Now and then, I come across fragments of text which resonate. Maybe it's the thought of my grandchildren that provokes this:
A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful and awe-inspiring, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the good fairy, who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from sources of our strength.
If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder without any such gift from the fairies, he needs the companionship of at east one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in. Parents often have a sense of inadequacy when confronted on the one hand with the eager, sensitive mind of a child and on the other with a world of complex physical nature, inhabited by a life so various and unfamiliar that it seems hopeless to reduce it to order and knowledge. In a mood of self-defeat, they exclaim, “How can I possibly teach my child about nature — why, I don’t even know one bird from another!”
I sincerely believe that for the child, and for the parent seeking to guide him, it is not half so important to know as to feel. If facts are the seeds that later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and the impressions of the senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds must grow. The years of early childhood are the time to prepare the soil. Once the emotions have been aroused – a sense of the beautiful, the excitement of the new and the unknown, a feeling of sympathy, pity, admiration or love – then we wish for knowledge about the object of our emotional response. Once found, it has lasting meaning. It is more important to pave the way for a child to want to know than to put him on a diet of facts that he is not ready to assimilate.
Just so – and thanks to the beautiful writing of Bronwen Hayward for this reminder. I'm looking forward to reading more ...
Carson, R. (1965). The sense of wonder. New York; Harper & Row.
Responses
My sense of awe and wonder (which I never lost) has been greatly enhanced by that of my young son. Nothing means more to me than his excitement at spotting the moon in broad daylight or his fascination (and confusion) with autumn leaves on the ground. Carson speaks to my heart here! Thank you for sharing it with us!
Give me awe, wonder and joy over sustainability literacy any day!