We are the living. We find ourselves in a mess that is sometimes called the ‘Anthropocene’. This is a mess that has been hidden, ignored, neglected through a narrative of progress, consumption, linearity, categorisation, control, prosperity, rationality. To respond to this narrative, we employ ‘mess-making’ as a force for resistance. We rethink our more-than-human relations by concepting with mess to invigorate, agitate and provoke. Employing Haraway’s (2008) ‘messmates’, we conceptualise how ‘we’ as ecosystems of thriving life forms are constantly living, learning and dying together and need to find new ways to co-research with/in/for more-than-human methodologies. These, we suggest, are inherently messy. The paper is organised in a nonconventional way in that it is mostly created by more-than-human narratives gathered from two doctoral post-qualitative inquiries exploring play in an urban forest school in London and animal-child relations in a wall-less school in Bali. We explore how mess-making is both generative and challenging as data emerge in dynamic and exciting ways. With this messy turn, we illuminate potential for educational futures that support multispecies flourishing.

This paper speculates as to the material consequences of the ecological crisis for the current objectives of the education system in the State of Victoria. Drawing upon new materialist thought, it presents a post-qualitative inquiry into the lead author’s experiences as an educator during a 2014 fire event in the Latrobe Valley region of Gippsland, Victoria, Australia, known as the Hazelwood Coal Mine Fire. By engaging in thinking without method it unfolds an argument that a political preference for certain theories has resulted in economic growth becoming a key objective of Victoria’s education system. It explores alternative theoretical perspectives, including the theory that there are limits to growth. This theoretical shift implies that any meaningful response to the ecological crisis will require a transition to a post-growth society. The paper considers the implication of this alternative theory for the current objectives of the education system in the State of Victoria. In so doing, it considers what it might mean if we accepted our response-ability to educate for a post-growth society rather than for a society surrounded by smoke and ash.

In this paper we explore what decentring the child in posthumanism does to our research practices, to our conceptualisations of and relationalities to the child. Crucially, we explore the imperative for other ways to encounter the child – that pursue a decolonising and de/recentralising agenda. We pursue tentacular lines of enquiry through a series of interwoven stories – some more familiar than others. It is by queering old narratives that new and unexpected stories concerning pedagogical documentation, sustainability and environmental education, and the child’s contaminated connection to ‘nature’ begin to emerge. This paper attempts to mobilise ‘the posthuman child’ as feral, an uncomfortable in-between that invites us to grapple with the disease of life on a damaged planet. Central to our storytelling is recycled, ‘natural’ materials found in a Reggio Emilia kindergarten in Norway. Specifically, cork has guided us; insisting that we take the non-innocence of matter to the heart of enquiries. We do this to illustrate the potential of feminist new materialism to respond with situated, embodied, affective insights and provocations that might offer ways to consume, cohabit and wrestle in more care-full ways with the Anthropocene ecologies that we are intricately and endlessly enmeshed in.