“No Guarantees”: My Experience Raising Child Safety Concerns at a Canberra Childcare Centre

Adobe stock.

As a journalist, a mother, and a survivor, I know what safety means — and how it feels when that safety is in question.

Last year, after my husband witnessed what we considered a red-flag interaction between our daughter and a male educator at a Canberra childcare centre, I sat down with the centre’s senior staff looking for reassurance. What I got instead left me more concerned than ever about how risk is managed — and how parents are heard — in early childhood education.

When I asked whether the centre could guarantee that children in their care would be safe from harm, the response was a flat: “No.”

No system is perfect. But at a time when childcare abuse allegations are shaking national trust — including the high-profile case of a former childcare worker in Victoria now facing more than 70 charges — that answer felt less like honesty and more like institutional defeat.

Trust broken by system failure

Joshua Dale Brown, the former childcare worker at the centre of the Victorian case, is accused of sexually abusing at least eight children aged between five months and six years. Police allege he filmed the abuse and contaminated children’s food with bodily fluids.

The impact has been devastating: more than 1,200 families across multiple states are undergoing mandatory health checks, and faith in the system has been badly shaken.

I asked the childcare provider whether they had access to prior allegations or reports — not just finalised investigations — when screening staff. The answer was no. I was told only outcomes of completed investigations are available.

I was given an example of a female applicant not hired due to a protection order, and told that not all perpetrators are men — a point I agree with. But what I wanted to hear was how risk is actively minimised, especially in rooms with preverbal children, where abuse is least likely to be detected or disclosed.

Instead, I was told the organisation is proud to be breaking gender stereotypes by hiring more male educators. That principle, in itself, is not wrong. But we must also acknowledge that positions involving intimate care — such as nappy changes — are high-risk environments that demand an even higher standard of scrutiny.

When I questioned this policy, my concerns were reframed as bias — as though asking questions about gender and child safety made me discriminatory, rather than cautious.

A culture of defensiveness

That wasn’t the only red flag. When I raised the idea of installing CCTV for added transparency, I was told it would violate privacy. When I referenced media reporting on abuse cases, a senior leader suggested the media itself was to blame for parental anxiety — not the crimes.

Two directors left the centre during our time there, including one I initially spoke to about our concerns. Not long after that meeting our casual booking was cancelled without warning. We were given no explanation.

We never returned.

More women working — but at what cost?

Australia has made important progress in helping women return to work after having children. Initiatives like the Child Care Subsidy and the Three-Day Guarantee are designed to increase participation and ease financial pressure. But this progress exists alongside a far harsher reality: the cost of living has surged, pushing more parents into the workforce — often out of necessity rather than choice.

For many families, having one parent stay home isn’t even an option. The strain is even heavier for single parents.

What we’re left with is a system where women are told they can “have it all” — a career, a family, a functioning household — but only if they’re willing to outsource their childcare to a sector under increasing commercial pressure.

In cities like Sydney and Melbourne, childcare fees exceed $140 a day. Labour shortages have led many centres to rely on labour hire and agency staff — with high turnover, inconsistent relationships, and reduced oversight. Some providers, like the one I dealt with, pride themselves on not using agency staff. But the sector-wide trend is troubling.

Temporary staff are often doing their best. But they’re working within a framework that struggles to prioritise culture, consistency and — above all — safety.

Give parents real choice — not just the illusion of it

We need to rethink how childcare is funded. Instead of funnelling public money exclusively into centres, why not empower parents directly?

Let families choose how to use the funds — whether that means paying a centre, hiring a trusted in-home carer, or staying home for a period. The current system rewards institutional care at the expense of parental agency. That’s not gender equality. It’s economic policy dressed as progress.

If we truly care about giving women options, we need to respect all pathways — not force them into a narrow model that might increase GDP but leaves many families feeling unsafe, unheard, and unsupported.

A reckoning overdue

We’ve been here before. The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse showed us what happens when institutions protect themselves instead of children. If the federal government doesn’t act on all of its recommendations — including reforms that improve risk detection and information sharing — another public reckoning is inevitable.

And it won’t just cost public trust. It could cost billions more in compensation, not to mention the lives and wellbeing of children.

Federal education minister Jason Clare recently said:

“The cases we’ve seen in Victoria and Queensland are utterly horrific. They have shaken families’ confidence in the system... But we also need providers to listen to parents, be transparent, and ensure rigorous safeguards are in place.”

He’s right. But listening to parents can’t just mean hearing them out. It has to mean changing course when the warning signs are clear.

A call for culture change

Policies matter. But culture — how concerns are received, how risk is spoken about, and how transparency is handled — is what defines trust.

We need a system that treats parents as partners, not threats. That understands survivor-informed knowledge is not emotional overreaction. That sees questioning as a sign of care, not conflict.

Because if we want a safe, inclusive childcare system, we need to start by believing the people who rely on it every single day — and the ones who know, too well, what silence can cost.