However, my thinking shifted significantly after engaging with this unit and reading the course materials. According to the research, the STEM learning can happen naturally through play, without the need for teacher-led or project-based instruction (Gartrell, 2016, Draper & Wood, 2017, as cited in Holdom, 2018, P. 3). Although this discussion focuses on children, it made me reflect on my own experiences—how I explore, make decisions, and solve problems while cooking or playing strategy games and playing piano. These weren’t structured lessons, but I was still learning through doing, often without realising it. That made me see play not just as fun, but as something serious and thoughtful. This aligns with the idea of “play as pedagogy”, which sees play as a way of engaging with the world in context-based, responsive, and relational ways (Haraway, 2008, as cited in Hamm & Boucher, 2017).

“Lorio et al. (2017) draw on Latour’s (2004) concept of ‘matters of concern’ to explore how place can act as a provocation, making visible the entanglement of humans and the more-than-human world, thereby rethinking pedagogical practices.” This concept made me reconsider the relationship between play and place. Place is not simply a backdrop for play—it plays an active role in shaping, and being shaped by, playful engagement. It invites us to interact with our surroundings in responsive and reciprocal ways.

I will explore these ideas further in my upcoming journal entries, where I reflect on some playful moments from my everyday life—like cooking spicy chicken, playing the electric piano, and playing a “rich man” game on my Nintendo Switch. Using the lens of play from this unit, I want to look at how these activities involve things like curiosity, experimenting, thinking in patterns, and learning through doing. Writing about these will help me understand how the theory I’ve learned connects with what I do and notice in real life.

At the time, I didn’t think I was “playing”—I just wanted to get dinner done. But looking back, I realised I was actually observing and experimenting the whole way through. I was listening to the sounds in the pan, watching the colour of the chicken change, using smell to judge the heat, and constantly adjusting what I did next. I wasn’t following a recipe—I was figuring things out as I went.

MOE (2007, as cited in Holdom, 2018), describes science as a way of investigating, understanding, and explaining the natural and physical world through observation, experimentation, modelling, and communication. This definition made me reflect on what I was doing—I wasn’t just cooking, I was forming small hypotheses, testing them, and making real-time decisions based on what I saw and felt. I was thinking scientifically, without even knowing it.

Going deeper, I also thought about Iorio et al. (2017), who draw on Latour’s (2004) concept of “matters of concern.” They argue that humans and non-human elements are deeply entangled. In this case, the food, heat, oil, and tools weren’t just passive—they responded to my actions and shaped what I did next. I wasn’t simply controlling the process—I was participating in a shared activity with my environment. This shifted how I understand play: it’s not just about personal agency, but also about being responsive to the world around me.

For example, when I wanted to land on a special property that was five tiles away, I would use a dice item that lets me choose the exact number of steps. I’d pick “6,” so I could land right where I wanted. It was all about quick mental maths and choosing the most effective move in the moment.

The more intense part came when I wanted my friend to step on one of my properties. I’d set a roadblock card in their path and quickly calculate how many steps they might roll, how much rent I could earn if they landed there, and whether that income would be enough to build my next house. I had to decide: should I use the card now, or wait for a better opportunity? These kinds of decisions required constant evaluation and flexible thinking.

Looking back, this wasn’t just a game—it was full of mathematical thinking: estimating, predicting, spatial reasoning, and weighing outcomes. This connects to an idea I came across in Holdom’s (2018) article, where she quotes The New Zealand Curriculum (MOE, 2007, p. 26) describing mathematics as “the exploration and use of patterns and relationships in quantities, space, and time”. That was exactly what I was doing—exploring numbers and space in a playful but purposeful way. I wasn't solving worksheets, but I was absolutely using maths to make decisions, avoid losses, and plan my next move.

MOE (2007, as cited in Holdom, 2018), describes technology as a way humans use tools and systems to meet needs and respond to situations. The piano here wasn’t just a tool—I was interacting with it. It shaped how I played, how I listened, and even how I made decisions.

It also reminds me of the idea of play as pedagogy (Haraway, 2008, as cited in Hamm & Boucher, 2017). No one was teaching me. I wasn’t following a strict method. But I was fully engaged, learning through play—through small trials, adjustments, and a real connection between me, the sound, and the moment.

Play is not just something I do for myself. It always takes place somewhere, and that “somewhere” carries stories, memory, and meaning. I started to realise that when I blew a eucalyptus leaf last week. I felt something—I wasn’t alone. That moment stayed with me.

Now, I want to stay aware of where I am and what this land holds. As Hamm and Boucher (2017) talk about, reconciliation means learning and teaching in ways that truly respect and centre Aboriginal voices and ways of knowing. For me, play is not just entertainment—it’s also a way to listen, to be present, and to connect with Country in small, real moments.