The sentence has an almost stubborn quality. “Children should have the chance to learn to love the world before they have to save it.” In the midst of discussions about apps, modules, and Erasmus funding, some people silently recite an old prayer, according to Thomas Beery, an environmental didactics researcher at Kristianstad University. It’s the type of sentence that isn’t quite appropriate for a policy document. Even so, it’s more difficult than it used to be in a time when four-year-olds can ask a chatbot to draw them a unicorn before they can tie their shoes.
A certain idealism has always been ingrained in OMEP, the global early childhood organization that was established in 1948. The original idea—that kids should be the first to fall in love with the world—was never intended for a generation that would grow up with generative AI. It was written with a postwar world attempting to reimagine what childhood ought to be like. However, it has aged into relevance rather than out of it for some reason. It’s difficult to ignore how infrequently preschoolers look up as they browse through tablets in waiting areas.
In some ways, Fridberg and Beery’s “Sustainability from the Start” project—which they have been promoting throughout Europe for the past two years—is a subdued reaction to all of this. AI is not specifically mentioned in the app they developed with edChild and partners from five different countries. Instead of focusing on footprints, it discusses children marking “my place in the world” on a map with small objects. That simplicity has an almost defiant quality. A stroll. A leaf. a community. Prompt engineering is not necessary.
It may be deemed nostalgic by critics. Early education tech evangelists contend that immersive simulations, AI tutors, and adaptive learning platforms could provide kids with experiences that a forest walk could never provide. They’re not wholly incorrect. However, researchers like Fridberg believe that when a child’s initial interaction with the world is mediated by a screen that appears to know them, something is lost. The scent of damp bark. the stone’s weight. Waiting for a snail to move is especially boring.
It’s possible that the principle’s resistance to efficiency is the reason it endures. AI is designed to maximize. The kind of childhood that OMEP envisioned is designed to roam. In the first five years of a person’s life, one must ultimately determine which pull is more important because the two pull in different directions rather than neatly opposing each other.
Edtech investors appear to believe that children can love both the world and the algorithm, and that this is a hybrid solution. Perhaps. Neither did the twenty educators in the reference group who tested the ECE Academy app appear to be taking sides. Instead of manifestos, they wanted tools. Nevertheless, the line continues to appear in their comments, almost unintentionally. First, love. Save for later.
It’s remarkable how the idea has subtly evolved into a sort of moral compass for teachers who are unsure about how much technology to incorporate into the early years. Not prohibited. Not in a panic. Before the tablet is released, I would like to know if the child has yet to fall in love with anything that isn’t displayed on a screen.
The app has been downloaded in Australia and Kenya, two countries with quite different attitudes toward technology and the natural world. That in and of itself says something. Neither the concern nor the hope are European. It’s still unclear if the idea still applies in a time when AI can respond to any query a child poses before they have finished forming it. However, someone is still telling kids to go outside first in preschools from Malmö to Nairobi. and taking it seriously.
