Children as Philosophers

Learning Through Enquiry and Dialogue in the Primary Classroom

Joanna Haynes

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2008
• eBook ISBN: 9781134064014
• Edition: 2
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education General

Since the publication of the first edition of Children as Philosophers in 2002 there has been an enormous growth of interest in philosophy with children.

This fully revised second edition suggests ways in which you can introduce philosophical enquiry to your Personal, Social and Health Education and Citizenship teaching and across the curriculum.

The book demonstrates children's capacities to engage in sophisticated processes of dialogue and enquiry about a wide range of issues and underlines the importance of listening to children's ideas. The author discusses the pleasures and challenges for adults in managing discussion and responding to children's claims to knowledge in the philosophical arena. The author also addresses the well-established Philosophy for Children movement, developed in the USA and Australia and links this to the principles of Every Child Matters.

This fascinating book is an invaluable resource for all teachers and trainees seeking a thoughtful and contextualised introduction to the theory and practice of philosophical enquiry with children, including:

• expanded discussion on children's voice and participation at school
• the theory and practice of dialogical approaches to teaching and learning
• new evidence of the educational impact of philosophy with children in the classroom
• what should inform the professional choice of resources for teaching philosophy
• wider international debates about learning styles, skills and intelligence.

New reports are presented from children, teachers, from the fields of Gifted and Talented and Special Needs Education and from international research carried out over the last five years.

Part I
Voices from the classroom

Chapter 1 is made up of episodes of classroom conversation between the author and some primary school children. It offers interpretations of the possibilities for teaching and learning through dialogue that they contain. It briefly explains the differences between circle time and philosophical enquiry as distinctive approaches to classroom discussion.

• What is important in classroom conversation?
• How are children’s ideas received?

Chapter 2 begins with the principle of children’s right to participation as citizens and reports on some primary pupils’ advice to teachers who may be thinking about introducing philosophy in the classroom.

• What do we understand by the right to participate as a citizen?
• What aspects of classroom life require attention if this right is to be enjoyed by children?

Chapter 1
Thought-provoking conversations

About death and loss

Children often talk about their experience in an honest and striking way. They seek to make their personal knowledge pertinent to the matter in hand. This is especially noticeable when exploring something like death. In the example that follows, children in a primary class were responding to a story about a widow and her pet dog, John Brown, Rose and the Midnight Cat (Wagner, 1977). Everything appears cosy and secure until a black cat takes to visiting the house where the widow, Rose, lives with her dog. It is a story that deals with loss and change, with jealousy and possessiveness.

In discussion, one of the children in a class of eight- to eleven-year-olds suggested that perhaps the woman’s dog had taken the place of her dead husband and that the husband’s spirit had somehow entered the dog. The group was taken with the notion of the husband being inside the dog, and a lively discussion followed. Stephen stopped everyone in their tracks when he spoke. Although one of the youngest in the class, his voice was clear and confident and his presence commanding. He told us that when his dad had died a few years before, his dad’s spirit had entered into him. As he spoke, he touched his chest with both hands as if indicating his heart. He said, ‘I’ve got my dad’s eyes, too. And I can hear my dad talking to me and telling me what to do’.

The rest of the class seemed slightly in awe, both mystified and thoughtful. Perhaps it was shocking to think of what it might be like to have a parent die. In the classroom setting adults are often uncertain about the protocol to adopt in responding to such disclosures from children. How did what Stephen had said compare with our experience when the death of somebody very close occurred? Was Stephen’s disclosure an opening for us to talk more frankly about our own perceptions of death and the spirit? We were certainly very curious and eager to ask Stephen questions. He had enabled us to move on from responding to a story to a much broader enquiry about what happens when we die. Stephen was a fairly recent arrival in the class and sometimes appeared an ‘outsider’. On occasions his behaviour appeared a little odd. It could seem as if his mind was elsewhere even though he was physically present. During the minutes following his contribution about his father’s death, he became something of an authority. Nobody else had the personal knowledge that allowed them to speak with such power.

About resolving conflicts

One day, before the lesson had begun, one of the girls in the same class approached me with a question. What should you do when you have had an argument and a falling-out with a friend? Something had happened in the playground and she was no longer certain whether the girl she had regarded as her best friend was still her best friend. Things had become rather heated in the dispute. The girl who reported this to me clearly felt confused and betrayed. If I had replied immediately I would probably have suggested talking about it, and as soon as possible, apologising to each other and making it up. Isn’t that what adults usually advise children within the school setting? Adults often trivialise and assume the conflicts that children experience are more easily resolved. Until this point I am not sure I ever seriously considered any other options.

Instead of giving an immediate response, and reassuring her that ‘everything will be all right’, I suggested that we put the question to the class and invite other children’s responses. She agreed. When we did this, one person said, ‘You must say sorry straight away’. Two others suggested going away and cooling off.

I was pleased to discover that there was some divergence of experience and opinion in the group. ‘Punch them on the nose!’ was one boy’s solution. He told us that where his family had lived before moving, their house had been repeatedly trashed. Windows were smashed and their car was damaged. He added, ‘My mum says if you punch someone really hard, they don’t come back’. Linda, one of the other children, commented that the trouble with that was that you might kill them without meaning to. On some occasions the boy’s comment might have prompted giggles. This time, his argument was taken seriously and the truthfulness of his story acknowledged. It is an example that reminds us that we can imagine we know the circumstances of children’s day-to-day lives beyond school. In fact often we know nothing of the detail and little of the general circumstances. When children introduce their personal world into discussion they highlight the different and often contradictory cultures and values that co-exist. As they move between home and school they experience conflicting values on a daily basis.

I remember being struck by the realisation that, in the circumstances the boy described, defence of a physical kind might well be the only way to change the situation. What is the right course of action when some human beings face repeated victimisation by others? Is it wrong to retaliate when being attacked becomes intolerable? Did this boy’s parents decide to take direct physical action to protect their children? Linda’s explicit counter-argument made us even more aware of the moral gravity and complexity of this family’s position.

About making progress and choosing suitable topics for class discussion

When discussion takes place regularly in a class, children sometimes seek a private consultation with the teacher about something that concerns them and that they think may be important for everyone. They may be looking for reassurance or permission to raise a topic, but not only that. They can be cautious, sensitive or eager about discussion of significant matters, just like any group of people. Here is a fragment of conversation with Karen, a nine-year-old girl in the class.

Karen: Can I talk to you privately?

Teacher: Okay. What is it?

Karen: I don’t think it’s a good idea if we put our hands up and wait. Can’t we just speak? Because I’ve forgotten what I want to say when it gets to me?

Teacher: It is a problem. But then some people might never get a turn. We need to try different things.

Karen: Can I ask you something else?

Teacher: Try me.

Karen: Can we talk about God again in philosophy? Do you believe in God?

Teacher: I’m not sure. What about you?

Karen: Me too. It’s easy to imagine God and Jesus when I hear stories. But some people are really convincing when they argue against it.

Both of these are ongoing concerns for Karen and the group. Her private approach shows both consideration for the adult in charge and a desire to rehearse her thoughts, perhaps before she can bring them up in the larger group. What opportunities are there for children to make suggestions about ways of organising things or ways of working in the classroom? How often do teachers invite a class to offer their own questions or to revisit and review topics that have been particularly significant? Is it always necessary for the adult or teacher to determine what the starting point for questions is going to be?

As children gain confidence they move from formulating questions of their own that are put individually to the adult; they begin to value the opportunity to discuss important things together as a group. They become increasingly concerned to raise questions that arise from their own lives. The following episode, like Karen’s question, occurred just as the class was about to begin a session of philosophical enquiry. Susan said she knew what she really wanted to talk about because it was the thing that was most on her mind, but she thought it might upset people. It concerned a recent episode when children had witnessed an adult coming into the classroom in a state of extreme distress and anger. There had been neither damage nor physical injury but some of those who had been present had been distressed. Others had felt threatened or, at the very least, puzzled by the intruding adult’s behaviour.

Such an episode could have happened anywhere. The children would certainly have witnessed such angry behaviour directly and seen it on television. They probably experienced intense frustration or upset themselves. Don’t we all? There was no doubt in my mind that trying to make sense of this event would be illuminating and reassuring to the children. Many adults have a role that puts them in control of children. Children are naturally concerned when they experience wild and unpredictable behaviour by adults who are out of control. It is something we all have to deal with. What can help and what can limit children’s ability to make sense of the behaviour of adults, particularly when they behave in unpredictable ways? Susan’s request was not made to the group as a whole but privately to me. Susan was aware that it was a sensitive issue. The angry adult was someone they all knew and was related to some of the children in the class.

I had already worked with the group on the need to respect confidentiality and privacy. We had already encountered the need to find ways of discussing such questions without using examples that name or compromise people we know. I asked Susan whether she felt that we could find a way to explore her questions in a philosophical way without reference to the particular incident. She told me it was too soon after the event. The incident would quickly be recognised and children in the group might be embarrassed or compromised by this. She suggested that it would have to wait. We need to honour this level of sensitivity and wisdom in children, but not in patronising ways, nor in a mood of sloppy sentimentality.

About fantasy

In some sessions, before beginning philosophical discussion, I invite children to take a few minutes of silent relaxation with eyes closed. This is especially useful if they are obviously tired or disquieted. Relaxation helps them to make the transition from other activities to sitting still and concentrating, listening and speaking. Children often want to talk about how their thoughts wander. Here is an example of such an occasion and the wandering thoughts that were described. At the end of the few minutes of relaxation, an eight-year-old asked if she could talk about her thoughts.

Girl: I was on the settee and a handsome man came and carried me upstairs. I was lying in my bed holding my teddy and he was beside me.

Teacher: Sounds lovely.

Girl: He wasn’t black.

Teacher: Why do you say that?

Girl: Because I love black men.

The image of a young girl being carried to the bedroom by a handsome man is the stuff of fairy tales. So what is it about this brief dialogue that is worthy of note? Is it surprising to hear a small girl expressing such pleasure and delight in a reverie about a handsome man? Does the imagery echo a fantasy, or a stereotype, associated with an adult world? Does this short conversation hold the seeds of a philosophical enquiry? How else might I have responded? Where does this all belong and where could it be taken?

Approaches to building classroom communities

Circle time and philosophy with children

Many adults try to make sure that there is room to explore issues of interest to the children with whom they are working. To such ends the adoption of approaches such as circle time has become an important part of the timetable in many primary schools (Mosley, 2000). In circle time, the emphasis is on building effective communication and good relationships in the class and providing a forum in which problems can be tackled constructively. Children are encouraged to explore feelings, to listen to each other, to take turns in speaking, and to seek solutions. Circle time practice includes pro-social games and activities. Rules are established and agreed by the participants. As the name of this approach suggests, during discussion and activities children sit in a circle facing each other along with the adult in charge.

The practice of philosophical enquiry in schools is a very different approach to open-ended discussion that has grown in many countries over the past thirty-five years. Although children also sit in a circle for philosophical enquiry and adopt rules of interaction, that is where the resemblance to circle time ends. Central to the practice of philosophy with children is that all discussion arises from children’s questions, usually in response to a particular stimulus, such as a story, picture or poem. By first examining all the questions the discussion is able to gravitate towards those questions that are open-ended and have no immediate and obvious answer. The process of choosing a question and of engaging in enquiry is a democratic one in which the adult in charge strives to enable the children’s discussion to follow its own course, rather than steering it towards a planned goal. Children are encouraged to think logically, critically and creatively, to reason and reflect, and to deliberate with an open-minded disposition. The teacher models the language of philosophical discourse and introduces conceptual tools to extend or to record the development of ideas. Children collaborate, not towards unanimity, but towards shedding light from many different angles on a particular question. The drive is towards truth seeking, rather than towards resolution and convergence of opinion. Disagreement and divergence are normal and expected. Answers to questions are searched for but they are seen as provisional.

Philosophy for children has clear cognitive aims. It sets out to exercise the mind through challenging and disciplined thinking and structured interaction. It also has the social aim of teaching democratic decision-making processes. Regular participation almost certainly contributes to the development of individual self-awareness and resilience.

The adults’ responsibility

Without any prompting, many children ask philosophical questions: ‘Where was I before I was born?’ ‘What if heaven is full?’ They are able to make use of experience and imagination in deliberating the mysteries and problems that constitute human existence. They are often persistent, and it is striking how willing children are to adopt an open disposition, which involves changing one’s mind in the light of what one has heard. Such qualities make discussion with children pleasurable, instructive and also challenging. There is something about the questions that children ask that takes us away from repetition and routine in the classroom and gives us a sense of novelty and discovery, as well as a sense of connection with the history of human searches for knowledge. Philosopher and educator Eulalia Bosch writes:

The magic of this situation is that educators – teachers, parents or others interested in education – are, in fact, situated on this threshold that connects the most spontaneous comments of kids with the deepest of philosophical issues. The only difficulty is in recognising this space and learning how to move in it.

(2005:12–13)

When we search under the surface of children’s refreshing use of language to express philosophical questions we find that the introduction of communities of enquiry into the school setting can pose challenging and sometimes controversial issues about the authority claims of teachers. The democratic nature of this participatory approach does not always sit easily with the largely undemocratic organisation of schools. Childhood is highly contested ground. The battle for children’s minds is a deeply political one. Could learning and life at school be more democratic? What might philosophy with children contribute to such a project?

Adults have to consider how the structures and boundaries they provide can extend or limit children’s participation in dialogue and their judgements about what is true or real, what is good or bad, what is right or unjust. At the heart of progress in such dialogue are adults’ responses to what children claim to know and the ways in which power and authority are deployed in classrooms. Such responses are well informed when adults find better ways of listening to children’s perspectives and make it possible for children to participate in learning and everyday life. The listening process is something that receives detailed attention in the discussion of the pedagogy of philosophy with children discussed in this book, particularly in Part III.

Our perceptions of the value of children’s contributions to human knowledge are influenced by beliefs about childhood and by the legal, political, economic and social systems that influence practice. Our beliefs about childhood and adulthood are not universally accepted. Our values are culturally and socially based. They need to be seen as open to influence from the changing patterns of human development. Values shift according to place and time, culture, family life and patterns of employment. They change in response to peace, crisis or conflict and according to mood and an individual’s state of health.

It is difficult to answer the question ‘What is a child?’ Friquegnon (1997) suggests that we tend to confuse the terms ‘childlike’ and ‘childish’, leading to the conclusion that the desirable intrinsic qualities of childhood must be incompatible with adult responsibility. Childhood cannot...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• List of illustrations
• Preface to Second Edition
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• PART I Voices from the classroom
• PART II Thinking about thinking
• PART III Teaching through enquiry and dialogue
• PART IV The benefits of philosophy with children
• References