A HOME-MADE KINDERGARTEN.

Auckland Star, Volume 55, Issue 22, 26 January 1924, Page 22

A HOME-MADE KINDERGARTEN.

(By G.E.8.) A woman I know exceedingly well has what she calls a "home-made kindergarten." I had almost forgotten about it, when, the other day, another friend who wants to supplement her rather small income asked if I would write to Mrs. M to find out all about her kindergarten, and most important of all —whether it paid? I did so; and in a few days came the following reply:— ''Dear , I hardly know how to write to you about a kindergarten for Mrs. S. I would not like to take the responsibility of advising her at all. One thing I may say quite frankly to begin with, and that is that my school certainly does not pay; if looked at from a strictly commercial point of ■view. I certainly have a few more -hillings to spend at each weekend than I would if I were doing nothing—but as for being paid for my time—l should be ashamed to tell you what it works out at per hour. Of course, you know how very fond I am of tiny children; so for mc it is not the drudgery it would be for some. At kindergarten age they are so lovely and unspoiled. They adore one so; they place one on such an exalted pedestal that only the best is good enougn to write on those »potless tablets. Little loving hearts, absorbing every word and action, like little sponges! It is certainly not monotonous. In fact, it is most interesting; contriving each week, each day even, to invent some new game with a little lesson carefully wrapped up in it. To ( convert the homely things around into ( plays, each filling the little souls with

joy. And thi3 without • spending a penny. In my little school, out of all the list of kindergarten aids I have only blackboards, plasticine, lead pencils, paints and chalk. I even dispense with the ball-frame. Our counters vary from day to day. If we are in the park, where we spend half our morning on fine days, we use acorns, coloured leaves, tiny sticks, clover heads, daisies and little stones. Tiny as these children are, it is my proud boast that I have taught them to use their eyes, and to look for and love the beauties of nature. To-day they will tell mc what they saw when coining to school —tomorrow it will he what they heard. We have great fun over it; the very wee ones mixing up the two senses very comically. "We pass tnrough Memorial Gates to our park, and for a few mornings I lined the little tots up before the gates, explaining as simply as possible why they were there. Then each day when asked they repeat, remembering perfectly—"ln memory of the poor soldiers who died for us in the Great War." Then they salute. After a few mornings I never needed to remind them. They run on ahead, and when I reach the gates I find a motley heap of dolls, prams, teddies, tricycles, hoops, etc., dumped by the small gate, while in front of the memorial gates is an orderly little row carefully toeing a straight crack in the concrete. It is wonderfully pretty to see them in the park playing the'r •birdie' game. Pretending they are birds tbey run off with outstretched anna to collect nest material. Then they find places to build, all with much chirping and fluttering of wings. One old-fashioned little mite is very thorough in all she does, and our attempt at nest building never satisfied her. 'Why can't we make them like the birdies?' she asked one day. Tfecause, dearest, God did not teach us to build nests.* 'God who?' was the reply. Now don't he shocked—this child's people are not neglectful; but she has evidently only heard the name of Jesus in her prayers. This same child was very funny one day when I had an unsightly carbuncle on my chin. It was at the fierce, red stage, like a burn, and Gypsy could not take her eyes off it. At last the question came: 'How did you burn your face, Mrs. MJ' 'I didn't burn it, darling, it is a nasty boil.' There was silence for a few minutes, then simply bursting, Gypsy broke out: 'How did you boil your face, Mrs. M.' Another little girl, who had never heard even nursery rhymes, would convert all rhymes into prose, viz., -Mother told him not to go —near the brook, where cresses grow* c^L.? 18 T tber said he ™»Mnt but hr™ 0 ge^cresses at the b ™°k.' » com. At you know T .—■■■• a

One particularly sharp lesson the children taught mc very early in my career. I had taken them to the beach (we do quite a lot of lessons on the ■hard sand), and thinking to please my : little school very specially, I made a 'particularly beautiful little garden in the sand. I laid out flower beds, made winding paths with tiny boulders, made a bamboo plantation with little bits of bamboo, filled an old tin with water and buried it in the sand to make a .pond; in fact, I loved it- so myself I simply hung over it. When it was comIplete I waited in vain for the rapturous ;admiration. They were coldly polite, : admired each beauty with the tepid •jwarmth of sixty, spoke of it all the .time as 'Mrs. M.'s garden,' then drifted off to 'create.' Then I realised how stupid I had been. The desire to create is so very strong in the young. This it is which causes the tiny girl who cannot yet sew to cut arm holes in a bit |of rag, to put on her elaborately dressed ; doll. It is not her own baby till she ihaa made it at least a 'pinny.' The little boy, too, wull leave his toy engine for the little cart he has made himself ;out of an old box and cotton reels. ; Since that day they design and I help, il am afraid you will wonder what part jof this digression will do to help Mrs. |S., but honestly there is so much mere iin kindergarten work than most people imagine that I felt I must give you just a little idea of my own experiences. After all, I think the best plan will be for Mrs. S to come over for a week to try how she would like to teach mv little pupils. Very sincerely, Martha M." After a week's trial Mrs. S decided that kindergarten teachers were "born, not made," and that she, at least, was not of the elect.