Whenever I enter a preschool classroom, the first things I notice are the sounds — laughter, small footsteps, the gentle hum of activity. Then my eyes turn to the bright boxes lined up on the tables: one for each child — a pair of scissors, a brush, a pot of paint, each labeled and tucked away so no one will touch another's things.
It has become ordinary, almost invisible. So ordinary that nobody pauses to ask why. As if creativity could live only inside a labeled box.
But the boxes tell other stories. They speak of families quietly stretched thin, of countless little packages piling up as waste, of a habit we pass on without meaning to: that having is better than sharing.
Imagine another classroom — a place where tools are shared, where paints are mixed, where making is communal. Such a slight shift would teach more than techniques; it would teach a different way of being.
The Call for Simplification
In this era when the very idea of economic growth is being questioned, concepts like degrowth and post-growth offer not only an economic debate but also a reminder — a reminder about life, learning, and human relationships (see Research & Degrowth and Post Growth Institute).
They invite us to remember the quiet strength of simplification, solidarity, and collaboration.
A preschool classroom can be one of the places where this reminder is most vivid. Because there, consumption habits are still forming — still soft, still shapeable. Even a small change can transform a child's way of seeing the world.
A child who learns that a pair of scissors can be shared learns that many other things can be shared as well.
A child who sees that a brush can last for years begins to understand the value of things.
A child who mixes their own paint discovers the joy of making.
And all of this opens the door to a more humane, more attentive way of living — one that does not depend on the economic or political systems of the future.
An Observation from Türkiye: The Silent Steps of Consumption
In many preschool classrooms in Turkey, families are asked to provide a long list of supplies at the start of the academic year. These lists can be extensive enough to strain a family's monthly budget, filled with requests for personal boxes, paints, and an assortment of individual materials.
The intentions behind this practice are good — teachers hope to keep things orderly, avoid disruptions, and make the classroom run smoothly. Yet the outcomes do not always match the intentions.
These lists quietly create barriers for families with limited financial means. Each individually purchased item comes wrapped in its own packaging, leaving behind a growing trail of plastic waste. And, without meaning to, classrooms become places where "mine" and "yours" take root — where personal ownership is emphasized before communal experience.
But it does not have to begin this way. Such divisions should not mark the first steps of children's educational journeys.
These patterns are familiar not only in Turkey but also in many parts of the world, where early education has quietly adopted the habits of consumer culture (see Hartwig, 2024).
Another Classroom is Possible
Sometimes a teacher, a school, or even a small group of families can make a meaningful difference with just a slight change.
In a classroom, scissors can be shared. Paints can be purchased in large containers instead of many small packets. A more economical white glue can replace glue sticks. And even better, some materials may not need to be bought at all.
Children can make their own play-dough. They can create their own paints using colors found in nature. They can mix a starch-water glue. They can turn recyclable materials into art (see Güngör & Cevher-Kalburan, 2022).
These actions are not only about saving money; they shape a child's inner world. Children begin to think, "I can make this." They discover, "We can do this together." They realize, "Nature offers enough." And they come to understand that "things are meant to be cared for, not consumed quickly."
Over time, such ideas nurture a culture of resourcefulness, creativity, and shared possibility.
Family Participation: A Community Beyond Consumption
Families can take an active role in the process, not merely by providing materials but by becoming part of the making itself. When a parent prepares dough with their child at home, they are not only engaging in an activity; they are discovering how simple and joyful it can be to create something together.
A large container of paint brought into the classroom represents more than the paint inside; it carries the community's goodwill.
Likewise, a natural paint prepared at home is not only a pigment; it holds the memory of the time shared in its creation.
The Role of the Teacher: Small Innovations, Big Impact
Many teachers, navigating the pressures of the system, tend to underestimate the value of small acts of innovation. It is easy to wonder, "Does this really matter?"
Yet the transformation that unfolds inside a classroom leaves a quiet, lasting impression on every child who enters. They may not remember the specific moments as they grow older, but the warmth of sharing, the joy of creating, and the ease of simplification remain with them.
Although the idea of degrowth may seem part of extensive political conversations, its roots often lie in small, meaningful gestures. A pair of shared scissors, a jar of glue, a bit of homemade dough — these simple things can open the door to change. And a teacher who dares to say, "Another way is possible," becomes a powerful catalyst for that transformation.
Final Word: A Lighter World for Children
The world grows heavier each day — with rising consumption, economic pressures, and quiet anxieties. And yet children step into this weighty world with hands still so small.
The greatest gift we can offer them is a lighter world.
A world with less packaging, less consumption, and more mindful making.
A world where sharing feels natural, and community is treasured.
We can nurture a culture that values people not for what they possess but for what they create together.
By taking these small steps, we may move — quietly but powerfully — toward a future in which human growth, rather than economic growth, becomes what truly matters.
References
Güngör, H., & Cevher-Kalburan, N. (2022). An investigation of the ecological footprint awareness levels of 60–72-month-old children. International Online Journal of Primary Education (IOJPE), 11(1), 78–89.
Hartwig, E. (2024). Ecological Well-Being and Early Childhood Development. UNICEF Latin America and the Caribbean Regional Office. https://www.unicef.org/lac/en/media/49576/file/EN-Ecological-Wellbeing-Early-Childhood%20(1).pdf.pdf
Post Growth Institute. (n.d.). About post-growth.
Research & Degrowth. (n.d.). Degrowth: A vocabulary for a new era.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nilgün Cevher-Kalburan is a professor in the Department of Early Childhood Education at Pamukkale University, Turkey. Her work focuses on nature-based education, outdoor play and learning, risky play, and teacher education. She is committed to fostering meaningful, child-centered learning environments and promoting ecological awareness in early childhood settings. You can follow her work via instagram.
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