## 1. Can Children Philosophize?



Jean Piaget's (1933) well-known theory of cognitive development
suggests that prior to age 11 or 12, most children are not capable of
philosophical thinking. This is because, it holds, prior to this time,
children are not capable of "thinking about thinking," the
sort of meta-level thinking that philosophical thinking requires. This
level of cognitive development includes analogical reasoning about
relationships, such as: "Bicycle is to handlebars as ship is to
rudder, with 'steering mechanism' being the similar
relationship" (Goswami, p. xxi). However, there is a solid body
of psychological research that indicates Piaget's account
seriously underestimates children's cognitive abilities
(Astington, 1993; Gopnik, et al., 1999; Gopnik, 2009).



Philosopher Gareth Matthews went further and argued at length that
Piaget failed to see the philosophical thinking manifest in the very
children he studied. In *Philosophy and the Young Child*,
Matthews (1980) provides a number of delightful illustrations of very
young children's philosophical puzzlement. For example:


* TIM (about six years), while busily engaged in licking a pot,
asked, "Papa, how can we be sure that everything is not a
dream?" (p. 1)
* JORDAN (five years), going to bed at eight one evening, asked,
"If I go to bed at eight and get up at seven in the morning, how
do I really know that the little hand of the clock has gone around
only once? Do I have to stay up all night to watch it? If I look away
even for a short time, maybe the small hand will go around
twice." (p. 3)
* One day JOHN EDGAR (four years), who had seen airplanes take off,
rise, and gradually disappear into the distance, took his first plane
ride. When the plane stopped ascending and the seat-belt sign went
out, John Edgar turned to his father and said in a rather relieved,
but still puzzled, tone of voice, "Things don't really get
smaller up here." (p. 4)



However, it might be objected, commonly observable as they might be,
more than such anecdotes are needed to show that children are capable
of serious philosophical thinking. What is needed is evidence that
children are capable of *sustained* philosophical discussion.
Matthews (1984) provides illustrations of this, too. For example,
meeting with a group of 8-11 year olds, he used the following
example to develop a story for discussion:



> 
> Ian (six years old) found to his chagrin that the three children of
> his parents' friends monopolized the television; they kept him
> from watching his favorite program. "Mother," he asked in
> frustration, "why is it better for three children to be selfish
> than one?" (Matthews 1984, 92-3)
> 



This generated a lively discussion in which children commented on the
inconsiderateness of the three visiting children, the desirability of
working out a solution that would satisfy all four children, the
importance of respecting people's rights, and how one might feel
if he or she were in Ian's place. Matthews then posed a possible
utilitarian approach: "What about this argument, that if we let
the three visitors have their way, three people will be made happy
instead of just one?" One reply was that it would not be fair
for three people to get what they want at the expense of a fourth.
This triggered a discussion of fairness that addressed more specific
concerns about the relative ages of the children, whether they are
friends, siblings, or strangers--and what types of television
programs are involved.



No doubt, part of the explanation of the children's ability and
willingness to carry on an extended discussion of Ian's
circumstance is that they have faced similar challenges. Still, they
exhibited a rather sophisticated grasp of the conceptual and moral
issues at hand, which is what one might expect from children once they
are invited to reflect on their own experiences.



Stories about children roughly one's own age can provide
opportunities to discuss ideas that are most important to a child.
Consider this example from Matthew Lipman's novel *Lisa*
(1983). Harry and his friend Timmy go to a stamp club to trade stamps.
Afterward they stop for ice cream cones, but Timmy discovers he has no
money. Harry offers to buy him one, and Timmy says he will buy Harry a
cone next time. As they are leaving the store, one of their classmates
trips Timmy. Timmy then knocks the tripper's books off the
table. After running away from the scene, Timmy and Harry talk about
what has happened:



> 
> 
> "I couldn't let them get away with it," Timmy
> remarked when they saw that they weren't being pursued and could
> slow down to a walk. "He didn't have to stick his foot
> out." Then he added, "Of course, I didn't have to do
> what I did either. But, like I said before, turnabout is fair
> play."
> 
> 
> 
> "Somehow," Harry thought, "it isn't quite the
> same thing." But he couldn't figure out why. "I
> don't know," he said finally to Timmy. "The purpose
> of your stamp club is to exchange stamps. So when you give someone
> stamps, you're supposed to give something back. Just like if
> someone lends me money, I'm supposed to give it back. But if
> someone pulls a dirty trick on you, should you do the same thing to
> him? I'm not so sure."
> 
> 
> 
> "But I had to get even," Timmy protested. "I
> couldn't let him get away with it, tripping me like that for no
> reason."
> 
> 
> 
> A bit later they met Lisa and Laura. Harry told the girls what had
> happened and why he was puzzled. "It reminds me," remarked
> Lisa, "of last year when we were learning about how some
> sentences could be turned around and would stay true, while others,
> when you turned them around, would become false."
> 
> 
> 
> "Yeah," Harry agreed, "but there we found a rule.
> What's the rule here?" Lisa tossed her long hair so that
> it hung over her right shoulder. "It looks like there are times
> when it is right to give back what we got and other times when it is
> wrong. But how do we tell which is which?" (*Lisa*, pp.
> 23-4)
> 
> 
> 



This passage is an invitation to explore the moral nuances of
reciprocity, or "returning in kind." What might a group of
10-11 year-olds have to say about this? Here is a sampling from
a lengthy discussion of the *Lisa* passage by a group of fifth
graders (Pritchard 1996). With very little prompting from the teacher,
the students raised and vigorously pursued questions such as the
following:


* What is likely to happen when we retaliate? Will this simply start
a long chain of trying to "get things even" that no one
(other than perhaps the initiator) wants?
* Can retaliating really "get things even"? Can we even
make sense of "getting things even"?
* Is it really right to respond to a wrong by returning in kind? Is
this trying to make a right out of two wrongs?
* What alternatives to trying to "get things even" might
there be? What would happen if you just ignore someone who is trying
to get a rise out of you?
* When is self-defense the best strategy?
* Is there a difference between trying to "get things
even" and trying to "teach someone a lesson"?
* Can something like the Golden Rule help us here? What does the
Golden Rule *mean*? Is it a *good* rule?



Thoughtful and insightful questions like this are not unusual for
children when they are given the opportunity to express them.
This discussion was prompted by a children's novel. However,
students' regular classroom materials, works of art, thought
experiments, the daily news, or their own experiences can trigger
philosophical discussions of moral concepts and concerns.



Even if one concedes that children are quite capable of engaging in
extended discussions of *moral* concepts related to their own
experiences, what about philosophical ideas that are less immediately
related to their practical affairs? Here is an illustration that
begins with logic and ends up in metaphysics.



The true sentence, "All oaks are trees" becomes false when
reversed. So does, "All carrots are vegetables." Can we
say that *every* true sentence beginning with 'all'
becomes false when reversed? The children in *Harry
Stottlemeier's Discovery* initially are tempted to say, yes.
But at least as early as the 3rd grade, children easily
find exceptions. What about "All tigers are tigers", many
will ask. Others may respond that this is an uninteresting sentence,
offering something like "All rabbits are hares," or
"All mothers have children" as alternatives. With
relatively little encouragement, they can come up with good
definitions of geometric figures and differentiate them from proposed
definitions that cannot be reversed. For example, "All squares
are rectangles" is true, but it becomes false when reversed.
"All squares are rectangles with equal sides," however,
can be reversed.



Although the study of logic is traditionally regarded as a part of
philosophy, critics might not find the reflections of children on such
rules of logic terribly interesting philosophically. (Of course, some
might say this about elementary logic in the college classroom, as
well.) It is not that different from basic math and grammar, they
might object. Whether or not this is a fair assessment, for many
children it is but a short step from logic to metaphysics. Here is an
example from a 4th grade class that had just been asked
whether true sentences beginning with 'all' always become
false when reversed (Pritchard 1996). After the usual "All
tigers are tigers" and "All rabbits are hares" were
suggested, a student asked, "How about 'All answers have
questions' and 'All questions have answers'?"
Fortunately, the teacher paused to explore this with the class,
asking"Do all answers have questions?" Of course, replied
the students, otherwise we would not say that we have an
*answer*.



The teacher continued, "How about the other sentence? Do you
think that all questions have answers?" What followed was a
flood of responses:


* Student #1: "Is there life in the center of the
sun?"
* Student #2: "Even though we can't go there to find
out, the question still has an answer."
* Student #3: "How many grains of sand are there on
earth?"
* Student #4: "There's a definite number even though we
don't know what it is."
* Student #3: "The wind will blow them all around, and
we'll count some more than once."
* Student #5: "There are too many to count."
* Student #6: "How many grains of sand are there on all the
planets?"
* Student #7: "How many trees are there on earth?"
* Student #4: "That's easier than grains of sand. We
could count the trees."
* Student #7: "By the time you finish counting them, some
would have fallen down and others would have started to
grow."
* Student #8: "Did God make time begin?"
* Student #9: "You mean, *if* there is a God, did he
make time begin?"
* Student #7: "Does space have limits?"
* Student #5: "Yeah, what would happen if you got to the end
of space and tried to put your hand out? If you couldn't, what
would be holding it back on the outside?"
* Student #6: "Maybe what would hold your hand back is on the
inside. There wouldn't be any outside."



Many of the students seemed to be struggling to move from questions
that are difficult, if not impossible, to answer because of our
*practical* limitations (e.g., not being certain that a
particular grain of sand has not already been counted) to questions
that *in principle* are unanswerable. Finally, with a
mischievous grin on his face, one of the students asked, "Will
time end?" The problem, he explained, is that if time did end,
no one would be able later to confirm that this was so.



Here is another illustration of how quickly a discussion of logic can
move to a discussion of deep philosophical issues (Pritchard, 1985).
This is a group of 5th graders considering the sentence,
"All people are animals." One of the students offered this
as another example of a true sentence that becomes false when
reversed. Jeff objected that "All people are animals" is
not true. Chip proceeded to develop a taxonomy that relegated people,
along with elephants and tigers, under the heading of mammals, mammals
under animals, and animals under living things. Jeff continued to
object.



> 
> 
> Chip: "Jeff, what are people? Just tell me, what are people? You
> can't answer that, can you?"
> 
> 
> 
> Jeff: "Yes, I can."
> 
> 
> 
> Chip: "What are you?"
> 
> 
> 
> Jeff: "A person."
> 
> 
> 
> Chip: "What's a person?"
> 
> 
> 
> Jeff: "A living somebody."
> 
> 
> 
> Chip: "A living somebody could be a whale."
> 
> 
> 
> Jeff: "I said, *somebody*, not an
> animal...."
> 
> 
> 
> Chip: "You can check every single book out there in the
> library--well, every one that's about
> us...."
> 
> 
> 
> Larry: "I want to know why everyone's getting so huffy
> about a little subject."
> 
> 
> 
> Rich: "We're *thinking*! That's what
> we're here for."
> 
> 
> 
> Amy: "Does anyone have an encyclopedia in here so we can look up
> either animals, mammals, or persons?"
> 
> 
> 
> Jeff: "We're all humans. So, if this Mars guy saw us, he
> would say, 'Hey, look, there's some human beings.'
> He wouldn't say, 'Hey, look, there's some animals
> down there.'"
> 
> 
> 
> Mike: "Martians, if there are any, would say, 'Hey, look
> at those weird looking creatures,' or something like that. They
> wouldn't know *what* we are. They don't know
> anything about us."
> 
> 
> 
> Chip: "There's living life, okay? Then you branch off from
> there. You have animals, plants, and whatever the other stuff
> is--you know, molecules and things like that. Now you go to the
> animals and you branch off--mammals, amphibians, reptiles, and
> whatever there is. Then you branch off and you have all these special
> humans. Is that right so far, Jeff?"
> 
> 
> 
> Jeff: "Just go on."
> 
> 
> 
> Chip: "Well, I just want to know if you agree so far."
> 
> 
> 
> Jeff: "Just go on. Go on. I'm not going to change my mind.
> That's all.... I'm not an animal. I'm a person,
> and I'm going to stay that way."
> 
> 
> 
> Amy: "People are a type of animal, like a bird is. That's
> different than like an elephant is. A bird's different than an
> elephant. And we're different than a bird."
> 
> 
> 



The discussion continued for several more minutes. As the group
dispersed, one student remarked to another, "If we want to, we
could argue for hours!" "For days," replied the
second. Meeting weekly after school in the local public library, this
group of children returned the next week with an encyclopedia to try
to settle the matter. After several minutes of discussion, the teacher
asked the students if they thought everything in the encyclopedia is
true.



> 
> 
> Emily: "Some things we're not sure of; and the
> encyclopedia could put down every word about how the solar system was
> formed, and it would probably say there was big dust that spun around
> like a top. But we're not sure about that. And, so, that could
> be wrong."
> 
> 
> 



The teacher asked whether, in such cases, the encyclopedia would say,
"We're not sure."



> 
> 
> Mike: "It'll say 'hypothesis'--which is a
> guess."
> 
> 
> 
> Kurt: "It'll say we're not sure yet."
> 
> 
> 



So, the discussion retained its philosophical vitality. This
particular group continued to meet weekly for the entire school year,
discussing a wide range of philosophical topics, including: the
relationship between the mind and the brain, differences (and
similarities) between dreams and reality, knowledge of other minds,
self-knowledge, and relationships between evidence and knowledge.


## 2. Philosophy in a Crowded Curriculum



Those favoring adding philosophy to K-12 school programs face the
challenges of an already crowded curriculum and growing pressure to
provide quantifiable evidence of student mastery of the standard
subjects of history, literature, math, and science. Where is time to
be found for the give-and-take of philosophical discussions? Adding
philosophy to the mix, doubters object, only makes matters worse. Not
only is it yet another subject, it is one that many teachers may find
unsettling. They may fear that philosophy's continual
questioning will actually interfere with students' mastery of
the subjects already in the curriculum. Given the unsettling nature of
much philosophical inquiry, they may feel vulnerable as teachers
because they are not confident of their own answers to the questions
posed.



Adding to this problem is increasing pressure on teachers to
demonstrate that their students are performing at satisfactory levels
in already established subjects. Standardized tests are commonly used
as the measure of student achievement. Marked by definitive,
unambiguous questions and answers, these tests do not place a premium
on philosophical reflection. Since student performance is typically
linked to school funding, this is not something teachers can take
lightly, however skeptical some of them might be about the educational
value of preparing their students to perform well on standardized
tests.



In response, advocates of bringing philosophy into the schools such as
Matthew Lipman and his colleague Ann Margaret Sharp have countered
that the introduction of philosophy can enhance the entire educational
experience of students. They urge that the aim is more than simply the
introduction of one more subject in the schools. Philosophy, they
insist, invites students to reflect on relationships among different
areas of inquiry and to make sense of their educational experiences as
a whole. This can add to the meaningfulness of students'
education as a whole. In addition, philosophy can make important
contributions to another area of concern that cuts across the
curriculum, critical thinking.



In the mid-1960s, Matthew Lipman became dismayed at the low quality of
argumentation employed by presumably well-educated citizens discussing
the Vietnam war and society's ills in general. Convinced that
the teaching of logic should begin long before college, he tried to
figure out a way to do this that would stimulate the interest of
10-11 year olds. Leaving his secure position of teaching
philosophy at Columbia University for an open ended one at Montclair
State College, he undertook work on his first children's novel,
*Harry Stottlemeier's Discovery*. Lipman's concerns
about the level of critical thinking in society in general, and the
schools in particular, were not his alone. By the 1970s the hue and
cry for teaching critical thinking in the schools was, if not clear,
at least loud; and it has continued largely unabated to the
present.



What is meant by 'critical thinking'? Characterizations
range in complexity from Robert Ennis's admirably brief,
"reasonable reflective thinking that is focused on deciding what
to believe or do" (Ennis 1987) to a complex statement by a group
of 46 panelists convened by the American Philosophical
Association's Committee on Pre-College Philosophy to employ the
Delphi Method of striving for consensus:



> 
> We understand critical thinking to be purposeful, self-regulatory
> judgment which results in interpretation, analysis, evaluation, and
> inference, as well as explanation of the evidential, conceptual,
> methodological, criteriological, or contextual considerations upon
> which that judgment is based.... The ideal critical thinking is
> habitually inquisitive, well-informed, trustful of reason,
> open-minded, flexible, fair-minded in evaluation, honest in facing
> personal biases, prudent in making judgments, willing to reconsider,
> clear about issues, orderly in complex matters, diligent in seeking
> relevant information, reasonable in the selection of criteria, focused
> in inquiry, and persistent in seeking results which are as precise as
> the subject and the circumstances of inquiry permit. (Facione, 1989)
> 



Lipman was a member of this panel, and it is clear that his novels and
teacher's manuals all strive to meet these objectives. His
briefer depiction of critical thinking is that it involves judgments
based on criteria, or reasons. Criteria, he says, can be appraised in
terms of "megacriteria" such as reliability, relevance,
strength, coherence, and consistency (Lipman 1991, p. 119). Critical
thinking, he adds, is characterized as "thinking that (1)
facilitates judgment because it (2) relies on criteria, (3) is
self-correcting, and (4) is sensitive to context." (Lipman 1991,
p. 116)



Picking up on the idea that critical thinking is sensitive to context,
some critics challenge the notion that critical thinking can be
usefully taught independently of specific disciplinary areas (McPeck,
1985). While conceding that there are some generic features of
critical thinking that cut across disciplines, they maintain that even
these features acquire their meanings only in specific contexts that
vary across disciplines (such as history, sociology, biology,
chemistry). However, unless the different disciplines ask questions
about their own basic assumptions and their relationships to one
another, critical thinking within those disciplines will overlook
important questions that need attention. Philosophy does ask such
questions about the different disciplines, including itself.



Lipman's hope was that philosophy would acquire a central place
in the K-12 curriculum, thus enabling students to develop their
critical thinking skills through philosophical questioning. At the
same time, he claimed, philosophy can help students make better sense
of their educational experiences. By seeking to develop comprehensive
perspectives, philosophy attempts to understand connections. A
curriculum that divides students' education into discrete,
self-contained disciplines without encouraging philosophical questions
about the nature of those disciplines and their relationships to one
another invites a fragmented view of education. Lipman's
proposed alternative is described in the next section, which describes
the K-12 program developed by the Institute for the Advancement of
Philosophy for Children (IAPC) that he and Ann Margaret Sharp
founded.



Short of the ambitious program Lipman and his IAPC colleagues had in
mind for the schools, there are more modest, but worthwhile, ways of
bringing philosophical inquiry into the already existing disciplinary
structure in the schools. Teachers can invite their students to
reflect on philosophical aspects of their subjects of study. At the
same time they study history, students can take some time to ask
questions about the extent to which historical accounts can be
objective--and questions about what 'objectivity'
might mean, and why it is or is not important to seek it. Similar
questions can be asked about the natural and social sciences,
including questions about the extent to which science is, or ought to
be, "value-free". In fact, if room for such questions is
not encouraged, one might well ask to what extent critical thinking
itself is encouraged.



Finally, especially since the passing of Lipman and Sharp in 2010 and
2011, many of those originally inspired by their work have initiated
efforts to introduce groups of children to philosophy outside the
formal educational setting of the schools.


## 3. The Institute for the Advancement of Philosophy for Children (IAPC)



The educational movement known as Philosophy for Children got its
start in the early 1970s with the publication of Matthew
Lipman's philosophical novel for children, *Harry
Stottlemeier's Discovery*. In 1970 *Harry* made its
entry into the Montclair Public Schools in New Jersey. By the mid-70s
the Institute for the Advancement of Philosophy for Children (IAPC)
was formally in place at Montclair State College (now Montclair State
University). The media quickly picked up on reports of significant
improvements in the reading and critical thinking skills of middle
school children who were involved in IAPC programs. Subsequently, IAPC
produced materials consisting of Lipman's children's
novels and, under the leadership of IAPC colleague Ann Margaret Sharp,
accompanying teacher workbooks for the entire K-12 curriculum.
Thousands of children in New Jersey, across the United States, and
even around the world have subsequently been introduced to IAPC
educational programs.



An unassuming 96 page novel for middle-school children, Lipman's
first novel, *Harry Stottlemeier's Discovery*, features
Harry and his 5th grade classmates. Adults occasionally
enter in, but the primary philosophical work is done by the children.
Harry and his friends discover several basic concepts and rules of
Aristotelean logic; and they puzzle over questions about the nature of
thought, mind, causality, reality, knowledge and belief, right and
wrong, and fairness and unfairness. 



"What *is* Harry Stottlemeier's discovery?"
*Harry*'s readers might ask. This question is not
directly answered. However, one candidate stands out among the many
things that Harry discovers in the course of exploring questions about
logic, knowledge, reality, and the mind. Harry and his classmates are
asked to write a paper on the topic, "The Most Interesting Thing
in the World." Entitled *Thinking*, Harry's essay
begins:



> 
> To me, the most interesting thing in the whole world is thinking. I
> know that lots of other things are also very important and wonderful,
> like electricity, and magnetism and gravitation. But although we
> understand them, they can't understand us. So thinking must be
> something very special.
> 



After writing several more paragraphs, Harry puts his paper aside.
Later he thinks, "In school, we think about math, and we think
about spelling, and we think about grammar. But who every heard of
thinking about thinking?" So, he adds one more sentence to his
paper: "If we think about electricity, we can understand it
better, but when we think about thinking, we seem to understand
ourselves better."



Without using the word 'philosophy,' either here or
anywhere else in *Harry*, Lipman shows Harry engaged in serious
philosophical thought, "thinking about thinking." This, we
might say, reveals Harry's discovery of the joys of
philosophical thinking. But there is more. Harry also notices that, as
interesting and important as thinking about thinking is, it seems to
have no special place in school. Finally, although his paper begins in
the first person, it quickly moves to 'we' and focuses on
what might be accomplished *with others* in the classroom.



One of the more attractive features of the IAPC approach to Philosophy
for Children for many teachers has been that it promotes the idea of
the classroom as a "community of inquiry" in which
students openly and respectfully exchange ideas. Each student is
regarded as having the potential to make valuable contributions to the
topics under consideration. Students are encouraged to develop good
listening skills, responsiveness to what others say, willingness to
try to support one's own ideas with good reasons, and openness
to the possibility that one should modify one's beliefs in light
of new considerations. In short, the classroom is designed to
reinforce the student's potential for *reasonableness*.
This involves more than being able to engage in skillful reasoning. As
Laurance J. Splitter and Ann Margaret Sharp put it (Splitter and
Sharp, p. 6):



> 
> Reasonableness is primarily a social disposition: the reasonable
> person respects others and is prepared to take into account their
> views and their feelings, to the extent of changing her own mind about
> issues of significance, and consciously allowing her own perspective
> to be changed by others. She is, in other words, willing to be
> reasoned with.
> 



Teachers who look favorably on the idea that the classroom should be a
"community of inquiry" nevertheless may resist the idea
that *philosophy* should be the centerpiece for discussion.
Other subjects, they might contend, lend themselves well to forming
the sort of collaborative learning environment that can fairly be
called a "community of inquiry." Philosophy for Children
advocates, however, need only insist that the sort of inquiry they are
supporting be philosophical, rather than being simply shared.
Unfortunately, Ann Margaret Sharp passed away in 2011. The
distinctiveness of the sort of inquiry she and Lipman advocated is
explored in some detail in a recent collection of essays by and about
her that is dedicated to her memory, *In Community of Inquiry with
Ann Margaret Sharp: Philosophy, Childhood and Education* (Gregory
and Laverty, 2017). [This is the first book in Routledge's
Philosophy for Children Founders series of volumes to be edited by
Maughn Rollins Gregory and Megan Jane Laverty. The second volume is
*Gareth Matthews, The Child's Philosopher*, 2022, with
several other books in this series forthcoming.]



It may be thought that philosophy is, at best, a suitable subject for
relatively few students at the pre-college level. Since philosophy
traditionally has been taught only at the college level in the United
States, it might be thought that it can be suitable for only a small
segment of students at pre-college levels--the two percent of
students who are classified as "gifted and talented."
However, Philosophy for Children programs have shown themselves to be
remarkably successful in drawing virtually all students in the
classroom together in inquiry. Teachers are often surprised, and
pleased, to see many of their most reticent,
"underachieving" students actively join in the discussion
of philosophical ideas.



Nevertheless, because they lack background in the formal study of
philosophy, many teachers are reluctant to encourage the philosophical
thinking of their students. Their fears, however, are exaggerated.
Familiarity with some of the standard philosophical literature might
be desirable, but it is not necessary for bringing Philosophy for
Children into the classroom. What is required is the ability to
facilitate philosophical discussion. For this, it is much more
important that teachers have some philosophical curiosity themselves
than a familiarity with academic philosophical literature. Like their
students, teachers unfamiliar with the discipline of philosophy may
nevertheless have an aptitude for philosophical thinking--or at
least a knack for recognizing when others are engaged in philosophical
thought.



Facilitating a Philosophy for Children discussion does not mean
dominating it; it is important for teachers to allow their students to
develop their own ideas. Teachers are not expected to provide, or even
have, answers to all the questions. They can share puzzlement with
their students, be open to unexpected but suggestive responses to the
questions they and their students pose, and take pleasure in observing
the exchanges students have with each other. This means shedding the
traditional role of teacher as lecturer and answer-giver. Especially
for teachers who are uncertain about what this entails, workshops like
those offered by IAPC provide a good introduction to the pedagogy of
Philosophy for Children. However, there is a growing number of
organizations around the world (some of which are mentioned below)
also providing assistance for teachers.


## 4. Philosophizing With Others?



Philosophy for Children encourages children to think *for*
themselves at the same time that it encourages them to think
*with* others. However, philosophy is often viewed as more a
matter of solitary reflection, perhaps involving exchanges between a
few other solitary thinkers--something to which the
"masses" are neither privy nor attracted. Perhaps many
would claim that this is philosophy at its best. Even if this were so
(a controversial view), it would not undermine arguments for including
philosophy in the K-12 curricula. However esoteric physics and
mathematics at their best may be, the schools nevertheless recognize
the importance of making these subjects available in some form to all
students. Similarly, Philosophy for Children advocates can counter
that there should be a place for all students--whether labelled
"gifted and talented," "underachieving," or
"ordinary"--pursuing philosophical questions
together.



For this to work, it must be possible for children in the classroom to
engage in sustained philosophical discussion with others. As already
noted, Gareth Matthew's writings provide ample evidence that
children are capable of having interesting, if not profound,
philosophical thoughts. Less obvious, however, is children's
ability to sustain and develop this with others. Anecdotes of young
children spontaneously sharing a philosophical thought with an
observant adult are not sufficient. Matthews' *Dialogues With
Children* provides good evidence that children can go well beyond
this. Other examples of substantial philosophical conversations of
children found in Lone (2012, 2021), McCall (2009), Pritchard (1996,
2022), Shapiro (2012), and Wartenberg (2009, 2013), among many others,
should leave little doubt that children have this ability.


## 5. Philosophy For Children Today



In light of the rapidly expanding international interest in philosophy
for children, the International Council for Philosophical Inquiry with
Children (ICPIC) was established in 1985. ICPIC continues to sponsor
an international conference every other year, with hosts including
Australia, Austria, Brazil, England, Mexico, Spain (twice), and
Taiwan.



Even after the passing of IAPC pioneers Matthew Lipman (2010) and Ann
Margaret Sharp (2011), now led by Maughn Gregory and others, IAPC
retains a strong presence in ICPIC. However, many ICPIC members now
have established their own institutional structures and have developed
centers, associations, and programs. In North America, there is the
North American Association of Community of Inquiry (NAACI), which
gathers every other year (years when ICPIC is not meeting). With
initial support from the American Philosophical Association's
Pre-College Philosophy Committee, PLATO (Philosophy Learning and
Teaching Organization) was formed. Now a non-profit organization
supported by the Squire Family Foundation, PLATO sponsors annual
meetings, and in 2022 the University of Washington Center for
Philosophy for Children and PLATO were joined. PLATO also sponsors two
periodicals: *Questions* and the online *Precollege
Philosophy and Public Practice*. Australia and New Zealand are
organized under the Federation of Australasian Philosophy in Schools
Associations (FAPSA), which meets annually and publishes *Journal
for Philosophy in Schools* as its official journal (Burgh and
Thornton, 2016). In 1992 the Society for the Advancement of
Philosophical Enquiry and Reflection in Education (SAPERE) was
established in Oxford, England. In 2007 England's Philosophy
Foundation was established (Worley, 2011). Since 2005, the journal
*Philosophy and Childhood* has been sponsored by ICPIC and the
graduate program in education at the State University of Rio De
Janeiro (UERJ). These organizations, along with many other centers and
experienced practitioners around the world, continue to support
training programs for teachers that enable them to introduce thousands
of children to philosophy, both inside and outside regular classrooms.




Although there is continued use of IAPC materials, recent years have
been marked by a proliferation of alternative teaching resources and
ways of engaging children in philosophical discussions. For years
Gareth Matthews contributed reviews of children's stories to
*Thinking*, then IAPC's official journal (even though
IAPC's own teaching materials made no use of other
children's literature). This inspired Tom Wartenberg (2009,
2013) to develop his highly successful pre-college philosophy program
at Mt. Holyoke College (MA), a prize winning program that is built
around classic children's stories. His website offers a wealth
of materials on children's literature that are designed to
provide guidance for those wishing to pursue philosophy with children.
Karen Murris was an early objector to Lipman's resistance to
using illustrated materials (Morris, 1992). She and Johana Haynes
offer a detailed account of the philosophical importance of picture
books (Murris and Haynes, 2012 and Murris, 2016). Peter Worley, head
of England's Philosophy Foundation has written several
stimulating books for teachers and students that make no use of IAPC
materials. Australia's Phil Cam has assembled a variety of
stories suitable for philosophical use with children. In short, there
is a rapidly growing list of resources that show great promise for
engaging children in philosophical discussions. (See, for example,
DeHaan et al. 1995; Fisher 1998; Keen 1997; Lewis and Chandley 2012;
Lone 2012 & 2021; McCall 2009; Murris 1992, 2016; Sprod 2001, and
White 2000). *Questions: Philosophy for Young People*, a
periodical sponsored by the American Philosophical Association's
Pre-College Philosophy Committee, features young people's
writings on special philosophical topics. The first issue (Spring
2001) focused on children's rights.



Fortunately, the internet makes it possible to keep up reasonably well
with the latest developments around the world and communicate quickly
with other educators interested in Philosophy for Children.
Unfortunately, many of these websites seem to be short-lived. However,
see the Internet Resources section below for a list of websites that
are reliable and which provide links to other useful sites.