When we were children, we always had this urgent need to “grow up”—whether it was a desire to be treated like an adult, or to get to do the things that “grown ups” do, we could not wait to shed our baby fat and childish ways. Now that I am an adult, and have been for quite some time, I’m beginning to question that need to grow up so quickly. This is especially true now, when I will soon be studying to teach those who want to skip the most carefree and joyful time of their lives.
Being that it has been nearly three and a half decades since I could be considered a “kid”, and I have no contact with children, this will be quite the challenge for me. In reading over some of the course material offered at Teachers College and other institutes of higher learning, I have come to one conclusion: in order to help these kids “grow up” in the right frame of mind, I have to “grow down” as a person.
For the linguists out there, don’t panic. Yes, the term “grow down” is an oxymoron. Yet, I believe it’s the right term in this instance. I will be growing as a person in terms of the education and understanding of young people; yet, I have to come to a lower level of educational material than I am accustomed. Well, no…that’s not entirely true, as I’m sure there will be tons of Piaget, Dewey, Friere, et al. to keep my adult brain entertained. However, I will not be exchanging the ideas of those great thinkers with 7-year-olds. I will have to understand the hows and whys of talking dogs, curious monkeys, mischievous cats and an overly dependent mouse. I will have to revel in the overuse of pictures and the underuse of words, and help children decipher the deep meanings layered beneath it all. It’s not so much bringing myself down to their level, for that would be condescending; it is to remember what is was like to be a kid, to recapture the joy of learning, and to share it with a new generation.
This may be yet another challenge. I did not attend school on a regular basis when I was a child. The latter half of both the fourth and sixth grades was all the public education I received, due to family problems. Growing up as part of what I like to call the “TV Generation” (because we were basically baby-sat by television) gave me some insight on what kids were learning in school. From the early days of “Sesame Street” to the higher-end lessons of “Schoolhouse Rock”, I was able to get the basics down pretty easily as the years went by. I filled the gaps by reading everything I could get my hands on—newspapers, comics, discarded math books, phone books…you name it. I was probably the only kid who got excited by the old Spiegel catalog, because they always had lots of new and interesting things for sale (and to learn about). The abridged versions of classic novels such as “Great Expectations”, “Moby-Dick”, “To Kill a Mockingbird” or “Oedipus Rex” were found at the back of the old Encyclopedia Britannica, and they found their way into my brain. By the end of the sixth grade, I was helping other students with their reading and math homework.
Did I miss something important by not being part of the educational system from an early age? I believe I missed out on what I believe was (and still is) a key element of learning—socialization. Sure, all the knowledge I accumulated during the time I was not in school was important, but I felt I lacked good social skills. Don’t get me wrong: I made friends pretty easily, but I think that was more because I had something to offer (help) rather than being a true friend. If it weren’t for my intelligence, I think I would have been completely ignored by most students, and probably would have gotten the wrong kind of attention (a/k/a bullying) by others. I believe socialization helps students learn social cues, bonding, rules (both societal and cultural), and shared experiences. It was difficult for me to relate to kids my age at the elementary level, but I managed.
So here I am, some 35 years later, and I’m about to teach children things I learned much later in life. In preparation for this endeavor, I have been trying to put my “grown up” hat to the side for awhile and see what it is that children are doing these days. Since I have no direct contact with the little ones (and hanging out at parks and playgrounds would most likely brand me as a pedophile), I have been reading children’s books and watching educational/informational programming (noted by the “E/I” rating).
One thing came as a shock to me as I watched about four hours of PBS Kids’ programs: was I really as oblivious of some of the blatant (as in forced) inconsistencies we were taught as today’s kids are assumed to be, as long as I got the message? The best example of this would probably be “Dinosaur Train”, in which a single mother pteranodon raises four kids—one of which just happens to be a little tyrannosaurus rex. Mind you, according to the show’s theme song, she had all four eggs, and they all hatched at the same time. It’s clear to all involved that our little T-rex is not like the others (he even points this out himself, in case we missed it), but why that happened doesn’t matter; he’s part of the family, and it’s all good. It took about fifteen minutes (including Googling “pteranodon”) for me to wrap the possible combinations (both social and scientific) of how such a birth would take place at all, but that’s the “grown up” me. Looking at it from the perspective of the “grown down” me, it’s a wonderful example of inclusiveness, bonding and family love. That’s the important thing to remember here—if we looked at the things we watched or read as a kid through the eyes of an adult, we’d probably lock ourselves up in an insane asylum. We have to realize that a dog that gained the power of speech and reason because she ate some alphabet soup (as in the case of “Martha Speaks”) is just as plausible to children today as a certain “wascally wabbit” with a sadistic streak was to us when we were growing up.
While I wait to learn to teach, I will be teaching myself to learn…and to re-learn. I will have to find ways to resist watching or reading material meant for children with the cynical, overly-logical eye of an adult. In doing so, we tend to lose the things that make childhood fun; magic, wonder, dreams, mystery, and the belief that even the most absurd things can be possible if we only allow ourselves to imagine it so.
Now if you excuse me, I have to give a mouse a cookie…and prepare for the laundry list of crap he’ll ask for next.