Eight-year-old Zack has just woken up on a weekday morning
at his leisure. He crawls out of bed, picks up his hand-me-down laptop computer
and charger cord, and migrates downstairs to his green-padded cube chair and
the makeshift coffee table that he has claimed as his desk. He sets a bowl of
cereal next to the computer and opens his first children’s game site for the
day. Some playmates are already there, taunting a big ugly boss. He quickly
types a message to one of them, abbreviating as needed, leaving off punctuation
and capital letters. His typing is fast, but he finds his own non-traditional
hand positions. He gobbles some cereal, then stacks his bowl behind the
computer, not yet feeling moved to take it to the kitchen, continuing with his
game.
Zack is home schooled, and for the most part, he sets his
own schedule. He might not have had a formal reading, spelling, or math class from
a trained elementary school teacher in his life, and he has little use for
curriculum. He knows how to use Google, and he occasionally talks about
science, math, and reading with his parents, siblings, and peers in the
community. Story time last night was a chapter in the Andrew Clement book Frindle, about a fifth grade student who
creates a stir in his community by making up a new word for “pen”. Zack could not
help but chuckle at the book’s depiction of elementary school culture, which he
has never experienced. He expressed some doubts about whether some of the classroom experiences described in the book could be real. Do other eight-year-old boys really sit at desks that many
hours a day, under almost complete control of a teacher? What are vocabulary-spelling
lists for, and why does the school system think 8-year old boys need them? Zack
has never learned new words or spelling from a list, and he wonders whether his
peers in public school really pick up new words that way.
Now, you might be curious whether Zack himself can spell
properly, without ever having the guidance of a trained elementary school teacher?
Once a year, to
fulfill requests of the state to track the progress of home-educated students,
Zack takes a standardized test. His parents don’t like the idea of high stakes
testing, but their own drive to know of his progress, including curiosity about
how he compares academically with his peers, keeps them in favor of some
testing. They spread the different short sections of the test out over a few days.
Today’s exam is spelling. Zack first takes a practice test. Exercises include a
list of words, from which he needs to pick out one that is misspelled. He
casually finishes the dozen practice exercises without an error. Then, he takes
the formal 25-question exam, correctly responding to 24 of them.
How does he do it? He reads few books on his own, and he
certainly does not study vocabulary lists. No one has ever schooled him formally
in standard English rules of spelling. The best way his parents can explain his success is that he learns by doing, through his online gaming, and through interaction
with his parents and peers. His parents work to put learning experiences in his
pathway, providing good environments for learning. He picks some of it up by
watching street signs and advertisements while commuting to town. In short, he
has become exceptional at spelling in the same way he learned to speak as a
baby: by trying it, and by building it actively into his interactions with
those around him. What’s most important is that the evidence shows that it
works, placing his skills in the upper range of the distribution of his public-schooled
peers.
Most systems of primary education around the globe depend on
systematic curriculum that exerts controls on young minds through copious
repetition, imposed structure, and a teacher who is clearly in charge. Although
evidence suggests that some of the public education system’s approaches benefit
young children and society as a whole, illustrations of the experiences and
successes of countless young children like Zack show that systematic
constraints on the learning process, including control by a teacher, are not
necessary for their progress. Society expends vast resources in constraining the
learning in young children, many of whom evidently could get most of the basics
on their own without sacrificing the joys of childhood, including free play,
which studies suggest is necessary for them to learn higher social skills and
executive functions.
Surely there are better ways we can envision to use the
resources of the education system for young children that take advantage of how
they actually learn. Why not focus our more systematic curricula on older
children who are ready for more advanced academics, and let young children be
children? Instead of exerting firm classroom controls on young children, we
need to create academically stimulating environments and surround them with
conversations, games, and peer group activities that bring joy and a sense of
commitment into their lives, letting their curiosity gradually drive them toward increasing appropriate structured
curriculum as they mature.
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