Childhood, Education, love, Poetry

On turning four

I wrote that after putting my daughter to sleep. She is in a rush to grow up, as are many children in this modern metropolis, I imagine. There’s so much to do, so little time to do it in.

Next year she goes to kindergarten, entering an education system famous for being among the best in the world, but also infamous for being a conveyor belt-pressure cooker-meat grinder, churning out products to feed the economy.

Will she lose that spark of curiosity, that wonder of a wandering mind? I hope not.

1 thought on “On turning four”

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