“Parents gradually notice a difference”

After the opening of Vietnams first Waldorf kindergarten in Ho-Chi-Minh-City in Autumn 2002, the next one (Thanh Lan, beautiful orchid) followed already one year later. Thanh Cherry is supporting also this one regularly.

The taxi driver checks the piece of paper containing a map of how to get there through unmarked lanes of rural Cu Chi. He stopps in front of a small pink villa with a red metal gate as tall as the walls, topped with green leaves and yellow flowers. ‘It’s the wrong place,’ I protest, ‘can you ring again to ask the way?’ He does and within minutes Lan, broadly smiling, opened the gate. Five months ago on my last visit, none of this existed. No outer walls or gate nor plants and flowers.

I notice how changed the atmosphere is, warmer, filled out, with substance. I recall those first few months when everything was still so new, a pioneering stage. The young children were crying a lot then, snot and tears mingling down to their chins. They were missing their mothers no doubt but it was also the parents’ uncertainty about the nature of this unusual kindergarten that made them feel unsettled.

What sort of place is this with its fancy pink walls, old-fashioned wooden furniture and natural toys which were not like those plastic ones found in the shops or other kindergartens? The teachers are kind, sincere and caring; and they charge virtually no money, compared to elsewhere. Although this has made it possible for them to send their children, the parents felt suspicion. It was the way of modern Vietnam - there must be a catch somewhere; how can anyone be that generous for nothing?

Lovely atmosphere

Lan, the main teacher, was unfrazzled by all this. She had taught for twenty-five years and had a heart of gold. Assisted by Thanh, the other teacher, and another Thanh the cook, she went about calmly and lovingly comforting the children, taking them into her arms, wiping away tears and snot, singing, caressing, gently talking. Slowly the children gathered around her in a bunched up circle, shyly singing, chanting as they imitated her finger games. It was a touching sight, tear-stained faces tilting up to watch Lan’s mouth, down to her fingers, then their own hands trying out the gestures.

For remembering all this I have only a short moment, because all children recognize me: “Auntie Thanh, Auntie Thanh!” they chanted, their faces smiling, confident. Now they rush forwards, hugging me around the waist, snuggling into my arms when I finally managed to kneel down to their height.

They have just finished their morning tea break and are preparing to go out into the garden. They sit down on the tiled floor, take off their blue inside slippers, line them up near the door and go out to put on shoes and sun hats. Then shouts of joy and anticipation as they walk or rush towards the sandpit, swings, seesaw or cubby house and slide. The playground it mostly in the shades of three fairly tall trees, two of them loaded with huge hanging yellow-green jackfruits. In season the children feast on the golden segments at tea break and dessert times.

Little Vu who six months ago suffered from a severe skin rash, was always miserable and had to be showered down 5 times a day, is now a bouncing happy boy. He spends the entire time playing with sand, shovelling it into a bucket, carrying it to the tap for water, mixing, moulding, modelling a dozen shapes on the tiled verandah. Two younger girls with hats that almost cover their eyes sit with arms around each other on a seat at the swing. Lan goes behind them, adjusts their hats, give them a tiny push, singing all the while and the little ones burst into mock frightened giggles.

A little girl of about 5 comes and sit beside me under the jackfruit tree. She looks sad. I ask her why she is not playing. ‘I miss my mother,’ she says. So we sit on, her hand in mine, under the jackfruit tree. I found out from Lan later that Thuy My’s mother and baby sister are living far from there. The father has disappeared and she sells vegetables at the market for a living and can pick up her daughter only for the weekends. It was only Monday...

From early morning till late evening

Life circumstances and cultural traditions are such that time is often flexible and could stretch to unimaginable boundaries. At Thanh Lan, children came as early as 5 o’clock in the morning although the official time was 6 am. Closing time was 5 pm but frequently it was 6 before the last child left, not counting one or two who ended up staying the night.

With such an early start, lunch was served at 10 am and by 11.30 all children were asleep. Food is a very important component in the kindergarten program. The government requires that each child consume at least such and such an amount of meat, fish, liver, egg, etc. per day or week. A fear had been instilled into the teachers and parents that children otherwise would lose weight and wither away. So in the beginning also here teachers spent all their time feeding or force-feeding the children which cried or vomited at the sight of food... Now all this has changed and visitors working in the mainstream system are amazed how the children at Thanh Lan enjoy eating and feeding themselves.

After the lunch tables were cleared away, children get ready for bed. They gather around Lan for a puppet show then lay down to sleep. The curtains are drawn, doors closed. The teacher’s voice is singing softly, then all is quiet... The siesta lasts from two and a half to three hours! Following afternoon tea, the children do drawing, beeswax modelling, craft or more playing until their parents pick them up.

From an attitude of amused suspicion, those impoverished, uneducated parents who entrusted their children to Thanh Lan have gradually come to notice a difference. They notice their children are happier, healthier, less demanding, more childlike, and they can play by themselves... The parents had expressed curiosity and interest to know what the teachers do in class, and why. So they have begun to speak at parents’ meetings about the new way of educating children. And so Waldorf education in Vietnam makes the first steps.

Thanh Cherry