(The following review is based on an advance copy from the publisher. There was no tacit or explicit agreement to write either an overwhelmingly glowing or disparaging review. I accepted it with the full intention of writing an honest review of the book, based upon my own honest reaction to it, which is what I did.)
During my substitute teaching days, I once had the opportunity to sub for a kindergarten teacher. It is important to note that I am certified English/Language Arts for grades 7-12. I have NO formal training with early education. And yet, due to the fact that I am either extremely brave or extremely stupid (it’s a fine line), I agreed to do it.
Remember that scene in the movie “Kindergarten Cop” when Arnold Schwarzenegger---a tough-as-nails police detective who has taken down mobsters and drug lords---has just spent one day undercover as a kindergarten teacher and arrives home looking disheveled and beaten-down and mutters, “I need a vacation...”?
Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.
If I didn’t have a great appreciation for what early education teachers did everyday before going in, I certainly did afterward.
High-schoolers are one thing, but a roomful of 20-plus adorable (and, yes, they really are adorable: you don’t agree to sub a kindergarten class if you don’t absolutely have a soft spot for little kids) six-year-olds wandering aimlessly around a room, occasionally gently pulling one’s pant legs or shirtsleeves, saying things like, “I gotta go potty, Mister.” or “Suzy won’t let me use the crayons.” all the while watching every corner of the room, making sure kids aren’t climbing out a window, trying to eat glue, or cutting up pages of expensive-looking picture books with safety scissors, is a completely other thing altogether.
I’m embarrassed to say that I was only in charge of the class for fifteen minutes when the actual teacher, a petite young bouncy thing with a disarming smile, came back and took over. I’m not sure what sorcery she utilized, but within seconds the children were sitting in the center of the room, quiet and focused on her. Meanwhile, I’m sweating my ass off like I had just spent two hours on a bucking bronco at a rodeo.
The purpose of this anecdote (other than, perhaps, self-deprecation) is to illustrate how much I respect and admire those teachers in the early-education field. It takes a special kind of person to do what they do. Everyday. All day, usually.
I stuck around and observed the rest of the class, and I noticed how much the kids absolutely loved this teacher. They hung on her every word, and they actually listened and did what she told them to do, without question. The key to her success, of course, was that the love was clearly reciprocated. She obviously adored these kids, each and every one of them, and she obviously had taken the time to get to know every one of them. It was evident in the way she talked to them. It went beyond just knowing each of their names and one or two important facts about them. You can know a kid hates broccoli and loves anything to do with “Star Wars”, but that doesn’t mean you actually know him or her.
I’ve come to find that the key to any successful teacher is this true love they have, not only for their profession but for the kids they mentor, regardless of the age group. I’ve also come to find that every single teacher I know has this true love for kids, even if they aren’t necessarily what one would call a “successful” teacher. I believe even “bad” teachers (and, yes, they do exist, although nowhere near the amount that the media or the politicians would like you to believe) have love for their kids, but they have become bad teachers because (like in a bad marriage) they have forgotten what it was that initially made them fall in love in the first place. (Newsflash: it wasn’t the money.)
Erika Christakis is one of the successful teachers. In her new book, “The Importance of Being Little: What Preschoolers Really Need From Grownups”, Christakis joyfully advocates for the children that she knows and loves, both in and out of the classroom.
Thankfully, she is NOT one of the many political pundits or policymakers making lofty claims or diagnoses about the field of education. Unlike most (if not all) of those people, Christakis knows what she’s talking about. She’s spent years in the classroom (she’s a licensed preK-second grade teacher in the state of Massachusetts), and she teaches college-level courses on child development and education policy at the Yale Child Study Center.
“The Importance of Being Little” is a richly-detailed, well-researched examination of what is being done right in the field of early education (which is, sadly, not a lot) and what is definitely being done wrong. If it were only that, though, I doubt the book would be as enjoyable or significant. Christakis doesn’t want to be just another voice of gloom and doom for education in this country, though, which is why the book is a treasure-trove of valuable information and ideas---based on national and international research studies, observations from her own experiences, and anecdotes from fellow parents, teachers, and administrators---on what can and does work.
If there is one complaint about the book, it is that it is all over the place in terms of ideas. In some ways, her book reminded me of that day in the kindergarten class, where kids were roaming around every which way, without structure. It was chaos. Sure, they were having fun, but chaos is still chaos. Christakis’s book has that same sense of chaotic fun.
What her book lacks in terms of focus, though, it more than makes up for in enthusiasm and hope for the future for education.
There are several points to which Christakis keeps coming back within the book: process, not product; schooling and learning are two separate things; and the importance of play.
“It’s the process, not the product”
Everyone recalls making those ridiculous Thanksgiving turkey projects in which one traced one’s hand and used it to create a hand-shaped turkey. Other than fine motor skills (Yay! I traced my hand!), what purpose did that exercise serve other than to create another annoying art-piece to hang on the refrigerator door?
Well, even Christakis acknowledges that the project does serve some useful purposes. (e.g.) gauging a student’s attention span, ability to follow directions, ability to share materials, etc.)
The “process, not product” movement was, according to Christakis, a useful and sound pedagogical paradigm shift that acknowledged children’s creativity while downplaying stifling ideas of what academic-minded adults thought children needed: “It’s encouraging that we no longer force every child to produce in lockstep the exact same construction-paper Thanksgiving turkey. Even the dreariest early childhood programs have generally moved beyond pure mimicry as a pedagogic strategy, and one of the basic evaluation criteria for preschool pedagogy is the absence of a model of what each art project is supposed to look like.(p. 64)”
The problem, according to Christakis, is that the “process, not product” movement can, occasionally, be taken too far. She uses the turkey project as an example.
Without any kind of supervision, Christakis writes, “the pretense of process not product in such a narrowly defined scenario---what survey researchers call a forced choice---just makes a lot of young children feel ashamed or irritated. The problem with our catchy phrase is that process not product doesn’t go nearly far enough. (p.64)”
Oftentimes, a project like the Thanksgiving turkey serves to point out what Christakis calls the “matter-over-mind” problem: “Those exercises still presume that the child’s goal is to make something, rather than to make meaning. (p. 67)”
She likens children in this example to assembly line workers in a factory without quality control, endlessly making defective products and not learning anything about efficacy or presentation.
Children don’t often get the credit they deserve for their analytic and reflective skills. At least, it isn’t often reflected in many education policies. Art for art’s sake is nice, but it isn’t very helpful. With the proper scaffolding, children can utilize artistic expression as a valuable means of learning. Indeed, artistic expression “isn’t a subject area whose worthiness for study could be debated. Rather it is a learning domain, like critical thinking or number sense. (p. 79)”
“Schooling and learning are often two different things. (p.xiii)”
In this current climate of data-driven curriculum policies in which children are standardized tested to death, where teachers barely have time to teach anything of value because they are too focused on “teaching to the test” due to the fact that their jobs are on the line if the school’s overall performance drops below a certain level, the concept of “school” isn’t what it once was, compared to just 10 years ago.
When I was in school, especially in the higher grades, the choices were varied and vast. I had the option of taking any variety of Home Economics classes---Cooking, Sewing, Basic Life Skills---or Shop classes---Auto Repair, Machinery, Woodworking---which were good alternatives to the various Art courses---Architectural Design, Graphic Design, Sketching, Pottery, or Painting. Physical Education even had electives: Golf, Weightlifting, and Health & Nutrition were some of the options available. In academics, there were electives in History---Current Events and Economics---and electives in English---Creative Writing, Poetry, Science Fiction/Fantasy, and even a Film course.
This wasn’t a private school, either. This was a normal public school in an average (albeit slightly well-to-do) suburban setting. The only standardized tests I ever took were the SAT and the ACT, which I had to take my senior year in high school in order to qualify for college.
Today, most if not all of those elective options are gone. The rooms where many students learned to fix carburetors, build cabinets, or weld are used mostly for storage. The Home Ec rooms are now teacher lounges.
No one questions the fact that students need the basics of Science, English, History, and Mathematics, the so-called “common core”. Unfortunately, students also need the Arts and Humanities, Music, Phys. Ed., and a variety of special electives to choose from: all of which are inevitably the first to go whenever a school levy fails or a district is feeling the effects of an economic recession. Today, school isn’t school. It’s just a daytime prison for most kids.
The reason schools are the way they are is partly due to all the new studies that have proven that very young children possess more innate intelligence than we once thought. According to Christakis, these studies, which should by all rights be accepted as good news have resulted in an irrational fear among educators.
“So here we have a bizarre development in the world of preschool learning: the more good news we discover about children’s innate intelligence, the more anxious we become that children aren’t achieving enough. In an effort to capitalize on this apparently limitless potential, we set up various processes to harness it---new curricula, program philosophies, outcome measures, and actual pen-and-paper tests for four-and five-year-olds---the result being that we undermine the very thing we are so concerned with. How so? By spending time measuring learning when we should be spending those hours fostering the learning itself. ( p. 90)”
One only has to observe young children with other children to see that real learning often takes place within the playful give-and-take of playtime and childish conversation, not with worksheets or lectures or 20-page multiple choice tests to be answered on bubble sheets.
“That young children learn primarily from their relationships is both an unfamiliar and self-evident reality, but it is a reality that is too often lost in our current debates about what is best for preschoolers. (p.xiv)”
The importance of play
Christakis spends much of her time in her book talking up playtime. Not that she believes that a child should spend all of their waking hours getting into mischief. That kind of thinking is, according to her, a societal knee-jerk reaction and a result of the negative connotation of the word “play”.
According to Christakis, “Play is the fundamental building block of human cognition, emotional health, and social behavior. Play improves memory and helps children learn to do mathematical problems in their heads, take turns, regulate their impulses, and speak with greater complexity. (p. 146)”
Unfortunately, academics are being pushed down children’s gullets at younger and younger ages, and “play” has become a four-letter word.
This is especially true amongst many lower-income families, who expect to get more out of their child’s preschool experience than more cheesy construction-paper fridge art. It’s a competitive world out there, and they simply want to provide their children with the best tools to survive.
But preparing a child for a “competitive” world and surviving in the new marketplace of globalism should not mean depriving children of the opportunity to be children. Doing so has resulted in some unforeseen negative results such as the fact that American children are getting, on average, much less sleep than their counterparts just 20 years ago as well as their contemporaries in other countries. The long-term negative medical, emotional, and social effects of this sleep deprivation are just now being realized and studied.
The upside to all this is that we have within our grasp the knowledge and ability to make the necessary changes.
Christakis, a parent herself, believes that the key to this change lies within the parents, who are still the most significant and vital factors in a child’s life, moreso than teachers, administrators, or social media.
With the proper attention, care, and feedback, Christakis advises that simply “getting out of the way is often the best thing we can do for a young child. (p.xvi)”