The Final Reflection:
What went well:
Using Canva was surprisingly effective. It’s a simple, user-friendly platform that allowed me to adjust colors, arrange elements, and quickly experiment with the look and feel of each page. Making these changes digitally helped me see how light, tone, and spacing could carry emotion and meaning without adding words. Even small edits, like brightening a leaf or moving a figure slightly, made the story feel more alive and intentional. Canva made these adjustments easy, letting me focus on the story itself rather than technical barriers.
What didn’t go well:
One challenge I faced was consistency in illustrating people and animals. I couldn’t get all the figures to look the same from page to page, and that created a bit of a visual disconnect for me. My daughter didn’t seem bothered by this, she didn’t comment on it at all, but in my brain, it felt confusing at times. It was a reminder that while digital tools can make creating easier, some technical limitations and aesthetic inconsistencies are part of the process. Learning to accept those imperfections was an important step in my development as a storyteller.
Most useful digital tool:
Voice Memo was absolutely the most useful tool I used. Interviewing my daughter and recording her observations gave me a perspective I would never have reached on my own. Being able to go back and listen multiple times was invaluable; I could reference exactly what she said instead of trying to remember it all from one pass. Every time I listened again, I picked up new insights, small details I had missed the first time, and subtle ways her thinking shaped how I adjusted pacing, visual focus, and emotional depth. It made collaboration with a child not just possible, but rich and immediate.
What I know now that I didn’t before:
I have a much deeper understanding of how a child’s perspective shapes storytelling. Our adult lenses often assume what children will find engaging, funny, or meaningful, but these assumptions aren’t always correct. This raises a critical question: who are we actually telling the story for? Is it for us, or is it truly for children? Including their authentic voice, like I did with my daughter, is essential to ensure the story resonates with them, not just with the adults creating it. This insight has completely reshaped how I think about storytelling in education.
One thing I might have done differently:
If I had more time, I would have explored a platform like Story Jumper with my daughter. It allows children to create, illustrate, and publish their own stories, giving them control over narrative structure, dialogue, and visuals. I would have loved to compare her version to mine, seeing how her choices differed, what she emphasized, and how she interpreted the story world. That would have added another layer of creativity and insight, giving her ownership over the story and deepening my understanding of how children think about storytelling.