Inspired by Billy Collins’ poem

“At four I was an Arabian wizard by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.
But now I am mostly at the window watching the late afternoon light.

Back then it never fell so solemnly against the side of my tree house, and my bicycle never leaned against the garage as it does today, all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself, as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.

It is time to say goodbye to my imaginary friends, time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life, I skin my knees. I bleed.”

We have shared this excerpt from a poem written by Billy Collins with kaiako as a provocation for reflection. The poem moved me when I first read it because even though he is talking about older tamariki, there is a message in here for us in ECE. I am reminded of a TED Talk by the late Sir Ken Robinson, who said, “And every day, everywhere, our children spread their dreams beneath our feet. And we should tread softly.”

There’s a moment in childhood when imagination begins to fade from the centre of play and drifts quietly to the edges. It’s the moment when mokopuna move from participants to observers, from wizards to watchers. And yet, this doesn’t happen because they’ve outgrown magic. It happens because we, the adults, have stopped seeing the world the way they do.
When we rush mokopuna, direct their play, worry about meeting outcomes, or misunderstand curiosity as distraction, the wizardry of the early years starts to retreat. But the light doesn’t disappear, it simply waits for someone to notice it. Is that someone you? As a kaiako, are you full of playfulness? Do you have a high tolerance for uncertainty? If yes - yay - because this is where the magic stays alive.
How can the uncertainty of play and imagination live side by side by with rosters, daily room plans and individual plans that focus on what next? How can a focus on outcomes sprinkle life into the wizards spell?
**Honouring the Culture of Childhood**
Emily Plank wrote,“When we visit another land we can view the natives’ differences from us as deficiencies, to be judged, or as fascinations, to be understood. Only the latter can lead to real communication.” *Discovering the Culture of Childhood*
The world of childhood really is another land, one with its own rhythms, rituals, and language.

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In that land, a single stick carries endless possibility - a wand, an antenna to the sky, a walking stick, a stirrer of imaginary soups, or something not yet imagined. Loose parts like sticks, stones, shells, and fabric become the vocabulary of this culture, everyday objects transformed into extraordinary tools for thinking and creating. They remind us that children don’t need elaborate resources to make magic; they simply need adults who can see possibility instead of limitation. When we become travellers instead of colonisers in that world, everything changes. We begin to listen rather than manage, to observe instead of correct, to marvel rather than measure. I highly recommend Emily Plank’s book - it stretches our thinking.

When we honour the culture of childhood, children trust themselves, take meaningful risks, lose themselves in imagination, and create their own curriculum through exploration. Play isn’t a break from learning, play is the learning. It’s the most authentic expression of what it means to be human in those early years. It’s also the birthplace of every wizard.

Our Responsibility as Kaiako and Leaders

Mokopuna don’t stop being wizards because they lose imagination; they stop because the environments around them stop believing in it. Our role is to protect the spaces where imagination feels safe, to slow down enough to notice what mokopuna are showing us. When we do that, we’re not just supporting play, we’re protecting childhood itself. And when childhood is protected, magic flourishes.

When tamariki stop being wizards…

The Power and Weight of Connection