that working parents of children withchronic illness are extremely busy trying to balancetheir dual roles and may not have had the time (or theenergy) to complete a questionnaire. It is also possiblethat the support organisations through which most ofthe questionnaires were distributed may not have hadaccurate contact details for the parents targeted. Of the579 questionnaires, 341 satisfied the selection criteriaof the study and the remaining 238 participants wereexcluded from data analysis. Of the 341 respondents,271 (79.5%) were females and 70 (20.5%) weremales. The majority of these were in the 35–54 agegroup (82.7%). Most of the respondents were workingprofessionals (47.2%) and associate professionals(30.7%), indicating that the respondents’ occupationswere skewed towards more skilled employment. Closeto 40 per cent of the respondents (39.6%, n = 131) fromthe pilot study were from low- or middle-income familieshaving a combined household income of between$40,000 and $80,000 per annum. Most respondents(81.8%, n = 279) were living with a spouse/partner who,in most cases (78%), was also working full time.The children reported in this study consisted of 54 percent (n = 204) males and 46 per cent (n = 174) females.These children had diverse chronic illnesses, the mostcommon being ‘intellectual/developmental disorders’(42.3%, n = 161) such as Down syndrome, and‘systemic disorders’ (29.7%, n = 111) such as diabetes.Most of the children went to school or special school(45.8%, n = 173), while others attended integratedchild care (20.6%, n = 78) or were cared for by friends/relatives (28.8%, n = 109) while their parents worked.Data analysis: Initially, all returned questionnaires thatsatisfied the study inclusion criteria were assigneda code number for identification. Next, all data fromthe questionnaires was entered into SPSS (StatisticalPackage for Social Sciences Version 14.0, 2005) foranalysis. Once all the data was screened for errors andmissing values, descriptive analysis was done on thedemographic data, and on all the closed questions andLikert scale questions in the remaining three sectionsof the questionnaire. Qualitative responses from all theopen-ended questions were extracted and entered intoNvivo version 2.0 (Qualitative Solutions and ResearchPty. Ltd, 2003) computer software. Content analysiswas also done on the qualitative survey data and quoteswere selected to help illustrate the categories. Followingqualitative analysis, the questionnaire was subjected tospecific statistical tests. The findings of this validationprocess have not been included in this paper.EthicsEthical approval to conduct the study was granted bythe human ethics research committees from both theUniversity of Western Sydney and a large children’shospital in Sydney.134Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

FindingsContent analysis of the qualitative data from theinterviews and pilot study revealed several categorieshighlighting the challenges and support needsthese parents faced: issues with carers; impact onrelationships; money; caring responsibilities; theworkplace; dealing with health professionals; andinformation needs. In this paper, the category ‘money’ isexamined, using both qualitative and quantitative data,to vivify the financial issues reported by respondents.Table 1 illustrates the qualitative findings relating tothe ‘money’. No gender-related differences in theseparents’ responses were noted.Table 1.Qualitative findings for coding category‘Money’Money• Additional expenses• Constraints of policies• Impact on employmentMoneyThe financial burden of caring for a child with a chronicillness was reported to be a serious concern andsource of stress for many participants. The factors thatcontributed to their financial hardship included: additionalexpenses incurred; the constraints of policies to accessentitlements; and the negative impact on employment.Additional expensesAll 12 interview respondents identified various additionalexpenses they incurred while caring for their childwith a chronic illness. They included: carers’ housing;equipment; private health insurance; treatment; andparking costs. Of these, the cost of professionalcarers was identified as one of the main expensesparents found difficult to manage. Services such aschild care were reportedly extremely expensive, withmost centres charging almost double their usual rate inthe case of children with a chronic illness or disability,making their use prohibitive for some respondents:The cost of getting a kid into care is probablyexpensive, really, really expensive (Rose).That [child-care fees] could vary from 1½ times to 2times of the normal child-care fees ... depending onwhat type of requirement. So, I could definitely notafford that (David).Even respite care was not affordable for many parents.Susan highlighted this, referring to one occasion whenshe had to arrange for professional care for her sonovernight. Even with a portion covered as emergencyrespite care, the cost was extremely high:I went out on this weekend to a work function,which was a social function. And John [Susan’spartner] and I stayed out overnight, because it wasat North Sydney. I got through Emergency Respitefor probably about 5–6 hours of it, but the rest ofit, I had to fund myself because they won’t pay forovernight packages. So … I am going to have a billthat is about $600.00, paying someone to care forDan [Susan’s son] overnight (Susan).Constraints of policiesNine of the interview respondents highlighted howtheir families were constrained by existing policies toaccess various carer entitlements. David described howhis son, who had cerebral palsy, had to be constantlycared for by Vanessa (David’s wife). Yet, despite beinga full-time carer, Vanessa was never able to access anyextra carer entitlements such as the Carer Payment,because existing policies were very strict and ratherarbitrary. The office allocating the Carer’s Payment didnot consider Vanessa to be a full-time carer of her sonbecause he didn’t require specialised equipment forfeeding, even though Vanessa needed to stay with himall the time. David’s frustration was evident :When we went there [to the hospital]. they saidthat she should be getting the Carer’s Paymentalso. When she went for a claim, they [governmentoffice] said there is a criteria for this type ofchildren. They said that children have to be totallysupported and then it is ‘full time’ [care]. I don’tunderstand what is meant by ‘full time’ becausewhat they say is, if the children have been givenfood or other things through a tube or something,they consider that as full time. But as I explained,somebody has to be there at home to take care ofhim. I don’t know, what is the categorisation of fulltime? (David).Jason and Michelle recounted similarly stressfulexperiences with bureaucracy. They found it extremelyupsetting that their entitlements had to be constantlyreviewed every three months, even though their child’scondition was terminal and would never improve:Well, we have had integration funding [fundingprovided to assist children with disabilities at school]for many years now. But every three months wehave to be interviewed by the case manager and thenthey put up the funding. We might not get it. There isalways that threat, that you might not get it (Michelle).Our situation hasn’t changed, it is worse. So, ifanything, we need more caring, because his [theirson’s] condition, like he is deteriorating. So he getsworse, he doesn’t get any better. But this, everythree months … we get this anxiety that we aregoing to have this funding [integration funding]taken away from us (Jason).135Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Parents felt the policies involving entitlements wereimpractical and rarely took into consideration theirrelevant family circumstances. As David said:People [government administrators] who are sittingthere, they just follow the book. They don’t havepractical knowledge about this type of commitment.They don’t have a clear or good knowledge aboutwhat parents of this type of children will be facing(David).The constraints of the policies regarding entitlementswere further highlighted in the pilot study, with morethan 75 per cent of survey respondents also stressingthe need to ‘make access to various governmentpayments easier’ (75.7%, (n = 252) and ‘makegovernment policies for accessing support paymentsmore flexible’ (79.5%, (n = 264) (see Table 2).Impact on employmentAll 12 interview respondents highlighted the negativeimpact of their caring responsibilities on theiremployment. Difficulties were reported in findingappropriate and affordable carers, and this forcedmost parents to rearrange their work hours, requiringthem to work weekends, only during school hours orshorter days to enable them to be available to care fortheir child. The stress experienced was exacerbatedfor parents of children with severe chronic illnessbecause of the shortage of well-trained carers, and theunwillingness of many schools and daycare centres toaccept these children. For parents in such situations,providing constant supervision to their child, as wellas maintaining their employment, meant workinginconvenient and inappropriate hours. Molly reportedsacrificing her sleep and working night shifts while herhusband cared for their son:I used to start work at midnight and I would finishat 8.00 in the morning. His father would be at homewhile I was working ... I would go to bed at 7 o’clockat night and put the kids to bed and I would sleepfrom 7 to 11 and I would function on three hourssleep a day (Molly).For five of the interview respondents, their caringresponsibilities had a profound effect on their work lifeand resulted in job loss. Rearranging working hours wasnot a viable option for Susan, who was caring for herchild with a developmental disability. She was unableto cope with the pressure of working odd hours. Shehad to leave her job after struggling on for six monthswithout sufficient sleep:I worked a job that I started work at 4.00 am in themorning and I finished at 1.00 pm in the afternoon.So I was home, or Alan [her partner] was homewith Dan [her son]. But, the problem with it was,that I just … wouldn’t get enough sleep. You know,working really strange hours, it becomes hard workafter six months of it (Susan).Nine of the interviewed respondents also highlighted thenegative impact that caring for a child with chronic illnesshad on their careers. The need for flexible jobs limitedtheir job prospects and, for many parents, was a sourceof stress and anxiety. For Vicky, who had a child with renalfailure, finding a flexible job, especially in the informationtechnology (IT) industry, was extremely difficult. Thisresulted in her taking any jobs available, even if that meantlower wages and unsatisfactory conditions:You know, just casual, just simple work, low paid… it was just work any odd job. I couldn’t look foranything that had a proper career in it (Vicky).Having a child with chronic illness was also reportedto have a considerable impact on the career pathwaysof interviewed respondents. Michelle, who had amanagerial role before her son was diagnosed with alife-limiting disease, had to sacrifice her career goals inorder to continue working and caring for her child:Well, my career has suffered. I suppose it is thesacrifices that I have made … I have changed fromwhat I was originally doing and what I wanted. TheTable 2. Support needs of survey respondentsLIKERT SCALE ITEMS (n = 341) AGREE NEUTRAL DISAGREE NOT APPLICABLEMaking government policies for accessingsupport payments more flexible264 (79.5%) 42 (12.7%) 6 (1.8%) 20 (6.0%)Making access to various governmentpayments easier252 (75.7%) 50 (15.0%) 13 (3.9%) 18 (5.4%)NB: There was variance in missing cases across the items.136Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

career path that I planned for myself, that I wantedto do, has done a nose dive … So yeah … I havehad to find an area that would accommodate myfamily needs (Michelle).Jason recalled how he deliberately avoided careerchanges, such as seeking promotions, as they wouldhave jeopardised his precarious work–family balance.Such decisions, although necessary at the time, werestill stressful and unfortunate from his point of view,especially when he had several years of experiencethat warranted potential promotion:I made a conscious decision to not go on and notto seek promotion, to look after him [his son]. Iprobably made the wrong decision, but that is thedecision I made because I wanted to be in theposition where I could come at the drop of a hat,you know. Because it has been five or six years;I would have got promoted easily if I hadn’t madethat decision (Jason).Another area of concern for parents was the availabilityof leave entitlements. Parents who could take paidleave often utilised it to either care for their childwhenever the chronic illness deteriorated, or to attendthe numerous medical appointments and tests thechild needed. This resulted in interviewed respondentsreporting using up their paid leave prematurely. AsReina recalls, ‘I don’t have much annual leave. I’ve hadto use annual leave for clinic appointments and thosekinds of things.’The impact on employment was reinforced by theresults of the pilot study. More than two-thirds of therespondents also confirmed the negative effects oftheir caring responsibilities on ‘working hours’ (72.2%,n = 229), ‘job opportunities’ (68%, n = 222), ‘careeradvancement’ (67.4%, n = 217), and ‘time/leave fromwork’ (73.4%, n = 234) (See Table 3).DiscussionThis study has provided vital information about thefinancial situation of full-time working parents of childrenwith chronic illness in Australia. Although we alreadyknew that caring for a child with a chronic illness canbe a huge financial burden (Floyd & Gallaghar, 1997;Gunn & Berry, 1987; Leonard, Brust & Sapienza, 1992),both the qualitative and quantitative findings from thisstudy highlight that, even when parents were in full-timeemployment, the financial costs of caring for a child witha chronic illness was a serious concern, and that theircaring responsibilities had a significant impact on boththeir ongoing employment and career opportunities.The majority of parents who participated in thequalitative interviews and the pilot study identifiednumerous additional expenses incurred while caringfor their child. The most frequently mentioned was thecost of carers. The issue of accessing affordable carersis a notable problem in Australia, even for parents ofhealthy children. Numerous reports have underlinedthe substantial increase in childcare costs that haveoccurred over the past couple of years (Taskforceon Care Costs, 2005; Work ‘n’ Care, 2007a). Recentreports indicate that these costs have increased by analarming 65 per cent in the past five years (Work ‘n’Care, 2007a). The findings from this study indicate that,for working parents of children with chronic illness, thesituation is even more challenging. All parents whoparticipated in the in-depth interviews confirmed thehigh costs involved in accessing specialised carers,reporting that many childcare centres charged almostdouble the normal childcare rates to care for theirchild. This was purportedly due to the need for daycarecentres to hire more staff to meet the needs of that childand provide constant supervision (Llewellyn & Fante,1999). Similar concerns about the cost of carers werealso reflected in the quantitative findings of the pilotstudy. Close to two-thirds of respondents reported theneed for more affordable childcare fees. These findingsunderscore how difficult it is for parents of a child witha chronic illness to gain access to carers on a regularbasis. Not only is the need to get carer assistance veryhigh for working parents, it is difficult for them to locateTable 3. Survey responses on the effect of being a carer on employmentLIKERT SCALE ITEMS (n = 341) NEGATIVE EFFECT NEUTRAL POSITIVE EFFECT NOT APPLICABLEWorking hours 229 (72.2%) 56 (17.7%) 18 (5.7%) 14 (4.4%)Job opportunities 222 (68.5%) 69 (21.3%) 12 (3.7%) 21 (6.5%)Career advancement 217 (67.4%) 77 (23.9%) 8 (2.5%) 20 (6.2%)Time/leave from work 234 (73.4%) 51 (16.0%) 22 (6.9%) 12 (3.8%)NB: There was variance in missing cases across the items.137Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

and access suitable carers because of their children’sspecial needs. In addition, the specialist child care thatis available is very expensive.Apart from the high costs these parents are personallybearing, it is apparent that any government entitlementsthat are available are not meeting their needs. Themajority of participants in both the interviews and thepilot study found the policies and eligibility criteria forvarious entitlements both unsuitable and impractical.One particular entitlement mentioned was the CarerPayment. This payment is an additional incomesupport payment of around $475 paid every fortnightto families who are caring for a child with a profounddisability or medical condition (Centrelink, 2009).However, the payment is income- and assets-tested.In addition, parents are required to have their child’smedical practitioner complete a medical report which isreviewed by Centrelink to determine if the child meetsthe legislated definition of ‘a profoundly disabled child’(Work ‘n Care, 2007b). This latter eligibility criterionwas reported by interview respondents to be restrictiveand inflexible, preventing them from accessing muchneededfinancial assistance. Similar concerns havebeen reported in the media, with reports indicatingthat up to two-thirds of Carer Payment applications arerejected because the child fails to satisfy the criteria(Work ‘n Care, 2007b; Today Tonight, 2007).The 50 per cent childcare rebate recently introduced inAustralia is a further example of an existing governmentsupport that is not benefiting these parents. This rebatepurports to allow families to reclaim 50 per cent of theirout-of-pocket expenses incurred for childcare servicesat the end of each financial year (FAO, 2009). However,the childcare rebate is available only to parents whoutilise ‘approved carers’, that is childcare services whichhave been approved to receive childcare payments onbehalf of families (FAO, 2007). This rebate does notapply to payments made to ‘registered carers’ such asnannies, relatives or friends, who may be registeredas carers with Centrelink and who are frequentlyrecruited as carers of children with chronic illness bytheir working parents. The payment of these carers isineligible for rebate under this scheme.This poses a particular problem for parents who work fulltime and who require specialist childcare services. Becauseof the limited availability, and high cost, of ‘approved carers’such as those found in specialised childcare centres,these parents are highly likely to make use of alternativecarers such as friends and relatives. Indeed, close to 30per cent of the respondents in the pilot study reportedusing friends and relatives to care for their child while theywere at work, thus making them ineligible to receive therebate. One of our key findings is that, despite governmentfinancial assistance apparently being available, many ofthese working parents found themselves unable to benefitfrom it because of inflexible and ill-considered eligibilitycriteria. Such a situation reflects a lack of responsivenessby government that needs to be addressed.Another reason for these parents facing financialdifficulties is the limitations they encounter with theiremployment. As confirmed by other studies (for example,Einam & Cuskelly, 2002; Shearn, 1998; Smith et al.,2002b), respondents in this study often reported havingto rearrange their working hours, sacrifice their careers,and choose jobs that allowed them to balance their dualroles of caring and working. This limited their future jobprospects as well as their income levels. The pilot studyconfirmed that almost half of all the families respondingwere low- and middle-income earners with an annualhousehold income of less than $80,000, well below theaverage annual household income of Australians, whichis $93,400 (HIA, 2007). This is significant, especiallywhen considering that both parents were working fulltime in more than two-thirds of these families, and thatmore than 80 per cent of them had also reported beingwell-educated professionals, associate professionalsand managers. Similar results were confirmed in anotherAustralian study where carers (of adults and children)also engaged in full-time employment were found tohave a $7200 deficit in household income comparedwith the national population (Cummins et al., 2007).The findings of this study strongly suggest that financialassistance was identified by full-time working parentsof children with chronic illness as an important area ofneed. Many such parents are working in low-paid jobs.Their financial challenges are exacerbated by their needto frequently take leave to care for their child, and to payhigher rates for specialist childcare services. That manyof these parents had a low income is ironic; on one hand,their caring responsibilities required them to work; onthe other hand, these same caring responsibilities madeit extremely difficult for them to maintain well-paid work.ConclusionThis study shows that the financial cost of caringfor a child with a chronic illness is a serious concernfor parents who are also working full time. Theseparents have to meet the very high cost of utilisingspecialist carers, often on a regular basis, alongsidehaving insufficient access to financial supportand an ongoing need to maintain full-time work inlow-paid (but more flexible) jobs. Further, many of theexisting policies for accessing financial assistance areinflexible and unsuitable for many. All these financialchallenges highlight the need for the government toexplore further avenues of improving financial supportfor these parents. Possible government responsestrategies could include conducting a review of currententitlements and assessing the adequacy of these carerpayments; reviewing the policies and eligibility criteria of138Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

existing entitlements as well as evaluating benefits andaccessibility; and assessing the feasibility of changing theregistration provisions for carers who may not currentlybe recognised for rebate provisions, such as certainchildcare centres and family members and friends.The government should also explore the potentialof providing additional carer payments specifically toparents who are working full time and caring for a childwith a chronic illness, as well as offering subsidies tochildcare centres to enable them to improve educationand training of current staff, and to increase the numberof early childhood staff in childcare facilities that can carefor children with significant chronic illness. This, in turn,could enable centres to offer more placements for suchchildren, potentially reducing the associated carer costsincurred by their parents.It is essential that early childhood professionals be awareof the financial challenges facing full-time working parentswhen determining strategies to assist in the ongoing careof their children. Without adequate financial support, it isinevitable that these parents and their families will suffer,especially their children with chronic illness.AcknowledgementThe research team acknowledges funding from theAustralian Research Council (ARC) and an unidentifiedhospital research Institute who both gave financialassistance to support this study.ReferencesAustralian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) (2003). Disability, ageing andcarers, Australia: Summary of findings. ABS Cat. No. 4430.0.Canberra: ABS.Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) (2004a). Population,households and families. Year Book Australia. ABS Cat. No.1301.0. Canberra: ABS.Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) (2004b). Labour force. YearBook Australia. ABS Cat. No. 1301.0. Canberra: ABS.Australian Institute of Health and Welfare (AIHW) (2002). Selectedchronic diseases among Australia’s children. AIHW Cat no. 29,Canberra: Australian Institute of Health and Welfare.Bianchi, S. M. (2000). Maternal employment and time withchildren: Dramatic change or surprising continuity? Demography,37(4), 401–414.Braun, V., & Clarke, V. (2006). Using thematic analysis in psychology,Qualitative Research in Psychology, 3(2), 77–101.Centrelink (2009). Carer payment. Retrieved 20 May, 2009, fromhttp://www.centrelink.gov.au/internet/internet.nsf/payments/carer_child.htm.Creswell, J. W. (2003). Research design qualitative, quantitative,and mixed methods approaches (2nd edn). Thousand Oaks, CA:Sage.Cummins, R. A., Hughes, J., Tomyn, A., Gibson, A., Woerner, J.,& Lai, L. (2007). Australian unity wellbeing index survey: 17.1.The wellbeing of Australians: Carer health and wellbeing.Melbourne: Deakin University, Carers Australia and AustralianUnity. Retrieved 10 July, 2008, from http://www.innersydney.org.au/uploads/documents/CarerResearchsummary.pdf.Cuskelly, M., Pulman, L, & Hayes, A. (1998). Parenting andemployment decisions of parents with a preschool child with adisability, Journal of Intellectual & Developmental Disability,23(4), 319–332.Edwards, B., Higgins, D. L., Gray, M., Zmijewski, N., & Kingston,M. (2008). The nature and impact of caring for family memberswith a disability in Australia. Melbourne, Vic: AIFS (Researchreport no. 16). Retrieved 6 July, 2008, from http://www.aifs.gov.au/institute/pubs/resreport16/report16pdf/rr16.pdf.Einam, M., & Cuskelly, M. (2002). Paid employment of mothersand fathers of an adult child with multiple disabilities. Journal ofIntellectual Disability Research, 46(2), 158–167.Emerson, E. (2003). Mothers of children and adolescents withintellectual disability: Social and economic situation, mental healthstatus, and the self-assessed social and psychological impact ofthe child’s difficulties. Journal of Intellectual Disability Research,47(Pt4–5), 385–399.Family Assistance Office (FAO) (2007). What is registered care?Retrieved 11 March, 2008 from http://www.familyassist.gov.au/Internet/FAO/fao1.nsf/content/payments-ccb-how_much-what_registered_care.htm.Family Assistance Office (FAO) (2009). The child care tax rebate.Retrieved 11 May, 2009 from http://www.familyassist.gov.au/Internet/FAO/FAO1.nsf/content/faq-child_care_rebate.htm.Fisher, H. R. (2001). The needs of parents with chronically sickchildren: A literature review. Journal of Advanced Nursing, 36,600–607.Foddy, W. (1993). Constructing questions for interviews andquestionnaires. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.Floyd, F. J., & Gallaghar, E. M. (1997). Parental stress, care demands,and use of support services for school-age children with disabilitiesand behaviour problems. Family Relations, 46, 359–371.George, A., Vickers, M. H., Wilkes, L., & Barton, B. (2006). “Chronicgrief: Experiences of working parents of children with chronicillness”, Contemporary Nurse, 23(2), 228–242.George, A., Vickers, M. H., Wilkes, L., & Barton, B. (2008a). Workingand caring for a child with chronic illness: Barriers in achieving workfamilybalance. Journal of Management and Organisation, 14(1),59–72.George, A., Vickers, M. H., Wilkes, L., & Barton, B. (2008b).Working and caring for a child with chronic illness: Challenges inmaintaining employment, Employee Responsibilities and RightsJournal, 20(3) 165–176.Greene, J. C., Caracelli, V. J., & Graham, W. F. (1989). Towardsa conceptual framework for mixed-method evaluation designs.Educational Evaluation and Policy Analysis, 11, 255–274.Gunn, P., & Berry, P. (1987). Some financial costs of caring forchildren with Down syndrome at home. Australia and New ZealandJournal of Developmental Disabilities, 13, 187–193.Hedov, G., Anneren, G., & Wikblad, K. (2002). Swedish parents ofchildren with Down’s Syndrome. Scandanavian Journal of CaringSciences, 16, 424–430.Housing Industry Association (HIA) (2007). HIA-CommonwealthBank affordability peport. Retrieved 2 April, 2008 from http://economics.hia.com.au/media/2007-3%20Affordability%20Report.pdf.139Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

Ievers, C. E., & Drotar, D. (1996). Family and parental functioningin Cystic Fibrosis. Developmental and Behavioral Pediatrics, 17,48–55.Isaacs, D., & Sewell, J. R. (2003). Children with chronic conditions.Medical Journal of Australia, 178(1), 235–236.Johnson, R. B., & Onwuegbuzie, A. J. (2004). Mixed methodresearch: A research paradigm whose time has come. EducationalResearcher, 33(7), 14–26.Lewis, S., Kagan, C., & Heaton, P. (2000). Dual-earner parents withdisabled children, family patterns of working and caring. Journal ofFamily Issues, 21(8), 1031–1061.Lee, T. W., Mitchell, T. R. & Sablynski, C. J. (1999). Qualitativeresearch in organizational and vocational psychology, 1979–1999.Journal of Vocational Behaviour 55, 161–187.Leiter, V., Krauss, M. W., Anderson, B., & Wells, N. (2004). Theconsequences of caring: Effects of mothering a child with specialneeds. Journal of Family Issues, 25(3), 379–403.Leonard, B., Brust, J. D.,& Sapienza, J. J. (1992). Financial andtime costs to parents of severely disabled children. Public HealthReports, 107(3), 302–312.Llewellyn., G., & Fante, M. (1999). Young Children withDisabilities in NSW Children’s Services. Sydney: Office ofChildcare, Department of Community Services.Meleski, D. (2002). Families with chronically ill children: A literaturereview examines approaches to helping them cope. AmericanJournal of Nursing, 102(5), 47–54.Melnyk, B. M., Feinstein, N. F., Moldenhouer, Z., & Small, L. (2001).Coping in parents of children who are chronically ill: Strategies forassessment and intervention. Pediatric Nursing, 27(6), 548–558.Mutlu, A., Demir, N., Karem, M., & Livanelioglu, A. (2003).Examination of problems faced by families with a child withcerebral palsy. Health and Public, 13(2), 56–59.Mihrshahi, S., Vukaisn, N., Forbes, S., Wainwright, C., Krause,W., Ampon, R., et al. (2002). Are you busy for the next 5 years?Recruitment in the Childhood Asthma Prevention Study (CAPS).Respirology, 7, 147–151.Newacheck, P. W. (2005). A national profile of health care utilizationand expenditures for children with special health care needs.Archives of Pediatric Adolescent Medicine, 148, 1143–1149.Newacheck, P. W., Strickland, B., Shonkoff, J. P., Perrin, J. M.,McPherson, M., McManus, M., et al. (1998). An epidemiologicprofile of children with special health care needs. Pediatric, 102:117–123.Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative research & evaluation methods.Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.Qualitative Solutions and Research Pty. Ltd. (2003). NUD*ISTVivo. Melbourne, Australia: Qualitative Solutions and ResearchPty. Ltd. [computer software].Rocco, T. S., Bliss, L. A., Gallagher, S., & Perex-Prado, A. (2003).Taking the next step: Mixed methods research in organizationalsystems, Informational Technology, Learning, and PerformanceJournal, 21(1), 19.Sandelowski, M. (2000). Whatever happened to qualitativedescription? Research in Nursing and Health, 23, 334–340.Sen, E., & Yurtsever, S. (2007). Difficulties experienced by familieswith disabled children. Journal for Specialists in PediatricNursing, 12(4), 238–252.Srivastava, U. K, Shenoy, G. V. & Sharma, S. C (2002). Quantitativetechniques for managerial decisions. Mumbai: New AgeInternational Pvt Limited.Statistical Package for the Social Sciences (SPSS) Version 14(2005). SPSS 14.0 for Window. Chicago, Illinois: SPSS Inc.[Computer Software].Shearn, J. (1998). Still at home: Participation in paid employmentof mothers of children with learning disabilities. British Journal ofLearning Disabilities, 26, 100–104.Smith, L. A., Hatcher, J. L., & Wertheimer, R. (2002a). Theassociation of childhood asthma with parental employment andwelfare recipients. Journal of the American Medical Women’sAssociation, 57, 11–15.Smith, L. A., Romero, D., Wood., P. R., Wampler, N. S., Chavklin,W., & Wise, P. H. (2002b). Employment barriers among welfarerecipients and applicants with chronically ill children. AmericanJournal of Public Health, 91(9), 1453–1457.Tashakkori, A., & Teddlie, C. (1998). Mixed methodology:Combining the qualitative and quantitative approaches.Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.Taskforce on Care Costs (2005). Creating choice: Employmentand cost of caring. Retrieved 6 November, 2007 from, http://www.tocc.org.au/media/Policy_Paper_20_Feb_2005.doc.Today Tonight (2007). Carer payment petition. Retrieved 5September, 2007, from http://au.todaytonight.yahoo.com/article/39955/general/carer-payment-petition.Vickers, M. H., Parris, M. & Bailey, J. (2004). Working mothersof children with chronic illness: Narratives of working and caring.Australian Journal of Early Childhood, 20(1), 39–44.Vickers, M. H. (2005a). Bounded grief at work: Working and caringfor children with chronic illness. Illness, Crisis and Loss, 13(3),201–218.Vickers, M. H. (2005b). Working and caring for children with chronicillness: Stories of disconnection, cruelty, and “Clayton’s support”.The Review of Disability Studies: An International Journal, 1(4),37–49.Vickers, M. H. (2006). Working and caring for a child with chronicillness: Disconnected and doing it all. London: Palgrave Macmillan.Vickers, M. H., & Parris, M. A. (2005). Towards ending the silence:Working women as carers of children with chronic illness/disability.Employee Responsibilities and Rights Journal, 17(2), 91–108.Watters, J. K., & Biernacki, P. (1989). Targeted sampling: Options forthe study of hidden populations. Social Problems, 36(4), 416–430.Wilkes, L. M., White, K., Mohan, S., & Beale, B. (2006). Accessingmetropolitan cancer care services: Practical needs of rural families.Journal of Psychosocial Oncology, 24(2), 85–102.Williams, P., Barclay, L., & Schmeid, V. (2004). Defining socialsupport in context: A necessary step in improving research,intervention, and practice. Qualitative Health Research, 14(7),942–960.Work ‘n’ Care (2007a). Child care benefits increase. Issue 43,Retrieved 5 September, 2007, from http://www.workingcarers.org.au/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=705:child-care-benefits-increase&catid=75:work&Itemid=365.Work ‘n’ Care (2007b). Taskforce launches review of CarerPayment (child). Issue 42, Retrieved 5 September, 2007, fromhttp://www.workingcarers.org.au/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=693:taskforce-launches-review-of-carerpayment-child&catid=79:editorial&Itemid=363.140Australasian Journal of Early Childhood Volume 36 Number 3 September 2011

EYLF Professional Learning ProgramThe EYLF Professional Learning Program (PLP)provides ongoing support to services as theyengage in the EYLF implementation process.The extremely popular EYLF PLP consists of fivecore elements:• EYLF PLP Forum—where people can talk aboutthe EYLF and early childhood education andcare in a friendly online community.http://forums.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/• EYLF PLP e-Newsletters—these provide casestudies and other information about howeducators are engaging with the EYLF across arange of settings.www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/eylfplp• ‘Talking about practice series’ of e-Learningvideos—an excellent resource for training andstaff meetings.www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/eylfplp/• EYLF PLP Vignettes—an online series of twelvevery short EYLF service practice and trainingvideos, which capture effective practice inrelation to the EYLF and provide stimulus forstaff discussion.www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/eylfplp/The rapidly expanding EYLF ProfessionalLearning Program now offers support throughthe following additions to the program:• EYLF PLP Facebook community—featuringthe ‘Thinking practice’ series and the‘Observing practice’ serieswww.facebook.com/eylfplp• Twitter—join the network at:http://twitter.com/EYLFPLP• Free support resources—a growingcollection of downloadable articles, videos,sample chapters and other resources. Theseare accessible on the EYLF PLP website at:www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/eylfplp/Enter the EYLF Professional Learning Program site, andstart taking advantage of what the program has to offer at:www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/eylfplp• EYLF Professional Learning Workshops —are now over. All materials are available on thewebsite: www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/eylfplp/workshops.htmlThe EYLF Professional Learning Program is fundedby the Australian Government Department ofEducation, Employment and Workplace Relations.If you don’t have the internet at home or at work, you can access and print theEYLF PLP e-Newsletters at public internet points such as your local library.www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.au/eylfplp

www.earlychildhoodaustralia.org.auEarly Childhood Australia Inc.T: +61 2 6242 1800F: +61 2 6242 1818E: publishing@earlychildhood.org.auPO Box 86 Deakin West ACT 2600ISSN 1836-9391