Kids in Norway are not expected to be able to read and write before they begin at elementary school, before they are 6 years old. We do not have the system of structured learning where kids sit still for an hour and copy letters on a work sheet. We do not have quizzes, tests, and grades, and there are no medals handed out at the end of the school year.
This is a guest post by Portia Joy Nillos-Kleiven who lives in Oslo, Norway. Read her essay about her little girl’s kindergarten experience.
I have a 5 year-old daughter who goes to a Waldorf-type kindergarten here in Oslo, Norway. She was born in the Philippines and we moved to Norway when she has just turned two years old.
We had to wait a bit before we found an available slot for a newly opened kindergarten in the “barangay” where we lived. We accepted the offer right away, without even thinking twice, because kindergarten slots are not so easy to find in Oslo. The first time we visited the place, I knew we found the right kindergarten for Mia. While other kids usually cling to their mothers, Mia took off right away and explored the room, and I didn´t have to be with her the following day.
My little girl´s kindergarten is basically run by a bunch of hippies—and that is awesome! The routine is the same every day. The smell of freshly baking bread greets you when you go in the building. The day begins with a gathering and a song. Plenty of song, rhythm, and stories throughout the day. The kids have 1 warm meal everyday (organic, vegeratarian and lactose-free). They play with wooden dolls and with toys made from natural materials —wool, natural fibers, sticks, pine cones, etc. They have a haf-hour nap time around lunch time in the “silent room”, and then they go out to the play area outside where they play until its time to be fetched by their moms and dads.
Photo credit: Dagbladet, a national newspaper who featured Mia´s kindergarten in March 2014.
A year ago, they opened a “forest unit”. Its basically a little clearing in the woods with Sami tent called “lavvo”. While the original lavvo is made up of reindeer skins and is transportable, this version is more permanent, with a small oven in the middle and pelts around the tent for the kids to sleep in during nap time. The outdoor latrine is not so far away. The only downside to the whole thing was that they had to travel by public transport (by train and by bus for 20 minutes) to and from the kindergarten.
So my daughter basically spends her day in the forest running around with the other children, listening to the birds, gathering flowers, playing with sticks, stones and cones, rolling in the mud, climbing trees, sleeping on reindeer skins in the tent, and singing songs around a bonfire. She is out in the forest whether its sunny, raining, or snowing. It sounds idyllic, and it is in a way. The only bad side: When it rains, there is mud, and muddy clothes means a a messy bathroom and mud in the hallway at home. Its OK when its once in a while, but where we live, it can rain continuously for a month especially in the autumn, and then its really no fun at all to wash muddy clothes. But one has to always look at the bright side.
I work part-time in a kindergarten here in Oslo as an assistant so I am aware of the big difference between the early education system here and in the Philippines. Kids in Norway are not expected to be able to read and write before they begin at elementary school, before they are 6 years old. We do not have the system of structured learning where kids sit still for an hour and copy letters on a work sheet. We do not have quizzes, tests, and grades, and there are no medals handed out at the end of the school year. There are no “Best in……” ribbons handed out, and no report cards.
The focus on kindergartens in Norway is basically developing that life-long love for learning and being secure with who they are as individuals. Kids are allowed to be kids for as long as possible. They are expected to go out and experience their environment, and ask questions, all kinds of questions. They are expected to learn to wait for their turn at washing hands when its time to eat. They are expected to be able to put on their outdoor clothes by themselves (not a small feat for a 5-year old when its winter, I can assure you).
In a way, I am glad that my daughter is growing up in a country where everybody—yes, even the smallest children— are expected to be out most of the time. Babies are wrapped in woolen blankets and tucked in their wagons to sleep outside the kindergaten for their nap them in the winter. They have a saying here, “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing”. If its cold, put on warm clothes. If its raining, put on water-proof clothes. You have no excuse for not being out. In a time when an entire generation is being alienated from their environment and growing up in front of touch screens, my daughter and her friends are still able to enjoy the things I used to do as a kid back in the Philippines. OK, maybe not the spider fights on the stick and pulling sugar cane sticks out of trailers and playing “tumba patis”, but she is out of the house and experiencing her environment and that is what is important.
This summer, we went on a 3-week camping tour in North Norway. We covered 4,000 plus kilometers, so there was a lot of time spent on the car. Mia and her brother were probably bored half of the time, but they survived without their Nintendo DS (We also do not have an iPad at home). We were doing short hikes up a special mountain called Torghatten, and my little girl, who is the smallest of us all, was the first one up on the rocky trail! And while I was having height issues with going up and down a steep cliff to reach a fishing spot, the little mountain goat was navigating it like a pro! My natural instinct as a mother was to hold on to her, but I knew she could handle to terrain better than me, so I had to let her go. I was punished as a kid for going to “dangerous places” such as sea walls, and for climbing trees, but I totally understand why my parents did it (we had rules, and if you broke it, you were punished). But my daughter will be allowed to do these things, because I know she can physically handle it. She will have to set her own limits on what she cannot do, and if she falls down and get hurt, then I will be there ready with a band-aid and a kiss to blow the hurt away.
Childhood is short and fleeting, but it is where we should have our best memories. I would rather that my 5 year old daughter climb trees and play in the dirt than sit in a classroom and learn to read and write. Not that there is anything wrong with a headstart in formal education, but its just not for us. Mia knows her numbers, she can write her name, she knows almost all of the letters in the alphabet and she knows how to hold a pen properly—and she learned all this outside the classroom. She is an expert at drawing princesses and at climbing rocks. I know that like the wild flowers she likes collecting on the way home from a walk in the woods, my little girl will thrive anywhere when she is older because she is rooted strongly to her environment.
