In a Perth primary school classroom, seven-year-old Zara put pencil to paper and drew her connection to Country through Noongar art—not because she was assigned a worksheet, but because she'd discovered a language for her own well-being that no standardized questionnaire could capture. Her drawing, and those of dozens of other young learners, became the evidence in a groundbreaking study showing that Indigenous cultural practice isn't a nice addition to early childhood education. It's a powerful tool for teaching children how to understand and express their own emotional and social flourishing.
Research from Edith Cowan University and the University of Melbourne examined the Deadly Arts Early Years program, delivered by The Song Room across two Perth primary schools. Over months of immersive cultural activity, children aged three to seven learned Noongar language, dance, storytelling and visual art from Indigenous and non-Indigenous teaching artists. Rather than relying on traditional surveys, the researchers invited children and teaching artists to draw how these cultural experiences supported their well-being, then shared the stories behind the images. What emerged was striking: young children expressed themselves with far deeper emotional resonance through creativity than through formal questions.
The study identified four transformative themes. Song, dance, art and storytelling functioned as living carriers of cultural knowledge, with Noongar language itself emerging as one of the most powerful experiences of connection to Country. Intergenerational storytelling—the sharing of katitijin, or knowledge—revealed itself as a profound cultural responsibility, with Indigenous teaching artists nurturing children to see themselves as future custodians of these stories. Sharing itself became recognized as a core cultural and well-being practice, strengthening both community bonds and children's sense of belonging to each other and to Country. And for Indigenous teaching artists, the program offered something deeper: an opportunity for healing and reclamation, enabling them to revitalize cultural practices while building reconciliation as lived, relational work among artists, children, and school communities.
"When children heard, spoke and sang in Noongar language, they weren't simply learning words—they were taking part in a living cultural practice grounded in relationality carrying story, belonging and knowledge across generations," said Dr. Libby Jackson-Barrett, Associate Dean of ECU's Centre for Indigenous Australian Education and Research. Even very young children showed thoughtful, deeply personal ways of expressing well-being when given both the cultural framework and creative freedom to do so.
The research comes with urgent recommendations. Indigenous teaching artists must be recognized not as guest performers or occasional visitors, but as permanent knowledge holders deserving appropriate funding and remuneration that reflects their demonstrated impact. Schools must also legitimize drawing, dance, song and spoken word as valid ways children communicate knowledge and well-being—particularly for young learners whose strongest responses emerged through embodied, sensory cultural experiences rather than verbal or written ones.
Dr. Jason Goopy, project lead at ECU's School of Education, witnessed firsthand what this looked like in practice: children exploring and embodying Noongar knowledge through creative work with teaching artists, learning about seasons, animals, and their place in the universe while building real connections with country, community and each other. They were acquiring cultural and artistic language to extend how they think and talk about their own well-being.
First Nations culture and arts offer pathways to children's flourishing that generic programs cannot replicate. The question now is whether schools and governments will resource and honor them accordingly.