Childhood Explorer Winter 2014
Exploring the Lives of Children Worldwide Association for Childhood Education International
Childhood Explorer is published quarterly by the Association for Childhood Education International, 1101 16th St., N.W., Suite 300, Washington, DC 20036 Articles published in Childhood Explorer represent the views of the authors and do not necessarily reflect positions taken by the Association for Childhood Education International. Copyright Š 2014 by the Association for Childhood Education International. No permission is needed to reproduce materials for education purposes. ACEI HEADQUARTERS STAFF: Diane P. Whitehead, Executive Director Michelle Allen, Operations Manager Anne Watson Bauer, Editor/Director of Publications Banhi Bhattacharya, Professional Development and Research Specialist Emebet G/Micheal, Accounting Manager Olivia Kent, Communications Manager Deborah Jordan Kravitz, Production Editor Sheri Levin, Member Relations Manager Yvette Murphy, Director of Advocacy and Outreach Dione Walters, Membership Assistant Photography Credits: cover photo: Diane Whitehead page 4: Josef F. Stuefer/shutterstock page 6: bikeriderlondon/shutterstock page 8, 9: courtesy of authors page 10, 13: Jenni Vorderman Photography page 11, 12: courtesy of authors page 12-13: Elena Blokhina/shutterstock page 14: Ivan Kuzmin/shutterstock page 16: courtesy of author page 18: Nadezda Cruzova/shutterstock page 21: Henrik Winther Andersen/shutterstock page 23: jean schweitzer/shutterstock page 24: Zurijeta/shutterstock page 25: NikDonetsk/shutterstock page 27: Dr Ajay Kumar Singh/shutterstock
Exploring the Lives of Children Worldwide Association for Childhood Education International
Childhood Explorer Winter 2014 Vol. 1, No. 1
Contents 6
Forest School and Nature-Based Education 10
A Young Explorer in Rural Nigeria 14
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Sophie: A Story of Inclusion
Children’s Choices in Denmark
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Memories of a Positive Art Experience for a Child of War
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Children Building Global Relationships
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Childhood Explorer
Our Inaugural Issue Welcome to Childhood Explorer— Stories of Childhood As we work to ensure a quality education and a healthy, happy life for the children of the world, we can sometimes lose sight of the personal stories that lie behind the statistics, standards, and research studies. Yet, stories of children and those who work on their behalf can provide a meaningful and moving way to remember the ultimate goal of our efforts and to share in the successes, both small and large, that help to make the world a better place for its youngest inhabitants. In order to capture these stories that mean so much to us, we have created this new publication. Childhood Explorer will be a vehicle for sharing informative and inspirational stories about childhood and about projects and campaigns that provide quality education, care, and support to children and youth in diverse communities and circumstances. In this first edition of Childhood Explorer, we intend to set the stage for an ongoing exploration of the varied lives that children around the world experience day to day. As we proceed, we intend to inquire about and describe what childhood is like for children around the globe, in different cultures and communities, in various economic circumstances, under challenging life stresses, and during times of triumph. We will also showcase programs and organizations that are shining a light on children’s needs and developing innovative programs on their behalf. By doing so, we will extend our understanding of just what it means to be a child today and how one’s childhood experiences affect the future and how changes affecting the world trickle down to affect the child. We hope these stories will inspire us and others as we strive to support the optimal education, development, and well-being of children.
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Forest School and Nature-Based Education
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Childhood Explorer
An Exploration Into “Home” By Marlene Power, Executive Director, Forest School Canada & Petra Eperjesi, Kindergarten Teacher, Tawingo Outdoor Kindergarten
Forest School is an educational approach that has existed worldwide since the late 1950s, with over 10,000 Forest School programs in the United Kingdom alone. In Forest School, children spend anywhere from a half day to a full day outdoors in various urban and near-urban parks, natural spaces adjacent to or on school grounds, or natural playgrounds and outdoor classrooms. Thus, children attending these programs have the opportunity to learn in a natural environment on a regular basis. Forest School is both a pedagogical approach and a program of delivery. Although the approach has many different names (Nature Kindergarten, Outdoor School, Waldkindergarten, Rain or Shine School, etc.), two main features separate it from other outdoor and environmental education programs. While it can be a part-time or full-time program, and can take place in a variety of contexts and environments, with varying age groups, and in different climates, all these programs provide regular and repeated access to a natural space, as well as child-directed, emergent, and inquiry-based learning. The key aspect of the approach is that children have opportunities to build an ongoing relationship with the land, to a dedicated educator, to one another, and to themselves through this educational lens. The activities that happen in Forest School also vary, depending on the season, climate, and landscape; what animals may have visited the night before; what trees have blown down in the wind; what provocations the educator elicits; what tools and loose parts are available for building and creating; what children are attending the program and how long they’ve been together as a group; and, most important, what interests the children. Sometimes, children will work independently, finding solace in their own world and their creations and ponderings. Other times, children will work collaboratively to create something, problem solve, support one another, and dream of a bigger and better world. Forest Schools are often described as a ”magical” thing to witness, as they are often a working model of collaboration, communication, trust building, and consensus building.
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To paint a picture of a typical day in a Forest School, I invite you into the forest in Huntsville, Ontario, Canada, where a vibrant group of students and teachers play, learn, and explore. They are building a foundation for lifelong learning and a strong connection to the land, becoming future stewards of the earth that they will inherit. Petra Eperjesi, kindergarten teacher and founder of the Outdoor Kindergarten, documents a season’s worth of defining and exploring “Home” through a child-directed, community- and place-based lens. The concept of “Home” is a large one. What constitutes a home? Is it a place where we sleep or a place where we belong? Is it a place where we gather with family and friends, or a solitary space to find refuge from the world? Is it a structure with angles, windows, walls, and special features? Through the experience of constructing shelters, little homes in the forest, children have the opportunity to get their hands dirty in the experience of building while also philosophizing about some of these broader questions. Through this process, the children learn to consider the natural environment as their “Home,” as a place where they feel comfortable, a place they will live in, and a place that they will care for long into the future.
A Seasonal Exploration of “Home”: Shelters and Teepees at Tawingo Outdoor Kindergarten October and November in Outdoor Kindergarten at Tawingo were entirely devoted to our inquiry into homes and shelters. As we all know, kids love to build forts! In fact, David Sobel identifies fort building as one of the seven modes of play common to children around the world. The homes and shelters inquiry theme arose out of this interest in forts and special places. During the summer, I started to think about how the inquiry might work—where we could start and where the children might take it. In my experience, inquiry at the kindergarten level works really well when it is projectbased. I find that the production of something concrete (though not prescribed) gives shape and lends momentum to the inquiry process for very young children. With that in mind, I connected with some of my colleagues who also use inquiry-based teaching with their students. Jessica Lindsay-Sonkin, a kindergarten teacher at Albert College in Belleville, Ontario, mentioned that she had previously issued this challenge to her students: Can you build a shelter under which you can all fit? We issued that same challenge to our students, the K-pals (ages 3-5), at the beginning of October. They accepted the challenge with excitement and were eager to start building right away. This was our first great
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Childhood Explorer
learning moment—builders cannot just jump in without a plan! We also learned about finding the delicate balance between action/experience and reflection necessary for rich inquiry. Over the course of the next two months, we went on a “location scouting mission” to find our building site, which we proposed to our parent architects for their “evaluation.” They inspired us to do a site drawing based on close observation. Just before Thanksgiving, we met with a representative from Habitat for Humanity, who showed us how they build houses, and let us try on some safety equipment! We then made “Welcome Home” signs and cards for future Habitat families. After we established the building site for our shelter, we focused on the building materials we would be using, and designed and carried out experiments to determine whether mud would make a strong foundation, and what combination of sticks, leaves, grass, and pine needles made for a more weather-resistant roof.
teepee. The last step was to spread straw over the floor of the teepee, and anchor the “skin” with “stick stitches.” Working on the teepee has provided so many rich learning opportunities, right up to the very end. Much of the learning was anticipated, but we also made some surprise connections (the best kind), including one to aboriginal art. A parent suggested that we invite the K-pals to paint the teepee, which led us to investigate with the students how teepees were traditionally painted. We learned that the walls of teepees were usually covered by images of things that were important to the people living inside. The K-pals then planned what they would paint by drawing pictures of what is important to them—their families, the sun, and the teepee itself! We brought our shelters inquiry to a close with a big celebration—a Tee Pee Tea Party!—to which we invited all the special people who helped in its construction. This was an enjoyable and satisfying ending to a fulfilling learning exploration.
We built mini shelters for imaginary creatures, explored a group of caves—shelters for animals—on a hike, and read many books about building and architecture, including a series of books about aboriginal homes, such as wigwams and teepees. We discussed the various shapes we saw in those types of structures, and then met with a parent engineer. The parent taught us about the strength of triangles and arches, and led us on a hunt for a flat roof around the Tawingo property. We only found one, and, indeed, that was the only roof in danger of caving in! Ultimately, the K-pals decided that their structure should be a teepee. With the help of some more parents and other Tawingo staff members (who had experience building teepees, in fact), we were able to measure 15 teepee poles (one for each K-pal), work together to drag the poles to the building site, and erect the initial tripod frame. We then added the support poles, cut an enormous tarp into the semi-circular “skin,” and wrapped the
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A Young Explorer in Rural Nigeria
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Childhood Explorer
A Day in the Life of a Child By Esther Oduolowu Ph.D and Funmi Leigh Department of Teacher Education, University of Ibadan, Nigeria
David Sunday is a 5-year-old boy who lives in a
remote village in the Akinyele, Oyo State, Nigeria. He is the second of four children, and his parents are migrant peasant farmers. At age 3, David was registered in a Christian mission school, which is about two kilometers from his village, when his parents felt he was old enough to make the trek to the school. He usually walks to school in the company of older schoolmates from their village. On their way to school, the children take foot paths through the forest; they touch the leaves on the trees, and watch and talk about the animals they see, such as rats, squirrels, birds, and snails. Their journey to school usually takes about 40 minutes. About 100 children are enrolled at the school, but only 13 pupils are in David’s class. His teacher is warm and friendly, and welcomes the children to the school with a smile and a handshake. The school lacks many of the basic amenities that make for a optimal learning environment, such as sufficient learning materials, toilet facilities, and a good source of water. The only visible classroom materials are a chalkboard, a few chairs, and some tables. Learning is primarily a matter of memorization. During a typical lesson, the teacher introduces the lesson, writes few things on the board for the children to see, and then asks them to repeat after her. David spends about six hours at school on a typical day. Activities begin at 8:00 a.m., with a morning assembly. This is followed by classroom activities, language and mathematics activities, recess (which is usually spent outdoors), a lunch break, and afternoon sessions (which include learning social norms, art, and music). The school day ends at 2:00 p.m. The school is open for 195 days in a year. Despite the poor learning conditions, David is able to maximize the learning opportunities provided, answering questions intelligently and demonstrating good memory.
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When David returns home from school, his parents are usually still working at the farm. As he waits for his parents to come home, he has opportunities to play freely in the neighborhood. During these free play activities, he demonstrates many practical skills. He often engages in running; jumping; lifting; playing hide and seek; climbing; building houses with sand, sticks, and leaves; and pursuing other creative activities. For example, he uses sticks and rubber to make a bow and arrow, which he uses to chase goats, sheep, and lizards around the neighborhood. David also has successful interactions with his peers. He often initiates play activities and is fond of saying, “Let’s do this” and “Let’s do that.” David normally wakes up around 6.00 a.m. every day. His parents make a conscious effort to model the skills they expect him to develop, and provide many opportunities for him to practice those skills. For instance, David often helps with the household chores, like washing plates and sweeping the floor, before going to school. On the weekends, David and his siblings usually follow their parents to the farm to observe and assist with some planting or picking (depending on the season of the year). His parents specialize in planting such crops as yams, cassava, maize, potatoes, and vegetables. When David is with his parents, they usually take time to interact with him through conversation and by providing answers to his questions. David also has opportunities to interact with other children whose farm is close to their own. David is more active at home than at school. and his interactions with his parents and peers provide numerous, valuable learning experiences. If the school activities could build on his home activities and the skills he learns there, David’s education would benefit.
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Childhood Explorer
On Film
Children Around the World Wadjda, released in 2013 by Sony Pictures, is the story of a 10-year-
old girl who doesn’t yet understand the limitations of society and thrives in a world of possibilities. Wadjda lives on the outskirts of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, where she is known for being ebullient and mischievous. One day, Wadjda gets into a fight with her friend Abdullah, a neighborhood boy she shouldn’t be playing with. Later that day, she sees a green bicycle for sale, and imagines herself using it to beat Abdullah in a race. Wadjda’s mother won’t permit her to ride a bike, fearing repercussions from neighbors, as Saudi society sees bicycles as harmful to girls’ virtue. Wadjda decides to try and raise the money herself by winning first prize in a Koran recitation contest. This touching story of a young girl’s determination is the first film made in Saudi Arabia by a female director. http://www.sonyclassics.com/ wadjda/
Waiting for Mamu, a short documentary released in 2013, tells
the story of a woman who is providing opportunities for children in prison. In Nepal, parents who are convicted of a crime, and cannot find a guardian for their child, are forced to bring their children to prison with them. These children often spend their entire childhoods in prison and are released at the age of 18 into a world they do not understand, without life skills or a support system. Pushpa Basnet, known as Mamu Pushpa to the children, founded an organization that provides the children of prisoners with a place to learn and play during the day. This gives them a chance at a childhood—and a future. As Basnet says in the film, “When they come out here, we are a family.” http://waitingformamu.com/
The Revolutionary Optimists,
a documentary to be broadcast nationally in the U.S. on 17 June, tells the story of children in one of the poorest slums of Kolkata, a city in eastern India, who are working to become change agents in their communities. Amlan Ganguly, a dancer, choreographer, and costume designer, and former lawyer, works with children in the slums to help them imagine a better future—and fight for it. This film follows Ganguly over the course of several years as he works with children to help them discover their own roads out of the slums through education and the arts. The Revolutionary Optimists is the centerpiece of a multi-platform advocacy campaign to bring attention to the importance of solving the treatable health problems in the slum through education and child empowerment. http://revolutionaryoptimists.org/ Winter 2014
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Sophie: A Story of Inclusion By Jonathan Glazzard, University of Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, England
When I first met Sophie, I had been invited to meet her before she transferred into my Reception class (first year of primary school) to begin her full-time education. She was almost 5 years old and had been at a nursery school for two years. Her parents were concerned about the upcoming move to a mainstream school, as Sophie had so far only spoken to her immediate family and one close friend.
Sophie’s mother cried as she explained her concerns about her daughter. There were no problems relating directly to Sophie’s speech; she simply chose not to communicate with the majority of the people she encountered in her life. During the previous year, she had elected to communicate freely with one of her peers but only when she felt comfortable; even that communication would cease whenever other children were in
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proximity. Sophie’s parents had received support from a specialist in an attempt to encourage their daughter to speak. Nevertheless, Sophie continued to remain mute other than when in the company of her parents, her elder sister, or her confidante at the nursery school. Even when she was hurt, she would not cry out despite the tears running down her face. Understandably, her parents were both concerned and clearly distressed about
Childhood Explorer
the prospect of Sophie beginning full-time education. I also had concerns. This was a new challenge for me; nothing in my previous experiences as a teacher prepared me for Sophie’s elective mutism. Before Sophie joined my setting, I explored ways to support and include this little girl. I found a plethora of explanations for her situation, but little that I felt guided me in helping her. I spent hours pondering this problem; eventually, I focused on the realization that while Sophie chose not to talk, she did understand the communications of others. I formulated my approach with this fact in mind. I would include Sophie as I would any other child, but I would not pressure her to enter into reciprocal communication. When Sophie joined my Reception class, she continued in her world of silence as anticipated. She showed no distress in the environment and quickly complied with the expectations. Sophie appeared to be comfortable in group and whole class teaching situations, responding well to instructions, although she showed no emotions, neither smiling nor frowning. I taught her as I would have taught any other child, assuming that she understood me. Assessing her development in reading was a challenge, which I initially surmounted by asking her to show me graphemes in response to the sounds I articulated. Her special friend from nursery school had joined my setting at the same time as Sophie and she became an invaluable asset in the assessment process. Sophie would be invited to read with Bella because “I was busy.” On such occasions, I would place myself within hearing distance of the girls as Sophie happily read her book to Bella. I was careful not to make eye contact with Sophie at first. Soon, however, I would smile at them once they finished the reading activity, making simple comments about how they seemed to love their books and inviting them to share their favorite book with me. Bella responded enthusiastically, but Sophie would simply turn the page, pointing at pictures and cautiously smiling at me. I responded positively to that interaction on her part, being careful to make comments only and avoid direct questions. I was in fact ignoring her refusal to communicate
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verbally with me while continuing to treat her as I did the other children. Sophie, of course, communicated freely with her parents and they, in turn, shared with me how much Sophie was enjoying school. Within three months, her mother excitedly reported that Sophie was telling her each morning that she was going to speak to me when she got to school. But day after day, she remained mute in the classroom. However, I did notice that Sophie was now more readily choosing to make eye contact with me and she would smile when I returned her gaze. In group and whole class discussions, she began to respond by raising her hand. If I called upon her, however, she would remain silent. I responded by smiling and then moved on, allowing another child to respond. This situation continued for another few weeks; during that time, I always included Sophie in our discussions by acknowledging her raised hand. I could sense that Sophie was ready to speak to me, but it was important that she be the one to choose the time for doing so. That moment finally came. On a day just like any other, Sophie raised her hand in response to a question I had asked. When I called upon her, she gave a clear and audible answer. I remember that moment so clearly. I fought with myself to respond calmly to this breakthrough. I acknowledged her response and her good ideas and then continued with the lesson. Deep down, I was stifling the desire to shout out, “Yes, Yes. You’ve done it, Sophie.” The turning point really was as simple as I have described. From that day on, Sophie spoke to me without hesitation. As the weeks went by, her confidence grew and she began to speak to other teachers. Sophie was achieving and making good progress. When the final term in her Reception class began, Sophie was happily communicating with all her peers and the adults. While she did choose to remain silent whenever she encountered new people, she was, without doubt, fully included in our setting and confidently communicating with all of us.
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A Day in the Life of a Child
Children’s Choices in Denmark “What Do You Think?” When my sister goes to the hospital to give birth to her fourth child, I come to her house to help out with the other children. At the hospital with my sister are her husband, her oldest daughter, and her mother, who is not my mother; my parents divorced when I was 9 years old. At the time, about 40 years ago, I was the only child in my classroom with divorced parents, but today about half of the married couples in Denmark eventually divorce.
As a consequence, many children grow up in different families, with a lot of grandparents and brothers and sisters. Divorced parents share custody, and many children live with one parent for a week and then move to the other parent’s house for a week, and then back again. Divorced parents may choose to live in the same neighborhood, in order to participate fully in their children’s lives and share the responsibilities. The children have two homes, two bedrooms—two of almost everything. This morning at my sister’s house, we are getting ready to go to work and to school. Twelve-year-old Ena Marie went to the hospital with her parents
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Childhood Explorer
By Charlotte Ringsmose, University of Aarhus, Denmark Winter 2014
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and grandmother because she wanted to take part in the birth experience. Her parents had talked about what it would be like, especially in terms of witnessing her mother’s pain. They have agreed that she and her grandmother will leave the room if she needs a break.
to preschool, and the programs are subsidized. The youngest children stay home with the parents, since parents receive one year of maternal/paternal leave. Sixty-two percent of children have entered preschool by age 2.
The other children are Esther, age 7, and Gertrud, age 4. Last night, they made their choices about what to wear, and so everything is ready to go. When they get up, they are allowed to choose their breakfast. Gertrud is the hungry one, so she has oatmeal porridge with butter and honey; Esther wants cereal. Before leaving the house, we prepare lunch and snacks for all of us. We make different choices to go with rugbrød, which is unsweetened rye bread with a lot of grains in it. With this, we eat salami, egg, liver paste, fish, cheese, etc., with cucumber slices and carrots. The children choose to take fruit and yogurt for snacks.
Later that afternoon, I return to the preschool to pick up Gertrud. In most preschools, children come and go at different times during the day. Parents and grandparents often take turns picking them up early (beginning around 3 p.m.), so that the children can spend time with the family at home or elsewhere. Gertrud is still very happy, and so I wait until she has finished what she was playing. The children are on the playground, wearing their heavy winter clothes— woolly hats, gloves, and heavy boots. They almost look like penguins as they move along. Children in Danish preschools are outside every day year round. The little ones even have their naps outside.
Esther received a new bike for her birthday in September, and she wants to bike to school. She is going in the opposite direction from Gertrud and me, so she will go to school on her own, meeting up with her friends on the way. Her bag on her back and helmet on, she gives us kisses and hugs and sets off. Her pink bike is a miniature of an old-fashioned ladies’ bike, which is very much in fashion among 7-year-olds. Gertrud gets in the trunk of the big family bike. The bike has room for about three children; since the older children go to school on their own bikes, there will be room for the new baby. Gertrud has a bike of her own, but her preschool is too far away for her to bike at the moment. She is happily looking forward to seeing her friends. So off we go. It is cold—the same temperature as inside of a refrigerator (5°c), which would be ok if it wasn’t for the wind and the rain. We sing as we go along nevertheless. In Denmark, both parents usually work, and that has been the case for many years. Therefore, we have an extended child care system, with 97% of 3- to 6-yearold children in preschools. All children have access
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When Gertrud is ready to leave, we pick up her things— her little backpack, her lunchbox, and the drawing she has made for her new little brother. The preschool is covered with Christmas decorations, and Getrud shows me the ones she has made. On the trip home, we talk about what to cook for dinner. She suggests that we make frikadeller—meatballs. We stop on the way to shop for supplies. She has her own little trolley to use for shopping, and she fills it up with different things she thinks we need in the house. We stop at Esther’s school on the way. In the after school club, she is doing her homework with a friend in a Silent Room. She wants to stay a little longer but shows me her school before we leave her there. It is newly built, and very modern. Each classroom has a musical instrument as a symbol. Esther is in the Violin classroom. When she leaves school, she must press the violin on a screen to let the teachers know that she has left. I can understand the need for this, as the children are all over doing different things. I also notice that they have glass walls, so you can see, but not hear,
Childhood Explorer
the people in the different rooms. A lot of light comes in from the outside, almost as if the building and the outside are the same. The schoolyard is available from every floor, going up and down, so the children can go outside when they want. Back in the house, we sit around the table enjoying a cup of coffee or tea with a biscuit and talking about our days and what we have done and experienced. Then, the mother from next door comes in with her daughter, asking if Gertrud wants to play. She refuses for now, but we agree that Gertrud can go to their house when she is ready to play. When Esther comes home, the three of us play with Barbie dolls for a while. Then, Gertrud goes to visit her neighbor friend, while Esther and I cook the
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dinner and talk about her day at school and my day at work. When the call comes from the hospital, we rush to see the new little brother. They had a family vote previously about his name, and so we already know to call him Jens. He is a beautiful little boy, and his three older sisters are very proud. Ena Marie is tired now, and she goes home with us to sleep. Before the girls sleep, I visit each bed for a little talk, some reading, or a song. Gertrud talks about a choice she has to make about a present to bring for the Christmas event . . . what do you think . . . ? And away she goes to sleep.
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Mohamad Sadeg Shaban, Assistant Professor in the College of Education at United Arab Emirates University, teaches an art education graduate course. For a class assignment, he asked his students to relate some childhood memories about art and art making. Most of the papers he received were descriptions of typical art activities done in art classes. Then, he read a paper by Mahmoud, a Palestinian from the West Bank who had been living in Jordan since 1967. Mahmoud’s paper related a different experience with art—the experience of a child of war. After more than 40 years, Mahmoud got the opportunity to share his memories about war and art, mixed together and reflecting both the bitterness and the sweetness of the childhood experience. On the following pages are excerpts from Mahmoud’s story, translated into English by Professor Shaban.
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Childhood Explorer
Memories of a Positive Art Experience for a Child of War We were young, sensitive, and fragile, yet we carried the burden of being refugees. When I think of that time, my mind brings forth hundreds of complex and contradictory images, mixed with sounds. I remember the crying, wailing, screaming, shivering, and colors of terrible pain and anguish. Fear was the master and controller of that place and time. It is still painful for me to remember the hundreds of defeated solders as they slipped among the refugee families—their goal and purpose of protection no more. We were dispirited and ignorance shed over us, playing a role in the making of our futures and the making of my intellectual life. The challenge for us was to come out of that world where defeat was the way of life. Winter 2014
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During our time in the refugee camp, my brother and I would find ways to draw. We used charcoal (the remains of the burned wood in the camp) on everything our little hands could reach; and, no doubt, we were punished for it. One of the images I remember making during that period is of the man who we worked for. He owned a huge tract of land. I wondered who gave him the right to own all that land when others could not find place for a tent. That question destroyed the clarity and the peacefulness of my days and still does. Another image printed in my memory is of a man wearing an army helmet. I do not like to remember this image, because it is related to those defeated solders who slipped among the refugee families. After a few weeks, tents were set up to shelter the refugees. At the eastern end was a tent for those who were taking responsibility for maintaining the camp. At the northern end, other large tents were set up; the preschool and kindergarten classes were held in one of them. At the entrance of that tent, a short-skirted lady was standing and waving; she carried a short stick that was an important educational tool of the time. We entered the big tent and lined up to have our heads shaved. I remember that scene with great sadness. Yet as I entered the preschool tent, I felt so happy despite my great fear of the stick. A number of wooden tables were covered with colorful cloth and wooden walls on three sides were decorated with a number of beautiful pictures. Some of these pictures I was able to recognize quickly, such as pictures of Arab women in their traditional, colorful costumes. On the table were lots of paper, colors, pencils, play dough, and other tools. We stood in line in front of the tables and then we were asked to be seated, one chair for each child. I concentrated politely and silently. I reached for the box of colors and started to draw. My charcoal drawings dashed into my mind; the image of that landowner, the image of the defeated soldiers, and the picture of the man with the army helmet came across of my eyes as if in a film strip.
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I did not hear one word of what the short-skirted lady said. I did not pay attention until she approached me and put her stick on my table. I was shaking and I wanted to run out of the tent. However, she immediately, as if she recognized my fear, took my drawing and said, “Bravo. . . . What’s your name?” I stuttered, “My name is Mahmoud.” While I did not know the meaning of “Bravo,” from the tone of her voice I knew it was good, no doubt. “Bravo, Mahmoud,” she said, as she held my drawing up for everyone to see and clapped. It was the first encouragement I had received on something I did. When the short-skirted lady held my drawing up, she also lifted my spirit up high. I felt so happy and proud—a feeling I had not experienced for a long time in the atmosphere of sadness and looking for the bread of the day. When we left school that day, I was hoping it had been a longer time or that we could come back as soon as possible. It was much better than the tent we lived in, where the occupants were still crying and wailing about the past. In the preschool, the short-skirted lady put forth a huge effort to make it more than just a tent. She put the blue United Nations flag in front of the wooden walls. She hung up our drawings and many of them were mine. I remember one of them, which showed a green field with trees, three black and white cows, and a clear blue sky. I remember I had copied that scene from a picture on the milk carton from the United Nations food relief. Through art, the lady taught us numbers and alphabets in both Arabic and English. She used to hand out papers with letters and numbers; under the letters and numbers would be a picture of an apple with one leaf for number one and two leaves for number two and so forth. She would ask us to color the page, clapping for each success and progress and never criticizing the failed attempts. She would hold up the good work and say in a rhythmic tone: “This is an apple. What is this?” We would reply, “An apple.”
Childhood Explorer
We sang and played and ate two meals from the United Nations kitchen. Then we painted, wrote, and the shortskirted lady danced, sang, laughed, and played as if she were one of us. Sometimes she wore a blue apron and gloves and would paint on the walls with what I learned were water colors. Then, she would give us the chance to paint with them and she colored our faces with beautiful animals. One day, she asked us to bring photos of ourselves. I managed to get one with great difficulty. I remember
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sitting with the help of my father on a small wooden chair in an alley, while the photographer put his head in a black bag attached to wooden box. After few minutes, he gave my father the photo. The lady put the photos on the wooden wall. She would frame our drawings and hang them under our photos and our names written with a big marker. This fragment of a memory is from a time when we suffered; that suffering helped shape our personalities. The art experience provided us with reasons to succeed.
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Children Building Global Relationships 24
Childhood Explorer
Pictures do speak volumes. The 3rd- and 4th-grade students in the U.S. class-
room were glued to the picture of Grace, an orphan from the Kipsongo Slum in Kitale, Kenya, who lived in a house made from discarded items, without electricity or running water, and whose major food source was a city dump. She was vulnerable to the ravages of nature and man. Her photo prompted much conversation among these U.S. students. They described her as sad, lonely, and scared. The students, who enjoyed an infinitely more comfortable and secure life, were visibly upset—in a good way. They felt challenged to analyze, empathize, and problem solve. One student stated emphatically, “We have to do something!” The desire and resolve to “do something” grew stronger with every comment. The teacher had never seen them so attentive, nor with such a sense of purpose and also hope.
So the teacher asked, “What can we do? What can
By Candice Dowd Barnes, Rene Crow, & Mark Cooper, University of Central Arkansas
we do to help orphans who live so far away?” Oh, there were all kinds of suggestions—from small ones to grand ones. The children discussed purchasing shoes and clothes, building houses and bathrooms, and making provisions for water.
How a “Chicken Dance Grew Into a Circle of Compassion Winter 2014
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A Hope-Filled Home
In the course of the discussion, the students learned about Pastor Richard and Helen Makani, the founders of an orphanage called Seeds Children’s Home. The Makanis welcomed Grace and others into their care, providing a safe place filled with love where the Grace and others like her could find protection from abandonment, loneliness, abuse, starvation, and disease. They also learned that while the Makani family knew how to raise chickens, they had no money to purchase egg-laying chickens or build facilities for them. “I know!” one student said with great enthusiasm, as if time was running out. “We can raise money to build a chicken coop!” The other children murmured their agreement and began talking confidently and boldly about how the Makanis could raise egg-laying chickens as a way to feed the orphans.
An Egg of an Idea: The Chicken Dance Marathon
During the spring of 2009, this small group of compassionate 3rd- and 4th-graders began their campaign to change the world for some orphans in Kitale, Kenya. They introduced the Chicken Dance Marathon to their kindergarten through 4th-grade schoolmates and raised $7,000, which permitted the Makanis to build their first chicken coop. Since then, there have been four springtime marathons in the Conway, Arkansas, school district, representing nine elementary schools and approximately 5,000 students. The children all dance the “chicken dance” at the same time while singing to the tune of the chicken dance song, “I want to be a kid who cares about the kids in Kenya!” On the same day, the orphans in Kenya would also dance and sing, “I want to be a kid who cares about the kids in America!”
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This has become a tradition that now includes five other school districts in Arkansas as well as in Georgia and Colorado. Some suggest that this cross-continent caring is a great example of global warming—a warming of relationships among children in America and children in Kenya. The children now write letters and Skype, learning about each other. They are growing their circle of compassion to include families, businesses, and corporations.
Childhood Explorer
Difference Makers Are Born
Robert Browning states, “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp or what’s a heaven for?” Well, the 3rdand 4th-grade students reached and they reached and they reached. Little did they know how much their circle of compassion would grow. Today, they have helped support the building of two chicken coops, the purchase of 2,000 egg-laying chicks, the building of an orphanage greenhouse, and the beginning of construction for a commercial greenhouse, another classroom at Seeds Academy, which is a school for over 280 children from the Kipsongo Slum, and now the completion of a second orphanage for 100 more girls from the Kipsongo Slum (with help from the owners of Matilda Jane Clothing).
Reading, Writing, Arithmetic, and, Yes, Relating
The present story is one that serves as a catalyst for shared learning: the learning of math, literacy, science, and social studies concepts. There is also learning about citizenship, civic responsibility, social responsibility, social justice, and action. The learning is experiential, authentic, and rich in a real-world context. Students in the United States are taught that they are never too young to make a difference in the lives of others, even others as far away as Kenya. And the orphans in Kenya are taught that they have friends in America who care.
A Final Note
At the core of this ongoing journey is a desire to deepen children’s knowledge and understanding of the complex societal issues that surround them. By engaging in such a journey, everyone achieves a sense of accomplishment, purpose, hope, and joy. Finally, children are afforded opportunities to expand their views of the world and appreciate the many people who live in their global communities. Margaret Mead was right. A small group of dedicated people, even young children, can indeed help change the world for someone. It simply takes adults who believe in children’s circle of compassion.
The journey begun by a small group of children continues today, and the authors invite readers to join in this opportunity to impact children and communities for good. In the event that the reader wants to become a growing part of this circle of compassion, visit www.chicksforchildren.org.
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Childhood Explorer The Association for Childhood Education International, a nonprofit dedicated to promoting the optimal education and development of children, is proud to be offering this new publication that focuses specifically on the experience of childhood around the world. Childhood Explorer is an online vehicle for sharing informative and inspirational stories about childhood and about projects and campaigns that provide quality education, care, and support to children and youth in diverse communities and circumstances. We invite you to submit short, 1- to 3-page, articles for consideration. We are seeking narrative, conversational articles that stay focused on a personal story of childhood, while connected to a global issue concerning childhood and children’s education. Visit http://acei.org/acei-publications/childhood-explorer for more information and to download guidelines and samples.
Topics of interest are: Daily life of a child in a particular geographic location/culture/socioeconomic situation/life circumstance NGO initiatives to support children’s well-being and education Programs/approaches and how they work through real-life application Global trends in education
For more information about this publication, contact editorial@acei.org.
Global trends affecting childhood
Exploring the Landscape of Childhood Worldwide Association for Childhood Education International