Perhaps it is a new spin on the old saying about the hand that holds the ladle ruling the world. In any case, dinner conversation is a huge and vital part of a child's development, says literacy campaigner Graham Crawshaw
Paul Charman talks with literacy campaigner Graham Crawshaw
New Zealand plumbed the depths in the recent United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) league table of how developed countries treat children, with one throwaway fact being that we are rated 24th for parents regularly eating a meal with their children. For Crawshaw that's a telling indictment, but he believes ideally children should be able to speak to an assortment of trusted adults, as well as parents and caregivers. He considers positive conversation is a medicine to heal a child's low self-esteem, a road map to fi nd a place called, "their ideal learning zone" and a toolbox to repair years of frustration and anger (mostly but not exclusively) in boys written-off by New Zealand's education system. "Positive conversations are indispensable to everyone, young or old," says Crawshaw. He wants all adults first of all to make the effort to converse with children, and secondly to do it in such a way as to draw them out, rather than bogging them down with details. Crawshaw says conversation with children takes hard work and application, but adults who learn the art can hugely increase both a child's confi dence and knowledge, and their own as well.
A touch of (clean) humour always helps, however puns are frequently lost on children but begin to work well as literacy skills increase. He admits that times have changed since his own childhood in the 40s and 50s, during which his parents arranged for him to stay with 35 different farming families during school holidays. The young Crawshaw took the train or the bus to rural far-fl ung areas of Northland and the Waikato, and became integrated into families, all of whom treated him well.
"Today everyone must stop him or herself lest, even for saying hello to a child, they be thought a paedophile," he says. He says a consequence of this fearfulness is increased dumbing down, as children develop less confi dence, fewer verbal skills and possibly retreat from conversation to forms of electronic entertainment. Crawshaw intends to share his ideas in detail in a forthcoming memoir. "The common profi le of a boy at one of our camps is that he will hate school, have poor grades and probably have no dad. I therefore never ask about school, grades or dads. "It just takes practice ask kids about their pets, congratulate them on their haircut, ask where you could get one the same, see if there are any trees at their place and ask if they climb or build tree huts in them; ask about their names and their nature. "Where there's a will, there's a conversation, provided you keep it open-ended, nonjudgemental and positive." His camps combine physical activities, such as hikes and mud slides, with white-board sessions to t
each the basics of phonics, "but in my view you simply can't take conversation out of the equation it's a vital part of learning." He remembers conversations he has with grand-children and the children of friends, such as their pets, their best or least liked insect, hobbies and ambitions. And conversations around the dinner table, as opposed to expensive outdoor pursuits, have
always been a key activity at reading camps run on his Dargaville farm.
Boys, aged between seven and eleven come in with monosyllabic verbal skills, too often according to Crawshaw stunted by indifferent or sarcastic adults, including teachers and caregivers. Their very basic vocabulary has four frequently used words:
cool, wicked, awesome
and duck, starting with an 'f.' During their week at camp they would learn to converse with peers without putdowns, and with a
dult and teenage cabin leaders trained to be attentive. It may raise a red flag with some people, those unfamiliar with the Arapohue Reading Camps and Crawshaw's ideas on education primarily happening away from "school." "It's tragic that we are made to be fearful about speaking to children we meet," says Crawshaw. "Of course children must be protected from some adults but in my view it's gone too far. "It takes a whole village to raise a child, and that means every child should ideally have a network. "Today many children only ever get to converse with a handful of adults, their parents, teachers, maybe a sports coach. "Sport is great but it's surely not the be all and end all in a well rounded life." He never loses an opportunity to tell a child that they can go far
"do you like bugs? well you could become New Zealand's top entomologist someone has to be!" Crawshaw says what is true of children is equally true of adults. "Usually when we say we enjoyed a social occasion, we are really referring to the quality of conversations they had there. "I think everyone should practice the art of listening and drawing others out. It's an art that does not have to die in the present age. "The people we meet can unlock a whole world of knowledge for us, if only we learn how to converse with them."
Paul Charman is an Auckland journalist, and a colleague of reading advocate Graham Crawshaw.
If your child is having trouble at school, going back to basics might be just what he needs. Literacy campaigner Graham Crawshaw has established a farm in Windy Ridge near Warkworth to help boys "regain their boyhood", while improving their literacy skills. The programme takes them back to basics, with no power for playstations or computers and cooking over a fire. The farm will soon host the annual Fathers and Sons camp.
Mr Crawshaw is passionate about literacy and has dedicated the camp to improving boys' reading. He attributes their literacy problems to the
phasing out of the phonics-based teaching system commonly used up to the 1950's. His camps are based on teaching the phonics method the different sounds letters and groups of letters make combined with outdoor activities, positive conversations and adventures in the bush.
By GEMMA REDDELL - Autocar | Wednesday, 24 September 2008
