At what age do we stop asking why? Children have a natural curiosity and a huge, undiscovered world on their doorstep that they need to know more about. ‘Why are leaves green?’ ‘Why are clouds fluffy?’ ‘Where does all the rain come from?’ ‘Why does Uncle Fred have long nose hairs?’ They will keep asking ‘why?’ until they have the answers, even if it means asking ‘why?’ five or more times.

Their inquisitive nature has an important function. Every question puts their little feet a step closer to understanding their place in the universe.

Somewhere along the way however the questions lessen. It happens to all of us. There are a number of obvious reasons for this. We learn enough to satisfy initial curiosity and start discovering for ourselves. We make friends and start ‘pooling’ information. We attend school and discover an unending supply of data that needs to be processed that leaves little time for questions.

But there is another important factor that stops our natural questioning ability in its tracks: adults. Let’s be honest, in the middle of a busy modern life crammed full of things like work, the mortgage, sports, social engagements, love and travel, little kids asking ‘why?’ all the time can get, well, a little bit annoying. True?

And that is the reality faced by these little enquiring minds. They want to know everything, they want to know it now, and they have no social sensitivities to stop them, until the ‘big people’ start making it clear that asking too many questions is bad, or at least, inconvenient. Apparently there is an unspoken limit. So after a few attempts they reduce the number of questions they ask. This becomes the new, internal, social norm. And this continues.

By the time we have adapted to the rhythm of school, our natural instinct to question has been dampened down and we are shifting in to ‘receiving’ mode, ready to spend the next twelve plus years recording, filing, ordering and retransmitting, data.

 When we come across an adult who questions intensively, we are amazed; the James Dysons, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs of the world are ‘one in a million’, genetically unique. But they aren’t really, they are simply curious, and their curiosity is more powerful than any social norms that protect our sensitivities by limiting the number of times we can ask ‘why?’ 

Education runs in cycles. When I was young we read, listened, memorised and repeated. Questioning was not a big part of the curriculum. Later on this was largely replaced by ‘inquiry’ learning, which emphasised the need for children to discover rather than receive information. The two camps have been fighting for years and perhaps always will.

The best for children is perhaps a mixture of the two. Times tables are not an ‘inquiry’ they are a fact and need to be memorised. Later maths, in particular algebra, is more about discovery, and children need to have the freedom to explore concepts, and, ask questions.

Mark and I regularly have friends for dinner, and we enjoy bringing together mixed groups to see what will happen. Inevitably the best evenings leave behind a few empty bottles, and this is significant. The contents of the bottles break down the social conventions and the ‘why’s?’ flow freely across the table. We discover so much more about people when we all lose this ridiculous inhibition that prevents us from asking questions.

Now, I am not encouraging drinking as a social improvement exercise, but I am suggesting that a few more ‘why’s?’ in the world may not be a bad thing. All of which leads me to suggest that the next time a young mind looks at you with wide, anticipating eyes and says ‘why?’, you pause, draw breath, count to a patient ‘10’ if you need to, and answer them as honestly as you can. Encourage the curiosity of the next generation, and, while you’re at it, ask a few more questions yourself. You never know what new paths it may lead you down. 

A more serious tone this week I’m afraid. Don’t worry, more humour to follow, but sometimes I have to put on my ‘sensible adult’ hat. So please read on and hopefully you will find some value in my ramblings.

This week, for the first time, we were forced to cancel an evening of lessons when an accident on a main road nearby robbed us of power. The electricity company couldn’t guarantee that we would have power back that evening, and, even though we would have been able to continue lessons with paper-based activities, without lights it was simply not safe to have children moving around the centre.

So, Mark and I made the tough decision to close for the night, and immediately started contacting parents by phone, text and email, to let them know what had happened and confirm how they would like to proceed. We told them that, as we were cancelling the lessons, they would be not be charged, but offered them the option of an at-home online lesson at a reduced cost.

We were pleased and a little surprised when the vast majority of parents took up the option of an online lesson. This response confirmed to us that what we do, tutoring young minds to help them achieve their best, has value to parents and is not just a ‘tick box’ exercise. The questions they asked, about how the lessons would be designed, what support they needed to provide, when the lessons would be ‘live’ and when would be best to complete them, was clear evidence that these parents are engaged with the learning process in a way that we hope but are never entirely sure happens.

This ‘partnership’ between tutor, child and parent, is so important to the success of our tutoring system. Without it, children struggle to maintain focus and get the best out of the process. An obvious example is the homework we assign, which is an important reinforcement of the learning process, but easily lost amongst school work, sports and other activities, unless children are gently urged to complete it by parents.

Less obvious is parent’s awareness of their children’s progress with us. Tutoring is easily accessible for parents. There is no need to wait for parent-teacher meetings, as every session is an opportunity for a quick chat with us (admittedly in the midst of changeover chaos!) and children can immediately share their results on the computer screen.

This intimate ‘hands on’ approach encourages parents to get directly involved in their children’s progress, and often helps us to understand children better. When this extends to homework activities, the result is invariably improved results. Do parents need to be able to understand senior algebra in order to help them? No, but they do need to be aware of their child’s progress, provide an environment that is conducive to learning and encourage them with positive reinforcement when they succeed.

This is why we were so pleased by parent’s response to the centre closure. It clearly demonstrated an engagement with their children’s learning that we hoped was happening but so seldom see evidence of. Was it worth the ‘investment’ of an evening’s revenue to find this out? Actually, it probably was and has added another layer of the good feeling we both have towards our little centre. So, thank you parents, you have helped to confirm again why what we do is so worthwhile.