Why we might want to move on from human stamping

Mother's Day was approaching, and I did what every well-meaning, slightly panicked new educator does. I became the hand-printing, human-stamping, production-line master. I set up my paint station. I guided small hands into the paint. I pressed them down. Then I added the flourishes, the fish tail, the flower petals, the unicorn horn - whatever the template called for. I wiped hands, repositioned papers, and by the end of it all, sat back with something that looked quite lovely.

And then it hit me. None of it was theirs.

The decision to make it wasn't. The provocation wasn't. The creative additions certainly weren't. Outside of having their hand pressed into paint and onto paper, I had done all the work. It was a slap in the face, and I needed it.

That moment of hard reflection sent me on a journey. I started looking for better options. And I wasn't alone - about eleven years ago, the sector was buzzing with this exact conversation. The word "craptivity" was doing the rounds. Educators were debating, defending, and discovering. The forums were alive with it.

Well, guess what? The forums are alive with it again.

Just recently, someone posted asking for "St Patrick's day art activities for 2-year-olds." And honestly, there is so much to unpack in that one sentence. But here's the thing - I'm not here to point the finger. I'm here because, as one of the so-called "oldies" in the sector (let's be real, eleven years of experience is now the equivalent of what twenty years was when I started), I feel a responsibility to walk alongside the 40% of our workforce who have fewer than three years of experience with children, and to invite some gentle, necessary reflection.

As Maya Angelou said, "you do the best you can until you know better. And then you do better."

So let's talk about doing better.

After my production-line moment, the next Mother's Day looked completely different. The children in my group were deeply interested in acting out stories. After some conversations and shared planning, they decided they wanted to put on a show. We navigated thoughtfully - not every child had a mum, and that mattered. We gave plenty of notice, knowing this particular group of families had the flexibility to attend an afternoon showing.

What followed were weeks of engaging, chaotic, child-led planning. There were gender-fluid princesses, gallant pirates sailing in cardboard box boats, forests being felled by enthusiastic whipper-snippers. Our two-minute acted masterpiece was a testament to what happens when you get out of the way and let children lead.

Now - if we hold those two experiences up against the Early Years Learning Framework, the contrast is striking.

The hand-stamping activity? If I'm being honest, I struggled to link it to the EYLF in any meaningful way. At a real stretch, you might argue there was a three-step instruction being followed (dip, stamp, wash). You might loosely invoke Outcome 2 around cultural events. But yeah, nah. It's not cutting it.

The production? The EYLF practically sings. Children were expressing feelings and ideas, responding to others' contributions, cooperating and collaborating, combining gross and fine motor movement, applying thinking strategies, using a range of media - and that's just the start. The sustainability angle was there too: every prop came from upcycled cardboard and repurposed materials. The whole team took a starring role alongside the children. It was genuinely integrated, holistic, responsive practice.

Here's where I want to be careful - and honest. That production was one year, one group, one context. Not every Mother's Day looked like that. Other years were simpler, quieter, less theatrical. And yes - we even had the debate about whether Mothers Day was an inclusive day to celebrate - but that's a whole other blog!  Needless to say the community engagement we employed around Mother's day was clear: for this community, Mother's Day was on the calendar to stay...

In my approach to finding a better approach to celebrating the important dates of our community, I made a commitment to doing one thing better each time; engaging children's ideas, setting flexible provocations and leaving human-stamping behind.

I also committed to something that I think is just as important - actively rejecting what I'd call "calendar culture." That obsessive drive to mark every occasion, every themed day, every seasonal celebration in an attempt to meet the EYLF Outcome 2 statement "Children respond to diversity with respect" when they "become aware of their own and other children’s

linguistic and cultural events, e.g. Diwali, Easter,

Harmony Day, Chuseok, NAIDOC, Sorry Business! (EYLF V2, Pg. 41).

Instead, the service moved toward a slower, more intentional pace. We chose celebrations purposefully, contextually, and meaningfully - sometimes through a shared meal, sometimes through a strategically chosen book and quiet conversation, sometimes through community engagement.

The shift wasn't dramatic, it was incremental. And that's actually the point.

If you're reading this and feeling a flicker of recognition from your own practice - good. That flicker is the beginning of something amazing and worthwhile and what keeps us out of 'auto-pilot' mode.

The question now is: what do you know today, and what small, achievable shift can you make the next time a celebration day rolls around? Rather than reaching for the sector forums to ask "Father's Day activities for 3 year olds" how about you take a moment to think critically about the day, how you might celebrate it together and how you can weave in children's ideas and interests, culture, connection, or community into the planning.

Now that's a different question with likely very different outcomes.