Education: 'It's very good for them – these days, if you can talk a good show, you're set up for life'
THE NOBLE TRADITION of Socratic dialogue is alive and well in one small corner of north Antrim. But there are no venerable grey-beards here – the philosophers in question are all under 12. For the past four years, children at Straidbilly Primary School in the village of Liscolman have benefited from a revolutionary new scheme introducing them to the eternal human issues of love, war, poverty and death. For one hour a week, pupils as young as four take time out from their regular lessons to get to grips with philosophy. Starting with a specific stimulus – it could be a book, a poster, even a piece of music – the budding young Kants and Kierkegaards approach issues individually, then in pairs (known rather endearingly as “knee-to-knee” time) and finally as a group. Later, they record their responses in learning journals, colourfully decorated with their own illustrations. No worries about spelling mistakes or the need for corrections here – each child is free to write and draw whatever he or she wants.
The principal, Valerie McIntosh, has been amazed at the way the scheme has boosted confidence in the youngsters. “The children are encouraged to hold their own and explain why they take a particular philosophical point of view. It’s very good for them – these days, if you can talk a good show, you’re set up for life.”
Even the shyest children blossom in the weekly philosophy hour, while the more forthright are encouraged to examine and develop their views in dialogue with others. Both teachers and parents agree that the positive effects are felt far beyond the confines of the classroom, not just in terms of increased confidence, motivation and ability, but in a heightened respect for the differing views of others. No longer is a one-word answer enough for these knowledge-hungry children. Now it’s why, why, why all the way home. “These are deep questions for a wee mind of age eight,” says one parent, Michelle Spence. “But they really are able to handle them.”
“It has opened up their minds so much, and it has been fascinating to see how the children just went for it right from the start,” says Susan Parkhill, who teaches the nine- and 10-year-olds in year five. “The whole thing is completely child-led; we let them take it in whatever direction they want. It’s become a part of school life now, from year one to year seven. What’s more, it’s completely inclusive, benefiting children of all abilities.”
There’s no sense that the children are engaging in a watered-down form of philosophical debate. This is intellectually stimulating stuff, right from the start. So year-one children look at the difference between questions and statements. By year two, they’re ready to consider the difference between open and closed questions; the slippery nature of “right” and “wrong”. From year three onwards, children tackle the really meaty questions – for example, “What would happen if people didn’t trust each other?”; “Why are some people selfish and take the wrong road in life?”; and “Why do countries sometimes disagree with each other?”
McIntosh says the question of whether human beings are the only creatures with minds led to an almost Cartesian debate about whether the mind and the brain can be considered separate entities.
And that’s the really striking thing about Straidbilly’s philosophy sessions – the children aren’t burdened or overawed by the notion that great minds have wrestled with the nature of the human condition and its vicissitudes for millennia. These kids are throwing around complicated concepts as though they were so much play-dough, handling them with the easy confidence that comes with familiarity. It makes sense that, when you’ve been discussing weighty matters since you were knee-high to a grasshopper, philosophising holds no fears.
Straidbilly staff were inspired to begin philosophy sessions after attending a course run by Prof Karen Murris, a Belgian-born academic who has done much to promote the teaching of philosophy in primary schools. They were attracted to the idea of setting up a “community of enquiry” in the school: this is a learning model where children are encouraged to consider problems to which there are no immediate or obvious answers, thus throwing up a plethora of further open-ended questions, and a thoroughly satisfying debate. In short, it develops critical thinking, encouraging children not just to read the lines, but to read between or even beyond them.
Peter Worley, a UK-based practitioner who has been pioneering philosophy sessions in primary schools across England, says getting them philosophising at a young age benefits youngsters right across the ability spectrum. “We have found that many very bright children seem to slip through the usual system of the three Rs but have been identified in the philosophy sessions because of their good reasoning skills, profound insights and powers of verbal expression. We have also discovered that children with behavioural difficulties have responded well to the philosophy sessions, as philosophy can provide them with a constructive platform for their contrary thinking.”
Known to his young charges simply as “the Philosophy Man”, Worley believes that all schools should have their own resident philosopher, “reconnecting the word ‘philosophy’ with its etymology, ‘love of wisdom’, and putting philosophy back in to the beginnings of learning from whence it came”.
Perhaps the idea of an in-house philosopher is a bit beyond the scope of most schools. But, as McIntosh says, there’s no reason primary schools shouldn’t run their own sessions, adapted to the needs of the pupils. “The key thing is that the whole school should be involved; for it to work, it really has to be embedded,” she says.
“Apart from benefits for pupils, there are also great benefits for teachers,” says Murris. “It’s a fascinating way of finding out what pupils are thinking, and being able to link it with the curriculum. Teachers themselves are also put in a position where they are challenged in their thinking and they themselves have to ask good questions as a way of modelling what good questions are.”
Shirley Parkhill says that when the school lost a pupil in a car accident, she – as well as the children – found the philosophy sessions particularly beneficial and comforting, as they discussed together how you cope when someone dies.
And what about the children themselves? What do they have to say about the philosophy classes that have put their tiny school on the educational map? As soon as I ask Parkhill’s class of year-five children, a forest of hands shoots up; they’re all eager to share their views.
“Philosophy teaches you to speak out in front of other people,” says Daniel.
Rachel pipes up, “You learn how to share your ideas with others.”
“When you go into knee-to-knee time, you get to know the people in your class who don’t talk as much,” adds Emma. Ross, at the back of the classroom, calls, “I like the way we can disagree with each other without falling out.”
If this sparky, articulate bunch are anything to go by, Straidbilly’s philosophy experiment is a resounding success – and a reaffirmation of the old Socratic maxim: “Education is the kindling of a flame, not the filling of a vessel.”