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YouTube link: https://youtu.be/hhW_mDKhwng

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This is a poem that I tried to write as my creative response to my artefact.

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During a quiet afternoon, I visited the Werribee River near President Park, just a short walk from my home. I filmed the gentle flow of the water, accompanied by the chirping of birds and the distant hum of passing vehicles. This simple yet layered soundscape became my artefact; a recording that reflects movement, rhythm and contrasting tempos of nature and urban life. The sound of the river reminded me of home, Mauritius, where water has always been central to my identity, culture and childhood memories.

Reflecting on this creative work, I felt drawn into the idea of water as a living entity, something that holds stories, memory, and emotion. The river’s movement reminded me of dance: the way it twists and weaves like choreography across the landscape. The bird calls felt like musical, like a natural soundtrack. Yet, the vehicles in the background reminded me of how quickly modern life disconnects us from Land and stillness.  As I wrote in my poem, "In Mauritius, the sea is not just sea, it breathes...It holds memories like a grandmother cradling stories in her lap." This sentiment echoes in the Werribee River's flow; a quiet storyteller, reminding me that water carries both peace and pain, past and possibility.

Listening back to the video, I thought of Allara’s Wala is Life song. It struck a deep chord, especially as someone raised on an island where water tells both beautiful and painful stories. In Yorta Yorta, “Wala” means water, and Allara’s voice reclaims it with strength and care. Her lyrics “After the rain, the river flows...” are especially meaningful, they speak of change, of resilience, of histories that cannot be erased. Wilson (2007) talks about how Indigenous ways of knowing are deeply rational. Standing by the river, I felt this; not just as a personal connection but as an ongoing dialogue between me, the Land and its stories.

In an early childhood context, this reflection strengthens my belief in using nature-based experiences to nurture connection and responsibility. The Reggio Emilia approach positions the environment as the third teacher, and I see the river as just that: A Storyteller. By inviting children to listen, move and respond to natural environments through dance, drama or music, we open up pathways for embodies learning. The sound of the river can inspire rhythmic movement or reflective storytelling, offering calmness and curiosity, what Wilson (2007) describes as “gifts of comfort and wonder” (p.17).

Music itself plays a crucial role in early childhood development. Even at a young age, children naturally sway, bounce, and move their hands in response to music (Baltagi, n.d.). They often make up their own songs, giggle, repeat words and begin to form early memories through musical repetition (Baltagi, n.d.). These experiences encourage expression and vocabulary development. Furthermore, we have explored in this unit how music influences the brain’s empathy, trust, and cooperation circuits; perhaps explaining why it is universal across all cultures. In this way, music like water, connects us; socially, emotionally and historically.

Allara’s song and my river visit also connect to Bronfenbrenner’s Ecological Systems Theory. Children do not learn in isolation; they are shaped by the systems around them, like home, culture and environment. This experience made me feel an unexpected sense of belonging—a quiet connection to nature that felt both grounding and emotional. It took me back to my home country, Mauritius, where I used to sit by the beach and just listen. Before anything else, I would always take a moment to let the crashing waves wash over me, not physically, but emotionally. That sound brought me peace, a kind of comfort that felt like home. But it was never just soothing. It was also bittersweet. The ocean, as beautiful as it is, holds the weight of history. It carries the stories of my ancestors, stories of pain and survival, of being taken and displaced by British and French colonizers who used those very waters for sailing and transporting people as though they were cargo. The sea holds memories, both personal and collective.

These experiences challenge current practices that would often prioritize indoor, structured activities over unhurried, sensory-rich play outdoors. I believe we need to shift from ‘controlling’ environments to ‘listening’ to them. Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences theory (Wilson, 2007) reminds me that some children may understand their world better through sound, movement, or visual-spatial exploration (p.9). The river invites all of these.

In the future, I would definitely bring this into my pedagogy; creating moments where children can connect with the Land through movement, music and dramatic play. Water would not just be an element in a science unit, but a living presence with stories to tell.

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Allara. (n.d.). Wala is Life. YouTube. Www.youtube.com. https://youtu.be/1XACgej9L80

Baltagi, I. (n.d.). How music affects your baby’s brain: Mini parenting master class. Www.unicef.org. https://www.unicef.org/parenting/child-development/how-music-affects-your-babys-brain-class

Wilson, R. A. (2018). Nature and young children: Encouraging creative play and learning in natural environments (3rd ed.). Routledge. https://go.openathens.net/redirector/vu.edu.au?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.taylorfrancis.com%2Fbooks%2Fmono%2F10.4324%2F9781315148533%2Fnature-young-children-ruth-wilson