It all starts in Kindergarten

# It All Starts in Kindergarten *Long before exams and results, somebody has to teach a child that school is a safe place. Often, that somebody is a KG teacher.* I can still picture myself as a little boy at St Joseph’s School and College in Allahabad, standing beside a hedge outside the principal’s office and crying because I cannot find my schoolbag. At that age, losing a bag seems like a catastrophe. Father Cyril George, the principal, comes out and asks what is wrong. Between sobs, I tell him, “I have lost my bag.” He takes me by the hand and leads me to my KG teacher, who comforts me until I stop crying before taking me along to search for it. More than half a century later, I can still picture that hedge and remember the kindness of two adults who took the time to help a frightened child. Perhaps that is why I have always felt so strongly about those early years of schooling. Today, I see those years through another lens. My elder granddaughter is in KG, and I love listening to her describe her day and show me her drawings. Her eyes light up as she waits for my reaction, and I make sure she knows how much I appreciate her efforts. What might look like a few coloured lines to an adult represents a real achievement to a young child. She wants someone to stop, look and share her happiness. It is a small reminder of how much encouragement can mean at that age. Children are also far more observant than we sometimes give them credit for. During a school visit, a little boy in the corridor confidently told me that my name was Michael Guzder and that I was the principal. When I asked what he thought I did at work, he informed me that I had no work. His evidence was that I read papers and children brought me sweets on their birthdays. Naturally, I asked what he wanted to be when he grew up. “The principal,” he replied. “Why?” “Because there’s no work and there’s lots of money.” I had no comeback. His answer still makes me smile, but it also illustrates how closely children watch the adults around them. They learn not only from formal lessons but from the way people behave, the attention they receive and how they are treated. We rightly celebrate teachers who prepare students for board examinations and help them achieve strong academic results. Yet long before a child sits an examination, somebody has to help them feel secure enough to learn, confident enough to ask questions and comfortable enough to make mistakes. For many children, that somebody is their KG teacher. The work begins with helping a child settle into school. Some arrive happily, while others cling to a parent or cry at the classroom door. Teachers must reassure them, establish routines and gradually help them discover that school can be an enjoyable place to be. Along the way, children learn to hold a pencil, share toys, take turns, express their feelings and cope with disappointment. When a friendship falls apart over a toy or a child struggles to join an activity, the teacher helps them find a way forward. These everyday encounters are as much a part of growing up as learning letters and numbers. The progress children make over their first year of KG can be astonishing. Think of the child who arrives tearful and reluctant to let go of a parent. By the end of the year, that same child may be chatting confidently with friends, expressing ideas, attempting new tasks and approaching unfamiliar experiences with curiosity. The transformation is remarkable. Behind it lies a great deal of patient, often unseen work. Day after day, the teacher encourages, reassures and celebrates small steps forward until a child who once needed constant support begins to manage independently. Helping young children develop confidence, communication skills and independence within a single year is an extraordinary achievement, deserving far greater recognition than it often receives. Sometimes, the rewards come in the simplest forms: a star in a book, a stamp on the back of a hand, a pat on the shoulder or a cheerful “Well done!” To an adult, these may seem like minor gestures. To a four-year-old, they can mean the world. The child feels noticed, the effort feels worthwhile and the next challenge becomes a little less daunting. That same patience is needed when preparing for KG concerts and sports days. Parents see the children on stage, dressed in their costumes and waving their pom-poms, but may not appreciate the hours of practice behind those few minutes. Getting a hundred or more young children to remember where to stand, when to move and which way to face requires organisation, persistence and a good sense of humour. Simply getting everyone to face the right way deserves an award of its own. And that is only one part of the job. Imagine managing 25 or 30 young children, often with just one assistant. One is crying, another needs the toilet, someone has spilt water and two others are quarrelling over a toy. Meanwhile, a little voice nearby is determined to give the teacher a detailed account of what happened at home that morning. Through it all, the teacher must keep the class engaged, attend to individual needs and ensure everyone is safe. I sometimes hear parents of a single child say, quite sincerely, “I am exhausted. I don’t know how to control him.” I understand their frustration. Looking after a young child can be demanding enough at home, so it is worth considering what a teacher manages with an entire class. Parents naturally want the best for their children. They worry about progress, friendships and whether their child is receiving enough attention. Some want reassurance that their child is keeping up; others have questions about activities or access to facilities. The teacher must listen, address legitimate concerns and explain what is appropriate for children at that stage, while keeping the needs of the whole class in mind. It is a delicate balance. A child who is crying or refusing to join an activity is not necessarily being difficult. They may be frightened, tired, missing home or struggling to express a feeling. Sometimes, the most effective response is to crouch to the child’s eye level, listen patiently and offer reassurance. Once the child feels understood, the tears often subside and curiosity returns. None of this diminishes the contribution of teachers in other phases. Every stage of education matters, and a thoughtful teacher can influence a child’s life at any age. But the early years hold a special place because they shape a child’s first impressions of learning, school and the adults entrusted with their care. I often return in my thoughts to that little boy beside the hedge in Allahabad. Father George took me by the hand and led me to my KG teacher. She comforted me, helped me stop crying and then went with me to look for my bag. I cannot remember what either of them said afterwards, or even whether we found it, but I remember their kindness. That is what makes the work of a KG teacher so important. A moment of reassurance, a word of encouragement or recognition of a small achievement may seem insignificant to the adult offering it. To a child, it can be the difference between feeling frightened and feeling that everything will be all right. Before children learn to read, write or calculate, they need to know that they belong. They need to feel that school is a place where someone will notice when they are unhappy, encourage them when they struggle and celebrate with them when they succeed. I was once that little boy who needed an adult to take him by the hand and lead him to someone who could help. Today, as a grandfather and an educator, I understand more clearly why that simple act of kindness has stayed with me for so long. We may not remember every lesson from our early schooldays, but we can carry the feeling of being cared for throughout our lives. For a KG teacher, helping a child discover that feeling may be one of the most important lessons of all.