Whose culture is on the walls, and who chose it

Every house had a pitched roof.

It was a family display in a Reception room, done beautifully, laminated, at adult eye height. Twenty eight drawings of home, and every single roof came to a point, with a chimney on it, and a path leading to a front door with a round knob.

The children in that room lived in apartments. Most of them had never seen a chimney.

Somebody had modelled a house on the whiteboard first, the way any of us would, to help. Every child had copied it, the way any four year old would. And a display about their families ended up telling us about a drawing on a whiteboard.

I have thought about that wall for a long time and it forms part of my talk I'm giving in Xiamen next month.

Mirrors and windows

In 1990 Rudine Sims Bishop described children's books as mirrors, windows and sliding glass doors. A mirror lets a child see their own life reflected back. A window lets them see into somebody else's. A sliding glass door lets them walk in.

Bishop was writing about literature. Walk into any Early Years room and the same test applies to everything in it.

The books, yes. Also the dolls, the dressing up fabrics, the food in the home corner, the music playing at tidy-up time, the photographs on the wall, and the languages a child hears an adult use with warmth rather than with correction.

A room offers every child some mirrors and some windows. What varies is who gets which, and whether anybody decided it on purpose.

In most international schools, some children walk into a room full of mirrors and other children walk into a room full of windows. Both groups pay a fee.

Who chose what is on the walls

Here is the uncomfortable part, and it has nothing to do with anybody's values.

Almost nobody chose it.

The home corner came from a catalogue, and the catalogue was printed in England. The books arrived in a founding order eleven years ago. The festivals on the calendar are the ones somebody once had resources for. The pictures on the wall were made by children copying an adult's example, and the example came from the adult's own childhood.

Every one of those decisions was made by a kind, competent professional who was busy. Stacked up over a decade, they produce a room that tells some children, without ever saying it, that they are the guests.

That accumulation is the thing worth naming. A room becomes exclusionary through nobody's attention rather than through anybody's intent.

Four places a room reveals whose culture it holds

When I walk into a setting, these four tell me most of what I want to know, usually within ten minutes.

• The home corner. What the cooking equipment assumes. Whether the food is packaged or real, and whose meals it makes possible. A wok and a rice cooker change the play in a room within a day.
• The skin tone available. In the paints, the pencils, the dolls, the collage materials. Where a child cannot mix their own face, the room has answered a question about them before they arrived.
• The names of adults. Whether every adult's name is pronounced correctly by other adults, in front of children. Children learn very fast whose name is worth the effort.
• The languages. Whether a home language appears anywhere other than a greeting on a border, and whether children hear one used to think in rather than to perform with.

Why this reaches your inspection file as well as your conscience

Inclusion has moved to the centre of how early years provision is assessed, and the expectations are becoming evidence based rather than intention based.

Saying that all children are welcome is no longer where the conversation ends. What gets looked at now is what a school can demonstrate about the opportunities and experiences of specific children, including those who face barriers to their learning or wellbeing.

A room where every family drew a pitched roof is a lovely room with a gap in it. The gap is difficult to see from inside, and very easy to see from a chair by the door.

Five things to try this half term

None of these carry a cost worth mentioning, and every one produces evidence.

Photograph your room at child height and look at it that evening

Sit down, scroll through, and count the mirrors. A photograph shows you what you have stopped noticing, because the camera has not been in that room every day for two years.

Take the pitched roof test

Ask children to draw home with no example on the board and nothing modelled first. Some drawings will be messier. All of them will be about their houses. Keep both sets if you have them, because the comparison makes the argument better than I can.

Audit the home corner against your actual class list

Read the register, then look at the cooking equipment. Where a child could not make their family's dinner in that corner, you have a specific and fixable gap.

Ask families for one object, one recipe or one song

Ask by name rather than by newsletter. A newsletter reaches the families who already come to everything. A direct ask to the family who never responds is where the interesting material comes from, and the asking matters as much as the answer.

Check whose name every adult says correctly

Start with your own team. If an assistant's name has been shortened for eleven years because it was easier, that is the first thing to put right, and the children are watching how it gets done.

The question I keep coming back to

If a child in your setting looked around the room tomorrow morning, how long would it take them to find something that belongs to them?

For some children in every school, the answer is immediately. For others it is a lot longer, and none of them have the words to tell you.

When a Child Can't See Themselves is my session at the ACAMIS Early Childhood Education Conference, 24 and 25 October 2026 at Xiamen International School. This piece is the argument in short form. The session is where we do it with your own rooms and your own class lists.

If you are coming, find me afterwards. And if your school is in the region, I have a small number of days free for school visits between 19 and 30 October. Message me with your city and I will tell you honestly whether the timing works.

See what a visit involves

Frequently asked questions

What are mirrors and windows in a classroom?

The idea comes from Rudine Sims Bishop, who described children's books as mirrors, windows and sliding glass doors. A mirror reflects a child's own life back to them. A window shows them somebody else's. In an Early Years room the same test applies to the books, the home corner, the art materials, the music and the languages children hear adults use.

Is this the same as celebrating festivals?

Festivals are useful and they are the easiest part. A festival is one week. A home corner is every day. Where a school does the festivals well and the daily environment reflects one culture, children learn that their own life is an occasion rather than an ordinary thing.

We serve forty nationalities. How is any room supposed to reflect all of them?

It cannot, and attempting it produces a room that reflects nobody. The workable aim is that every child finds several mirrors across a term, and that no child goes a whole year without one. That is a planning decision rather than a display decision.

How do we avoid tokenism?

Ask families for something real and specific rather than representative. One grandparent's recipe beats a country's flag. Then use it in ordinary play instead of putting it behind laminate, because the laminate is what turns a family's life into a display.

How does this connect to inspection and accreditation?

Inclusion is assessed on evidenced impact for specific children rather than on stated intent, and international accreditation frameworks give real weight to how a school works with families. A room that reflects the children in it produces that evidence as a by-product of being a better room.

Reference: Rudine Sims Bishop, "Mirrors, Windows, and Sliding Glass Doors", Perspectives: Choosing and Using Books for the Classroom, 1990.