Doing work you truly believe in gives you a certain quiet confidence that doesn’t require much announcement. Hearing about Beatrice Hallgren and Therese Ehrenborg, a pedagogue and preschool teacher at Kullstaňskola in Sweden who recently won OMEP’s ESD Award for 2026, gives you that impression. No business campaign. No fancy branding. Just two teachers who eventually came to the conclusion that the kids under their supervision had important things to say and that, if someone took the time to listen, the world might truly change.
“In a World of Possibilities — How Children’s Voices Can Lead to Change and Faith in the Future,” their project, is neither a policy document nor a curriculum framework. It’s more obstinate than that. Within the confines of a preschool, a commitment is made to treat kids as learners rather than as objects of study. The project’s goal was to establish authentic areas for kids’ active participation, incorporate sustainability into daily life, and encourage those tiny voices to be heard outside of the classroom and into the larger community. Apparently, what transpired was real. Not symbolic. Actual.
The Organization Mondiale pour l’Éducation Récolaire, or OMEP, was established in 1948 following a war that destroyed childhood throughout the continent. It currently has consultative status with UNICEF, UNESCO, and the Council of Europe and operates in over 70 countries. Each year, it gives its ESD prizes to members who are in charge of sustainable development initiatives in early childhood settings that it deems exceptional. Each continent has one winner. The competition isn’t lighthearted. This gives Kullsta’s acknowledgment a sense of importance that extends beyond the Swedish educational community.
It’s also difficult to ignore the timing. “When a Child Speaks: Korczak’s Inspirations for Education and Children’s Rights” is the theme of this year’s 78th OMEP World Conference, which is being held in Poznań, Poland.” Children were not future citizens, according to Polish-Jewish educator and children’s rights activist Janusz Korczak, who oversaw orphanages in Warsaw in the early 20th century and ultimately passed away at Treblinka with the children under his care. They were now citizens. According to his philosophy, adults should take a step back and pay attention to what they are seeing. Hallgren and Ehrenborg might not have framed their work in that way. However, the alignment is remarkable.
Practically speaking, the Kullsta project appears to recognize that sustainability education for very young children cannot be abstract. This is something that may seem apparent, but it is rarely put into practice. It must be based on something that a child can see, touch, inquire about, and—most importantly—affect. Children’s perceptions of themselves and the world change when they realize that their words have an impact. Beyond any accolades or recognition, there’s a sense that this was the project’s true goal.
How far the Kullsta model will travel is still unknown. What is effective in one Swedish community does not necessarily translate to another because preschool education operates in highly local contexts. However, at a time when early childhood education around the world is debating how seriously to take children’s participation—not as a nice idea but as a structural reality—a project that proves it’s feasible and wins a global prize for doing so is important. It implies something important to consider. Or more accurately, worth listening to.
