Nobody can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.
Khalil Gibran, On Teaching
‘Look, Akka!’ said Priya, ‘this leaning tree could be an “A” with the branch and me bending this way.’
‘Look, Akka, this caterpillar is making a “C”,’ said Sumit. ‘Oh, now it’s making an “I”.’
We were on one of our weekly nature walks at the beginning of a lesson block introducing the English alphabet. Every few minutes the class stopped because someone had found a new letter in their surroundings. My students were on a roll, and the walk was not really intended to go anywhere specifically. Ezhemalai the caterpillar had to be examined and held, but he rolled himself up into an ‘e’ and was then carefully placed off the path for his safety. We listened to the buzzing of the busy bees, and the children were intent on discovering which one might be the queen.
I often marvel at the depth of experience which young children bring with them to the classroom. Not only do they take the content of lessons into their play and other activities, but they relive and anchor it in the world around them. A peek into the experiential world of the growing child leaves me, as a teacher, humbled by the responsibility of making it as alive as possible so that they can build on these experiences in the future. We move at a slow pace on our walks, but every journey is rich and alive with new experiences.
In the early years, we are sowing seeds as educators, yet do not know what is likely to sprout from them. To continue with the metaphor, we wonder if our students will become tall trees that have strong trunks. How about the stems, leaves, and flowers on each of their branches? What about the fragrance their flowers will emit? How can we teach so that children can be nurtured by schooling instead of being exhausted by it?
Educating children in this world is becoming an increasingly daunting task. Contemporary schooling, centred on abstract knowledge, rote memorization and standardised testing, risks losing sight of the very human nature of learning. On the other hand, experiential and embodied approaches offer something essential to students who are making sense of the world and their place in it. As Rabindranath Tagore advised, ‘the main objective of teaching is not to give explanations, but to knock at the doors of the mind.’ Beyond conventional cognitive activity, learning needs to also include the body, senses, and lived experiences that shape understanding. Such experiential learning lies at the heart of true learning and demands that the whole human being be engaged in it. Intellectual growth is inseparable from artistic and practical development as well as development of empathy and intuition, all of which are nurtured through lived, sensory-rich experiences.
Experiential learning isn’t merely ‘learning by doing’, but rather engaging students in situations where they must think, feel, act, and reflect. It connects them to their environment, to their community, and ultimately to themselves. Storytelling also plays a significant role in helping students to form vibrant inner pictures in their minds, thus enabling them to connect deeply with meaning, possibility, and empathy. In my class, students listen to stories, retell them, and then draw them. Fairytales, for example, frequently present a clear depiction of ‘right and wrong’, but, as children grow older, they learn to make choices about what they truly feel is right rather than what they may think is expected of them.
I had once told the class the story of a tailor who, having killed a certain number of flies, had outsmarted a scary giant by writing ‘Seven in One Blow’ on his belt. This inspired a fearful student to ask his father to write the same on his belt. Whilst out on a nature walk, I noticed how firmly he clasped his belt as we passed a spot where he had previously seen a deer being attacked by dogs. This had frightened him deeply at the time. He was now able to find the courage to overcome his fear by using his imagination. Afterwards he said, ‘Last year I was small and couldn’t do that, but now I’m brave.’
Each year our school hosts a ten-day craft event where we invite other schools to come and learn the traditional skills of the local people. In the beginning, there is much milling about and organised chaos, but as the week progresses a deep satisfaction and contented energy can be felt throughout. The hands-on activities help to deeply connect the children to themselves and their environment. Making a basket out of palm leaves or learning a local harvest dance, embodies learning in a way that a classroom lesson about harvesting cannot.
So, how can we teach our students in such a manner as to nurture the skills that will provide the foundation they require to adjust and adapt to the demands of our fast-changing and competitive world? It is understandable that parents feel anxious when faced by the demands of today’s digital world, what with the advancements in Artificial Intelligence and the thinning out of many work opportunities. There is thus great pressure on them to ensure that their children succeed in life, and this leads to the conviction that children should read and write language and learn mathematics as early as possible. But does ‘earlier’ mean ‘better’ in this case? Is the child well-served if building a sound foundation is omitted? When constructing a house, the builder cannot start with the roof and build downwards. The same is true in the development of the child.
For the brain to develop in a healthy way, the young child needs to play — free, unsupervised, unguided play. As the renowned psychologist Peter Gray says, play is how children take control of their lives. There are distinct developmental milestones that a child goes through that directly affect connectivity in the brain, and their origin lies in fine and gross motor activities. If we imagine a child sitting in front of a screen for whatever reason, the body is still and the visual stimulus is overwhelming. On the other hand, if we look at a child who spends time outside engaging with others in informal play, we see a child who is learning to negotiate with others and establish boundaries and realising that playing well can be almost as enjoyable as winning. In unsupervised play, there is no ‘us and them’; there is no adult declaring what is right and wrong. There is communication between children, negotiation, and adjustment to circumstances. Is this not a better way to prepare for the future?
Today’s digital world is rife with examples of children becoming addicted, developing a concentration deficit, and experiencing social or emotional difficulties. According to Gertraud Teuchert-Noodt, a professor of neurology at Bielefeld University in Germany, children who have grasped the world with their hands and feet are later better able to grasp concepts. These children have had time to play. Their nerve maps have developed in a healthy way and have not been overstimulated. She also says that the best preparation for the digital world is a digital-free childhood. The trend today, however, appears to be the overprotection of children from the real world coupled with under-supervised forays by them into the virtual world.
Manual skills, movement, and hands-on work are being increasingly pushed to the margins in favour of abstract learning and now digital learning too, even though these skills and activities aren’t optional extras. In early childhood, for example, crafts, drawing and learning through movement are essential to internalise knowledge. When we learn something new, we need to concentrate and be still to receive the new content. We are absorbing details. So if we take academic learning to be an ‘in-breath’, then it is evident that an ‘out-breath’ must follow. There needs to be a phase of relaxation, digestion of the content, and even forgetting, which is valuable. We need to be able to let the content go to allow something new to enter. Learning the arts or movement represent the ‘exhale’ stage. They enable a solid foundation for learning and provide space for the absorption of concepts and questioning.
We can once again apply the analogy of planting a seed in the soil. After preparing the earth, we dig a hole and place the seed in it. Then the seed needs to rest and given water and sunlight to sprout and grow. If we disturb the earth and add more seeds to the hole, the original seed will not grow properly. In the early years, much of what we teach is like preparing the soil. We prepare a child’s body and mind to be able to receive information, digest it, question its validity, and finally to apply it. This preparation is possible through the senses. A child who has been given the opportunity and confidence to cultivate his or her senses, move with grace, and develop a sense of balance, will be more aware and secure in themselves. This is akin to preparing the soil so that the seeds of learning can thrive. Ultimately, experiential and embodied learning is about the awakening of an inner sense of responsibility and agency.
When we lay a foundation based on lived experience, children can build on this and use their intuition as they get older to solve their problems. Learning becomes a joy even in the upper grades, when academic content is integrated with artistic and hands-on activities such as painting, music, gardening, and handicrafts. As they mature, they feel heard and seen if they can tackle themes and projects connected with their own unique experiences at each stage. After all, our goal is to guide students toward becoming human beings who are capable of using insights, being socially responsible, and making creative contributions to the world.