Little Kids: A Highly Underrated Subculture

Young children are probably the most underrated group of humans on the planet. And most adults are famous for thinking we’re “higher functioning” than them, just because we’re older, more experienced, and of course, taller (at least in most cases). We also get that impression because kids usually do what we tell them to, and someone who defers to grownups seems basically, a lesser being.

During my years of teaching, the one thing I learned is that children should not be underestimated regarding what they can accomplish, what they can intellectually handle, and especially how creatively they can think. And it’s when adults get smug and start thinking we’re superior in those categories, that’s when kids jolt us back into reality by showing us how wrong we are.

A great example of this comes from back-in-the-day when I taught Kindergarten for the first time. There they were, thirty little people sitting on the rug in front of me, listening with eager intensity as I taught a simple lesson from the Science curriculum. Of course, looking back now, that rapt focus should have been a tip-off that something was about to go wrong.

The lesson’s simple “objective” was to teach this concept: “Every species of animal has babies of like kind.” So for fifteen minutes I taught my novice heart out, showing them pictures and giving numerous examples to prove the validity of the concept I was sharing. And they seemed to be “buying” my pitch! For a young teacher… that was good.

Towards the end of the lesson, I started asking evaluation questions like, “Now, what would a mommy and daddy squirrel have?” And predictably the sweet little scholars would answer, in unison, “Baby squirrels.” And then I’d inquire, “What kind of babies would a hippopotamus family have?” Of course they chimed, “A baby hippopotamus.” I was relieved… my lesson was a success!

Of course, at this point, I was fully ready to enshrine myself in the “New Teacher’s Hall of Fame” for doing such a fantastic job. But, for ego purposes, I just had to have one more shred of evidence that my superior performance was absolutely airtight.

So I smugly asked this last, completely unnecessary and gratuitous question: “Before we‘re done, can anyone think of an animal that doesn’t have a baby that’s just like itself?” Of course, there were a lot of shrugs accompanied by almost uniform responses of “No,” and “Uh Uh.” I smiled, and nodded my head in silent agreement at the consensus being displayed. It had been the perfect lesson, and now it was over.

But before I could pat myself on the back, a small hand slowly rose to signal there was yet another response. It was attached to the arm of a little girl I knew to be very bright, and unique for her divergent style of thinking. I acknowledged her hand signal and waited for a response, never thinking I was about to be bushwhacked.

“Teacher,” she said, “I know an animal that can have a baby that’s not the same as it is,” she said with confidence. Thinking I was going to have to let her down lightly, I said politely, “Really? Well tell us, then, what kind of animal could do such a thing?” The tiny scholar looked me straight in the eye, and without hesitation announced for everyone to hear, “A mommy dog can have a worm.”

I was doomed. Immediately the room was filled with nodding heads and hushed affirmations such as, “Yeah, it can,” and, “She’s right, my doggy had worms once.” At that point, the only other thing I could hear was the gurgling of my “perfect lesson” as it dribbled down the drain.

Alas, my hopes of making it into the “New Teacher’s Hall of Fame” before lunchtime, were dashed. But, though disappointed, I slowly came to realize that actual learning had taken place that morning, at least for me. For never again did I underestimate the power of a child to think something through, and give an answer that not only makes perfect sense to them, but makes an adult feel childish at the same time.