The passage below is taken from my reflection paper to the book documenting Tobin et al's comparison of Japanese, Chinese and American preschools. The researchers conducted a video-cued multivocal ethnography of preschools in three countries, consisting of a set of videos from 1985 and another in 2003. Through these videos and interviews with educators, they analyze the different philosophies of early childhood education and the larger social patterns in each society. After 18 years, despite the thrusts of globalization, new pedagogical ideas and education trends, the pre-schools were continuing to function with the same implicit cultural logic.
The excerpt below covers my thoughts on American and Japanese pre-schooling practices. I found their contrasting approaches to child development fascinating, maybe because I am pretty acquainted with both cultures and really saw how their core child-rearing beliefs reflect societies' values. Each practice is a piece that is part of a larger picture, revealing to us what it means to be Japanese or American.
"...Democracy and free choice are beliefs deeply rooted in US society. These cultural values are shared across its “philosophical/ideological spectrum”, existing in pre-school practices across the country. In both Alhambra and St. Timothy’s, kids choose from a menu of playtime options. US pre-schools’ emphasis on free choice is guided by the belief that kids have “an unalienable right to the pursuit of happiness and fun”, as activities that are individually chosen are assumed to be more pleasurable than those assigned, thereby fostering intrinsic motivation and facilitating learning. (195) However, free choice comes with a structured set of options and lesson plans. This is most evident when US pre-school playtime’s free choice is studied next to the “free play” in Japan’s pre-schools. In Japan’s playtime, kids are free to roam around their classroom, exploring space, objects, social interactions with the other kids without the intervention of the teacher. The class is their “village”, where the kids navigate through the social complexities of human relation. This expectation is also achieved through the high teacher-student ratio. One teacher watches over thirty students, letting them play, fight and bask in kodomo-rashii (being childlike), only intervening when they see a risk of physical injury. On the other hand, the American teacher-child relationship is much more dyadic. US folk pedagogy places a preeminence placed on individualized attention, expressed in the “hybridity of the roles of mother and teacher and of nurturance and mentoring”. (245) I found irony in a Japanese teacher’s response to the American teacher/studio ratio. While making the point that the small class size might lead to loneliness and a narrow world-view, she said she understood that it could “help young children become very self-reliant and independent”. (243) To me, the opposite effect is taking place here. By letting kids freely roam, Japanese pre-schools allow kids the space to find their own feet as they make sense of their world, and their place in the world. Though the social complexities of pre-school are of a different nature than those they will face later, it is themselves they will always live with. Self-awareness is a life-long discipline; I believe that the earlier it is developed in someone, the more naturally they will make it a part of their wisdom. Therefore I don’t agree with her statement that the dyadic US teacher/student relationship produces more self-reliance or independence in the kids. While I agree with her that the small class size leads to a narrow world-view, my reasoning is derived in greater part from the concept of individualized attention at pre-school stage of development. I wonder- doesn’t this uni-directional nurturance from teacher to student give too much authority to a single person over a child’s development? It’s a colossal responsibility, could there be too much confidence afforded to one person? In contrast, the Japanese classroom village, mirroring the real world to a much larger extent, places that confidence in the human’s inherent ability to find their way. To me, individualized attention makes more sense in later education, where the goal is knowledge attainment versus emotional and social skills. Nevertheless, each system is designed to work for the society in which it belongs.
It makes sense that in the “listening-oriented” Japanese society, pre-schools focus focus on “the development of the heart (kokoro) through the encouragement of yomitoru(reading other people’s thoughts and feelings)...”. (139) Interacting with elements in classroom activities that symbolize entities that feel but cannot verbalize their feelings- the origami fish with no eyes or the toddlers they care for- gives Japanese preschool students “the chance to learn omoiyari, which means to be aware of the unverbalized and awkwardly expressed feelings of others.” (139) I found it fascinating to read about itte kanashii, the concept that the authors roughly translate to “Saying something (hurtful) to another person makes you sad.” (139) This concept, in sharp contrast to the American emphasis of verbalizing one’s opinions and emotions, signifies that in some way, the Japanese conception of self is understood in its interaction with others. Antithetical to this group-centered sensibility, is the American pre-schools encouragement of individualism and verbal self-expression, beliefs that prepare kids for a society that in large part rewards a certain degree of self-entitlement. Evidently, re-schools prepare children to enter society and in doing so, chart the course of society."