I thought here and myself defined and named my phobia — a Phobia of heightened responsibility for a child’s life. Of course, I myself am “to blame” for my acquisition, and the conditions of life, it seems, contributed to this before arriving in Norway. So then, having come on practice to a Norwegian kindergarten, this phobia “received an exacerbation”! (at last I understood this now, what happened to me). Instead of three months of practice under a signed contract, I held out only three weeks. I can describe only a few “harmless examples” of my “quick reaction to a situation.”
Once I am setting the table, preparing lunch, I put on a little plate carrot cut into rounds (and the educator has already seated the children on the benches and they sit at an empty table and wait). I put the little plate with this carrot, and, naturally or unnaturally, because an educator must lead the process, several children grab a piece of carrot each, chew and play up, make the others laugh, rock on the bench. And I know that pieces of carrot for little children are the most dangerous treat, with which one can choke, when the child is “in motion.” I, possessing a well-trained voice but poor Norwegian, loudly made a remark and….. continued putting out food. At the table a grave silence arose, everyone looked at me, including two pieces of educators of this group.
I have not yet written about the wonderful conditions of this kindergarten: a huge hall with large windows, beyond which the whole playground outside was fully visible, a kitchen-studio (yes-yes, precisely a studio, and not a food block, as we are used to). From the kitchen-studio one can see what is happening in the large hall. In the hall a large screen is hung, on which one could project children’s computer programmes. For example a child could go up to the screen and with a finger start drawing coloured pictures.
To the second floor led a convenient staircase, and next to it a non-slip gentle slide, up which children easily ran to the floor. And there already were little play rooms “by interests.” A little kitchen room with a toy stove and a set of dishes, a room with little cars, in the middle a large common table where one could draw or model from plasticine. And still higher, but I cannot call it a third floor — up a narrow steep little ladder one had to climb, and the child ended up in a small round tower — also a play room, where an adult person could not fit at full height, but only on all fours. Well, I “got carried” there too. I after all “needed more than anyone” to look “what children can do there,” and at the same time “check” the safety of the toys. Good if in this little tower one little child has secluded himself and is quietly playing, but if two have secluded themselves and one of them is very active and fighting for a place in the little tower, then it is better that there should be “soft toys” there. Finding there “cutting and piercing,” I moved it to my little cupboard, which locked with a key.
And here is sunny weather! “August beyond the windows,” still warm, and the greater part of the time the children spend on equipped playgrounds. Beauty — a delight! Swings, a high wooden slide. Just manage to catch children coming down the slide, so they “don’t bury their noses in the sand”! And here are the little swings! The older kiddies swing the younger ones high-high, and then jump on themselves. And five people swing on one, hang like bunches of grapes. I ask the educators: “And is that allowed?” — “It is,” they answer. Well yes. “A child must feel free.”
Right behind the kindergarten a forest was located. So I managed to be with the children on a walk in the forest. Each child was given plastic cups for gathering berries. A group of children of 13 people and three adults joyfully moved a small distance from the kindergarten and started gathering blueberries and lingonberries. Especially active were the educators, who squatted by the bushes, paying no attention to the children. But not all children liked gathering berries. One boy found a stick and went off walking in the forest. I shout to him to come back, he does not react. And the educators also do not react, they are gathering berries. I — “feet in hands” and after him over snags and hummocks. I take him by the hand and want to bring him into the “herd.” He — into a scream! (O God! What have I “done”! With a child in Norway one cannot do that.) But everything ended well. The berries were gathered, the children walked, everyone is happy!
To finish this story, I can say that in Norway I like studying more than working, and I also like being “behind my husband.” And as for kindergarten children…. What to us, adults, seems terrible and unacceptable, children may like most of all: running with sticks, rolling in the sand or running through puddles, tasting snow, climbing trees… and God grant that there always be Guardian Angels near them! Always and everywhere!