In our primary, after the letter on children bearing testimony came out, we invited anyone interested to bear testimony instead of having a talk scheduled for fast sunday. Some weeks nobody volunteered, which was fine. But on a number of occasions, children excitedly came to the front and told in very simple terms the things they were grateful for and learning. Admittedly, there were some parroted phrases, but for the most part, they were just kids talking to their peers about things they could all understand. We had a number of parents thank us beacuse their kids were no longer begging to go up in sacrament meeting. We were glad it worked out so well in our little group.

This is a good point, and I really should quit talking and get back to work. But . . .

When we first moved to Hawaii, I was called to be the teacher for the Valiant 9 class. This lasted for a few months until I was called to the High Council of a Student Stake, then to be the Bishop over one of the student wards. I’ve taught virtually every class there is to teach in the church, and I teach religion at the university. Despite this, or because of this, I dreaded the first weeks of teaching primary because I had a sense for what should go on, and knew I wasn’t quite up to it. The first week was a disaster, compounded by the fact that the other Valiant 9 teacher wasn’t there and I had double the number in a tiny, muggy room. I spent too much of my time getting kids to sit down, quit teasing each other, etc. But you pray lots, love, and prepare and things work out. Eventually they did. By the time I moved to the High Council, many of the kids were actually visibly sad the day when we talked about my having another calling now and that I wouldn’t be able to be with them at primary. Some, of course, didn’t much care. They knew somebody else would be there next week.

It takes tremendous thought and preparation to teach primary–to speak to their level, to have them interested and engaged, to help them focus, to be open to the kind of things children will do unexpectedly (along the lines of what Ben mentioned), to have activities that genuinely engage them but that don’t simply deteriorate into meaningless hollering and running, to have what you do revolve around them and what they should learn and not you the teacher. And the challenge above all is to do this with the Spirit in a way that will give them as much experience and knowledge in the gospel, of the encounter with the love of Christ, even his person, as they are able to receive. (Come to think of it, the above actually counts for all the teaching we do–primary just has its distinct challenges.) So hats off and genuine salutations to folks like Kristine who work diligently and with such care in Primary.

One last thing. It really is true that, given their level of understanding, singing is one of the few ways that the younger children in primary can worship together. It forms a foundation for much that comes later.

Keith, I’m sure we mostly agree–you can be in my Primary Presidency any time :) I just think we talk too much at the kids, and they don’t learn as much as we think they do from talking. (Picture the Far Side cartoon with the dog hearing ‘/’/””’\][]Fido[[]”,/””/) Or maybe I just have dumb kids, and everybody else’s are doing fine ;)

We both agree that we should teach things that are fitting to one’s age. In fact I think we agree more than not. Probably in practice we would agree on what is too much and what isn’t.

But our (minor) disagreement may be over how much is too much. In your original post you wrote “Then when they’re teenagers, they would have more spiritual experiences to which they’d just need to attach words and concepts, rather than having to try so hard to produce the kinds of spiritual experiences we’ve taught them they’re supposed to have.”

What I might argue in response is that there is something to be said for giving a framework already in which they understand their experiences. It seems some of this is necessary for them even to recognize an experience as an experience. You seem to acknowledge this in post 7 comments about noble savages, natural religion and so on. So then we probably agree that some framework is needed. I certainly agree with your concern about not cramming their experience into our self-made boxes. So there must be a way of giving a framework (and some of that framework will be prescriptive) without stifling their wonder and their experience.

We seem to disagree on what, how much, and how early the framework should be given. Probably we’d find in practice that we’d be pretty close on this, case by case. But it does look like I’m probably more in favor of slightly more framework early on (age appropriate, yes) and you of slightly less.

I’m not averse to children saying or singing or learning things they don’t fully understand (slightly beyond, not miles beyond). There will be plenty that they do understand. As when we learn language growing up (or even to behave as the ‘grown ups’), we parrot and imitate, saying and doing things that we might have a sense for, but will understand more fully only later. So it’s a delicate balance of language and experience, both integral to each other. Perhaps our difference (and as I say, it’s probably minor) is that I’m leaning more on the language side and you more on the experience side.

I want to add also (so I’m not misunderstood about the complexity of the framework given) that the doctrine that children should be taught (and actually adults for that matter) is extremely simple and limited to some very basic things. These basic things are those that keep giving and growing deeper with experience–not the sophisticated, mysterious things that we find intriguing and to which we think we are entitled because we are adults now.

(I was a bit surprised, by the way, that you wanted to save “I’m trying to be like Jesus” for later in one’s primary years. Don’t you think this one could be appreciated (on different levels, no doubt) by children of all primary ages?)

Thanks for the discussion. If you want to respond to this, that’s fine. Or if you think it’s now been killed to death, that’s fine, too.

I’m one of those who finds parents whispering the “testimony” into their childrens’ ears disturbing, but it is easy to fix. FHE should be the time when a child can learn what a testimony is and practice expressing a genuine testimony to an audience. Then the child can share a true testimony in fast and testimony meeting.

I’m not arguing that we shouldn’t teach doctrine, only that we should teach children as they can understand. I think there’s a reason that we talk about the “age of accountability” at 8–lots of psychologists and educational theorists agree that around 8 or 9, children’s capacity for moral reasoning and abstract thinking makes a huge leap. Before that, I think it makes sense to keep things simpler, to let them play and enjoy the world and experience the divine through their sensual pleasure in the world around them; there’s plenty of time to give them an intellectual framework when they’re developmentally ready for it.

A number have also raised the issue of children bearing testimony. The First Presidency about two years ago or so, issued a statement that was to be read in Sacrament Meetings, urging leaders to teach members to bear brief and gospel focused testimonies so that many could have an opportunity to bear witness on Fast Sundays. They urged parents to teach their children about appropriate testimony bearing and essentially said children should bear testimony when they can do it on their own, have a better sense for what it means, etc. There are no doubt too many of the whisper in the ear kind (and I think Andrea’s situation is different). At the same time, I’ve heard some children say amazing things, including the eight year old girl baptized the day before who essentially said how grateful she was to be baptized and for her covenants and generally, mostly indirectly, chastised the members of our slothful Wasatch front ward for not taking their baptismal covenants and their membership seriously. Her parents sitting in the audience were as taken back, amazed, slightly amused, and genuinely edified as all of us.

Now to comment on one of the issues at hand. I’m probably in greater agreement with Kristine’s thought-provoking blog than not, but there is an issue or two I wonder about. It does seem to me that some degree of a basic theology, a certain framework by which one sees and interprets the world is needed. Much of this will be through stories/narrative, including telling stories and giving explanations of good things that make our Father and us happy and together, and bad things that make our Father and us unhappy and farther apart, and what we can do to make up and say “I’m sorry� for bad things. How we teach that, of course, is the crucial question. I’m not certain we should stop teaching certain doctrines simply because we sometimes misconstrue what is being taught or sing the wrong words to lyrics. We probably do this all our lives. Even on a blog like this, we could all probably cite a line or two of scripture, or a line from a hymn, that would be misunderstood or vague to most.

Kristine writes: “we should sing more songs about flowers and Jesus and fewer about pre-mortal existence and the Atonement.” But couldn’t songs about _any_ of these (from flowers to atonement) be written and explained in a way that young children could understand or which could be written in a way far beyond their understandings. So why diminish those in the latter category, rather than speak of them on a level understandable and appropriate to their understanding? (When it comes down to it, I guess I’m concerned about lessening the place of the atonement.) Of course, with all of this, some things that can’t be understood at four can be understood at eight, and we always have a large variety in age and understanding in primary. Elder Maxwell in his final conference talk said: “In my Primary days, we sang “ ‘Give,’ Said the Little Streamâ€? (Children’s Songbook, 236)—certainly sweet and motivating but not exactly theologically drenched. Today’s children, as you know, sing the more spiritually focused “I’m Trying to Be like Jesusâ€? (Children’s Songbook, 78–79).â€? This later song is among those that deepen with our understanding and experience.

In short, I’m not certain it’s a bad thing to teach or sing about doctrines at a child’s level, and to even start early with some things that may be a bit over a child’s head–we usually catch up with them. This seems to me to be good spiritual education. After all, we have to deal with over our head things all our lives.

The only problem is, your post begs the question: What is doctrine? Are we talking about doctrine as it’s currently accepted today? Or are we talking about the doctrines that were taught by Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, many (but not all) of which we don’t necessarily accept or stress today.

I’m not trying to suggest discussions and lessons on doctrine are inappropriate, or that children shouldn’t learn Mormon doctrine as best they can. But I often hear people online or in other forums lament the lack of teaching “doctrine” in the Church. That’s fine, but such complaints are usually done under the assumption that there is a cogent, consistent Mormon doctrine that has come unmolested from God and that we’re just neglecting it. We can teach children doctrine, but I suspect what we teach them tells us more about current Mormon culture than it does about eternal truth. Kristine’s post suggests that they will have plenty to teach us as well, and I think we should listen more, instead of telling them to be reverent, fold their arms, and listen to a teaching that may have come from James E. Talmage and not Joseph Smith, for example.