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WORKSHOP
Read the following scenario and then answer the questions.
Kate is an educator in a four‑year‑old kindergarten program. Over the past two weeks, she has been observing Mia, a child who recently returned after a short illness, to better understand how Mia’s wellbeing is being supported in the group.
During free indoor play, Mia often chooses the home corner. She carefully sets out plates and cups and talks softly while pretending to prepare meals. On Tuesday, another child reached for one of the cups Mia was using. Mia pulled the cup back toward herself and said, “I’m not finished yet.” When the other child persisted, Mia stood up quickly and moved to a different area of the room without speaking. Kate noticed that Mia resumed play independently, but her movements were tense and rushed.
In the outdoor environment, Mia spends most of her time near the climbing structure. She watches other children climbing and sliding, occasionally stepping closer but rarely climbing herself. On Thursday, when Kate asked if Mia would like support to climb the ladder, Mia shook her head and said quietly, “I’ll just watch.” After a few minutes, Mia joined another child rolling balls down the slide and laughed when the balls bounced away.
During group music time, Mia sits close to Kate and participates in familiar songs, smiling and doing the actions. When a new song is introduced, Mia covers her ears briefly. She leans into Kate. She slowly re‑engages once the song becomes predictable.
At lunch time, Mia confidently opens her lunchbox and begins eating. She chats easily with a nearby child about their food but becomes upset when her yoghurt spills. Mia says, “It’s all messed up,” and pushes the container away. With Kate’s reassurance, Mia takes a few deep breaths. Kate helps her clean up. Mia accepts a replacement snack. She remains quiet for the rest of lunch.
At pick‑up time, Mia waves excitedly when her mum arrives. She runs over, talking quickly about the day. However, when Kate approaches to share an observation, Mia looks down and holds onto her mum’s arm until the conversation ends.
Let’s reflect on Mia’s learning?
What behaviours indicate positive wellbeing on Mia’s part?
What behaviours suggest that Mia might benefit from additional support?
What could Kate do to support Mia’s wellbeing and sense of security throughout the day?
As a young mum, I was genuinely allured by Glenn Doman’s approach. It sounded scientific, ambitious, and hopeful. Who would not want to give their child every possible advantage? I tried it. I made the cards. I followed the routines. I believed I was opening doors that might otherwise stay closed.
But over time, questions began to creep in. Quiet ones at first. Then louder.
Who Was Glenn Doman?
In the 1940s, Dr Glenn Doman began working with a small interdisciplinary group that included a neurosurgeon, physician, physiotherapist, speech therapist, psychologist, methodologist, and early childhood educator.
The group formed in response to an urgent challenge: how to support children who had suffered severe brain injuries. At the time, no one had ever fully recovered from such injuries, and the outlook was bleak.
Doman and his colleagues decided that the only way forward was to focus directly on the injured brain. But after years of work, they realised something important. It was not enough to work with the damaged brain itself.
What mattered was returning to the earliest stages of development. The brain needed the chance to go back and relearn fundamental developmental steps, such as crawling and moving on all fours. These stages, they believed, were essential for healthy brain development.
As their work progressed, neurosurgeons joined the group and began performing radical procedures. In some cases, large areas of disorganised brain tissue were surgically removed. These areas were thought to interfere with healthier regions, creating neurological noise.
After surgery and intensive developmental intervention, some children showed remarkable improvement. A small number were even able to pass standard IQ tests, sometimes achieving above average results.
Doman later said:
“Even in our most fantastic dreams, we could not have imagined that a child who had lost billions of brain cells could achieve results equal to or sometimes better than the average child.”
The Question That Changes Everything
Let us pause and think.
If a child who has lost part of their brain can perform just as well as a child with an intact brain, what does that say about the so‑called “normal” child?
Why does a child with twice the neurological capacity not automatically achieve more?
The conclusion feels uncomfortable but clear. If we invested the same level of time, attention, and deliberate teaching into typically developing children as we do into children with brain injuries, many of them might far surpass average expectations.
In other words, the “normal” child may not be the gold standard we assume.
From my own perspective, as a follower of Vygotsky, this resonates deeply. I believe in social learning. The more adults engage with a child, talk with them, listen to them, and genuinely care, the more the brain develops. Neural connections strengthen. Language expands. Understanding deepens. And happiness grows.
The Doman Method: Why I Question It
Glenn Doman went on to develop his method of early childhood development through the Institutes for the Achievement of Human Potential in Philadelphia. The idea was simple and compelling. The younger the child, the greater their capacity to learn. Parents, not institutions, should be the child’s primary teachers.
Learning, according to Doman, should begin as early as possible.
The method combines physical exercises based on innate reflexes with structured exposure to knowledge through flashcards. Programs promise early reading, encyclopedic knowledge, and even foreign languages.
Doman famously said learning should be a game that stops before the child gets tired. Interest, he argued, is sustained through speed and novelty.
As a young mum, this made sense to me. I wanted to do something meaningful. Something proactive. Something backed by science.
But as an experienced educator, I no longer support this method.
There are gentler, more ecological ways to support learning. Play. Conversation. Exploration. Shared curiosity.
The Good and the Difficult
To be fair, there are positives.
The method encourages deep parental involvement. It connects physical development with cognitive growth. Many children raised with the method show impressive abilities, both mentally and physically. It is also accessible, designed for home use, and well-documented.
But there is a cost.
In this approach, the child often becomes an object rather than a subject of learning. Adults decide what matters. Adults decide the pace. Adults decide the knowledge target.
Anyone who has watched the documentary Smart Babies may feel the tension. At some point, learning becomes tiring. Maintaining attention becomes the main struggle. Flashcards are waved in front of faces that simply want to move, explore, or rest.
There is also a strange discomfort in watching very young children perform adult knowledge on command. Sometimes it feels less like learning and more like training.
As a parent, the question that stayed with me was this:
Why do I need my toddler to distinguish a crow from a raccoon at eighteen months?
Will this encyclopedic knowledge still matter later? Will it stay? Will it nourish curiosity, or replace it?
In the documentary, a seventeen‑year‑old who had been raised using the Doman method could not recognise the airplane models he once learned as a child. The knowledge had not endured.
I found myself wondering whether it might have been better to play in the garden. To experiment with water. To listen to stories. To simply be together in learning.
Where I Stand Now
I understand why parents are drawn to the Doman method. I was one of them.
But with time, experience, and a deeper understanding of learning, I have come to value slower, relational, play‑based approaches. Learning that grows from interaction, not instruction. From joy, not urgency.
I remember the first time Kumon was suggested to me. Daily practice. Short sessions. Guaranteed results. It sounded reassuring. Structured. Safe.
As a parent, that kind of promise is hard to ignore. As an educator, I wanted to understand what actually sits behind it.
Tori Kumon
Toru Kumon (1914–1995) was a Japanese mathematician and educator. He was born in Japan, in Kochi Prefecture. Kumon graduated from Osaka University with a degree in mathematics and worked for many years as a private tutor, preparing students for university entrance exams.
In 1954, Kumon’s son came home from school. His mother found a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. It was a mathematics test. And the results were, sadly, disappointing.
It felt painful and unfair. A mathematician’s son, and yet he was failing math.
Kumon began teaching his eldest son himself and soon realised that the problem did not start in that particular year. The gaps went back to the early grades. It was these missed foundations, Kumon concluded, that were causing his son’s difficulties.
Every evening, Toru Kumon prepared a single page of math problems for his son. Solving them took about thirty minutes. The tasks matched the child’s actual abilities. When addition became fluent, Kumon made the material slightly more difficult. Only slightly. Always just within reach.
This is how his approach to teaching one of the most challenging school subjects was born. This is how Kumon began.
What the Method Is About
The core of the Kumon method is very simple. Children regularly solve examples in addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. They practise until these operations become automatic, almost effortless.
Only once a strong foundation is built does the child move on.
For Kumon, mastery meant being able to complete examples within a set amount of time. Two elements were essential. Speed and accuracy.
In 1956, other parents became interested in the method. Kumon opened his first center in Osaka. In 1958, he founded an educational institute, developed unified standards, and the Kumon expansion began. Today, Kumon centers operate in 44 countries around the world.
Every Child Can Do This
Through the experience of thousands of students, Kumon became convinced that with the right approach, all children can cope with the school curriculum. More than that, almost every child has hidden potential, and this potential needs to be revealed.
The foundation of the Kumon method is self‑learning. Children work independently at home. Adults are needed mainly to check completed work.
Assessment and Enrolment
Enrolment is an opportunity to become familiar with the Kumon method, to understand how it works, and to ask questions. Most children undergo diagnostic assessment before starting.
The purpose of diagnostics is simple. To determine the child’s starting level.
Why does this matter? So that a child can complete tasks with near‑perfect success and experience ease rather than struggle.
The goal is to reinforce a positive message. “Math is easy. I can do this.”
Ideally, both parents or primary caregivers attend the assessment. After enrolment, children usually attend the center twice a week. On non‑attendance days, they complete short homework sessions lasting 10 to 20 minutes.
Inside the Classroom
In Kumon centers, children typically submit homework, receive new worksheets, and then complete classroom tasks. While waiting for results, they engage in math games.
For successful work, children receive stickers and Kumon dollars from the instructor. Then they go home.
Homework
Kumon is a year‑round program. This means seven days a week, 365 days a year. Yes, including holidays and weekends.
By choosing this path, parents and children commit to consistency and effort. The good news is that homework usually takes no more than 10 to 20 minutes per day.
Parents check work using answer books. The instructor selects homework carefully so the child progresses without developing resistance or aversion.
Motivation
At first glance, Kumon can feel boring and repetitive. Its essence lies in daily practice and gradual complexity.
Children complete only what they are capable of doing, step by step. Because of this, stress and emotional overload are usually avoided.
Stickers, Kumon dollars, and other small rewards are an integral part of the method. Studying every day becomes a habit.
Supporters claim that joy in learning does not disappear.
This is a debatable claim.
A small informal study I conducted online, across forums and YouTube, revealed many negative reactions. Statements like “I hate Kumon” and “Kumon steals precious minutes of my life” appeared surprisingly often.
The Program Structure
The program begins with many examples of basic arithmetic. Once this stage is completed, children move on to more complex operations. Multi‑digit division, fractions, equations, and beyond.
Progression is individual. Children move according to their abilities and mastery, not according to a fixed school schedule dictating when fractions or probability must be learned. This flexibility is one of the distinctive features of Kumon.
The Kumon math program contains 23 levels, from basic counting to calculus. There are 460 steps in total. Each step includes 10 worksheets. Altogether, this means completing approximately 4,600 worksheets.
Kumon believed that if a child does not want to learn, it is not the child’s fault. Teaching materials are often boring, and explanations unclear. Repetition, in Kumon’s view, is essential. Regular arithmetic practice builds the fluency required for mathematical confidence.
Kumon workbooks are sold worldwide. You can try them at home. Perhaps your child will enjoy solving problems. If so, you can consider enrolling in a nearby center or choosing distance learning.
Although, as an educator, I do not support this approach for preschool children.
