Please Bring Your Kid To A Museum

There is something that I hear young American parents often say:

"Children don't like art museums. They get bored."

This bothers me. Kids will engage with anything they're presented with. At least that's been my experience.

Parents often seem to think that the only suitable museum for a child is a zoo, a children's museum, or a natural history museum, anything with big stuffed animals and dinosaur bones and designated play areas. There, they can explore with their hands, jump up and down, and engage in imaginary play. Adults seem to insist that kids respond best when engaging in creative play, in surroundings that are tailored to prime color schemes and mass-marketed cartoon characters. They dismiss every possible notion that flat paintings and bronze sculptures not meant for touching will hold little interest to a small child.

Ahem. I ask of you, then, why and how is it that European children happily walk around galleries with their parents, absorbing and processing the contents of great museums? Delightful three-year-old French children glance up at portraits and exclaim things like, "A lady in a red hat like mama's!" or "That dog looks like Fido!" or "This is Grandpa!" There might even be a tiny little pointed finger at a pastel-y Renoir and a "Pretty!" soon to follow.

Take, for example, this kid who was with his mom and brother. I was trying to get him out of my frame, but when I couldn't, I just gave in. He was focused on completing a worksheet that a MoMA docent had made available to children. His mother engaged both brothers in an animated discussion of the art hung around the walls of this particular gallery. After a few minutes, one brother skipped over to the leather ottoman in the center of the room and got to work on his worksheet. His little brother soon followed. And guess what? The kids were not a bit bored. They answered their mother enthusiastically, pointing this way and that, sometimes getting up to show the other brother what they were talking about. I left the gallery after close to fifteen minutes and would later catch glimpses of the trio as I made my way between the other galleries. The boy pictured here was probably 6, maybe 7. His brother was closer to 4.

It's called observing, processing, connecting objects and memories, extracting and exchanging data based on visual cues, identifying and articulating a human emotion or experience. It's not play-doh, a ride down a slippery slide, or a toy car with wheels that go vroom vroom. But you know what? For a half hour, maybe an hour, when a child is well-rested and fed, a casual walk around a museum gallery or two can be an enriching, invigorating, and stimulating experience. I'm not saying that it can replace the playground or a swimming pool or a skiing lesson - I'm saying that exposure to and the chance to absorb what's offered inside museum walls is well within the reach of a child's capacity for engagement.

Of course I can say this because I'm not a parent. And maybe parents are less willing to risk a possible meltdown in the middle of an echo-y chamber than I am. But honestly, I've yet to see a single meltdown in any of the museums I frequent. European children are not only well-behaved, but actually seem to enjoy their visits. I'm curious as to why American parents so readily scoff or balk at the idea.