the hundred languages

The Hundred Languages Of Children
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 marvelling, 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 to speak
to understand without joy
to love and to marvel
only at Easter and at 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
(translated by Lella Gandini)

The poem, “The Hundred Languages of Children” was written by Loris Malaguzzi, founder of the ‘Reggio Emilia‘ approach to childcare. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

today i was simultaneously on the receiving and giving end at school. it was a tiny circle that had been revealed by a little girl saying goodbye to her daddy.

she will be an actress one day, and has perfected the speedy costume change. she was a mermaid today chatting about her costume and sparkly sequins and the puffy purple top “because mermaids have nipples and i have nipples!”

we enter a conversation that sheds light on the human truth that kids reveal, they kick the door down unknowingly and hold it in both hands for all to see. “my mommy has big nipples and i have tiny nipples!” (emphasis on big and tiny) “yes,” i say, “we all have nipples! that’s what makes us mammals!”  

her dad smiles as she jumps track into a different conversation all together about mommy’s house and daddy’s house. it’s too early for him, i can tell, and i hear the silence from him just as it came from me earlier this week. i smiled and revealed my own truth, “you know, some of river’s toys stay at his daddy’s house and some of his toys stay at my house.”

his eyes smiled thank you.

and my eyes smiled your welcome.

this is hard.

i never thought it would be like this.

these shoes we wear …

we clomp around in them

and sulk that we are alone

with blisters

in uncomfortable shoes …

but the truth that kids reveal

is that we are all the same.