| I hold the (probaby unpopular) opinion that early reading is not an
advantage to a child, and may even be detrimental unless the child
voluntarily learned on her own.
I think that the linear thinking encouraged by reading detracts from
the young child's normal holistic experience of reality. And, I think
there is no demonstrated long-term academic advantage to early reading.
(I define early reading as prior to first grade.)
I think it is far more important for children to use their
imaginations, develop good motor skills, learn a lot about the world
around them, be well-adjusted socially, develop oral language skills
including vocabulary, make music and art, and generally be highly
self-confident by the time they get to first grade.
If first grade entry requires knowing the alphabet, I think this is
primarily for the school's convenience, not for the educational
advantage of children. When I went to school, we had no readiness
exams. We all learned the alphabet rather quickly and moved right on
to the basics of reading. I don't think the kids today emerge from
high school knowing substantially more than we did over 20 years ago.
There does SEEM to be an advantage to the cramming of learning in
elementary years (as seen most dramatically in Japan), but I believe
that this can wait until the child is five or six. Let them play and
be joyful until then. Don't push early reading.
Read to children a lot, starting when they are babies. Give them the
joy and comfort of books. Let them see you reading and enjoying it.
Expose them to the alphabet and numbers. But don't push it.
I think the push for early reading and other more mature skills, such
as playing the piano, figure skating, doing arithmetic, playing chess,
and other typical "child prodigy" activities, are very unfair to
children. IF the child is highly motivated and shows unusual aptitude,
that's different. But for most kids, we should have more realistic,
and more fair expectations.
Laura
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| In Waldorf schools, early reading is actually discouraged. In a Waldorf
classroom, children will be learning the alphabet in the first grade. By late
first grade or early second grade, they will be copying passages from the
blackboard into their lesson books, and "reading" them back. Formal reading
from printed books doesn't come until late second or early third grade. By
third or fourth grade, the reading levels of Waldorf school children seem to be
generally consistent with children of similar age from other schools.
(Despite this, I will admit that we did teach Elspeth to read when she was in
kindergarten. We'd been reading _On the Banks of Plum Creek_, where Laura
Ingalls learns to read, and she decided that she could do that, too. We got a
McGuffey's Eclectic Primer, and she basically picked it up right away.)
The following extract on the Waldorf approach to teaching reading is from
pamphlet titled _Confessions of a Waldorf School Parent_ by Washington Waldorf
School parent Meg Gorman, which you can find in its entirety (along with some
other discussions on Waldorf schools) in the archived MOIRA::PARENTING_V3, topic
35.
In the meantime, while I was on my high horse of self-improvement,
my son had entered nursery school and my daughter had begun first
grade. Here I ran smack into a wall. It was the biggest hurdle I
had yet faced in Waldorf education: the question of late reading.
Now, I am an English teacher and, as such, I have a large stake in
reading. Although, by my generation's standards, I read late at
age eight, I find reading a joy, and it brings me some of my best
moments. Because I find this such a satisfying experience, I am
enthusiastic about sharing it with others, the sooner the better.
I used to think, if I had read at age three, I could have had so
much more fun and learned so much more. Early reading must be
good. Just think of what a head start I would have had on life.
Besides, there is such a wealth of literature out there for
children. Why not get into it as soon as possible? Then there
were those neighborhood mothers who bragged about their children's
genius because their kids could read early. Why not my kids too?
Waldorf pedagogy, on the other hand, feels that reading is
generally unhealthy for children under seven. In fact, it says,
children should not begin to read until their baby teeth start to
fall out. This seemed plain silly to me. I felt certain that the
school would see my point of view when I discussed it with some of
the teachers.
At first, I tried to convince the school that their approach to
reading was archaic. Surely they could be wrong about something,
and this must be it. When I first met my daughter's class
teacher, he encouraged his class parents to come to him and
discuss any concerns we might have about the education our
children would be getting. I often wonder if he ever regrets that
remark where I am concerned. At first, I was a bit shy; but I
swiftly overcame my reticence as my sense of indignation rose on
the issue of reading. I took our class teacher at this word, and
I peppered him with questions about reading. He remained firm.
Early reading, he told me, got in the way of healthy physiological
development. He saw his task in the early grades as building up
the child's physical strength, powers of observation, life of
imagination and sense of security. Then, he told me, the academic
education which was to follow would find rich soil in which to
grow, with the end result that the young person could make
educated decisions and think with few prejudices as an adult. He
explained that the grade-school child is still incarnating, that
is, coming down from another world. Waldorf education tries to
remove as many obstacles as possible for the child so that she can
grow into the person she needs to be. This means, loosely
translated, not the self I had in mind for my child, but some
mysterious unknown self which my child carried within her. I
squirmed. I had heard this sort of thing before from the nursery
school teacher and from various lectures. This kind of
explanation made me, an orthodox Christian, very nervous.
Besides, it just didn't seem rational. I tried to ignore these
"spiritual" aspects of Waldorf education as the kooky stuff that
some of the teachers believed. It was difficult because these
sorts of explanations came up over and over again. It always
seemed that, just as I was beginning to get a handle on Waldorf
education, something impossible appeared. The question of the
incarnating soul was eerie for me. I just didn't get its
connection to late reading. So, I swept my daughter's teacher's
remarks under my I'm-not-ready-for-this carpet which was already
bulging with Waldorf-related humps and bumps.
First, I had to get the issue of reading squared away. In
retrospect, now that my daughter reads well, the process which
follows seems ridiculous. At the time, it was urgent, and I spent
many hours reading, talking, and thinking about it.
I understood that part of the reason reading was delayed at
Waldorf schools had to do with the development of memory. If one
can read and write something, one need not remember the
information. The ancient story-tellers of every culture disappear
as a civilization becomes more literate. Was this progress? I
didn't know. The children at Waldorf schools memorize a great
deal. Does this improve their memories? My children's music
teachers have commented on how rapidly our children memorize
music. Is this Waldorf at work? I don't know for sure, but I do
know that my children's memories are far better than my memory was
at their ages.
And what about knitting, crocheting and other handwork projects of
these early years? These activities certainly improve hand-eye
coordination which, in turn, helps reading, but couldn't the
students read a little in between? There seemed to be so much
artistic work in these early years that there was no time for
reading. "Self-discipline and will power are best learned through
artistic work," came the answer from my daughter's class teacher.
I know now that this is true. Both of my older children seem to
be quite responsible and self-disciplined. I have had to struggle
mightily for self-discipline as an adult, so I now see this as one
of the major gifts of Waldorf education.
Still, back then, I wasn't convinced. I was plagued with
questions about reading and Waldorf education in general. I still
swept the difficult questions on things spiritual under my carpet
of procrastination, but I had plenty of other things which kept me
awake at night. I had to admit that I admired the teachers whom I
knew at the school. They actually seemed worthy of emulation.
Yet, could one teacher give a child what he or she needed over
eight years? [In a Waldorf school, a class stays with the same
"class teacher" from first through eighth grade, although there
are also special lesson teachers, especially in the later years,
where they teach subjects such as chemistry and physics. - NF]
And what about reading, writing, and arithmetic? Should I keep my
children at the Waldorf school for its warm, humanistic approach
and have them tutored in academics on the side? Should I continue
to press my daughter's teacher in the hopes that he would come
around on the issue of reading? Was it already too late? At age
four, my daughter had started to read and had not been encouraged.
Now, at age six, she had lost interest. I went out and looked at
other schools--something which has become an annual ritual for
me. I recommend it. It always makes me realize how special our
school really is.
Each time I came back to Waldorf because I sensed a depth and
moral quality at our school that I seldom found elsewhere. Each
year I made a new act of faith and decided to go one more round
with Waldorf education.
I also decided to do my best to cooperate with the requests of
Waldorf education. I left the television off, I did not have my
children tutored (nor did I tutor them myself), and I continued to
struggle for more rhythm in my life. In the dark of the night, I
prayed that I had made the right decision.
By day, in my own haphazard way, I continued to research the
question of late reading. I read around the subject and found, to
my surprise, that many educators supported the concept of late
reading, among them Bruno Bettelheim, David Elkind, Joseph C.
Pearce and Jean Piaget. Still, I wasn't sure. I comforted myself
by making lists of successful people who read late. Literary
people were well represented. My list included Margaret Mead,
Einstein, Churchill, Balzac, Lord Mountbatten, Mark Twain, George
Washington Carver, and the great Irish writer William Butler
Yeats, who was finally beaten into learning to read after the age
of nine.
Finally, at the end of third grade, my daughter began to read
well. What she read amazed me. Her standards were high and still
are. She plowed through the major children's classics until, at
the end of sixth grade, she amazed me by beginning her summer
reading with the two fat volumes of the _Complete_Sherlock_
_Holmes_. All for fun! The entire business of late reading was
no longer an issue for me at all. In fact, I now find it quite
inconsequential.
Recently, I ran across a quotation from another late reader, the
wonderful English writer Sylvia Townsend Warner. It comes from
her recently published collected essays, _Scenes_of_Childhood_.
She writes about her father:
He doubted--and very naturally, I'm sure, being a school
master--the benefit of learning to read. From the moment a
child discovers that information can be got out of books, he
averred, it desists from exercising its faculties of
observation, memory, and thinking itself. So long after my
contemporaries had become literate, I was left to be
observant, retentive, and rational.
Thank God, I say. Would that we all had these qualities to the
degree that Ms. Warner has them. Her father's points are well
taken and echo more reasons why late reading is useful.
With the reading issue finally at rest, I tried to relax about
Waldorf education. However, the lumpy material under my carpet
had piled up to such a degree that I could no longer ignore it.
Like it or not, it was time to take a closer look. With
trepidation, I lifted the corner of my carpet to peek at the
unpronounceable philosophy behind Waldorf education.
[End of Part I]
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