Lessons I’ve learned from a four-year-old.

I am a Preschool teacher again. In my forties, I don’t feel as limber as I once was, but my tolerance and patience have increased immensely since the after-school program I taught as a 21-year-old. Unexpectedly, I have been rewarded for my hard work with inspiration from these little ones. Here are some of the lessons I have learned.

On the first day of class, I sat at the art table. Surrounded by crayons, watercolor paints, and little girls with messy ponytails, I learned how to draw a whimsical unicorn. I need to clarify, with a pencil in hand, I was instructed to make the magical creature. Thankfully, one of the children had on a tee shirt with a unicorn galloping across the front. I took the image as inspiration for the five consecutive creations I drew for the young crowd of admirers. 

Lesson #1- I am an artist, and so are you.

This is a belief children have instinctively. With busy hands, they scribble on the paper while whispering a story to themselves. Finishing with both satisfaction and excitement they pick up their paper to show off the purple blob in the center.

“This is my favorite stuffy, he’s a bear,” a little voice explains.

Do I see it? To be honest, not at first, but the excitement in his eyes and the gleam in his smile makes me take a second look.

  From such instances, I recall my own childish vision from long ago. When I was young, every grassy hill I drew had a girl in a long dress smiling back at me. I believed, though my drawings were far from life-like, that the girl on the hill was somehow an older and happier version of me.

When did I stop drawing pictures of that girl on the hill?

It had been years since I had spent time drawing from my imagination. This is one of the creative gifts given through teaching four-year-old preschool. When a child asks me to draw a lizard I now say, “Yes.” To my own wonder, I am able to picture the creature and start drawing. The finished product resembles the retile, and I am proud. It is like the inner artist is free again. Am I drawing on a professional level? No, but the children don’t mind, and to be honest, I don’t either.

Art time is not about being perfect, it is about imagining. It is about experimenting with color and materials as simple as paper towel rolls. It is about taking the time to feel the squishy cool texture of play dough between your fingers. Here’s the bottom line: It is about living in the moment and giving yourself permission to create.

On the same day, I went to the dramatic play center. This is where the firefighter costume and the play shoes are stored. In the miniature kitchen, the children served me a plate full of plastic foods they had prepared. I sat next to the doll dressed in a pink onesie. She was fed an avocado as I pretended to eat the serving of bacon and the clump of strawberries.

The children talked back and forth excitedly. I was their guest, the new teacher.

“Miss Dianne, would you like a napkin?”

“Yes, please.” I smiled.

Soon we were on a flight to Africa, one of them explained. I became the stewardess. They all giggled as I instructed them to take their seats. I passed out imaginary snacks as I told them each to buckle their seat belts.

Lesson #2- I am a great actress and so are you.

As an adult, I find it hard to relax enough to play act. To imagine what it would be like to be a stewardess seems silly, and childish, but as a preschool teacher, I find it refreshing to play again. Children need to interact as they play. And I need to remember what it is like to pretend.

Later on the playground at recess, the late summer sun greeted us as the crickets chirped. The breeze kept the cloudless sky from toasting us under the bright rays. In the shade, it was cool enough for comfort. The children ran free shouting as they released pent-up energy. Some of the kids ran laps around the sidewalk track. Others took turns on the tricycles. Still, others were digging holes in the sandbox. I found myself smiling as a group called me over to study the caterpillar making its way to the grass. From the sandbox, I was invited to taste freshly made banana muffins. My cellphone was still sitting in the preschool room untouched for the five hours of work. It felt good to be unplugged and fully tuned into the wonder of the outdoors.

Lesson # 3- The outdoors can fill us all with wonder no matter how old we are.

Children can make a bucket of sand into a three-tier wedding cake. They can instantly make the platform of the slide into a rocket ship, and the ground lava. It takes commitment to decide to play along. It feels foolish and sometimes physically exhausting to jump from one playground tile to the next trying to escape the invisible lava. But when children see that we are on their level, seeing the world from their point of view, they feel seen. And when I commit to play I find a smile easily resting on my face, softening the lines adult life has written across my forehead.

I want to live like this. I want to live a life of paying attention with childlike wonder. It is far too easy to stay comfortable in my old ways. It’s very tempting to fold my arms across my chest and give in to a lazy attitude, but I am starting to see the fun of playing along. I’m being led toward becoming more flexible because I have to stay on my toes. Though I need a nap when I get home from work, I am grateful for the lessons I’ve learned from a four-year-old.   

Thank you for reading! If you like what you have read, please subscribe below to also receive my newsletter. Thank you, Friend!- Dianne