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‘We’re not here for your feed’: Reflecting on the ethics of sharing children’s images in early learning
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Jun 02, 2025
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From TikTok to Instagram, early learning services are increasingly using children in content designed to build engagement. But as this trend grows, so do the ethical questions around consent, privacy and children’s rights.
The early childhood education and care (ECEC) sector is no stranger to documentation. Observing and capturing children’s learning has long been a cornerstone of our work, deeply embedded in the Early Years Learning Framework (EYLF) Version 2.0 and shaped by the principles of intentional pedagogy and respectful relationships.But increasingly, a different kind of capturing is happening, and it is not about learning outcomes.
Across platforms like TikTok and Instagram, children are being featured in public-facing content that is not always grounded in pedagogy but instead driven by online trends. These are not private family updates or internal communications. These images and videos are often created to spark engagement, build a brand or attract enrolments.
While TikTok is often where this content is most visible, Instagram is just as influential, especially among early learning providers. It is common to see children in curated photo grids, seasonal marketing content or even promotional reels. These images may be beautifully composed, but they raise ongoing concerns about consent, representation and the long-term implications of children’s digital visibility.
Whether it is a staged graduation video or a group of toddlers participating in a viral trend, the tone of this content often mimics influencer media. The aesthetic is polished, the captions are upbeat, and the reach is potentially enormous.
And this is where the ethical questions begin.
A matter of rights, not likes
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) is clear: children have a right to privacy (Article 16), a right to protection from exploitation (Article 36), and a right to be heard in matters that affect them (Article 12).
These rights are echoed in the National Quality Framework and the EYLF V2.0, which emphasise respectful relationships, ethical practice and children’s agency. While these frameworks do not directly address social media, their intent is unambiguous. Children are not passive recipients of care. They are citizens with rights and dignity.
And yet, on social media, those rights are often overshadowed by aesthetics and algorithms.
Unlike documentation shared privately with families, this kind of content exists in the public domain. It is searchable, shareable and permanent. Once posted, it is no longer within the control of the educator or service. It belongs to the platform.
More concerning still, the children involved often have no real understanding of what it means to be shared online. And no meaningful power to say no.
Whose needs are being met?
I know the pressures providers and educators face. We are expected to attract families, build trust and showcase our work, often with very limited resources. Social media can be a powerful tool to do that. It allows us to celebrate children’s learning, share moments of joy and connect with our communities.
But when a child’s image becomes central to a service’s marketing strategy, when their likeness is used to drive engagement, we need to pause and ask, who truly benefits?
Professional ethics should always prioritise children’s rights and wellbeing. The Early Childhood Australia Code of Ethics calls on us to preserve children’s dignity, seek their voices and avoid practices that exploit.
If we asked, would a child feel comfortable having their face featured in a trending TikTok or public Instagram reel? Can we confidently say they understand what it means? And does the post honour their identity, or simply use it?
This is not a critique of all marketing. Consent-driven, considered content that centres children’s work, voices or environments can be respectful and purposeful. But the rise of trend-driven, constant posting risks turning children into content, and that is where a line needs to be drawn.
The moment that made me pause
One moment that stopped me in my tracks came late last year, when a well-known private provider shared a kindergarten graduation video to TikTok. In it, each child stood proudly holding a sign with their full legal name clearly visible.
The post was celebratory in tone, but also public. It displayed the names and faces of an entire kindergarten cohort, alongside the identity of the service they attended.
Parental consent was likely obtained, but even with permission, I could not shake the unease I felt about the level of exposure. What purpose did it serve? Could the moment have been captured in a way that honoured the milestone without revealing children’s full names to the internet?
When we place children’s identities online, especially with location or service-level information, the risks extend far beyond the original intent of the post. And while these children may have since transitioned to school, their digital footprint has already begun, before they have had a real say in it.
Towards more ethical sharing
This is not about shaming services for having a social media presence. Nor is it an argument against celebrating learning or building strong communication with families.
It is about pausing to ask: are we truly protecting the rights of the child?
Reflection might mean rethinking what we post, updating our policies or shifting the lens away from children’s faces and towards their creations, their voices and the environments they engage with. It might mean asking not “Will this go viral?” but “Does this uphold dignity?”
These conversations are already happening in staff rooms, Facebook groups and team meetings. It is time we bring them into the open.
Because children are not content. And ethical sharing starts with putting their rights first.
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