Wonder
Wonder. A word often used by my children’s kindergarten teachers, and a word - similar to reverence - that, over time, I have come into relationship and understanding with. I remember a few years ago attending a parent evening, where one of the teachers said that when she responded to a child’s question, she would say “I wonder…” in a slow tone, looking slightly upwards.
To be honest, I didn’t really connect to it in that moment and wasn’t fully convinced that the alternative option of giving them an intellectualised explanation wasn’t better. There was often mystery in what the teachers said, and with the analytical mind that I have, comments like this tend to park themselves within me - and I slowly process and strive to understand the depth of what they mean.
Part of me thought it was a bit of a cop-out to answer with “I wonder” - like it makes it easier for us parents not to have to explain or engage in a conversation with our children. And sure, sometimes this may actually be the case. However, what I feel now is that while there are times when a discussion around a question is important - especially as our children move into the middle stages of childhood and need more concrete answers about the world - for these younger years, wonder holds magic.
Sometimes a discussion about why it’s important to wear seatbelts in the car feels appropriate, helping our children grasp the concept of physical safety. But maybe when they ask what the stars are made of, or why flowers don’t live as long as we do, “I wonder” may give more opportunity for imagination to arrive - within both us and our children.
They then have permission to enter that imaginative space that comes so easily to them - and to wonder.
Maybe the stars are made from the teeth we lose.
Maybe magic sprinkle dust is sprinkled on the plants to help them grow.
In these early years, wonder and imagination (which go hand in hand) help our children to see magic and possibility everywhere. And even as their brains become more grounded in understanding and intellect as they grow older, having been able to access that wonder so freely in early childhood means it has once lived within them - and perhaps that makes it easier to see life through a wonderful lens, full of dreams, possibilities, and opportunities.
Years into kindergarten, I started noticing my children responding to questions or using I wonder in a sentence. Like, “I wonder when they’ll be home,” or “I wonder who will be there.” And it started to click in me - the beauty and power of answering in this way.
Because if you notice what it’s like when a child or friend says, “I wonder when Mum will arrive,” instead of, “Mum should be here by now,” it puts us into a dreamy state of openness and possibility. We begin to imagine: maybe she stopped to pick some flowers, or maybe she saw a friend along the way. Instead of going straight into assumption or explanation, which feels less warm, less connected, we stay in the space of gentle curiosity.
Now I use the gesture and word of wonder freely - and I find myself benefitting from allowing space for curiosity and magic. I think it is possible for us as adults to still access the magic and wonder in the world. And by scaffolding our children to hold this lens within them, we help ourselves, too.
Maybe the world can still be beautiful.
Maybe magic does still exist - in how a single pumpkin seed can grow many pumpkins, or in the sparkle of a crystal that nature has made, or when we hear a choir singing or an orchestra performing and we get chills, or when we have a heartfelt conversation with a dear friend.
I’d like to finish with an excerpt from an opening speech given in 2012 by Rosie Simpson at the 9th World Conference of Steiner Teachers, held every four years at the Goetheanum, Dornach, Switzerland, who spoke of wonder so beautifully:
“𝘐𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵, 𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵.”