In the Art room where I work, there’s a tree made of cardboard, adorned with leaves for every season. Spring brings vibrant green leaves, summer offers slightly deeper green ones, autumn paints them golden, and winter sees red leaves falling to the base. The leaves stretch out to catch the sunlight, flutter in the breeze, or rest gently on the ground. Their colors vary, reflecting the preferences and moods of the little artists who paint them.
Those artists are none other than preschool children. They play with colors, rolling tiny paint rollers across cardboard leaves carefully cut out by their teachers. Watching them immerse themselves in their brushes is a truly delightful experience.
A Small but Lively Class
The class has just four children. Thóc is the only girl, two years old, with her hair braided into two adorable, swaying pigtails. Trần Anh is the oldest, the most skilled, and the most talkative. Ỉn, the same age as Thóc, can be a bit whiny but is the first to notice Thóc’s charm. Then there’s Bun, also Thóc’s age, who works in a delightfully unpredictable way.
Painting the Tree
When Teacher Giang handed each child a tiny paint roller to color the tree trunk, they all dove in with enthusiasm. They painted and rolled with focus on the impressively large trunk. While the kids worked, the teachers cut out more leaves, and I was tasked with taking photos and videos. Thóc, after eagerly rolling paint across the trunk, discovered the allure of the camera and began toddling after me, eager to try it out. I didn’t mind at all—after all, at Bees School, kids aren’t expected to do exactly what everyone else is doing. As long as they find something exciting in their mini-project, the teachers encourage them to explore. Taking photos is part of the tree, too, since it captures everyone’s efforts, including Thóc’s friends. Though Thóc’s photos were mostly of the floor, she was thrilled to press the shutter button and hear its satisfying click.
Thóc’s Beauty
Meanwhile, Teacher Giang was cutting leaves and chatting with Thóc about her own beauty.
Teacher Giang: What’s beautiful about Thóc?
Thóc: Thóc’s eyes are beautiful.
Teacher Giang: What else is beautiful?
Thóc: Thóc’s mouth is beautiful.
Teacher Giang: Anything else?
Thóc, swaying her pigtails and waiting for a hint, finally said: Thóc’s hair is beautiful.
Thóc’s voice is a wonder. The sound from her two-year-old vocal cords isn’t deep or high-pitched but crystal-clear, almost like a little Vietnamese expat’s accent—both foreign and familiar.
A Little Distraction
Not wanting to pull Thóc away from the fun of painting leaves, I fibbed that the camera was out of battery and set it aside to join the kids. They learned that leaves can be green, yellow, or red, and they were free to choose their colors or mix them however they liked. Thóc painted, but only when I brushed a few strokes on the same leaf alongside her. She knew that the moment I stepped away, the camera would miraculously “recharge.”
To keep Thóc engaged, Teacher Giang asked her again about her beautiful features. Repetition helps young kids absorb what adults teach them. This time, Thóc forgot a few details, and Ỉn jumped in to remind her. In doing so, Ỉn unknowingly learned to recognize the “beauty” of a friend.
Teamwork and Lessons
While the other three were busy painting, Thóc called out:
“Trần Anh!”
“You should say ‘Brother Trần Anh,’” Trần Anh corrected.
“Calling him just by his name isn’t polite,” Ỉn chimed in.
Things got a bit chaotic when Ỉn, in his mischief, smeared paint everywhere, prompting Teacher Giang to playfully threaten to bench him. Tears welled up in Ỉn’s eyes. Trần Anh and Thóc giggled and waved goodbye, but Ỉn, not wanting to be left out, apologized to Teacher Giang and jumped back in to finish the tree.
The Finished Tree
After the class, when the teachers hung the tree on the Art room wall, the kids had learned so much. Beyond painting and mixing colors, they discovered how to apologize, recognize their own and others’ beauty, and work as a team. When they looked at the tree, they could see their contributions. It’s not like when I was young, with dozens of kids in a class, all drawing identical pictures in identical colors, competing for the highest grade.