“What do you like to do with your life?”
I had been in the classroom for less than ten minutes when Bella intercepted my movements and observations of the class, her large brown eyes searching mine for the answer to the question she had just asked.
I had never met 5-year-old Bella before. When I arrived at the classroom, I had engaged with her and the others at her table in introductions and a short conversation about what they were doing, but that was all. And now, out of the blue, Bella had planted her feet solidly in front of mine and asked me a question no other child and few adults ever had before.
“What do I like to do with my life?” I repeated. “Oh, that is a big and deep question!”
“Big and deep.” Bella replayed ‘big and deep’ under her breath as if looking for a new way to understand those familiar words, a slight smile playing on her lips. Her confusion about word meanings had not clouded her correct perception that I was impressed by her thinking and way of being.
“Hmmm.” I began, trying to give myself half a chance to respond with the bigness and depth I felt her question deserved. “Well, I like to be around people who make me think. I like to try to help others. And I like to spend time with kids.”
“Why do you like to be with kids?” Bella asked.
“Kids know important things that adults often forget when they grow up. Kids help me be a better person.”
Bella was silent for a beat. I wasn’t sure if Bella wanted me to explain, or even how I could explain what I believed to be true to a child so young.
I turned the question back to Bella. “What do you like to do with your life?”
Bella’s eyes that had been searching and wondering, lit up with joyful certainty and vigour. “I like drawing… and painting.” She paused. “I like dancing and singing.” As she spoke, her body swayed slightly as if imagining herself in rhythm with a happy memory.
Though our chat soon gave way to the busyness of the class, Bella’s words lingered.
Why had Bella’s question seemed so big and deep to me? Why had her question impressed me?
Clearly Bella’s answer to this question was much easier for her to articulate. For me, the way Bella asked the question took me on an indirect path to the values that underpin my actions. Her question also demonstrated something about her that I cared about a lot.
Bella’s question was full of curiosity – that innate and essential disposition that drives learning from newborns to senior citizens. Bella was curious to know me. Did we like the same things? Could we relate to one another? How could we engage with one another during this time we had together?
All learning depends on curiosity. Curiosity motivates humans to explore, theorize, experiment and make meaningful connections between what we know and what we haven’t quite figured out, and to do this through relationships with one another, environments, materials, and the more-than-human world.
Children seek answers to their questions. What the world is and how it works is mysterious and vast. Can what we know ever outweigh what we don’t yet know? The search for knowledge and understanding is a beautiful and essential part of our humanity, regardless of age.
But what if we rest in certainty of acquired knowledge? Do we lose our ability to learn? As teachers, we are always striving to learn. We are curious to read, listen, and take instruction from those we believe have answers to our longings to better support the children in our early learning and school age programs. We seek out knowledge experts who can guide or inspire our practice.
The irony of our knowledge seeking is that it has the potential of leading us toward less curiosity in our work and relationships with young children. If gaining knowledge leads us to total acceptance of answers we’re given, we can easily adopt formulaic language, scripted programs, art activities or science experiments that completely ignore the step of asking ourselves ‘why’ – why this, why now, why in this way, why with this child or group of children. And it can easily ignore or drown out children’s voices – the curiosity that drives their learning.
What does it mean to teach? What is our role in helping children and ourselves become lifelong learners?
Bella’s open-ended question provoked me to think more deeply about the relationship between curiosity and learning, and my role in that relationship.
How would you respond if Bella had planted her feet in front of you, and asked “What do you like to do with your life?”, all the while searching your eyes and awaiting your big and deep thoughts and values?
