The child has a hundred languages (and a hundred hundred hundred more)
A moment's rest after a busy weekend. I had a rather lengthy article review due today, as well as a developmental psych exam. My entire weekend was spent pretty much on those things plus a powerpoint presentation for an oral exam I have coming up. It's not due for a while, but I'm meeting with my partner about it on Wednesday. Then I had a CRC session today, which was quite pointless, but did lead me to an interesting discovery. Upon further inspection of an area of the library I have passed many times before, I realized our library is hosting the "Where Ideas Learn to Fly" exhibit, concerning the Reggio Emilia Approach. I didn't have much time to explore right away, but I plan to go back. If you've never heard of this, it's very fascinating. To give you an idea, here is a poem written by the founder of the Reggio Emilia school. Written in Italian and translated to English, so...yeah.
The child is made of one hundred.
The child has a hundred languages
a hundred hands
a hundred thoughts
a hundred ways of thinking
of playing, of speaking.
A hundred, always a hundred
ways of listening
of marveling
of loving
a hundred joys for singing
and understanding
a hundred worlds to discover
a hundred worlds to invent
a hundred worlds to dream.
The child has a hundred languages
(and a hundred hundred hundred more)
but they steal ninety-nine
the school and the culture
separate the head from the body.
They tell the child to think
without hands
to do without head
to listen and not speak
to understand without joy
to love and marvel
only at Easter and Christmas.
They tell the child
to discover the world already there
and of the hundred
they steal ninety-nine.
They tell the child that
work and play
reality and fantasy
science and imagination
sky and earth
reason and dream
are things
that do not belong together.
And thus they tell the child
that the hundred is not there.
The child says:
No way. The hundred is there!
Loris Malaguzzi
I just got Much Afraid again. I loooove this album.
The child is made of one hundred.
The child has a hundred languages
a hundred hands
a hundred thoughts
a hundred ways of thinking
of playing, of speaking.
A hundred, always a hundred
ways of listening
of marveling
of loving
a hundred joys for singing
and understanding
a hundred worlds to discover
a hundred worlds to invent
a hundred worlds to dream.
The child has a hundred languages
(and a hundred hundred hundred more)
but they steal ninety-nine
the school and the culture
separate the head from the body.
They tell the child to think
without hands
to do without head
to listen and not speak
to understand without joy
to love and marvel
only at Easter and Christmas.
They tell the child
to discover the world already there
and of the hundred
they steal ninety-nine.
They tell the child that
work and play
reality and fantasy
science and imagination
sky and earth
reason and dream
are things
that do not belong together.
And thus they tell the child
that the hundred is not there.
The child says:
No way. The hundred is there!
Loris Malaguzzi
I just got Much Afraid again. I loooove this album.