More than talking about ideas: Expanding the philosophical use of children’s literature

Big Ideas for Little Kids (Wartenberg, 2009) is in many ways a refreshing change from many of the Philosophy for Children (P4C) books that I encounter. Wartenberg lays out here an argument for why to do philosophy at the pre-college level, explains how it is possible to do it, and presents a starter series of lesson plans tailor-made for doing so. At the outset I want to be clear: I like the book and I think that Wartenberg has made a significant contribution to the discussion of Philosophy for Children. I have recommended this book and will continue to do so. There is much that is strong about the text, but there are a few shortcomings, and there are some ways in which this could have been an even better book.

Wartenberg begins the book with a discussion of why one ought to do philosophy with young people, confronting misconceptions about the abilities of youth, as well as concerns about what sessions with children look like. In the second section he lays out a possible structure for lesson plans, and explains challenges that those new to working with young people will likely encounter. This section is quite nice, though I must admit that I am a bit confused as to the audience. Wartenberg has spent a fair amount of time trying to make the reader comfortable with teaching philosophy, but now turns around and tries to make us comfortable with teaching young people. This implies that the audience for the book is neither professional philosophers (who need to be convinced that P4C is a good idea, not that philosophy is) nor professional pre-college teachers (who probably do not need guidance on a lesson plan). Quite frankly, I am nervous about someone who lacks background in both areas working with children in an educational setting.

The real star and stunning part of the book is the third section, in which Wartenberg provides précis of philosophical sub-disciplines, pointing to key figures and ideas, and linking them to accessible children’s literature. It is here that his acknowledged debt to Gareth Matthews is most clear. Those of us who know the literature related to philosophy and children would have had no difficulty seeing the echo of Matthews’ work in the preceding sections, but here it rings through loud and clear. Even some of the examples of readings are elaborations of Matthews’ examples, from the Tin Woodman in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (in Matthews’ Philosophy and the Young Child) to Frog and Toad (in Matthews’ Philosophy of Childhood). Sadly, the inclusion of Frog and Toad’s consideration of the nature of bravery is the first of the samples given. This chapter and the later discussion of environmental ethics (through Silverstein’s The Giving Tree) are the weakest samples given. I fear that the non-philosopher will end up understanding little of the problems of ethics (theoretical or applied) from these chapters. Further, the children’s literature readings are not the strongest pairings. I would have much preferred a pairing of Demi’s Empty Pot, which examines the struggle and potential rewards of telling the truth, with a consideration of philosophical concerns related to moral obligations to the pairing of ‘Dragons and Giants’ with virtue theory. This may just be my own background in ethics, but I found the description of virtue theory to be underdeveloped here, and surely a discussion with students on bravery would lead to avenues of discussion beyond just Aristotle.

Similarly, the pairing of The Giving Tree (in which a tree provides a boy with all he needs) with environmental ethics is troubling. The point of using the book seems to be to focus on the shifting understandings of the relationship between the boy and the tree, but in the end using Silverstein’s book in this way falls flat as the boy continues to use the tree until the end. And the tree still loves him. Problematically here Silverstein creates a dynamic wherein the tree – symbolically the Earth – loves the boy – humans – and willingly gives everything. Is that really an environmental message at all? Perhaps only if we take the book as a message of critique, which many do, but we would need to critique not only the boy’s taking but the continued love of the tree. Sadly the discussion section here provides little background to elevate a class session beyond broad statements. I think that it would have been much better to pair something like Scott O’Dell’s Island of the Blue Dolphin with an examination of Aldo Leopold’s The Land Ethic. Admittedly, this young-adult novel is longer in scope than the other readings, but perhaps a key section of Karana’s struggles to find a way to survive in harmony with nature could be found similar to the way that Baum’s tale of the Tin Woodman (Nick Chopper) was used for philosophy of mind.

The rest of the pairings are quite good, and indeed several are inspired. One chapter pairs the ‘early reader’ book Morris the Moose with epistemology. We see here the problems of generalizing, invincible ignorance, and perspectivalism. The grounding discussion draws on figures from Descartes to Quine in order to give some sense of the seriousness and scope of epistemological puzzles. Quite amazing.

I recently integrated many of Wartenberg’s suggestions for children’s readings into a section of an Introduction to Philosophy course. My college students loved it. We would spend a class period working through the puzzles and problems raised by a given children’s work, then in the next session read academic philosophy tying into the readings, many pulled from Wartenberg’s suggestions. For example, we followed up Margaret Wise Brown’s The Important Book with a reading from Aristotle’s Categories. (I firmly believe that Brown was intentionally using philosophy in her books – largely Dewey’s epistemology, but Wartenberg’s use of Aristotle’s metaphysics here is quite nice.) Or we followed up Mo Williem’s Knuffle Bunny with readings from Wittgenstein on language. There is no need to think that the techniques Wartenberg is advocating here are only for children. We should think seriously about integrating these ideas, which is to say utilizing accessible fiction to illustrate key tensions or questions, into all our courses.

Earlier I pointed out two pairings that I believed were not strongly developed. I would also like to point out a surprising missing pairing. A discussion of feminism paired with Robert Munsch’s Paper Bag Princess seems to be called for here. If you are not familiar with the story, Munsch tells the story of a very smart princess, forced to wear a paper bag because it is the only clothing she can find after a dragon attack. She outwits the dragon, saves the prince to whom she is engaged, and then dumps him for his rudeness, sexism, and classism. It is quite a powerful story, and it would be great to imagine more elementary and middle school children knowing it. A nice aspect of pairing it with feminism is that there is no need to go into debates about second or third wavers, body politics, or any other aspects. We see here a competent young woman, who serves both as a role model and as an example of the importance of treating everyone with respect.

But of course it can be too easy to complain that a book is not the book that I would have written. Wartenberg has written an excellent book here. I have picked up some tips, ideas, and lesson plans from it, and I am sure that all of us could do the same. But the text falls prey to a trap that many of us who do and defend philosophical work with young people fall into: the idea that anyone can do this. This idea is problematic and deserves special consideration.

Several times in the early chapters of Big Ideas, Wartenberg mentions that children are natural-born philosophers, by which I take him to mean that children are inquisitive, imaginative, and love to consider other perspectives. But, of course, just enjoying questions is not enough to be doing philosophy. Scientists question. Mathematicians are imaginative. Creative writers consider the world from other perspectives. In the ‘love of wisdom’ that is philosophy there are approaches, considerations, and shared histories which are important. Wartenberg provides in his chapter ‘The “Game” of Philosophy’ a condensed version of a possible structure for philosophical discussion or argumentation. The six rules that he outlines focus on an appropriate manner for stating, arguing for, and holding a stance on an issue. But this seems to work best when the issue has already been clearly problematized. The rules do not give us guidance on how to see the problems at the start.

This would not be so sticky an issue if we were considering those skilled in philosophy doing philosophy with young people. Instead, we have Wartenberg telling the reader that she doesn’t ‘have to know any philosophy to teach it’ (8). I think that what Wartenberg means is that one can have a philosophical discussion without ‘knowing much, or even any, philosophy’. But a philosophical discussion is not the same as doing philosophy. The distinction is as simple as the difference between a 3a.m. dorm-room conversation and a college class in metaphysics. There is more than just pizza and beer differentiating the two. Philosophy is being done when we have an awareness of the problems and an idea about how to find problems with possible solutions. Philosophical discussion is being done when we stumble upon interesting questions.

For most sessions of doing philosophy with children we do not need much in the way of experience, but the skilled conversation leader will be able to steer the students toward fruitful avenues of discussion and away from dead ends (allowing them to experience the dead ends at times). Guiding children well through a philosophical discussion does require knowledge of the history of philosophy, its methods, and the shortfalls of various approaches. An advanced undergraduate philosophy major often will know enough to handle these aspects of the conversation. Indeed, it is just these undergraduates that Wartenberg himself uses in his work in Massachusetts, as do the programs in Long Beach, California, Washington, DC, and Memphis, Tennessee. Novice elementary school teachers lacking a philosophy background could have a difficult time finding philosophical problems independently of the lesson plans provided in the book and on Wartenberg’s website. Many of us who do philosophy with young people hope to do more than just discuss a philosophical idea; we want to advance the discussion(s) beyond the current vantage points. Pre-college philosophy provides a possible source of new, fresh insights into problems. But to recognize them when they occur, a good guide is necessary.

Given Wartenberg’s experience working with undergraduates, I think that he has both overestimated the skill levels of those who have not had training in philosophy and underestimated the college students with whom he has worked. Big Ideas is an excellent book for those looking at using undergraduates in philosophy outreach programs. But I am not sure that it is going to be really useful for those who lack a philosophy background.

To sum up, Wartenberg has provided the Philosophy for Children movement(s) a valuable resource here. His book lays out not only ideas about how to do philosophy with children, but the motivation for doing so, and specific lesson plans for sessions with children. While some of these plans could stand a bit of improvement, the eight sample lessons provided are a good start for anyone looking at starting up a pre-college philosophy program. In the appendix, Wartenberg points to additional resources, not the least of which is his own website featuring additional lesson plans in the same vein as his book. The hardest question to answer about this book is who the audience for it is. I do not think that it is appropriately geared toward those with no background in philosophy, and those of us who know the literature on P4C are unlikely to find much new in the early chapters. This seems to place the book’s best audience as those who have some background in philosophy, but not an abundance of it.