By Janusz Korczak
Those works belong to that workforce of books written by way of one in all this century's fiercest and so much committed baby advocates. within the first, Korczak makes use of fiction to bare the fun and sorrows of a kid, a ten-year-old, juxtaposing them opposed to the emotions of an grownup as they either react to 2 days of event spent jointly.
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Extra resources for When I Am Little Again & The Child's Right to Respect
Why show scorn right away? It seems to grownups that they know us well. What can there be o( interest in a child? He’s lived only a short time; he knows little, and understands little. Certainly, everyone forgets about what kind of a child he was and thinks that now he’s the smartest. “Come on. Go home. ” We parted reluctantly, slowly, step by step—in a way that he shouldn’t get the idea that we’re afraid of him. Because if we really wanted to stay and do what we weren’t supposed to, then he wouldn’t have been able to keep an eye on all of us— and if not here, then somewhere else, and if not now, then later.
He didn’t bend down though. He was much taller and so, I jumped up a little and hit him with my fist in the head. But his cap didn’t fall off. I took to my heels and Mundek is right behind me. And did we run! ” At first, he started to chase after us, but then he saw that it didn’t make any sense, that he didn’t happen to pick on a sissy, and so he left off chasing us. We stopped and laughed aloud. A second ago I was so angry that I saw the colour red. Now I’m happy again. I dust off my cap with my sleeve.
A tiny, white star falls on my hand, a beautiful, precious little star. It’s a pity that it will disappear, be scared away. It’s a shame—or else, I’ll blow on it myself and be glad that it disappears because another one appears. I open my mouth and catch the little stars with my tongue. I feel the crystal cold of the snow, its clean and cold whiteness. And when the snow melts, icicles will appear. You can knock them down with your hand. You can catch the falling drops with your lips. With a strong sweep of your arm, you rake them up from under a cornice: they fall and shatter with a frozen sound.