By: Syamsul Kurniawan
Early childhood represents a paradox within the human life cycle.
Children appear fragile, easily moved to tears, and unsettled by the smallest
disruptions. Yet behind such vulnerability lies immense potential, as though
life has concealed profound mysteries within small bodies. Every smile and
every cry signals a future whose meaning we have yet to fully comprehend.
In Indonesian legislation, the period between birth and six years of
age is classified as early childhood. Educational experts extend this category
up to the age of eight, acknowledging it as the most decisive developmental
stage. During these years, children lay the foundations for their intellectual
and emotional trajectories throughout life. What is neglected in this period
often cannot be compensated for in adulthood.
Neurological studies provide a mirror to the critical importance of
this phase. Half of a child’s intelligence develops within the first four years
of life—an almost daunting pace of growth. By the age of eight, the brain has
already reached approximately eighty percent of its adult capacity, with the
remainder involving refinement rather than foundational growth. Such statistics
reveal that neglecting even a single day during these years may translate into
the loss of an entire developmental pathway.
At this juncture, adults—parents, teachers, and society at large—serve
as guides directing the child’s course. Seemingly minor mistakes, such as
allowing excessive screen time, may leave enduring scars that are difficult to
erase. Negligence that appears trivial in the present often becomes an
unfillable gap in later years. Many adults limp through life precisely because
their childhoods were never fully embraced.
Children cannot be equated with adults. They are naïve, innocent, often
egocentric, and at times appear stubborn. Yet such stubbornness is not mere
defiance; rather, it reflects an attempt to affirm their own existence. Their
world is simple, even primitive, but consistently honest.
Scholars of child development refer to this stage as the “monarchical
period.” Children behave as though the world must revolve around them,
demanding instant gratification of their desires. This is often described as
the “kingdom phase”—a time when the child perceives themself as the center of
the universe. Though challenging for parents, this phase plays a vital role in
cultivating self-confidence.
Beneath such behavior lies a deeper message. The child is testing the
boundaries of the surrounding world, measuring the extent to which it accepts
or rejects their presence. Every outburst seeks reassurance: is there still an
embrace after the tears, warmth after defiance? In essence, they are learning
about love in their own way.
Here lies the relevance of early childhood education. It is not merely
formal instruction, but rather a formative space where children learn about
themselves, their environment, and their limits. Early childhood
institutions—kindergartens, playgroups, Islamic RA schools, and family-based
education—serve as the first layers of this foundation. The Indonesian
Education Law (UU Sisdiknas) underscores that early childhood education is a
shared responsibility, not an optional privilege.
Islam, with its contextual approach, provides clear guidance on this
matter. Child-rearing, within the Islamic framework, must be grounded in both
compassion and discipline. The Prophet Muhammad encouraged the teaching of
prayer from the age of seven and emphasized discipline at the age of ten.
Compassion, therefore, does not equate to indulgence; rather, it must be paired
with boundaries and rules.
A frequent misunderstanding arises in the interpretation of
“punishment.” Many assume punishment is a form of parental retaliation against
children’s misbehavior. Yet in Islam, punishment is pedagogical: a means of
instilling discipline rooted in love. It is not intended to wound but to guide,
enabling children to learn the consequences of their actions.
Consider the simple example of excessive gadget use. Parents and
teachers may set clear agreements: time limits and rules that must be followed.
If the child disobeys, consequences are applied—not to instill fear, but to
educate. This allows the child to understand that reality does not bend
entirely to their will.
However, control cannot be imposed instantly. Early childhood educators
recognize the necessity of gradual processes. Initially, children may still
bring gadgets to school. Later, limits are introduced. Agreements are then
established, until eventually, children themselves willingly abandon the habit.
This gradual method mirrors the revelation of the Qur’an, which was
revealed in stages according to human readiness. As Ibn Hajar observed, the
human soul requires time to accept the unfamiliar and release the familiar.
Teachers thus emulate this divine pedagogy, guiding children with patience
rather than haste.
Children require a bridge to transition from old habits to new ones.
Teachers, caregivers, and parents serve as that bridge. If the bridge is
fragile or hurriedly built, children may stumble. But if it is strong and
steady, children will cross safely.
Communication, therefore, becomes essential. Teachers must engage not
only with children but also with parents. The language used should neither be
harsh nor patronizing, but respectful and affirming. Effective communication
fosters trust between schools and families.
The Qur’an itself emphasizes the use of dignified language. It
prohibits harshness toward parents, warns against oppressing orphans, and
advocates for noble speech. Words, in the Islamic tradition, are not mere
sounds; they are prayers, mirrors of the heart. Thus, educating children also
entails cultivating gentle and truthful language.
Beyond communication, management plays a crucial role. Schools must
assign responsibilities clearly—designating which teacher accompanies which
child, and who earns the child’s trust. Young children consistently seek
figures who provide them with a sense of security. Personal closeness to one
teacher often becomes the entry point for a child’s comfort in school.
Islam itself reminds us that responsibility must be entrusted only to
the competent. The Prophet Muhammad declared: “When authority is given to those
unfit to hold it, await destruction.” Educating young children, therefore, is
not a trivial task to be assigned arbitrarily. It requires knowledge, patience,
and exemplary conduct.
Hence, early childhood education is far from routine. It is an amanah,
a sacred trust, tied to the future of civilization itself. The seriousness with
which we manage childhood ultimately determines the resilience of the nation.
Within the small bodies of children, the future of an entire society is being
woven.
Imagining the Future
Yet amid beautiful theories, we confront a bitter reality: many
children grow up without fathers. The phenomenon of fatherlessness has become a
global issue, including in Indonesia. The absence of a father often means the
loss of protection, guidance, and emotional security. Children who grow up
without fathers—whether physically or emotionally—often carry silent wounds.
They may attend school and laugh among friends, but deep within, there
remains an unfilled void. The absent paternal figure deprives them of a sense
of wholeness. This is not merely about material provision but about the
presence that affirms their being. Just as children need mothers to measure
tenderness, they also need fathers to define their sense of masculinity.
Studies demonstrate that fatherlessness correlates with low
self-confidence, social anxiety, and susceptibility to deviant behavior.
Deprived of a paternal figure, children miss a model for discipline, courage,
and firmness. They grow without a mirror that validates their identity, and
such wounds often persist into adulthood.
Ironically, in metropolitan settings another confusing phenomenon
emerges: the “latte dads.” These are fathers who are physically present yet
whose presence revolves around cafés, strollers, and latte cups. Their
fatherhood is displayed on social media but often lacks authentic emotional
involvement. A child may be held by the hand, yet the soul of that child still
feels abandoned.
Mere physical presence without emotional involvement is hardly
different from absence. The child continues searching for something they cannot
find. Fatherhood cannot be reduced to financial provision or minimal time; it
demands deep engagement, eye contact, embraces, and affirming words.
Another modern reality is that gadgets frequently replace parental
roles. Children seek entertainment—and even attachment—through screens. They
receive visual stimulation but not affection. They learn information but not
what it means to be loved.
At this point, ideal parenting often breaks down. Parents are too
occupied, while teachers attempt to compensate. Control, communication, and
management remain abstract theories when the home itself is absent. Teachers
may embrace, but they can never replace the presence of a father or mother.
Thus, early childhood teachers often become substitutes. They do more
than teach letters and numbers; they also offer hugs. They limit gadget use,
but they also listen to children’s complaints. Teachers serve as figures who
re-stitch the sense of security lost at home.
Yet no matter how good, teachers are not parents. They may assist and
fill temporary gaps, but they cannot occupy the space that rightly belongs to
family. Children need authentic figures to instill lasting security—not mere
replacements. Teachers provide supplementary light, but the primary lamp must
be the parents.
Ultimately, children require genuine figures in their environment.
Fathers, mothers, extended family, and the broader community all play a part.
Every embrace, every word of correction, and every meaningful interaction
becomes fuel for their growth. Children learn not only from what they are
taught but from who is present.
This is especially crucial because during the golden years, the brain
works intensively to build synaptic connections. Every experience, whether
positive or negative, becomes a permanent neural pathway. What is experienced
in childhood tends to repeat in adulthood. Neglect of minor issues today often
resurfaces as deep wounds later.
If this bridge is constructed with affection, discipline, and healthy
communication, children will walk confidently. They will face the world with
courage while retaining empathy for others. They will grow balanced between
intellect and heart. Such development is possible only if we are fully present.
Conversely, if the bridge is fractured by absence or left to the cold
glow of screens, children will tread weakly. They may achieve cognitive
brilliance yet remain emotionally impoverished. They may earn degrees yet
crumble under life’s pressures. They grow into adults without grounding.
Thus, early childhood education is not merely a private concern; it is
a public and national responsibility. What we invest in children today will
determine the quality of tomorrow’s society. Strong nations emerge from
children with healthy souls.
From these children, society’s destiny is shaped. From their golden
years, civilizations are formed. We cannot expect a generation of integrity if
we neglect their early years. A nation’s greatest investment is not
infrastructure but its children.
And so, we adults must confront ourselves with a critical question: are
we truly present for them? Or do we hand them over to screens, orphanages, or
overburdened teachers? This question is not for the children but for ourselves.
For their future is, in truth, the mirror of our commitment today.***
