A short poem is the perfect size for a child. It has a beginning, a middle and an end they can hold in their head all at once, and that feeling of finishing something whole is quietly powerful. Rhythm and rhyme do most of the work for us: the beat carries the words along, and the rhyme gives a clue about what is coming next. Children who learn a poem by heart are not just storing words; they are tuning their ear to the shapes and sounds of language, which pays off later in reading, writing and speaking.
The other advantage is that nothing needs to be long. Four lines learnt comfortably on a Tuesday can still be there on Friday, and that small success builds the appetite for another. Aim for pleasure, not performance, and the memorising takes care of itself.
Not every poem is easy to tuck into a pocket. Read a few aloud to yourself first, and trust your own ear — if you stumble, your child will stumble too. The best choices tend to share a few qualities:
Traditional nursery rhymes are ideal because they are already half-familiar from babyhood, and nonsense verse works beautifully because it makes everyone laugh. Offer three poems you like and let your child choose which to learn first. Choice is a small thing that makes a big difference.
Short daily practice beats a long weekly session every time. Pick a moment that already happens reliably — the walk to school, the ten minutes after tea, the last few minutes before lights out — and keep it to about three minutes.
Say it rather than test it. Instead of asking "What comes next?", simply carry on yourself and let your child fall in beside you. A little notebook or a card on the fridge door is handy for keeping track, and keeping a list of poems already learnt gives a lovely sense of a growing collection.
Words cling to the body and the senses far better than to bare memory. Try a few of these:
Change the game to suit the day. Some children love the drama, others just want it whispered at bedtime. Both count.
The moment a poem becomes a competition, the pleasure leaks away. No prizes, no scores, no comparing one child with another. Instead, make performing a cosy family habit. After tea, everyone takes a line or a verse in turn, and the youngest joins in with the chorus. Teddies make an excellent audience, and so does a grandparent on the phone.
Warm, specific praise lands better than loud praise. "I loved the way you said 'tumbled'" tells a child what they did well. It is also fine to say nothing much at all and simply smile, then start the next one.
Forgetting is not failure; it is how memory works. Prompt gently, with a clue rather than a correction: "I think the next bit is about a boat..." Never make a child finish a poem to prove they know it. Better still, get a line wrong on purpose and let them put you right — being the one who knows is a wonderful feeling.
Some poems will be dropped and picked up again months later, still half there. Others will be recited at random in the car for years. Keep the practice short, keep it cheerful, and keep it a gift you give each other rather than a task to be ticked off. A child who learns one small poem for the joy of it has learnt something larger: that words are worth carrying around with you.
April 25, 2019 at 10:46 am
Take in the iconic skyline and visit the neighbourhood hangouts that you've only ever seen on TV. Take in the iconic skyline and visit the neighbourhood.
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Soldman Kell
April 25, 2019 at 10:46 am
Take in the iconic skyline and visit the neighbourhood hangouts that you've only ever seen on TV. Take in the iconic skyline and visit the neighbourhood.