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Looking back to my childhood in India, I recall my introduction to philosophy came from lively recitations of Hindu myths, Sanskrit epics, and folktales. The storyteller’s skill would successfully draw connections between real-life events and the examples of the characters, each listener taking from the story what he or she could comprehend. The Jataka tales taught us that ahimsa, or nonviolence, are applicable in all situations; the legend of Prince Siddhartha pointed out that sickness, old age, and death are part of the natural cycle of life; the Mahabharat challenged us with metaphysical questions and the fulfillment of one’s dharma, or duties; our grandmother’s song on the consequences of one’s actions introduced us to the theory of karma, rebirth, and moksha, or salvation. As a college student later on, I was formally introduced to these ideas in various history, literature, and philosophy courses, but it was my memory of the storytelling sessions that gave life and meaning to them. As a scholar today, I am interested in the ethnography of spoken art versus literary versions of tales, the circumstances of the presentation, and the listener’s reception of the material, as well as the ability of stories to convey philosophical messages. Kirin Narayan, in analyzing oral tales as religious and philosophical discourse, writes: “Drawn from shared cultural traditions, these stories link personal experience with collective experience and weld the present to the past. Yet the meanings stemming from each story…lie ultimately in the engagement of the listeners.”1 The storyteller’s art captures the dynamic nature of the oral tale; it envelops listeners in the atmosphere of the tale by connecting the story with their lived experience. It is this interdisciplinary quality of orature that I find reflected in the philosophy-for-children classroom. Proponents recognize that teaching through stories is a powerful, evocative medium that encourages children to question, stresses interaction between adults and children, and demands active student participation. Such a program heals the fragmentation of what Richard Bauman calls “academic differentiation and its concomitant division of intellectual labor” by presenting a “unified vision of literature as cultural production that was folklore’s birthright.”2 Matthew Lipman’s essay provides the rationale for such an approach to teaching. He believes that “Our aim is not to get the children to learn philosophy but to encourage them to think philosophically.”3 Peer Olsen’s and Mark Grover’s analyses offer examples of philosophical concepts transmitted through fiction. The essays by Frank Lyman and Shirley Rogers-Newman, Tim Sprod, and Jana Mohr Lone demonstrate how literature in the classroom can lead to metacognition, critical thinking, problem solving, and philosophical inquiry. Those involved with doing philosophy for children also emphasize its liberating and democratic qualities: it leads to increased self-esteem, self-determination, independence, development of a community of inquiry, and cooperation. Ann Margaret Sharp writes that “we have experienced a new consciousness with regard to children’s rights, as well as a growing awareness of the potential of children not only to reason well, but to reason well together about the philosophical dimension of their daily experience, and to bring new concepts of love, freedom and justice into existence.”4 Two issues emerge from the debate on introducing philosophy to children: Is philosophy for children nothing but a new means of introducing didactic and moralistic literature to children? Can message, pedagogical aims, and aesthetic pleasure be combined? There are many superior fantasy and realistic books that entertain as well as confront young readers with challenging philosophical and metaphysical ideas. Lewis Carroll’s Alice books, Natalie Babbitt’s Tuck Everlasting (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1975), Ruskin Bond’s Angry River (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1972), George MacDonald’s At the Back of the North Wind (London: Strahan, 1871), and A. A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh stories raise intriguing questions about dualism and nondualism, the cycle of life, immortality and reincarnation, mystical understanding of nature, and the concept of time. Although the idea is not new, the philosophy-for-children movement is giving new credence to storytelling and education, as well as displaying respect for the intelligence of children. Yours
sincerely, 1.
Kirin Narayan, Storytellers, Saints, and Scoundrels: Folk Narrative
in Hindu Religious Teaching (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 1989), 109–10. Letters TO THE POINT: PHILOSOPHY FOR CHILDREN On
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