Every child is unique. His soul, his mind, his sensitivity make him one of a kind. Every child is a product of the time and environment in which he lives; the more care and affection he receives, the greater will be the gifts he gives back to the world.
Emma is a special little girl: her language and behavioral inventions make her unique; yet at the same time, her tastes are similar to those of so many other young girls her age. She loves to swim like a little fish, to make funny faces and say “cheese” when photographed, she loves her “Hello Kitty” bag, animals, soap bubbles, sunglasses and those special princess shoes her mom brought back from New York. Emma is six years old. She speaks Swedish with her mom, and Italian with her dad. Emma plays, learns, discovers and grows.
Today, during Reading Workshop, the children ran into an unexpected hitch. The characters in the book we are reading are visiting a big city and they stumble across a huge fountain.
Unfortunately, none of the children in the class has ever seen one in Indianapolis. It’s just then that Henry, six years old, smiling with satisfaction, bails out his classmates describing what a fountain looks like.
“My grandparents live in Milan, in Italy. Over there, fountains are all over the place, and they are beautiful!”
What is the right age to start? Viola seems surprised by such a seemingly inappropriate question.
There is no age. Or, better: everyone has his own. Of course, the earlier the better. But with no undue rush, and in the most spontaneous way. I remember an afternoon many years ago. Andrew was little, no more than three or four years old.
We had just decided to take a walk. He was ready before I was, I don’t remember exactly why. “Are you ready, mom?” he asked with his small voice. Not yet, I answered. Give me five minutes.
“OK,” he said, sitting in his little chair. “I’ll just read a good book in the meantime”.