June 2023
A journal for practitioners and researchers interested in all aspects of children’s spirituality
June 2023
A journal for practitioners and researchers interested in all aspects of children’s spirituality
‘It’s very interesting, but it is not about children and spirituality’. In our team of editors, we sometimes come to that conclusion after reading an article someone sent us, and then we decide to not include it in Soul to Soul. With this Spring issue, something of the opposite happened.
Howard Leader was very happy to talk to Kate Carpenter about his work, encouraging children to connect with trees and nature. We thought it fitted well in this issue. But ‘spiritual’ was not Howard’s word. We invited Selma Noort to write about her work as a writer of children’s books but initially she wasn’t sure why we felt it had anything to do with spirituality. And Rosanne de Vries loved writing a review of ‘Slow Knowledge and the Unhurried Child’, but ‘strictly speaking it is not a book about spirituality’.
We have a working definition of spirituality that we use in our team. It is a starting point of our discussions and reflections, not an endpoint: ‘Spirituality is that uniquely human capacity and need for a sense of identity and of integrity, of place and of purpose, which can only be fully satisfied in relationship with others and with a transcendent Other’. We welcome contributions in which the word ‘spirituality’ is not used, because sometimes it is clear that we are talking about similar things but use a different language for it. As a team, we keep searching for language to explore ‘that uniquely human capacity’. We are interested in hearing from you about your search for language, too.
We are experimenting with ways to make Soul to Soul interactive. On June 13th, you can join us in an online conversation with Renee de Assis, about her article in this issue of Soul to Soul. Also, we will start posting quotes on our Facebook page for you to comment on.
We would like to include a collage of your thoughts in our Autumn issue.
Let’s keep in touch!
Telling Stories to Heal Childhood Trauma
Renee de Assis
Pp.4-13
Spirituality in a Classroom
Ildiko O’Dacre
Pp.14-23
Making Connections
Howard Leader
Pp.24-33
Book Review
‘Slow knowledge and the unhurried child: Time for slow pedagogies in Early Childhood
Education’
Reviewed by Rosanne DeVrie
Pp.34-39
Developing Spiritual Skills in the Classroom: A Dutch Approach
Liesbeth Vroemen
Pp.40-47
Conference Report
Dag van de Kinderspiritualiteit 2023—Verhalen zijn een Geschenk
Famke Baring
Pp.48-59
Stories as Tools
Selma Noort
Pp.60-69
Verhalen als gereedschap
Selma Noort
Pp.70-79
About ‘Soul to Soul’
Pp.80-81
Article References and Picture Credits
Pp.82-83
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When children endure trauma, their holistic trajectory is stunted. This rupture in lifespan development affects each domain: physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, imaginative, and all the other ways children grow.”
At 13 attempting fifth grade for the third time. She was severely obese, socially withdrawn, and rarely spoke, even when spoken to. Maria was one of the more than 1 million children exploited annually in the commercial sex trade Her pimp was her own mother, a woman who had been forced to relinquish parental rights to Maria
When her mother lost custody of the four eldest children, she started over and her five younger siblings. I was Maria social worker. The best I was able to do was work diligently with protective services to expedite the children to safety.
The stories and statistics are daunting. One in seven children suffered abuse in 2022 in the U.S.A. (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 2022). In 2021, more than 36 million children around the world were displaced because of conflict and violence (UNICEF, 2022). Forced marriage claims the childhoods of more than 12 million girls each year (World Vision, 2022). Parental death and divorce; verbal, physical, and cyberbullying; and events such as car accidents and natural disasters permeate the lives of young children around the world and often leave them fragmented and lost. The traumatic experiences that children endure are severe, and intervention work must prioritize spiritual healing healthcare.
Everyday spirituality is healing (Bone, 2008, p. 267). Unveiled through sacred stories that help children identify who they are and understand how they fit within their communities, spirituality invites children to make meaning out of injustice and oppression (Feuerverger, 2010).
When children endure trauma, their holistic trajectory is stunted. This rupture in lifespan development affects each domain: physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, imaginative, and all the other ways children grow. Existences are jeopardized, as trauma often results in atypical personalities and behaviors for many years following the experience. However, recent research in neurobiology evidences that the the ability to change transcends previously held scientific beliefs (Beaudoin & Zimmerman, 2011). Through intentional interventions, the brain can rewire itself, which holds promise for the mind s healing. Narrative therapy is on the cutting edge of intervention for traumatic stress disorder, which has significant implications for any professional working with traumatized children.
Narrative therapy aims to help individuals make meaning of their experiences. Therapists assist patients in separating their identities from the traumatic event. They also help patients articulate and tap into their preferred personal This work is especially important when working with trauma
It is important that professionals do not frame trauma as somehow divinely ordained or allowed; but rather, help children name the events they have endured, claim their evil, and author of a hope-filled future that includes healing and moving toward their fullest potential.
Helping children tell stories to heal their trauma is a spiritual undertaking. The transformation is often found in the transactions between storyteller and listener which prioritizes the sacredness of presence for any professional who works with children who are traumatized.
Although most educators, ministers, and developmental specialists are not licensed therapists, there are principles in narrative therapy that translate to the storytelling work that professionals can engage with young children. Particularly applicable is re-authoring, which has measurable outcomes in neuroscience. Family therapists Beaudoin and Zimmerman write, “re-authoring practices directly reinforce faint but preferred neural pathways; [initially faint] because they represent lived experiences that may have occurred less frequently and therefore accorded less meaning” (2011, p. 6).
When practitioners invite children to tell stories about themselves that celebrate their
personhood, “Neural connections become reinforced and new links are made through the strengthening of synaptic connections” (ibid). These reinforcements promote positive brain development which not only strengthens physical healing, but mental, emotional, imaginative, and spiritual healing as well.
Storytelling is an active and engaging art that uses both words and actions to reveal imagery and spurn the listener’s imagination (Yabe et al., 2018). It has the power to spark minds and forecast futures when listeners are invited to actively respond. According to neuroscientists, four characteristics of telling stories that can heal trauma are emotional arousal, novelty, repetition, and focus. Helping children tell stories that nurture their spiritual healing should embrace each characteristic.
(1) What stories are exciting to children’s senses? Because each child is different, asking them what makes them laugh or sparks their curiosities is a way to honor their passions and interests in their own healing.
(2) What new stories need to be told? Many children who are traumatized have heard stories that shame, blame, and destroy. Children need to hear new stories that celebrate the sacredness of their own lives and the ways that they can engage their communities.
(3) What stories need to be retold until children begin to believe their truth? Too often, children who are victims of vicious violations do not believe in their inherent dignity and goodness. Children must hear, and be invited to tell (and retell), stories of promise and life.
(4) What stories help children focus on the goodness that they experience through relationships, play, and being in nature? Children’s spirituality is innately imaginative, which allows them to focus their minds on life-giving themes, such as peace and beauty.
Children must understand they are not the experience they endured (i.e. the rape, car accident, bullying, physical abuse).
They must also understand that they can actively narrate the parts of their personal histories that are sacred and celebratory.
Through narration, children can link positive parts of their past to what they hope for their futures.
In working with Maria and her younger siblings, I noticed patterns of communication and behavior that I have seen repeated in other children who are traumatized. Maria was often critical of herself, giving voice to the self-mutilating thoughts she carried within her. She criticized her school work, set unrealistic standards for improving, was overly self-absorbed, and because of these patterns, she remained unhappy, disconnected, and isolated. The stories that I read with Maria and those she learned to share about herself eventually drowned out the critical voice and moved her toward a dedicated, everyday spirituality. Such sacred stories recognized the ability for Maria to transform mundane and painful events into the extraordinary, even providing consolation for the sorrows and losses she overcame (Bone, 2008, p. 270).
With every infliction of trauma, there is a belief of separateness (Maté, 2022). Trauma arrests development by creating disturbances in the child, resulting in hyper- or hypoactivity, regression, and perpetual states of fear or paralysis (van der Kolk, 2014). Trauma also damages a child’s capacity for “trust, connection, mutuality [leading to] less resilience and increased vulnerability [further] fracturing relation to the self and sabotaging connection to the other” (Hübl, 2020, p. 27).
Because of the impact that trauma has on children’s social development, it important that caregivers guide children’s healing toward empathy, a crucial milestone in social development. Empathy is a child’s emotional response to another person’s emotional state or condition, such as sadness or poverty. Such responses reflect the other person’s reality (i.e., sadness or poverty) and demonstrate that the empathetic child can identify others’ emotions and understand others’ needs (Siegler et al., 2017).
Most significantly for Maria’s spiritual healing, through storytelling, we identified ways that Maria could contribute to her school community and the lives of her younger siblings. This process helped Maria recognize her inherent value and her personal agency, intensifying her preferred self and loosening the grip of trauma. By telling the stories of her perseverance and how she helped others persevere, Maria came to believe that what was in her power mattered. She could intervene in her own life and in the lives of those closest to her. Her reinforced commitment to herself and her siblings was a self-reflective spiritual exercise (Clinton, 2008) that helped her to re-author her life’s meaning.
In her investigation of war and spirituality in the lives of young children, Zehait Gross contends that trauma “has a transformational power that elevates the individual into new metaphysical landscapes,” (2010, p. 203). Part of this power includes layers of connectedness that a child who was traumatized may feel toward others and possibly toward a supreme being or ideal, such as love or peace. Caregivers must recognize the potentiality for nurturing children toward an empathetic connection with others as a way to make meaning of the traumatic experiences they have survived. This collectivity resonates with research findings that spiritual improvement in the aftermath of trauma is less on what one might achieve alone (Bone & Fenton, 2015) and more about social connectedness, which is a protective factor against many forms of childhood trauma (Ludy-Dobson & Perry, 2010, p. 37).
Through storytelling, we prioritized her capabilities as a growing girl. Through storytelling, we actively sought moments of peace. Through storytelling, we focused on being fully present to life — a core tenet of children’s spirituality.
In their work on children’s spirituality, English researchers David Hay and Rebecca Nye identified children’s awareness sensing as a core tenet of development. This spiritual sensitivity is demonstrated in children’s attention to the here and now: attending to the immediate present, expressing alertness to spiritual matters, and demonstrating a metacognitive awareness of their personal attentiveness (Hyde, 2008; MataMcMahon, 2016). Children who have been traumatized need to reconnect to themselves, others, and the communities where they live. This includes an increased awareness of their own value, their ability to positively respond to others, and the richness of their interactions with the entire human and non-human world. Caregivers can nurture this awareness by helping children recognize their own emotions and needs as well as others’ a task at the core of empathetic responses and prosocial behavior. Because of the disruption to their lives due to traumatic experiences, it is paramount that caregivers help children to connect with compassion to the parts of themselves that are healing and whole, and connect compassionately with those around them. Storytelling, especially as it incorporates play, can increase a child’s sense of who she is, an awareness that can become more defined and integrated. Moreover, when children feel safety in the stories they create and share with others, their personal competencies and abilities are enhanced (Perry et al., 2000), further nurturing spiritual development in response to their traumatized past.
Tuesday, June 13th 2023
8:00pm (Amsterdam), 7:00pm (London)
The Dutch Stichting Kind en Spiritualiteit organizes a series of online workshops around articles from ‘Soul to Soul.’ Our next workshop will be about Renee de Assis’ article ‘Telling Stories to Heal Childhood Trauma’ in the sixth issue of ‘Soul to Soul.’ In her workshop, Renee will discuss the article with the readers. She will talk about childhood trauma and how the narratives these children create, and the rewriting of those narratives, help children healing from their trauma. In small groups, participants of the workshop are then invited to share their thoughts and questions. Small group discussions will be in English or Dutch; participants can choose. For more information and to register contact us at: info@oblimon.nl Participation is free, but a donation to Stichting Kind en Spiritualiteit (bank details on page 3), a not-for-profit organization, is greatly appreciated.
What a beautiful the longing for relationship.
Michelangelo’s painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel hands of God and Adam reaching towards each other. beautiful illustration of care, love, support, deep connection: relationship. Is this not one of the meanings of spirituality?
Ildiko O’Dacre Pedagogical Consultant (Cambridge, Ontario, Canada)Michelangelo’s painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel illustrates the hands of God and Adam reaching towards each other. What a beautiful illustration of care, love, support, deep connection: the longing for relationship. Is this not one of the meanings of spirituality? Knowing that there is something bigger than us, someone who is there for us in our need. As adults, we are supposed to be all of that for young children.
For me, the joy of teaching comes from a spiritual classroom. Whether we look at spirituality from a religious perspective or not, it originates from deep connections, love and relationships (Schein, 2017). According to this principle, young children can experience spirituality in a school environment depending on the educator’s pedagogy, life philosophy and approach. Spirituality embraces the whole child and flows with play-based learning and emergent curriculum. Emergent curriculum is based on the understanding that children are most successful at learning when curriculum experiences take in consideration their interests, strengths, needs and lived realities. This aligns with the play-based learning that Ontario applies for the Early Years.1 We should inspire multiple spiritual moments (Schein, 2017) in order to lay a solid foundation for their future mental health and well- being.
Spirituality depends on the relationship between adults and children, which is a key factor for brain development of young children. Building deep connections, sharing love, or wondering about things, spending meaningful time together opens up spiritual experiences. It helps children to flourish, develop resiliency and understand the world around them. Educators in the classroom are role models whom children follow. All humans radiate and receive energy which affects our response to each other. Therefore, educators must help create positive energy and connect with children. Csikszentmihalyi’s (2008) concept of flow best explains what it is to be connected to what one is doing; children are immersed into that moment, and time stops around them. Being aware of our own energy irradiation in our classrooms helps us to connect and create those spiritual moments.
Children have their “antennas,” they sense and connect with that frequency in which we move, they sense our vibe, the love, care or distress. We just need to awaken the senses and be authentic, children will respond intuitively. They long for these deep connections; their receptors are engaged looking to experience spirituality with the right role models around them. For example, everyone must have experienced talking to unknown babies in a store or on the street who reacted with a smile or cried out. Was it a question of personality? Is it the aura of a person? According to Miller (2021), “each of us has an awakened brain” which allows us to “perceive a greater reality and consciously connect to the life force that moves in, through and around us (p 7).” These hidden forces at work, building connections, experiencing wonder and awe (Schein, 2017) leads the children to experience spirituality. Therefore, this is why I consider it is crucial to have devoted educators in the early years classrooms who love working with young children.
I believe in what Dr. Tamas Freund, Hungarian brain researcher said, “there is no effective learning without positive experiences and joy, without being positively emotionally tuned!”2 In my experience, approaching a group of children from the angle of spiritual development, being positively emotionally tuned, yields spiritual moments which leads to new learning with joy. I always loved having fun with the children. I rely on their imagination and use dramatic play as a medium to sustain their attention in a group gathering. According to Deb Schein's (2017) theory, the first stage of spiritual development is love, trust, relationships, and deep connections, which are necessary to ignite spiritual moments. Children learn to tune to that frequency, be themselves, feel free to explore. Therefore, a spiritual approach in the classroom enhances children’s learning in a play based, well designed environment with knowledgeable educators who are role-modelling behaviour, actions, words, asking questions can generate spiritual moments.
Their authoritative (Fitzgerald 2016) approach enables children to feel accepted, even when they make mistakes. We need to slow down and ask ourselves ‘do we approach children in our classroom with love? Do we have trusting relationships? Are we connected with them? Do we inspire wonder and awe?’ Dr. Schein (2017) distinguishes spiritual moments in time, in space, in and with nature, in strong relationships and with big questions (Schein 2017).
Designing a schedule that supports these connections, planning according to children’s interests and using stimuli that support the awe and wonder keeps learning active, while it generates spirituality in our space. Planning the environment enhances learning and irradiates positive energy. It supports building relationships, and a sense of belonging, and encourages children to be themselves without fear or anxiety, while they are free to explore and experience joy. It changes the dynamic in the classroom resulting in fewer behavioural problems.
Awakening the spirituality in children also contributes to enhancing self-directed explorations, as the social-constructivist approach (Vygotsky 1926, 1928) suggests. Experiencing spiritual moments in our classroom is conditioned on well-planned and implemented routines as well, with visual schedules or use of timers to give them heads up for change. A sure sign of spirituality is when children start singing while they are crafting or drawing with their peers. It is feedback for a reflective educator, that they feel connected, loved, and accepted. Early Childhood Educators should multiply and build on these spiritual moments, turning their classrooms into spiritual spaces.
According to Dr. Schein (2017) “spiritual moments in space emerge out of spiritual moments in time because they require educators and parents to think about the environment in which the child is spending time. (p. 101).” It is important to purposefully design the environment in a way that is not just aesthetically beautiful, inspiring, or prompting for action but where they can also experience awe, wonder, and calmness. Incorporating nature, providing loose parts to play with and designing activities that look inviting, where they can experience awe and wonder is also supporting the spiritual classroom. In such environments children feel encouraged to ask questions, and experience spiritual moments in time and in space (Schein, 2017).
Another way of igniting spiritual moments in the classroom is designing their environment in a way they feel encouraged to engage with the materials that support awe, wonder and joy, not just learning. Designing nooks and corners in the classrooms where strategically placed cultural items or books invite children to spend some time in quiet, calm moments exploring, enables spirituality.
The theory of Reggio Emilia suggests that the
This picture (fig. 1) captures a spiritual moment where children (aged five) in a cosy nook were practicing writing using pretend play. They are learning how to write each other’s names and copying words from books. This is literacy which shifted from the “Hi Five” game (handprints on the floor and the dice for learning to read the dice, number recognition, and adding).
A big card box, different kinds of loose parts (objects), or plants in the classroom can trigger spiritual moments that fill them with positive energy. Having places where children can remove themselves from the action and spend some selfdirected, extended time exploring their environment also triggers spiritual moments. These girls were sitting in the reading nook for a while reading and discussing their book lost in their exploration (fig 2).
Unfortunately, I captured the end of it. Play-based learning makes this possible while it builds their spirituality. Working in a Catholic school, before Christmas, I used the Advent season to prepare for welcoming Jesus in our hearts. We used the cradle to fill it with “hay” (fig. 3 & 4) to prepare a nice and warm bed for the baby by making sure we are kind, helpful friends, doing our best so we could put a handful of shredded packing paper into the cradle representing the manger.
Figure 1 Figure 2 20It brought joy seeing that the good deeds multiplied in our classroom, supporting the building of social skills and emotional satisfaction. It was spreading like wildfire. I didn't hear “I didn't play with that” - at clean up time, or I didn't get an answer like, “It is not mine” - when I pointed out an accidentally dropped snack wrapping on the floor. The team was moving on the same wavelength. We were connected spiritually! Positive energy was flowing among us. Spiritual moments in relationships do not depend on cultural background, gender, or identity, rather, it depends on the relationship and love and care we share. This can be one example how educators can create a safe space in their classrooms by transforming their environment into spiritual spaces. They receive kindness and reciprocate acts of kindness.
It happened that two children bumped into one another, and one drew blood. He was distressed by the sight of blood, having the tooth cut his lip. I felt the need to lessen the problem, saying with a warm tone, “Oh, yes, I see the blood too. Do you think we need to call the ambulance?” The child stopped crying for a second, looked at me with big eyes and said, “NO,” and continued crying. As children were looking on, I reassured him of his safety and continued, “Then, should we call the ambiance?” (this is another child’s word for an
ambulance), trying to joke. To this, he responded, “no'' with a smile on his face, but another bystanding, concerned friend said, “No, we should call the ambiance” like she would have known better. And here is the irony, we were looking for the ambiance to restore the wellbeing.
For example, Jeanny took a long time trying to tie a bow on the toilet paper roll (fig.5). It was part of an effort to wrap an unknown gift for me. When she was successful, she popped up from the table, with a wide smile, saying, “Mrs. O’Dacre, I made a gift for you, you see?” to which I responded, “Oh, how kind of you! Thank you so much. I see you glued a letter G, for gift.” To this she responded excitedly, “Yes, yes, unwrap it, unwrap it! You need to unwrap the ribbon,” while she was jumping excitedly in front of me. She longed to connect and was immersed in her work experiencing flow (Csikszentmihalyi,2008). She was determined, having internal motivation. This gift idea of hers took a lot of time and effort and made her happy. Spiritual moments like this suggest deep connections, energy flow between the individuals but it also builds persistence.
Figure 3 Figure 4Another example of how spiritual moments (Schein, 2017) can enhance learning was when I observed three children at the light table (fig. 6).
Soon a child asked, “Why do we have a mailbox in the classroom?” Pretending that I didn't know about it, letting him show where it was, I called for the attention of the whole group asking Jimmy to share what he discovered. Some claimed that maybe Santa was visiting overnight and left it behind for us to receive our letters. Naturally, this invitation was intended for that, but how much more powerful it was without me asking them to write letters to Santa. It was magical to see their excitement and motivation writing the letters. Depending on their level, some were writing, others were drawing. When Jimmy came to me asking to help him write a “real letter” (fig. 8) to Santa, he fully intended to write a letter asking for an envelope and a stamp. It happened that we had golden stamps near the mailbox (Fig.9). This excitement grew for days and the first thing in the morning they rushed to check whether the letters were gone.
Just before Halloween, I put glowing green rocks, colourful googly eyes of various sizes and plastic pumpkins as invitation (term we use for a strategically placed set up) to encourage them to make patterns. I captured a spiritual moment in space. Those children sorted the objects and started taking turns. Being immersed in it they figured out that by taking turns, they can build a pattern. I triggered another spiritual moment by strategically placing a mailbox on a shelf at their eye level, where they usually do their writing and drawing (fig. 7).
Figure 6 Figure 7 Figure 8 (Name covered to protect identity) Figure 9 22Pedagogy is the method and practice of teaching, and spirituality can be pedagogy. Asking big questions (Schein 2017), reflecting on our practice will enhance spiritual moments in class and it also supports building positive relationships. A natural, intrinsically motivated reward system contributes to spiritual moments, regardless of the children's skin colour, culture or gender. This reward system is illustrated by the sun and cloud image in the picture (fig. 10).
Spirituality in the classroom gives children a sense of success and positivity. Ergo, turning our classrooms into spiritual spaces makes children more motivated and engaged in natural exploration and supports better social interaction, being accepted and loved. They will not be afraid of trying new things or making mistakes. They will be ready to explore and learn. Our classrooms, as spiritual spaces, support optimism, confidence, determination, enthusiasm, focus, patience to mention some of the traits of positive thinking while it strengthens their resilience. These spiritual moments (Schein, 2017) build a positive sense of self for children. They learn to show empathy, kindness, and caring towards each other. Children tend to imitate adults with whom they have a relationship, they love, and or look up to. Spirituality can help in times of distress, trauma, and despair. Children who develop spirituality are more resilient and happier! Let’s ignite the spirituality in our classrooms to create peace within.
Disclaimer
All pictures in the article have approval from parents of the children. All names used in the article are changed.
Footnotes
1 How Does Learning Happen?, Ontario’s Pedagogy for the Early Years, 2014.
Observed kind and empathetic acts are recorded on a strip of yellow paper. They are complimented as it happens. When poor choices are made, they are recorded on a raindrop. Private problemsolving follows to support better choices. During an end of the day reflection, in a large group, we can experience spiritual moments by practicing ways to show respect for each other and to build peace within. Sharing the positive experiences encourages others to do better while discussing poor choices teaches how to problem-solve.
Supportive interactions generate spiritual moments in relationships such as counselling each other or helping a friend to find their shoes. One day, two four-year-olds were talking, “Come, I know a better way. I am serious, I am not joking,” reaching to his friend's back, gently guiding him towards the washroom. This friend needed to rinse his yoghourt cup, but being so short he could not reach the tap even with the support stool. He was endangered, pulling himself up and hanging on the counter. I had previously explained to this kind friend, being just as short, the same thing. This illustrates the power of a role model!
2 Waldorf Iskola, November 12th, 2010, Mi kell a gyermeknek? https://youtu.be/WdW8jhIoy2Q Final Picture: Expressing love and connection with a pot of roses.
“What others might describe as ‘spiritual’ I see as connection and balance.
I aim to help young people to see how much we rely on the natural world being able to balance, change and adapt. Nature has had to be resilient to survive.”
Howard Leader is a retired United Kingdom Secondary School Teacher who has taught Science to generations of children over a 36-year career. His forte is Physics although he has also taught Biology and Chemistry. Howard spent a year working in a Primary School prior to deciding that he would pursue a career in education. It was a discussion with a Careers Advisor that enabled him to find this path for himself as he was told he could get an Unqualified Teacher Year if he committed to being a teacher later on. As Howard had no idea what it was going to be like he did not really know what to expect, however, it appealed to him on the basis that ‘it sounded like me’ to attempt to do something like this. Alongside his teaching, Howard has always had an appreciation for trees, and this has led him to volunteer working as a verifier of ancient trees through the Ancient Tree Inventory.
Howard was interviewed by Kate Carpenter, ‘Soul to Soul’ Editorial team. In his own words...
“From the age of two years, until I went to college, I lived in very close proximity to Epping Forrest, on the outskirts of London. My childhood was spent exploring forest life: watching Jays in the streams; discovering the earthworks at Ambersbury (enjoying the fact it was so overgrown); and enjoying friendship with the other local boys who like me found the freedom of roaming relaxing. I just loved it all and it gave me a sense of home and belonging. Several years ago, I returned to re-explore this very special place with one of my grown-up children. Epping Forrest is for me – a connection to my childhood and to nature.
“Growing up within the context of a Jewish family, I remain culturally Jewish, but I am not religious, considering myself an Atheist. What others might describe as ‘spiritual’ I see as connection and balance. I aim to help young people to see how much we rely on the natural world being able to balance, change and adapt. Nature has had to be resilient to survive. The Beech Tree is a good example of this as it is moving to more Northern areas in recent years. In our modern world we have tried to inflict on people a particularly Western way of seeing things. The use of the word ‘Gods’ makes it particularly difficult for us to view socalled ‘primitive’ ideas, values and understanding with any openness. Our ancestors often had a clearer understanding of nature than we do today, recognising the importance of honouring the earth and the cycles of life shown within the plant and tree community.
‘Primitive’ ideas can be sophisticated in their own way. The Industrial Revolution upset the balance of nature, made sustainability difficult and posed great challenges for our climate.
“From a scientific perspective I have developed an important interest and connection to trees, in particular those that are ancient. An opportunity came for me to visit Epping Forest with some of the most respected professionals in tree management within the UK. This included rangers, entomologists, estate managers etc, various people from the scientific community who had an interest in the sustainability of our ancient forests. It was a magical experience for me, enlightening me as to how trees support and sustain each other. Listening to people who had such an affinity to their surroundings was so powerful. Over the years, I have developed my volunteering work and been involved in many projects designed to help young people to understand, explore and protect their environment.
“As an Ancient Tree Verifier, I work with other volunteers who come from a range of backgrounds. My role is to check on the readings the volunteers have made and add extra details. I am looking at the size of the tree’s girth: this will be relevant to the species of tree. I am checking the position of each tree, where it is growing and its general condition. The most ancient of trees tend to be hollow. If the tree crown is low, it might be a sign that the tree has retrenched.
“We have too fixed ideas on intelligence. Plants have their own sense of intelligence; we need to de-humanise our ideas of intelligence and see all forms of intelligence as equal. Experiential learning for young people is key if they are to understand the awe and wonder that exists all around them in nature.
“The connection between trees and their natural environments I see as scientific, chemical processes, but others might see a spiritual dimension to them. Trees have an awareness of their surroundings, making decisions over where the branches stop growing. As a Scientist, I see this as decision-making, when a tree cannot cope with higher growth you might see stag horns. Trees need photosynthesis and you will often find the younger branches are at human height. Ancient trees tend not to be tall but actually shrink in height rather than girth. They draw down from the top.
“Trees try to defend themselves. For example, holly bushes have developed to protect themselves by producing leaves with spines on the lower branches where predators might be trying to eat them whilst the leaves at the top have no spines.
“Trees live in communities, they form supportive communities and are able to fight each other for sunlight, to compete but also to support when necessary. A lone tree stump will be nourished by the other trees around it. In one particular study of Acacia Trees, it was found that when giraffes started to munch on the leaves of one tree it would not only poison its own leaves but would send signals out to neighbouring trees to warn them too. The giraffes would then not eat leaves off the neighbouring trees. This reaction might be seen differently by some people who see this as trees communicating not only within the plant community but also with the animals and predators that they feel threaten them.
“Trees have a sense of knowing about their surroundings. For example, on narrow country lanes, trees and plants will avoid growing within the pathway of the vehicles. This produces an arching effect above the road that we commonly see here in the UK. The constant whooshing of the air of the vehicles driving though the surroundings allows the trees to recognise that it is not a good place to grow.
“Seven to eight years ago, around the time that Forest schools were really taking off in the UK, I was involved in a local project called East Feast. The idea was to grow produce at school and then produce a meal at the end that the pupils could enjoy. The pupils did other activities such as tree measuring and picking out their favourite trees for example. I worked in a local area at Fox Covert that was very near an extremely busy road. We looked closely at the trees, saw how hollow they were and experimented with how many children could stand inside the hollow tree trunk. The children really enjoyed these activities. You could see them connecting with and exploring with nature in new ways.
“I have also been working at the Flatford Family Nature Days making wooden spoons with the young people. These were originally held twice a year but have latterly been run three times year. It has been an eye-opener to see youngsters sat for up to an hour whittling away without a screen in sight.
“In conclusion, it is so important to enable our young people to make a connection to nature, whether it is in a scientific context and/or for their own emotional and spiritual wellbeing. In encouraging the exploration of awe and wonder of the natural world hopefully in the future, balance and connection will be restored between human beings and their environments.”
Every living thing is sentient.
“Mycorrhizal fungi are fascinating to study: they live underground and form a network (world-wide web) connecting trees (and other plants) through their roots.
The fungi distribute water and nutrients among the trees and in return they receive sugars from the trees. Teaching young people about the interconnectedness and delicate balance of nature can enable them to have a sense of awe and wonder.
Activities
Using a tape measure simply take measurements of several trees in close proximity.
What does it tell you about the age of the tree(s)? Where does each tree fit in within the community of trees?
Are they all roughly the same size or are some older than others?
Are there any ancient trees?
In the United Kingdom you can record your trees on the Woodland Trust Ancient Tree Inventory online.
Are there any hollow trees?
What might the tree have experienced in its lifetime?
How might the environment about it have changed?
Do you think the tree knows how old it is?
to consider: these activities have the potential for both scientific and philosophical discussion.
If we take Rebecca Nye and David Hay’s (2006) categories of Chid-Self (CS), Child-People (CP) Child World (CW) and Child Other (CO) it is possible to see crossovers between the categories within these activities. I will not define them for you but just ask that you think about them as you look at each activity to see where they might be appropriate for your own students and/or children.
(Kate Carpenter, ‘Soul to Soul’ Editorial Team)
Can you find any tree stumps in the area?
Imagine that the trees around them might be feeding the tree stump through the fungi. Can you see any evidence of fungi around any of the trees?
We know that the fungal strands are below the soil, does it matter that we cannot see them? How do we know they are there?
Is something only real if you can see it? Where might we find out more?
Look out for mushrooms and toadstools that are the fruiting bodies of the fungi in the ground or in the base.
What awareness has the tree about its environment?
Can you see any evidence of the trees showing arching at the top to avoid vehicles or other things?
Can you see any stag horns to see that the tree has redirected its growth to lower down on the tree trunk?
Can you see trees or bushes that have leaves that are pricklier at the base of the tree or plant?
Are there any holly bushes – can you see where the prickly leaves stop?
Can you see any other evidence of trees defending themselves or competing with other trees and plants?
You might see that if there are lots of trees, they are very tall as the trees compete for sunlight?
Does the tree have a sense of knowing or is it all chemical processes?
How does it feel to be surrounded by trees?
How does it make you feel to know that the trees around you have been growing, adapting and changing for such a long while?
Why do you think they need to be able to grow, adapt and change?
How do we grow, adapt and change?
Why must we look after nature?
Does nature look after us?
‘
(Review by Rosanne de Vries, ‘Soul to Soul’ Editorial Team) 34
As a teacher trainer in the field of religious and worldview education I’m highly interested in the pedagogy of young children. So, when this new research book came out in may 2022, I instantly thought it would be something that would be inspiring for my students. Firstly, this book and the research Alison Clark has conducted are not spiritual, but something in the title intrigued me either way in a spiritual way. I think the word unhurried has a fascinating undertone, and this research would tell me something different than synonyms like a not fast, slow or tardy child.
I firstly will tell something about the writer Alison Clark. Clark is Professor of Early Childhood Education at the University of South Eastern Norway and a research fellow at the Institute of Education at University College in London. Slow knowledge and the unhurried child: time for slow pedagogies in early childhood education, is funded by the Froebel Trust. The Froebel Trust aims “to serve as a catalyst for urgent discussion among researchers, practitioners and policy makers about the relationship with time in early childhood environments.”1
Since the late nineties Clark is interested in children’s perspectives, interest and experiences and how that influences the way we teach.2 The focus of her research is pointing out to listening to children. Clark developed the Mosaic Approach, a methodology for listening to and engaging with young children’s views and experiences.3 This method for listening to children is inspired by Reggio Emelia, where there are a lot of ways to listen and observe young children.4 Together they form the mosaic which give a multiperspective view on the young child. So, listening and giving children a voice is very important for Alison Clark. As she states in the previous mentioned video: listening is the same as being in the moment with children. Therefore you need to be slow and take time. This is the reason for the research and the book Slow Knowledge and the Unhurried Child.
The book consists of three parts, of which the first part is about the reasons for talking about time and slow pedagogy in early childhood education. The second part contains examples of ways early childhood educators deal with time and slow knowledge in different parts of the world. The third part contains ideas for the future to inspire early childhood educators. The eleven chapters in this book are full of citations from the interviews and focus groups Clark organized, together with an extensive theoretical framework. At the end of every chapter Clark gives the reader inspiring questions. The questions will make you think about a way in which you can use slow pedagogy in your own teaching practice.
The chapters of the first part start with an explanation of the current situation in different educational publications. Nowadays education is about achievements and performance. Clark refers to researchers such as Gert Biesta and Hartmut Rosa as being highly critical of the current neoliberal principles that have crept into education. In other words, these neoliberal education systems in Western countries, create full curricula that are under enormous time pressure.
After the first three chapters, Clark argues why taking time is so enormously important for the young child. She states that it is time in early childhood education for slow pedagogy and slow knowledge. The first concept is interesting because slow pedagogy allows us to pause and dwell in space for more than a moment. 5 It’s about making time for children to learn, and for teachers to be interested in children and listen to them. And I think especially the second concept is very interesting; slow knowledge is understanding that is built over time.6 When you are not inhibited by a daily schedule you will see educational topics in everything. From the rocks in a schoolyard and really understanding a story, to listening to the tapping of a woodpecker.
Clark calls it timefulness (inspired by mindfulness). To be timeful you need to listen to the children and look and feel how they are doing in their play. What comes to my mind is that it would be nice to explore how the environment and space of the classroom matter for how we view time and learning in early childhood education. I know that researchers in the field of spirituality already did research like that, see Deborah Schein and Lisa Miller.
The six chapters of the second part of the book are slow practices in early childhood education. The chapters summaries different suggestions for creating space, using materials and ways of pedagogical documentation in the vision of slow pedagogy. What stands out for me in this second part, is the way Clark gives the rich array of examples. It is really astonishing how many teachers and pedagogues she interviewed, what gives the reader a lot of ideas on how to involve this vision of slow pedagogy in the classroom. I think Clark made a good choice to connect the vision of Froebel to Reggio Emilia and slow knowledge.
This is the aim of this book: to inspire teachers and pedagogues to take children outside, give them lived experiences, taking time to listen to children and give them a voice in this performanceoriented culture. Liesbeth Vroemen (another member of the ‘Soul to Soul’ Editorial Team) has an article in this issue (from page 40 onwards) about the spiritual skills. When I compare these spiritual skills with the in Dutch Education. Froebel principles,7 I see a lot of overlap in the way children are treated.
When you take this book as a starting point for your educational view, you will need to expose children to experiences both inside and outside of school. This vision revolves around a certain attitude as a teacher, to see children as an equal and to involve them in the education you provide.
There is only one thing missing for me in this research. It is unfortunate that Clark's research focuses mainly on Western society (Norway, Great Britain, Japan and Australia). It would be a wonderful addition to also speak to Asian, African or South American teachers about how they pay attention to time in early childhood education. I recommend every early childhood educator or pedagogue to read this book, because it makes you think about the way we have structured our society and curriculum. As far as I am concerned, this book is a wonderful exposition of how to contribute to young children's development in an informed way.
Interested in more? The website of the Froebel Trust contains an hour-long webinar and ten minutes films with information about Alison Clark and her project on time and pedagogy: www.froebel.org.uk.
1 Froebel.org.uk
2 https://www.froebel.org.uk/training/films/slow-pedagogy
3 Clark. A & Moss, P (2001) Listening to Young Children: The Mosaic Approach. London: National Children’s Bureau.
What does this book have to do with spirituality if it’s not obvious in the first place? If we look at the Froebelian Principles this research is based on it is all about unity and connectedness, relationships, the power of symbols and the importance of play. These principles are there to “help children to relate to their inner world of feelings, ideas and lived experiences taking them to new levels of thinking, feeling, imagining and creating as a resource for the future”.
4 Reggio Emilia is a pedagogical approach to teaching where observing and documenting is important. It focuses on the interests and perspectives of young children. Teachers need to listen to children to know wat they want and what the challenge them. More information at: www.reggiochildren.it/en
5 This citation is taken from Payne, P. G., and Wattchow, B., 2009. Phenomenological deconstruction, slow pedagogy and the corporeal turn in wild environment/outdoor education. Canadian Journal of Environmental Education, 14 (1), 15
32.
6 This quote is from one of the interviews that Clark conducted 7 froebel.org.uk 38
In all these educational visions it is about a certain way of connecting children to their inside world, and the world outside. For me this is a basic principle of spirituality.
Letting children experience awe and wonder with lived experiences, and a teacher who coaches them in a very respectful and appreciating way.
‘Spiritual skills are the heart of religious education’. This statement seems to make a lot of sense, and yet sounds unusual. It did to me, anyway. When I was invited ten years ago to join the editorial team of ‘Hemel en Aarde’ (‘Heaven and Earth’ www.hemelenaarde.nl), a Dutch resource for religious education in primary schools, I discovered that their focus was on cultivating six spiritual skills. I found it refreshing. So do teachers when they attend a workshop about this approach. When we focus on spiritual skills, religious education no longer is just about a certain subject matter or about something parents expect or the curriculum dictates: it is about children and what makes them thrive.
Hemel en Aarde is a resource for religious education in magazine form. Five issues are published every year, containing six lessons for the lower, middle, and upper years of primary school. It also contains background articles and poems. Each issue centers around a theme and in the lessons, children become acquainted with stories, customs, and symbols from different religious and non-religious traditions in connection with this theme. But the common thread of the teaching material is that children develop 'spiritual skills'. What do those skills entail? How can religious education contribute to the development of those skills? What does that require of the teacher?
Before I tell you more about this, we need to look at the term ‘religious education’ for it is not entirely adequate. In Dutch schools, the most common word for this type of education is ‘levensbeschouwing’, for which there isn’t really an English equivalent. It may be translated as philosophy of life, religious persuasion and also the activity of contemplating the big questions of life. As a school subject, it means exploring these questions together and in dialogue with religious and non-religious traditions. The good thing,
for me, is that it is broader than ‘religious education’. On the downside, it sounds quite cerebral, although in practice, ‘levensbeschouwing’ in Dutch primary schools often involves a lot of storytelling and creative activities.
In the Netherlands, over 60% of primary schools are officially faith-based (Christian, Islamic, Jewish, Hindu). But in most schools, children whose parents practice a religion are a minority.
‘Levensbeschouwing’ is not mandatory but faithbased schools can include it in their curriculum.
‘Public schools’ (which in the Netherlands means: religiously neutral) have to offer some form of ‘levensbeschouwing’ if parents ask for it, but parents also have the right to opt out. For many teachers, the aim of ‘levensbeschouwing’ is that children form their own opinion about ethical and philosophical questions, learn about the various religions that are present in our society and learn to behave respectfully towards people who have different views or customs.
In this context, Hemel en Aarde offers ideas for classroom activities. With the somewhat eccentric aim of developing spiritual skills. The editors started with a slightly different set of skills but identified the present six a few years ago, after reflection on our experience so far. We believe these skills are important for all children, regardless of their background. They are recognized in various spiritual traditions and in current literature about children’s spirituality. Based on our experience, we also believe they are skills that actually can be taught in primary schools. In other words: they really are skills that children can get better at through practice in school, and teachers who are not necessarily specialized in religious education can work with them.
Not a day goes by without young children seeing something that makes their jaw drop. A drawbridge. A dead mouse. How a hair dryer makes your hair start to flap. But wonder is not just amazement at something new. It opens your heart to the miracle behind things. Children also ask plenty of metaphysical questions. Where was I before I was born? Where does the universe end? Where did yesterday go? Wondering is normal for young children; they already are good at it. The challenge is to keep that up as you get bigger and more streetwise. To feel at home with the realization that there are many things we cannot comprehend. In the lessons of Hemel en Aarde we are working on this by presenting fascinating and awesome things and say, as it were: 'Would you look at this!' In one of my
favorite issues for example, called ‘Island’, children were introduced to several unusual islands, such as Tristan da Cunha and Easter Island.
and realize: this is good, this is what it's all about. You can practice connecting. It sometimes takes courage. It may mean hearing what the other, or the earth, or your own heart needs, and then not remaining indifferent.
According to many spiritual traditions, the realization that everything is connected to everything else is at the root of morality. It makes you aware of your responsibility for the well-being of others.
In many lessons, we also introduce children to the way in which wonder and awe are cultivated in spiritual traditions. For example, in myths, in contemplating philosophical questions or in rituals that celebrate the mystery of life.
In the lessons of Hemel en Aarde we practice connecting with our own inner world in artistic activities. These lessons are about the process of exploring your inner world through art and that means that painting or drawing is not a nice extra to a lesson: it is the heart of it. We practice connecting with people when children listen to each other's stories, but also when they dance or sing together. We offer stories in which children can recognize examples of how people connect with each other, or the earth, or the divine, or the deceased, including stories about how people can struggle with this. And especially in the lessons for older children, we think about responsibility and the possibilities that children themselves have to actively contribute to the world around them.
The aim of that lesson was just to discover that these places exist, share a sense of wonder and talk about the questions they triggered. Which does not necessarily mean finding answers to these questions. That is an important point for the teacher to keep in mind.
In the lessons of Hemel en Aarde, we introduce children to stories, symbols, and rituals from different traditions. They discover where certain symbols come from and are then invited to explore them in artistic activities. We also invite children to let their own imagination speak. In poems, drawings, or drama they express something of their experiences, dreams and ideas and they try out how you can communicate with each other in images and symbols.
Spiritual traditions invite us to imagine what life could be like, what is possible in terms of justice, love and happiness.
If your imagination does not extend beyond what is now, you will not move.
Spiritual skills are developed in interaction with other people, and with stories, practices, and ideas from religious traditions. These echoe the wisdom of many generations. To ‘relate’ means to explore and question religious traditions with an open mind. It means you can discover what those traditions mean to other people, and how you respond to them yourself. If you are skilled at ‘verhouden’, you take advantage of the fact that generations before you struggled with the same questions as you. You can be nourished and corrected by what religions offer, and vice versa you can also look critically at those traditions.
In the lessons of Hemel en Aarde, we introduce children to customs and insights from various traditions. But it's not just about knowledge: we let children practice 'relating' to those customs and insights. What do I find beautiful, what do I find strange? What makes me think? In the lesson plans, we urge teachers to postpone questions of opinion or standpoints. We want the children to keep moving! For example, in a lesson where children learn about Ramadan, teachers may ask children who have some experience with fasting to share what it means to them. They may ask the other children if fasting appeals to them and discuss with the whole group what might make fasting difficult or easy, and what it might bring about.
Becoming skilled in ‘verhouden’ also means learning how things sometimes take time and effort. With time, children can learn not to immediately switch off when something seems a bit odd or too difficult. Sometimes you really need to digest a story before it starts to make sense to you. And often there is not one simple answer to the question what a certain religious holiday or ritual is all about. We let children try things out, for example a ritual.
Silence, attention, concentration, in all times and cultures people practice this. It helps them hear their own inner voice and become more receptive to the divine. Religious traditions are a rich source of experience in ‘verstillen’. In worship services and rituals, people become silent together. Spiritual traditions also teach us different ways to turn down the noise in our head. You can practice stillness by, for example, listening to your own breath with your eyes closed, or by doing something crafty with your full attention, or by motor or sensory exercises.
And stilling can sometimes be very easy when you are in a place that makes you quiet. Discovering which places, activities, or resources help you quiet down within yourself is part of the skill we're talking about. In Hemel en Aarde we regularly contribute methods that are aimed at stillness. Children get to know what yoga, chi gong or lighting candles before an icon do to them. But every lesson can be an exercise in stillness when you invite children to do something with their full attention.
We let them play with the material by dramatizing a story with room for improvisation. Or we let them philosophize about views they come across. It is important that teachers model an attitude of curiosity, patience, and honesty.
Do you feel valued? Do you experience life as ultimately meaningful? Do you have the courage to trust others and to keep your heart open to what happens to yourself and others? That is an attitude to life that you would like to instill in all your pupils. According to psychologist Erik Erikson, children develop a basic trust in the world around them in the first year and a half of their lives. Or not, when they lack caring, trustworthy adults. Those first months set the tone. However, later experiences can still do a lot. For many people, being religious means to have faith in God/the divine (and not so much: to agree with certain dogma’s). Religious traditions often revolve around images of a loving power, to whom every human being is valuable. And most religions have festivals and rituals that express that light always conquers darkness, life is stronger than death. These are sources of trust that we introduce children to. We also offer physical exercises that foster trust in one’s own body or a sense of being carried by the earth. And we encourage teachers to show children that their own story matters and that their questions are important. In this way, our lessons contribute to trust because children experience that their inner world is valued.
When the overall aim of levensbeschouwing is to contribute to spiritual skills, the aim of each lesson must be formulated in a very open way. Children explore a theme and look at it from different angles. That process of exploring is more important than the product. This also means that we design lessons in such a way that the teachers can play with the order of activities. We have an explicit rule that a lesson plan never starts with: ‘In the previous lesson, the children have learned…’.
We as writers do not know what the children will have learned and we don’t even know what the previous lesson was, because a teacher may have decided to start with lesson 4 and then do lesson 2. The focus on spiritual skills also has consequences for our choice of material. We often choose almost forgotten symbols, a story from a religious tradition that is not present in the Netherlands, or a regional custom that people from other parts of the country may not know. The criterion is not that children need to learn the most important facts about the largest religious groups in our country. The criterion is that it may touch their heart, spark their imagination, or bring them some wisdom to think about.
On April 14th, the sixth Dag van de Kinderspiritualiteit (Day of Children’s Spirituality) took place. It is organized by Stichting Kind en Spiritualiteit. (For an introduction go to https://oblimon.nl/wp-content/ uploads/2020/10/Stichting-KindSpiritualiteit.pdf).
My name is Famke and I am a student in Religious Studies at Radboud University here in Nijmegen. I had the opportunity to volunteer at this event, not for the first, but for the second time. I could have joined as a regular participant, but what I like about volunteering is being able to learn about the logistics of an event like this and talking to people ‘backstage’. I also know the venue where the event was held, the HAN campus, (HAN University of Applied Sciences - Hogeschool van Arnhem en Nijmegen) very well, so it makes sense to help where I can.
This year’s theme was Verhalen zijn een Geschenk (Stories are a Gift).
People have been telling stories since the beginning of time, it’s how we make sense of the world around us. Stories can heal, provoke, disturb, connect us, make us wonder and much more. But how do you tell children stories in a nurturing way? How do you choose or create the right story for that purpose?
Selma Noort was this year’s speaker. She is a Dutch children’s author and has written over a hundred books. In her address she explained her thought process when writing, but also when visiting schools and what this has to do with spirituality.
The key point of her reading was that there’s countless ways of being in this world and there’s endless possibilities. No-one is perfect. Not the children in her books, nor the adults. When she explains why the children or adults sometimes get stuck, she proposed the thought of a personal toolbox. Everyone gets one at birth. In this toolbox there’s useful character traits and talents to deal with life. We get more tools as we grow, but we will never have everything. She made us think about our own toolbox and the tools we miss when taking on the job called life. When life gets though, remember that we can only do our best with the tools accessible to us. That’s why we need each other, and stories can also be a tool. Stories can give us examples of how to take on a job and the writer can share their tools.
I found a lot of consolation in the toolbox concept.
Selma is very aware of these examples and values she conveys in the challenges her characters face. It’s heartwarming to me and my younger self that there are writers like Selma who put so much thought and care in the creation of their characters and their stories, knowing what they can provide for younger and older readers. Older too, because I
Reading and recognizing myself in stories and characters became my way of dealing with questions, life-themes, and the emotions that home had no place for. Stories made me reflect on who I wanted to be; they gave me hope and examples of the many possibilities in life.
The Day of Children’s Spirituality is also an excellent event if you’re looking for inspiration. This year, as well as last year I met people with jobs I never thought could exist. I learned about Bibliodrama and Godly Play, for example. There was someone with a flower-picking (or cutting) garden, a place I forgot you could encounter spirituality too. I had a conversation with Kate Adams about her research and what she hopes to accomplish, and saw several familiar faces. After a delicious lunch, the two rounds of workshops started. I attended two.
Godly Play is a way of telling stories that fits into the Montessori philosophy. It is a multisensory experience that assumes children have experience with the mystery of God’s presence. Godly Play has four phases. In the first phase you step inside the room. There’s no contact with the storyteller and you sit down. The story is told verbally with an important role for objects and gestures. Mariska told the story of Abraham and Sarah. She opened a sack of sand, the desert. The story was kept simple and sober, which made it poetic. Not a word too much, but everything was said. It was calming.
In the second phase it is time for wondering. “I wonder…” is asked by the storyteller. The answers are given by the children, or adults in our case, in the circle. “I wonder what Adam might have felt during the journey.” “I wonder why God made led them through the desert.” “I wonder how we treat travelers.” The answers are handled with care and are not responded to, so it remains a safe space.
In the third phase, there’s time to process. This is done in silence, individually. On the tables there was a wide array of craft supplies, paper, paint, pencils and much more. What I like about it, is that you’re not obliged to make anything; staring out the window is also processing and there’s no creative pressure, which in turn makes it easier to create if you want to.
The fourth phase is for celebrating and feasting. This phase is used to eat something together and to share what has been created in the previous phase. It can be seen as an answer to the story. When we returned to the adult versions of ourselves and talked about our experiences in the phases, many participants were touched, including myself.
Zinvol Tekenen Coffee!For me it was the way the story was kept to its essence and the fact that you cannot get around thinking about the story on a deeper level. You have to ask yourself: how does this relate to me and my life?
If you get overwhelmed, I recommend taking a workshop outside, a literal breath of fresh air. Ity and Alberthe work together, they organize workshops under the name of Tuin der Zinnen (‘Garden of Sentences’ or ‘Garden of Meaning’) where nature and stories take the centerstage.
We took a short walk to the garden of the Albertinum, a former monastery where previous editions of the Day of Children’s Spirituality have been held. It was the perfect place to do a guided group meditation on nature and stories, which opened my mind and imagination. Ity and Alberthe proposed stories as a way of entering another world. Together we explored the way existing stories can help us process and heal, but also how we can draw up our own stories for that same purpose and what can help us.
I don’t remember everything from this workshop, since I was translating to English, which is an interesting experience in itself, but what I took from it, is that inspiration is everywhere. I try to pay more attention when I’m outside in nature, and giving words to the sensations and experiences, or finding gaps in my vocabulary, helps with that. The pigeon outside my window can be an annoying distraction while I’m trying to study, but I can also write a spell about it to channel my frustrations.
The Lost Words, a book by Macfarlane and Morris (2017) was used in the workshop. The book contains spells, and they start with the letters of the word. A spell about a cat would start with a C on the first line, an A on the second and a T on the third. With those letters as starting points, you write your spell. It stimulates imagination and wakes up your vocabulary. I think this exercise is suitable for adults as well as for children, you can make it as hard or easy for yourself as you like. Another exercise consisted of cards with words and cards with pictures. You pick two cards blindly and use them as the basis of the story or incorporate them, another great way to train your creativity.
The Day of Children’s spirituality offers fertile ground for this, with inspiring people and interesting workshops, which is also why I returned. Aside from that, just like last year, this is a day where my younger self feels seen and my 21-yearold self feels inspired. After reading this, I hope you understand why. If you are looking for a day filled with inspiration and you like to open your mind, then I can wholeheartedly recommend the Day of Children’s Spirituality. You will definitely see me there.
Children’s vocabulary is going down, simply because we read less. Hundreds of words from the natural world are disappearing from children’s lives and we cannot describe the world with words we don’t have.
What I took from this day, apart from the fact that children’s books are awesome, is that possibilities are endless, I just have to look for them. And if I don’t have the tools to make what I want, maybe someone else, or nature, does have it, and who know what blossoms out of that.
“This is what I hopefully give children with my books: there are countless ways of being.”
What am I looking for as a writer when I create characters and worlds in words for others to reimagine? I strive to show the endless nuances that determine human motivation and behavior. I try to offer what I hope will be a comforting insight into human doings. And to making the reader feel the connection between all of us. In my role as a 'writer visiting the school', when I explain to children why people in my books sometimes fail and get stuck (just like they do themselves), this is what I always say:
“Maybe you can imagine it like this. Every human being is given a toolbox for life at birth. One has a hammer, the other has pincers, and the third has a set of screwdrivers or a saw. We learn a lot during our life. We are given 'tools', so to speak, so that we can tackle increasingly difficult jobs. But we never get together all the tools needed for our rather complicated lives. That's why we shouldn't get angry at people who hammer a screw into the wood. It may not go very well that way, but that person does not have a screwdriver. That person is hammering through life. And another tries to fix problems with the pincer. And yet another saws off nasty parts of life.
And then I start asking questions. What do you see as your tool (quality, talent) for your life? When things get tough in your life, remember that we can't help but do our best with the tools we have. And how nice is it when someone shares their tools with you? Someone like a writer, for example. A story as a
There are people who laugh scornfully when they hear that I am a real (published, not a hobbyist) author, 'but, oh... for children'.
But how well I remember my childhood's search for answers, for how I would like to be when I grew up, my search for others like me. For the essence of this life, my task, my place, my connection. Can you remember part of a book, story, or movie from when you were a child? A story that made you think: “I want to be like that?” Or: “I will never do that. I will do that better-different-nicer when I grow up.”
Throughout our lives we acquire knowledge, but you make the first decisions about who and how you want to be when you are very young, based on the examples you are given. In books, for example. And as a writer for young people, I am deeply aware of my responsabiblity, especially because of the importance of stories for young readers.
Is it the task of writers to propagate norms and values?
There are plenty of writers who think not. I believe that it is almost impossible not to propagate norms and values in stories in which themes such as good and evil, power and dependence, love and care, hatred, jealousy, and discrimination so often play a role, to name just a few. You must name, explain and offer norms and values in the first years of a child's life. You start with this rather black and white, and as the child gets older, you can confirm that there are indeed countless shades of each color. The characters in my books are also beginning to experience these nuances. They rightly ask: 'yes, but...' and 'but if...' and 'why...'. And then I hope my readers will join them in their thought process.
There are plenty of ways to approach a story and to weave norms, values, and critical thinking into the experience. As a simple example I will take the internationally famous story of Little Red Riding Hood. When I visit a primary school as guest teacher and work for a longer period with a group of children, I tell this fairytale a few times, in the same way. Then I will deviate. Green Riding Hood. I will of course be corrected immediately. And then I ask questions to see if the child has really understood the story and what details the child has found important. What was Little Red Riding Hood going to bring to her grandmother? (Cookies.) What was she not allowed to do? (Leave the path.) Why did she do it anyway? (To pick flowers.)
Then I ask for the child's opinion, and many children love it when I do. But unfortunately, there are also dumbfounded children, shocked by my question. Shouldn't they obey the collective norms and values of their upbringing? Children who, by the way, find it exciting, behind closed doors, that I ask for their opinion, and who tell it to me in confidence. And who, at this moment of sharing, listen very closely to each other. Because they come to know something about the other person through my question that the other person would not normally tell.
Your opinion: Was Little Red Riding Hood naughty? Or was she just sweet? (Didn’t she pick flowers for her grandmother?) Do you always have to do what you're taught? Can you disobey? Should you be disobedient sometimes? And in this conversation, a child soon finds out that black-and-white judgments about right or wrong behavior are not possible. And that this writer does not expect them to give the answer that is desired in the context of obedience.
“Mommy, I'm scared! I hear a sound.”
"What do you think it is, honey?"
"A ghost. A nasty gnome with a hammer. A zombie under the house...”
"You do not have to be scared. It's the ticking of the central heating. Or the hum of the fridge. Or the wind in the crack of the window.”
You are in fact returning to an earlier stage of development.
Because before a child knew how something 'should' be, the world of the young child already consisted of endless possibilities.
So first the possibilities decrease. A child learns 'how it should be, what something is, how it is seen' and draws conclusions.
"So that's how I do it right. So this is what people want to hear. So I have to go that way. So that's how I should behave. So that's what I hear and see and feel.
So that's WHO I AM.”
From the endless possibilities in a wonderful world, to learning what 'exists' and 'what doesn't exist', and to 'how things are and how they should be'. But it shouldn't stop there! Please let it not stop there. From there, the world should open again, full of endless alternatives!
When I visit a primary school, I always show a picture of a book of mine that has been translated into Arabic. In this Arabic book, the book direction is different. You start, according to Western ideas, from back to front, and you read from right to left.
This often causes hilarity and remarks in a class where there are no Arabic speaking children (“weird”, or “wrong”).
At this stage, the child is now allowed to learn again that there are endless variations on what they have learned about what is what, and how things should be. That much of 'how it should be' has only ever been a choice or an agreement or an opinion. It's not right or wrong. It is different.
On February 1, 2023, the flood disaster that occurred in 1953 in the Netherlands was extensively commemorated. In my book “The sea came through the letterbox” I have recorded the story of my friend Liesje, who experienced the disaster as an eight-year-old. The book has been printed more than 30,000 times. Children are captivated by the subject. It appeals to them that it is a true story, but also the fact that they can sense this is about something that touches on the serious human being that they themselves, deep down, are.
The book begins as follows: My father threw me off the roof. I couldn't understand. Who would throw their child away? My father. Daddy.
When I visit a school, I always ask: 'Why did Liesje's father do this? Didn't he love Liesje?'
The expression of confusion on the faces of the children is then very poignant.
An example from ‘The sea came through the letterbox’:
(Liesje's father throws Liesje (8) and her sister Sjaan (10) out of the roof-gutter to a passing boat that is actually already loaded to the point of sinking.)
I didn't fall into the water.
The people in the boat didn't want us there. The boat could sink with us. And yet they didn't let us fall into the water. They caught us.
We didn't sink, but only just. We didn't all drown, but only just.
I was still grabbing around and crying and screaming.
Someone, a tall person, held me tightly.
“Calm down girl, calm down!” said a voice. "Or you’ll make the boat capsize!"
Sjaan stood staggering next to me, with big, frightened eyes.
We looked back.
“Daddy!” I screamed.
Dad was still in the roof-gutter.
With one hand he clung to the window frame and with his free hand he waved and waved as if we were going on a school trip.
"We'll be right there! We're coming too!' he shouted. We couldn't see Mama and Bertje.
A woman with the same white bonnet as grandma wore on Sunday, sang in the dark in that boat. Her words blew away to heaven. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He leads me to green pastures. He leads me gently by waters of rest.”
I sat on the lap of an old man who smelled of sweet pipe tobacco. Sjaan sat on the floor against my legs.We held hands.
"It's God's punishment for our sins," said a farmer sitting in the front of the boat with a baby wrapped in a blanket against him.
“The punishment of God, the punishment of God,” a few people repeated dully. 'Stop. Don't say that!' said a big boy hoarsely. Was God angry? Is that why he sent the sea to us?
Mama believed in God, and so did grandpa and grandma.
Dad also allowed us to believe in God. He'd rather we didn’t believe in God, but he allowed it.
Dad himself wanted nothing to do with a God who only watched when there was war, he said. So I could understand if God was angry with him. I was mad at daddy too!
I tried to hold him, and he knocked my hands away and threw me off the roof!
Later, when Liesje and her sister Sjaan have been given shelter in a home for the elderly, which is higher up, Liesje starts looking for answers.
I said I had to pee, but I went to find the Red Cross man. He was just walking down the hall. I tugged on his sleeve. 'Sir?' He looked down.
I whispered, "Is it a punishment from God?"
He leaned over to me.
“What?” he asked softly.
'The flooding. Is it a punishment from God?”
“Why would you think such a thing?” He stood up again.
"You shouldn't listen to grown-ups who are sad and confused."
As a writer and co-educator of children, I feel compelled to nuance and explain various issues and personalities, and I cannot escape norms and values. You learn through books because you identify with someone else. For a moment you feel what it is like to be that other person. You recognize yourself in one or the other. And you decide: "I would never do this" or "I would do this differently", or "I will remember this."
And my question to the children is:
'What do you think? Was it a punishment from God?' However, I ask this question after I have explained in detail how it happened (technically, practically, weather conditions) that the dykes broke.
This is what I hopefully give children with my books: there are countless ways of being. There are no truths and no answers other than what people have conceived and agreed upon so far. There are endless possibilities and nuances. Nobody's perfect. Nothing is black and white. Everyone starts their life by doing their best with the tools they have.
“Dit is wat ik kinderen hopelijk meegeef in mijn boeken. Er zijn talloze manieren van ‘zijn’.”
Waar streef ik als schrijver naar als ik personages en werelden schep in woorden, voor anderen om deze weer te verbeelden? Ik streef naar het laten zien van de eindeloze nuances die de menselijke motivatie en het menselijk gedrag bepalen. Ik streef naar het bieden van hopelijk troostrijk inzicht in het menselijk doen en laten. En naar het laten voelen van de verbinding tussen ons allemaal.
Als ik in mijn rol van ‘schrijver op school’ aan kinderen uitleg waarom de mensen in mijn boeken (net zoals zijzelf) weleens falen en vastlopen, leg ik het altijd zo uit: “Misschien kun je het je zo voorstellen. Ieder mens krijgt bij zijn geboorte een gereedschapskistje voor zijn leven mee. Bij de een zit er een hamer in, bij de ander een nijptang en bij de derde een set schroevendraaiers, of een zaag.
Tijdens ons leven leren
wij van alles. We krijgen er als het ware ‘gereedschap’ bij zodat wij steeds moeilijker klussen aan kunnen pakken.
Maar al het gereedschap dat nodig is voor ons best ingewikkelde leven, krijgen we nooit bij elkaar. Daarom moeten we niet boos worden op mensen die met een hamer een schroef in het hout meppen. Zo gaat het misschien niet echt goed, maar die mens heeft dan geen schroevendraaier. Die mens timmert zich door het leven. En een ander schroeft het leven aan elkaar. En weer een ander zaagt nare stukken van zijn leven af.”
En dan ga ik vragen. Wat zou je kunnen zien als gereedschap (handige eigenschap, talent) voor jouw leven? Als de dingen in je leven moeilijk gaan, onthoudt dan dat we niet anders kunnen dan ons best doen met het gereedschap dat we hebben. En hoe fijn is het dan als iemand zijn gereedschap met jou deelt? Zo iemand als bijvoorbeeld een schrijver. Een verhaal als gereedschap.”
Er zijn mensen die schamper lachen wanneer ze horen dat ik weliswaar een echte (gepubliceerde, dus geen hobbyist) auteur ben, ‘maar, oh... voor kínderen’. Maar ik herinner me de zoektocht van mijn jeugd naar antwoorden, naar hoe ik later zou willen zijn, naar anderen zoals ik. Naar de essentie van dit leven, mijn taak, mijn plaats, mijn verbinding. Kunt u zich een deel van een boek, verhaal of film herinneren van toen u een kind was? Een verhaal waarbij u dacht: “Zo wil ik ook worden?” Of: “Dat zal ik nooit zo doen. Ik ga dat beter/anders/aardiger doen als ik later groot ben.”
Ons leven lang doen wij kennis op, maar de eerste besluiten over wie en hoe je wilt worden, neem je als je heel jong bent, aan de hand van de voorbeelden die je aangereikt krijgt. En als schrijver voor de jeugd ben ik me ten diepste bewust van dit enorme belang
Is het een taak van schrijvers om normen en waarden uit te dragen? Er zijn genoeg schrijvers die vinden van niet. Ik geloof ik dat het bijna onmogelijk is om géén normen en waarden uit te dragen in verhalen waarin zo vaak thema’s als goed en kwaad, macht en onmacht, liefde en zorg, haat, jaloezie en discriminatie een rol spelen, om er maar enkele te noemen. Normen en waarden moet je in de eerste levensjaren van een kind benoemen, uitleggen en aanbieden.
Je begint hiermee nogal zwart-wit, en als het kind ouder wordt, kun je bevestigen dat er inderdaad talloze
kleurnuances zijn.
Ook de personen in mijn boeken beginnen die nuances te ervaren.
Terecht vragen zij:
‘ja maar...’ en ‘maar als...’ en ‘waarom...’.
En dan hoop ik dat mijn lezers met hen mee redeneren.
Er zijn volop manieren om een verhaal te benaderen en normen, waarden en kritisch denken te verweven in de beleving. Als eenvoudig voorbeeld neem ik hier even het internationaal bekende verhaal van Roodkapje.
Eerst een paar keer het hele verhaal op dezelfde manier. Dan ga ik afwijken. Groenkapje. Ik word dan natuurlijk meteen gecorrigeerd. En dan stel ik vragen om te zien of het kind het verhaal echt goed begrepen heeft en welke details het kind belangrijk heeft gevonden. Wat ging Roodkapje bij haar grootmoeder brengen? (Koekjes.) Wat mocht zij niet? (Van het pad af.) Waarom deed ze het toch? (Om bloemen te plukken.)
Daarna vraag ik naar de mening van het kind, en veel kinderen vinden het heerlijk als ik hiernaar vraag. Maar helaas zijn er ook met stomheid geslagen kinderen, geschokt door mijn vraag want horen zij niet te gehoorzamen aan de collectieve normen en waarden van hun opvoeding?
Kinderen die het overigens, achter gesloten deuren, toch spannend vinden dat ik naar
hun mening vraag, en die graag in vertrouwen aan mij willen vertellen. En die heel
intensief naar elkaar luisteren.
Want ze komen door mijn
vraag iets over de ander te weten dat die ander normaal niet zou vertellen.
Je mening: Was Roodkapje stout? Of was ze juist lief? (Ze ging toch bloemen plukken voor haar grootmoeder.) Moet je altijd doen wat je hebt geleerd? Mag je ongehoorzaam zijn? MOET je weleens ongehoorzaam zijn? En in dit gesprek komt een kind er al gauw achter dat zwart-wit oordelen over goed of fout gedrag, niet mogelijk is. En dat deze schrijfster ook helemaal niet van hen verwacht dat zij het antwoord geven dat in het kader van gehoorzaamheid gewenst is.
Eigenlijk keer je terug naar een eerdere ontwikkelingsfase. Want voordat een kind wist hoe iets ‘hoorde’ bestond de wereld van het jonge kind al uit eindeloze mogelijkheden.
“Mama, ik ben bang! Ik hoor een geluid.”
“Wat denk je dat het is, lieverd?”
“Een spook. Een nare kabouter met een hamertje. Een zombie onder het huis...”
“
Je hoeft niet bang te zijn. Het is het tikken van de centrale verwarming. Of het brommen van de koelkast. Of de wind in de kier van het raam.”
Eerst nemen de mogelijkheden dus af. Een kind leert ‘hoe het hoort, wat iets is, hoe het gezien wordt’ en trekt conclusies.
‘Dus zo doe ik het goed.
Dus dit is wat mensen willen horen.
Dus die kant moet ik op. Dus zo moet ik me gedragen.
Dus dat is wat ik hoor en zie en voel.
Dus dat is WIE IK BEN.
Van de eindeloze mogelijkheden in een wondere wereld, naar leren wat ‘bestaat’ en ‘wat niet bestaat’, en naar ‘hoe het zit en hoe het hoort’. Maar daar mag het dan niet blijven steken! Alsjeblieft niet. Van daaruit moet de wereld weer opengaan, vol eindeloze alternatieven!
Als ik op een basisschool kom, laat ik op het digibord altijd een foto zien van een boek van mij dat in het Arabisch vertaald is. Bij een Arabisch boek is de boekrichting anders. Je begint, naar Westers idee, van achter naar voren, en je leest van links naar rechts. Dit veroorzaakt vaak hilariteit en opmerkingen in een klas waarin geen Arabisch sprekende kinderen zitten (‘raar’, of ‘fout’).
Het is anders.
In deze fase mag het kind nu weer leren dat er eindeloze variaties bestaan op wat ze hebben geleerd over hoe het is en hoe het hoort.
Dat veel van ‘hoe het hoort’ alleen maar ooit een keuze of afspraak is geweest of een mening. Het is niet goed of fout.
Op 1 februari 2023 werd de Watersnoodramp die zich 1953 voltrok, uitgebreid herdacht. In mijn boek “De zee kwam door de brievenbus” heb ik het verhaal van mijn vriendin Liesje opgetekend, zij maakte de ramp mee als achtjarige. Het boek werd al meer dan 30.000 keer gedrukt. Kinderen zijn gegrepen door het onderwerp. Het waargebeurde van het verhaal spreekt hen aan, maar ook het feit dat zij voelen dat dit over iets gaat dat raakt aan de ernstige mens die ook zijzelf, diep vanbinnen, zijn.
Het boek begint als volgt: Mijn vader gooide mij van het dak. Ik kon het niet begrijpen. Wie gooit zijn kind nou weg? Mijn vader. Papa.
Wanneer ik een school bezoek, vraag ik altijd:
‘Waarom deed Liesjes vader dit? Hield hij dan niet van Liesje?’ De uitdrukking van verwarring op de gezichten van de kinderen is dan heel aangrijpend.
Een voorbeeld uit De zee kwam door de brievenbus:
(Liesjes vader gooit Liesje (8) en haar zus Sjaan (10) uit de dakgoot naar een voorbijvarend bootje dat eigenlijk al tot zinken toe volgeladen zit.)
Ik viel niet in het water.
De mensen in het bootje wilden ons er niet bij hebben. Het bootje kon zinken met ons erbij.
Maar ze lieten ons toch niet in het water vallen.
Ze vingen ons op.
We zonken net niet.
We verdronken net niet allemaal.
Ik graaide nog om me heen en huilde en schreeuwde.
Iemand, een groot mens, pakte me stevig vast.
‘Rustig meisje, rustig!’ zei een stem. ‘De boot slaat nog om als je zo wild doet!’
Sjaan stond wankelend naast me, met grote bange ogen.
We keken om.
‘Papa!’ gilde ik.
Papa stond nog in de goot.
Met zijn ene hand klampte hij zich vast aan het raamkozijntje en met zijn vrije hand zwaaide en zwaaide hij alsof we op schoolreis gingen.
‘Wij komen straks, hoor! Wij komen ook!’ schreeuwde hij.
Mama en Bertje konden we niet zien.
Een vrouw met net zo’n witte kap als oma op zondag droeg, zong in het donker in die boot. Haar woorden waaiden naar de hemel.
‘De heer is mijn herder. 'k Heb al wat ik lust. Hij zal mij geleiden naar grazige weiden. Hij voert mij al zachtkens aan wateren der rust.’
Ik zat op schoot bij een oude man die naar zoete pijptabak rook. Sjaan zat op de bodem tegen mijn benen.
We hielden elkaars hand vast.
‘Het is de straf van God voor onze zonden,’ zei een boer die voorin de boot zat met een baby in deken tegen zich aan.
‘De straf van God, de straf van God,’ herhaalden een paar mensen dof.
‘Hou op. Zeg dat niet!’ zei een grote jongen schor.
Was God boos? Stuurde hij daarom de zee naar ons toe?
Mama geloofde in God, en opa en oma ook. Wij mochten ook wel in God geloven van papa.
Liever niet, maar het mocht.
Papa zelf wilde niets te maken hebben met een God die alleen maar toekeek als er oorlog was, zei hij.
Dus ik begreep het wel als God boos op hem was.
Ik was ook boos op papa!
Ik probeerde hem vast te houden en hij sloeg mijn handen weg en gooide me van het dak af!
Later, wanneer Liesje en haar zus Sjaan zijn opgevangen in het bejaardenhuis, dat hoger gelegen is, gaat Liesje op zoek naar antwoorden.
Ik zei dat ik moest plassen maar ik ging de man van het Rode Kruis zoeken. Hij liep net door de gang.
Ik trok aan zijn mouw. ‘Meneer?’
Hij keek omlaag.
Ik fluisterde: ‘Is het een straf van God?’
Hij boog zich naar me over.
‘Wat?’ vroeg hij zacht.
‘De overstroming. Is het een straf van God?’
‘Hoe kom je daar nou toch bij?’ Hij ging weer overeind staan.
‘Je moet niet luisteren naar grote mensen die verdriet hebben en in de war zijn.’
En mijn vraag aan de kinderen is dan:
‘Wat denken jullie?
Was het een straf van God?’
Deze vraag stel ik echter nadat ik uitgebreid heb vertelt hoe het (technisch, praktisch, weersomstandigheden)
kwam dat de dijken doorbraken.
Als schrijver en medeopvoeder van kinderen, voel ik mij genoodzaakt tot nuancering van- en uitleg over uiteenlopende kwesties en persoonlijkheden, en daarbij ontkom ik niet aan normen en waarden. Door boeken leer je, doordat je je met een ander identificeert. Even voel je hoe het is om die ander te zijn. Je herkent jezelf in de een of in de ander. En je beslist: ‘dit zou ik nooit doen’ of ‘dit zou ik anders doen’, of ‘dit zal ik onthouden.’
Dit is wat ik kinderen hopelijk meegeef in mijn boeken. Er zijn talloze manieren van ‘zijn’. Er zijn geen waarheden en geen antwoorden anders dan die mensen tot dusver bedacht en afgesproken hebben. Er zijn eindeloos veel mogelijkheden en nuances. Niemand is volmaakt.
Niets is zwart-wit. Iedereen begint zijn leven met zijn best doen met het gereedschap dat hij heeft. Dit is wat ik zeg als ik voor een klas sta, of dat nu basisschoolkinderen of pabo-studenten zijn.
Soul to Soul is an online journal about children’s spirituality. We offer a space to researchers and practitioners to explore different aspects of children’s and young people’s spirituality, share ideas and learn from each other. Soul to Soul builds a bridge between the worlds of practitioners and researchers, and creates a forum for reflection and interaction between people from different professional and cultural backgrounds. Soul to Soul enables readers to access current research and learn about important developments surrounding children’s and young people’s spirituality. To do this we publish articles, book reviews, interviews and information about appropriate events and professional development. Soul to Soul also enables children’s voices to be explored and represented in relation to their spiritual development.
Soul to Soul appears twice a year, in May and November. It is made by an international team of editors, in partnership with the Dutch Stichting Kind en Spiritualiteit. The team meets several times per year, online or physically. Proposals for articles or other contributions can be submitted to any of the editors, who will discus these proposals in their meeting. All contributions are peer reviewed.
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Liesbeth is an independent trainer and writer from the Netherlands. After studying feminist theology and religious education at the Nijmegen University, she has been a teacher, translator and youth worker. As a founder member of Oblimon, a collective of trainers, she offers workshops and courses on children’s spirituality, world religions, and philosophy for children, and works with schools that are trying to strengthen their collective identity and reconnect with their roots. Liesbeth lectures at a KPZ teacher training college and is co-editor of Hemel en Aarde, a magazine for primary schools on spirituality and religious education.
Deb has been an early childhood educator since 1972; receiving her PhD in 2012 with a focus on spiritual development. She has written two books on spirituality and continues to research the relationship between spiritual development, nature, play, peace, and well-being. Deb is Married to Jeffrey Schein; and has three grown children; and three grandchildren.
Katherine is a qualified Special Education Needs Co-ordinator (SENCO) in the United Kingdom who specialises in working with children aged 5-18 years. Katherine has taught in both primary and secondary mainstream education as well as working in a 1:1 capacity with children who are unable to attend school due to illness, permanent school exclusion or because they are awaiting a specialist placement. Katherine has conducted and continues to initiate various research projects regarding children's spiritual development and has particular interests in exploring pupils' voices and experiences, Hikikomori (social withdrawal) and children coping with trauma and/or a special educational need.
Steve is a Baptist Church minister in Scotland, serving as Pastor of High Blantyre Baptist Church since 1986. He received his PhD in 2018, exploring spiritual development within Scotland’s Curriculum for Excellence. He has been a school chaplain since 1982 with experience of spiritual development for pupils at all levels of Scottish School Education. He is the Chaplaincy Project Coordinator for ‘Christian Values in Education (Scotland)’ and lectures at the Scottish Baptist College on Pastoral Care and Chaplaincy.
Rosanne is a lecturer in Religious and Worldview Education, training teachers for Primary Education at Fontys University of Applied Sciences in Venlo, the Netherlands. Rosanne is a former Primary School teacher and is a member of Oblimon. As an Education counsellor, she guides schools and teachers in children’s spiritual development, identity and philosophy. She facilitates teachers and students in exploring their life stories, helping them to find the values that are important for their pedagogical, spiritual and educational vision.
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Vygotsky, L. (1928) Pedagogy of School Age
Howard Leader (Pp.24-33)
For a clearer understanding of the world of fungiSheldrake, Merlin (Ed.) 2012 Entangled Life: How Fungi Make our Worlds, Change our Minds and Shape our Future
Boddy, L. & Coleman, M. (Eds.) 2010 From Another Kingdom - the amazing world of Fungi
Lynne Boddy also has a very good series of short video talks on YouTube.
For what is known about trees, what they feel and how they communicate -
Wohlleben, Peter 2017 The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate
For more general reading on landscapes etc. - the works of Oliver Rackham (English landscapes) or John Muir (American landscapes) are a good start, but there are many others. There is a quote from John Muir that I like, not connected to the subject in hand - 'Not blind opposition to progress, but opposition to blind progress' Interesting when you think of the current concerns about AI and chatbots.....
Selma Noort (Pp.60-79)
‘Stories are a gift’ was the title of the sixth Dag van de Kinderspiritualiteit, the annual conference on Children’s Spirituality in the Netherlands. In her opening talk, Dutch writer Selma Noort shared her thoughts about writing for children and the importance of stories.
Selma Noort (b. 1960, Leiden, the Netherlands) has been a children’s writer for more than forty years and has written over 120 books in various genres for children of all ages. Her books have been published abroad, including in Germany and Denmark, and have won many awards. She won the prestigious Thea Beckman Prize for the best historical children’s book for De zee kwam door de brievenbus. (The sea came through the letterbox) In another recent title, Koningskind (The kings’ daughter) (2020, 12+), she told the Biblical story of King Solomon from a surprising new perspective.
Below: Selma Noort’s books in Arabic
Front cover (Dreamcatcher): lil artsy, Pexels
Pp.2 (Child in leaves): Annie Spratt, Unsplash
P.3 (Girl with apple) Skyler Ewing, Pexels
Pp.4-5 (Child peering through hole): Dmitry Ratushny, Unsplash
Pp.6-7 (Girl in darkness): Quinten de Graaf, Unsplash
P.8 (Boy in hat): Victoria Akravel, Pexels
P.11 (Bo looking up): Wadi Lissa, Unsplash
Pp.12-13 (Contemplative Boy): Victoria Akravel, Pexels
Pp.14-15 (Hands touching): Shoeib Abolhassani, Unsplash
P.17 (Ball pool): Pavel Danilyuk, Pexels
P.18 (Craft table): Yan Krukau, Pexels
Pp.20-23: Ildiko O’Dacre
Pp.24-25 (Crystal on tree stump): Pixabay
Pp.26-27 (Tree in clearing): Veeterzy, Pexels
Pp.28-29 (Crystal ball with trees): Skyler Ewing, Pexels
P.30: Howard Leader
P.31: Howard Leader
Pp.32-33 (girl on forest path): Kelly Sikkema, Unsplash
Pp.34-35 (baby with bubble): Pixabay
P.37 (Holding stick): Jeni Bate
P.39 (Puddle jumping): Jeni Bate
Pp.40-41 (Sunset Silhouette): Bianca, Pexels
P.42 (Blue sunset and silhouette): Na Inho, Unsplash
P.44 (Liesbeth with Eiland): Stichting Kind/ Oblimon
P.44 (Honey Bees): Jeni Bate
P.45 (Child in Temple doorway): Leonardo Alves, Unsplash
P.46 (Child sitting): Maël Balla, Pexels
P.47 (Standing silhouette and sunset): Chei Ki, Pexels
Pp.48-49 (Broken Crystal Ball): Ekaterina
Belinskaya, Pexels
Pp.50-51 (Redhead sunset): Sasha Freemind, Unsplash
Pp.52-53 (Boy in sea): Viktor Jakovlev, Unsplash
P.54 (Conference reading): Liesbeth Vroemen
P.55 (Girl picking flower): Yunus Tug, Pexels
P.56 (Three workshop pictures): Liesbeth
Vroemen
P.57 (Bare feet on sandy beach): Jeni Bate
P.58 (Seaweed face): Jeni Bate
Pp.60-61,70-71 (Bubbles, green): Sebastian
Pichler, Unsplash
P.62,72 (hammer): Pixabay
P.63,73 (paintbrushes): Ivan Samkov, Pexels
Pp.64-65,74-75 (Girl with wolf): Carmen Sanchez, Pexels
Pp.66-67,76-77 (Silhouette with trees): Nguyen
Than Ngoc, Pexels
Pp.68-69,78-79 (Waves): Matt Hardy, Pexels
Back cover: Annie Spratt, Unsplash