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One of my happy tasks at my current job is to visit community preschools. My interest in education was, and still is in some ways, at the secondary level with teenage students. Nevertheless, my introduction to early childhood programmes at MO, has been fascinating.
Societies are made up of individuals, each of whom has developed an identity and a sense of how the world does and should work. Each individual comes to see the world a certain way and the amalgam of these views, coloured by patterns of power, generates the social norms that guide our every move. These views are primarily established in the early years. So, in some way, three year old children are deciding the destiny of society. They, and their environments, interact to give birth to the ways of seeing and doing that will characterise the coming generation.
Of course, this paints an incomplete picture devoid of the social change occurring on every level, the forces of tradition, innovation, conformity and chaos. What is more, at three years old, while enormously observant, children’s consciousness of their place or potential in the world is something, I think, that is not preserved. Surely young children think about who they are, what they will become, how the world exists for them to be in it – or at least that they exist because the world does or vise versa, but where do those thoughts and ideas go? When do they (we) realise they no longer think as before? Or can this realisation really occur if the previous way of thinking can not be captured, like grasping at wisps of a dream?
What a curious thing in a world of records and analysis that such profound moments in person building float away on the wind. It’s quite wonderful in a way that such things are not regimented or fenced or truly understood. Perhaps the world should maintain some mystery.
Although children share many of the feelings and thoughts that adults have, they tend to experience them differently. The too often cynical and self-conscious generation before them (that’s us…) could learn a lot about resilience and moving on from young children who have an amazing capacity to rise above disappointment and overlook the bonds of social protocol when it suits them. Such are the children of one preschool I visited in Msambweni District, in the South Coast of Mombasa.
We were on a nature walk, a group of about 30 little kids, their teacher and I. Down the grassy yellow hill, along the path towards the river. For some families, it was laundry day. Atop the prickly straw-like grass was laid pairs of tiny socks and trousers, brightly coloured kangas, and whatever else needed washing. The cloth dried stiff in the sun.
In 5 minutes we’d reached the river side. The water was populated by ladies bent double to wash their clothes. Two young boys led a herd of cattle across a dip in the bank to get to the other side. Some of the women seemed surprised to see me, others smiled a tacit welcome to their place.
Preschools girls pause to chat by the river bank
The teacher rounded up her own little herd, giving the children options for their outdoor time. A few settled on the ground, taking out their notebooks to sketch the plants and scenes around them.
The rest, the majority, tore off their school uniforms. In a flash they were down to their underwear, and went running into the river. It was hard to tell boys and girls apart, all with shorn heads and spritely bodies. For a moment, it didn’t matter. Here, these children were free. From nowhere came the social pressures to be feminine or masculine, to be responsible, dignified, seen and not heard. Here, they were just little people enjoying themselves, not constrained, defined or obliged by who, what or where they ought or were thought to be.
Remarkable.
Of all the time spent teaching young children to become adults, perhaps we forget to let them teach us to be human. I can’t think of the last time I allowed myself such freedom. Perhaps it’s time I start.
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