Character education shouldn’t come at the expense of childhood

Life is long, but childhood is short. Should we really be teaching character by rushing children into the adult world, asks Andrew Hammond...

Our attempts to build character in children are often hijacked by an expectation that they must ‘grow up’ in order to succeed. It seems to me we measure success in childhood against some concept of being adult. Why do we have to calibrate childhood in this way? I have always believed that a childhood overly dominated by the need to prepare for adult life is, ironically, likely to lead to an unfulfilling and unhappy adulthood. And yet, conversely, the secure and happy adulthood is one that is built on the strong foundations of a childhood largely free of any pressing need to ‘grow up’.

I was running some writing workshops in a school recently, I was complimenting a Year 5 child on how quickly he had filled his page with writing and how he had settled into his work without fuss or bother. He was, as we teachers say, ‘on task’. His reply surprised me:

“Well, you have to get on don’t you? I mean, life’s too short ‘innit?”

He was 10 years old.

One can only imagine the conversations between him and his parents who, for the best intentions, I am sure, suggested unequivocally that he remove his finger from his nostril, pull his proverbial socks up and get a move on with things.

The character development to which I am referring is not at all concerned with the kind of premature adultification that seems to be seeping into our schools and homes. Building character does not simply mean growing up. I am not in the habit of hurrying children through their childhood and stubbing out all evidence of childishness. (When have you ever heard the word ‘childish’ used as a compliment?).

When have you ever seen an adult skip down the road? Why? Why is that? Skipping is an efficient and healthy way to travel. Come to think of it, when have you ever seen a teenager skip down the road? It’s childish, isn’t it?

To that boy in the writing workshop, I wanted to retort, “Don’t worry. Life is long. But childhood is short, so enjoy it for as long as you can.” With luck, you’ll spend four fifths of your life as an adult (and most of that time will be spent hankering after the first fifth).

To conflate ‘character development’ with ‘growing up’ is to miss the point and will only heighten the malevolent effects of formal schooling that I have highlighted. Perhaps I come from the ‘Just William’ school of thinking, or schooling, but I am talking about that kind of courageous childhood in which the infant is not afraid to ‘have a go’, to be resourceful, to take risks and to be happily oblivious to the kinds of pressures often exerted by the anxious parent. The days of “Hey Mum, I’m off out. I’ll be back for tea” may be depicted in sepia these days, but it was often in these untrammelled moments of exploration that the most beneficial character traits and attitudes were forged. I am not alone in this view; more than three hundred years ago, empiricist philosopher, John Locke, wrote:

Farther advantage may be made by a free liberty permitted to [children] in their recreations, that it will discover their natural tempers, show their inclinations and aptitudes, and thereby direct wise parents in the choice both of the course of life and employment they shall design them for… (Locke, 1693: 80)

It has all become a little clinical now, hasn’t it, with some parents, though not all, of course, feeling the need to account for every waking moment of their offspring’s weekend, what with swim squad and private tutors and drama school and music lessons and taekwondo and Sunday league sports. Some children have busier diaries than their parents.

I wonder how many of today’s children are afforded such ‘free liberty’? Perhaps it is due to their refreshing contrast to the structured nature of formal schooling that I find Locke’s ‘recreations’ so appealing. My reading of this is that if children are given time to be children, their innate character traits and capacities may be better nurtured, rather than compromised or driven out of them in the race to adulthood, or in the over-diarized moments between schooldays. The natural rhythm of childhood is better left to beat by itself occasionally, without resetting the clock to a different tempo all the time.

I cannot write on the subject of resourcefulness in childhood and proudly unstructured summer hols without quoting from one of my favourite poets of the twentieth century, Stephen Spender. I hope you will allow me this short tangential ‘tea break’ from our task. In Spender’s wistful and aptly-named Lost Days, a poem I recommend heartily to you, we find a little boy lying on the grass in the long summer hols:

‘Then, when an hour was twenty hours, he lay Drowned under grass.’

He studies the creatures down there in the minutest detail. In the closing couplet of the middle section, Drowned under Grass, the image of the little boy ‘holding the earth’ is delightful. His character, his curiosity, his joie de vie and his sheer sense of awe and wonder are heartening to us teachers. He has time to notice nature.

‘He pressed his mouth against the rooted ground Held in his arms, he felt the earth spin round.’

(Stephen Spender Collected Poems 1928-1985: 147)

This chap seems a far cry from the boy whom I met inside the M25, and to whom life seemed so short. I’m not sure how much time that boy has spent gazing at ants – perhaps it is not an efficient use of his time?

Does this mean we should all close our textbooks, take off our shoes and run onto the school playing field to look for creepy crawlies?

Enormously tempting, but perhaps not everyday. To me, it means we should pause from time to time to consider how much ‘free liberty’ of the kind Locke called for three centuries ago, is permitted to children now – and the unintended side effects that such a lack of free time may be having on their innate character development.

Can character be taught?

It’s worth distinguishing ‘moral character’ from ‘performance character’. The former is often enveloped in a school’s ethos, values and culture, or faith perhaps, whilst the latter is concerned with the character traits and attitudes children need to participate fully in school life, and beyond. 

Performance character is not necessarily playing rugby on rock-hard pitches in order to ‘put hairs on your chest’, or growing up and toughening up. It is about developing character traits and attitudes that will help you to reach your potential and work successfully with others, such as
grit, adaptability, optimism, empathy, and trust.

Can character be taught in schools? Yes, but not by carving out a syllabus and a scheme of work, and then dolloping out content in 30-minute chunks every week. It is best taught by creating a learning environment that is purpose-built to allow character to flourish. When building such an environment it is worth considering the following key features:

• teacher as model learner
• the language of learning
• group dynamics
• choices and challenges
• the element of doubt
• observation

Children don’t just learn from what teachers tell them; they learn from watching and mimicking how teachers behave, who they are, and the character traits and attitudes they model every lesson, every day, every week.

This article is an edited extract from Andrew Hammond’s book, Teaching for Character (John Catt Educational, 2015), which offers practical advice to help encourage grit and determination in children.