Celebrating the Creative Process, Not Just the Final Product, With Journey Boards

As an elementary visual arts teacher, I’ve always striven to create a classroom where students feel like artists—not just little hands completing projects, but young creators developing ideas, solving problems, and discovering their unique visual language. Over time, though, I noticed that my students were often focused on the final product rather than the rich, messy, beautiful process behind the work.

I wanted to see what would happen if we stopped showcasing only polished, finished artworks and instead started documenting the full arc of the creative process. That was when I decided to introduce journey boards to highlight the process: early sketches, technique trials, written reflections, and even peer feedback.

What is a Journey Board?

Journey boards are living, ever-evolving spaces in the classroom where students document their artistic process. On these boards, you might find initial ideas and brainstorming, rough sketches or thumbnails, technique experiments and “failures,” artistic inspiration, and more.

They’re not static: Students add to them over time, revisiting and rethinking their work. They’re not always neat. And that’s the point—they reflect the reality of creative thinking.

Introducing Journey Boards in the Classroom

To get started with journey boards, you’ll need to dedicate a bulletin board for each class. You can begin by dividing the board into sections like “Idea Generation,” “Explorations,” “Challenges,” and “New Discoveries.” Throughout a unit or specific project, encourage students to add their work and sticky notes with observations or questions to the different sections of the board. It’s important to continually use the board as a jumping-off point for discussion so that students really internalize the value of their learning process.

Often, students are only used to sharing their final products, so showing their entire process can feel scary. To help students feel comfortable and shift their focus to the process rather than the final product, teachers can do the following:

1. Normalize “unfinished” work. I started displaying my own quick sketches and doodles alongside theirs. I shared my own process—and the revisions and messiness that came with it.

I wanted to model that the creative process is rarely linear or perfect. I’d talk through my choices and mistakes aloud: “I tried shading here, but it got muddy—so next time I’ll try cross-hatching instead.” This vulnerability helped students feel safer sharing their own in-progress work. Soon, they were voluntarily putting up drafts with sticky notes that said things like “Still working on this!” or “Not sure if this works—what do you think?” It became a space where imperfection was not only accepted but welcomed as part of the learning.

2. Use prompts to support reflection. Reflection doesn’t always come naturally, especially in younger learners, so we used thinking routines to guide the process. Prompts like See, Think, Wonder helped students look closely at their own work and ask questions about techniques or choices. Another favorite was “I used to think… Now I think…,” which encouraged them to notice how their understanding evolved over time.

These reflections weren’t limited to writing—we often used drawings, speech bubbles, or comic panels to express thoughts visually. Students would then pin these onto the journey board, creating layers of insight that deepened our classroom dialogue and gave their learning more meaning.

3. Celebrate updates, not just outcomes. Instead of waiting for finished pieces to give feedback or praise, I made it a point to notice and comment on what students were posting throughout their process. I’d say things like, “I love how you tried two different color palettes and wrote about why one felt stronger,” or “That sketch shows so much more movement than your first one—great revision!”

This kind of feedback validated effort, experimentation, and reflection. Over time, students began to celebrate each other’s updates too—offering feedback, asking questions, and sharing ideas. The focus had clearly shifted from “What does the final look like?” to “What did you learn while making it?”

Journey boards in action

During our printmaking unit, the journey board became the central thread connecting all our learning. We began the unit by looking closely at textures in nature—leaves, bark, feathers. Students then added observational sketches and notes on their previous understanding of printmaking to the journey board. As we moved into experimenting with foam and cardboard plates, the board evolved to showcase photos of inking attempts, smudged test prints, and even “failures” that led to new discoveries.

One of the students had a breakthrough moment she chose to share on the board: “I thought more ink would make my print better, but it made it blurry. Next time I’ll use less and roll more carefully.”

This simple reflection led to a spontaneous group discussion. Other students gathered around the board, pointing to their own prints and comparing outcomes. What started as one student’s honest reflection became a catalyst for collaborative learning. The journey board wasn’t just a display anymore—it had become a dialogue.

In another unit, we did an artist study on Joan Miró, focusing on how symbols and abstract forms can communicate ideas. I asked students to explore Miró’s work and respond visually in their own style. The journey board started to fill with sketches inspired by his abstract figures, bold lines, and playful compositions. But what fascinated me most were the questions students started posting alongside their sketches: “Why does Miró use stars and eyes in so many paintings?” and “Is this shape a person or a feeling?”

Shifting Students’ focus to the creative process

Through this ongoing conversation, I could see a genuine shift in how students were thinking about art—not just copying a style, but grappling with ideas behind it. They were analyzing, interpreting, and making their own creative choices. By the end of the unit, not only had their understanding of abstract art deepened, but so had their confidence in articulating those ideas.

In both cases, the journey board helped students slow down and notice what they were learning, step by step. It became a place for critical thinking, visual inquiry, and student voice. Additionally, I could see that my students were proud not only of what they made, but how they made it.

By valuing the process over the final product, we help students recognize that being an artist isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence, curiosity, and growth.