by Mimi Brodsky Chenfeld
Once upon a time in America, not so long ago, lots of little kids counted the days until they started the most exciting and adventurous time of their lives—kindergarten! They couldn’t wait to enter those colorful rooms with try-on clothes, sand and water tables, cars, trucks, kitchens, puppets, books, and pictures everywhere. Kindergarten—“a garden of children.”
The clues were there, but I didn’t pick up on them—clues warning of catastrophic changes to come. Twenty years ago a mother told me her son came home from his first day in kindergarten with downcast eyes and slumped shoulders. “Mommy, there are no blocks in kindergarten,” he told her.
Fifteen years ago, a little girl asked her mother, “Will we get to play in kindergarten?” Her mother explained that there might not be as much play as her daughter would like. Her five-year-old, hands on hips, announced, “I’ll tell you right now. I’m NOT doing all that paperwork!” That concept has never seemed more relevant than it is today.
Since then, the situation has only worsened. What has fueled this disturbing trend leading us to where we are today? Comparison with international success stories in achievement studies? Frustration with complicated and disturbing statistics coming out of our schools? Acrimonious, polarizing dialogs within our own field implying an either-or approach in which one reading method is the correct method? Our obsession with testing and quick-fix solutions? Serious problems with No Child Left Behind? All of the above and more!
Through the years, research has substantiated the best ways young children learn. Lists of developmentally appropriate practices were published by the National Association for the Education of Young Children and supported by a host of other education organizations, including the International Reading Association. Young children learn best, the research-based guidelines remind us, through hands-on, active, interactive, self-initiating, manipulative, arts-rich experiences that honor the multiple intelligences and unique combination of interests, skills, and gifts of every learner, each growing and developing in original styles and rhythms.
No one method or material is effective with all children. No one size fits all. No one formula is the only formula for learning. Young children are creative, active learners eager to be engaged in challenging experiences. They are still at that magical time of their lives when the world is new and revealing itself to them in myriad ways.
Learning symbols, sounds, and syllables is such an exciting and amazing feat. Cracking the code, recognizing words, making connections, listening to stories, falling in love with language and learning—can this phase of this sacred journey be any more dramatic, exhilarating, and filled with wonder?
So what happened? In too many schools and programs around the United States (thankfully, not all) the garden of children has grown into a garden of thorns. Hands-on learning has been replaced by passive seatwork and rote lessons in academic skills; there is too much paperwork and too little play; there are goals and directives that do not honor the uniqueness of each child. It’s as if we misread “developmentally appropriate practices” as “developmentally inappropriate practices” and made those our official policy.
Countless children now count the days until school is over. They have stomach aches and anxiety attacks. They learn to feel dumb. They learn that school is not a joyous place.
Many experienced and excellent teachers of young children, caught in this high-stress, skills-centered (often scripted) curriculum, are leaving the profession. Can we afford to lose so many dedicated master teachers? Can we afford to have our young students lose their enthusiasm for learning at such a young age?
We need the support of all our caring citizens to encourage decision makers to reexamine the policies that are legislated concerning young learners and consider their too-often dire consequences. We cannot continue to buy into this pressure-cooker, statistics-centered, test-driven, formalized educational environment in kindergarten and the early grades.
We must speak out, write, lobby, call, and educate the community so regular civilians realize it is not in their children’s interests to push for skill-drill and kill, test-dominated education. Our voices do count! Silence is a sign of agreement. It will take all our letters to the editor, calls and petitions to legislators, and time to talk to families and communities to remove the thorns from our garden of children.
Some time ago, a news story caught my eye and pierced my heart. A five-year-old kindergarten child “lost it” in her classroom, threw violent fits, and had to be restrained with handcuffs. I did some hard thinking about that incident. I imagined if I were a five-year-old child, eager to learn and full of great expectations, and I entered a joyless classroom with no blocks, no music, no time to play. I imagined days of endless seatwork and paperwork. I thought I just might have a similar fit of disappointment and frustration!
We have permitted developmentally inappropriate practices to become realities, squeezing the joy from children’s early days in “real school.” We must protect the spirits of our children just as we protect endangered species because the spirits of our children are truly endangered by often well-intentioned but ill-conceived policies and programs.
Speak out—make a difference as we help pull the thorns from the garden of children so that our children can come back, can run to us, and can become lifelong learners ready to take their places as confident, informed, and knowledgeable citizens.
Now in her 51st year as an educator, Mimi Brodsky Chenfeld continues teaching children of all ages, traveling the country to be with teachers and kids. Her latest book, Celebrating Young Children and Their Teachers (Redleaf Press and NAEYC) was published in the spring of 2007.
Handcuffed in the garden of thorns. (August 2007). Reading Today, 25(1), 20.
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