January in Poland is the darkest month. The sun rises somewhere around eight in the morning, sets shortly after four. Between these two moments the light is grey, wet, lazy. The sky constantly clouded. The trees bare. The streets look cold. Every one of us adults knows that January demands of a person something extra — some inner reserve to walk through these weeks without the loss of joy.
For a Child of preschool age, January can be just as hard. Especially in terms of light. Because the Child is still biologically very sensitive to the rhythm of the sun. The lack of light affects mood, energy, focus. That is why in our Art Academy programme we have in January two special weeks — the weeks we devote to light. We make paper lanterns then.
Each Child, step by step, cuts paper with scissors, paints patterns with acrylic paints, folds the construction, adds a handle. After an hour they have their own, colourful lantern. A lantern they will take home. A lantern they will hang in their room. A lantern that will shine with its own warm light when outside the window it is grey.
In this text I want to talk about why this particular exercise has, for me, such enormous pedagogical value. And what specifically is built in the Child when they make their own light with their own hands.
The lantern as a universal gesture
Before I describe the exercise itself, I must draw your attention to something special. The lantern as an artistic form is not our invention. Lanterns appear in almost every culture in the world. The Chinese hang them at the New Year. The Japanese at the Bon festival. Brazilians at the feast of St John. Indians at Diwali. Poles — in a slightly different form — at All Saints’ Day, when we light candles on graves.
Why have almost all cultures invented the same gesture? Because the lantern is a fundamental gesture — the gesture of a person saying: I do not agree to darkness. I am making my own light. I am hanging it where the darkness is greatest and letting it shine.
This gesture, though banally simple, has within it a philosophical depth. A Child making a lantern unconsciously repeats this age-old human movement. I make my own light. I hang it. Let it shine.
For me, as a teacher, this is the heart of this exercise. Because it is not only about a pretty paper object. It is about a symbolic act — an act the Child performs, even if they cannot name it.
How specifically we make a lantern
Let us describe the process itself. Because in pedagogy what matters most is the concrete.
We begin with the choice of material. Each Child gets a piece of white, light paper — thin enough that light shows through it. Plus watercolours and acrylics. Plus glue. Plus scissors.
The first stage is painting. Each Child paints their paper with paints — fully freely, however they want, in whatever pattern. Some children make blotches. Some dots. Some flowers. Some a transfer print — they fold the paper in half, drip paint, open it again. Every effect is good. Because the lantern, when lit from inside, will make every pattern visible differently.
After painting the paper has to dry. We use this time for the second element of the work — cutting. Each Child gets a second, smaller piece of paper. From it they have to cut decorative shapes — stars, dots, birds, anything they like. These cut decorations will later be glued onto the outside of the lantern as additional ornament.
Cutting with scissors is, for me, pedagogically key. Because it requires concrete eye–hand coordination, grip strength in both hands (one holds the paper, the other guides the scissors), pressure control. Each child cuts differently. Some quickly, imprecisely. Others slowly, precisely. Each learns in their own way.
The third stage is assembly. The painted, dried paper we roll into a cylinder. We glue the sides. A tube emerges. From stiffer paper we add a base — so that the cylinder can stand. From bent wire we make a handle on top, which will allow the lantern to be hung.
The last stage is decoration. Each Child now glues their cut decorations — stars, flowers, birds — onto the outside of the lantern. Each does it their own way. Some lanterns are very densely covered. Others have only a few accents. Each is personal.
And ready. Each Child holds in their hands their lantern. A small, light, colourful construction that shines beautifully whenever a simple lamp is brought to it.
What is built in the Child
The first thing — motor skills. This sounds dry, but it is the foundation. Cutting with scissors, assembling the construction, painting thinly with watercolour, gluing precisely — each of these elements is a micro-training of fine motor skills. A Child who from the age of five regularly works with such techniques goes into first grade with hands ready for writing.
The second — multi-step thinking. A lantern is not made in one move. It is made in five, six steps, which must go in the right order. First painting. Then cutting. Then assembly. Then decoration. A Child who has gone through such a process practises design thinking — which is one of the most important adult competences. Most adult work requires the ability to sequence, plan, anticipate. These abilities are built in preschool, on the lantern.
The third — English anchored in action. Every stage of making the lantern is, for me, an occasion for teaching English. “Now we paint. Use red, blue, yellow. Whatever you like.” “Now we cut. Be careful. Cut slowly.” “Now we glue. Just a little. Not too much.” “Now we decorate. Add stars, flowers, anything.” The Child hears these sentences during the work — and understands each from context. After a year of such sessions the children carry an active artistic vocabulary in English that no peer of theirs from a classical preschool has.
The fourth — symbolic struggle with darkness. This sounds metaphorical, but for me it is real. A Child who in January, in the darkest month, makes their own lantern — performs a gesture that psychologically has deep meaning. They tell themselves: “I do not surrender to darkness. I make light.” This decision the child cannot articulate — but they feel it. And this decision will stay with them. The next time things in their life go dark (and in adult life things sometimes go dark), this pattern may resound. “I make my own light.”
The fifth — their own agency, once again. Every such Art Academy exercise ends with a product the child takes home. A lantern. A bauble. A leaf-work. A marble painting. Each of these objects is, for the child, material confirmation. “I made this.” This sense of agency, gathered over four years of preschool, falls into the foundation of adult self-confidence.
The cultures of the world without keying
Here I want to add one more thing. In our lantern sessions I always show the children that this gesture — making one’s own light — is universal. We show photos of Chinese lanterns at the New Year. Japanese ones at the Bon festival. Indian ones at Diwali. Polish candles on All Saints’ Day.
A Child who sees that the same gesture is repeated in different cultures gets from us a small but important lesson. A lesson of openness to the world. A lesson that people everywhere are similar — in what they desire, in how they overcome darkness, in how they create beauty. Every culture has its own way, but the gesture is the same.
This lesson, in my view, is invaluable. Because a Child who from the age of five sees that Poles, Chinese, Japanese, Indians hang lanterns — in adult life will not treat other cultures as foreign. They will know that beneath various surfaces is the same human. With the same need for light. With the same capacity to create. With the same joy from a paper object that shines.
The world today needs this. More than ever.
What a Parent can do at home
The first practice — your own home lanterns. You can do this very simply. White paper (preferably thinner — a sheet from a drawing pad works), paints, glue, scissors, wire for the handle, are enough. Let the Child make their lantern on a Saturday afternoon. An hour is enough. The result will stay with the Child for years.
The second practice — the lantern in the Child’s room. Please hang the lantern your Child has made in their room. Let it hang there permanently, not only at the holidays. Let the Child see their work every day. Let in a January evening this lantern shine over their bed. This is a small thing, but for the Child it means more than it seems.
The third practice — evenings without main lighting. Once a week, on Saturday or Sunday, you can make an evening in which the main light is off and only lamps, candles, lanterns are on. This builds in the Child a steady sense that darkness is to be tamed. That one need not fear it. It is enough to set up your own sources of light.
The fourth practice — thematic excursions. Polish cities hold lantern shows. Warsaw, Krakow, Lublin — at the Festival of Lights, at the Night of Museums. Please plan such an outing every six months. A Child who has seen hundreds of colourful lanterns shining at night gets an impression nothing else can replace.
The fifth practice — telling about light. Please tell the Child about the role of light in different cultures. About Hanukkah, about Christmas, about the Chinese New Year, about Diwali. A Child who hears these stories internalises a picture of the world — diverse but united in fundamental human needs.
What this is all for
Because our Krasnoludki finish January with a lantern hung in their room. Each of them, when on a dark January evening they come home from preschool, sees their work. It shines. It has left its light on the shelf, on the ceiling, in the corner of the room. Each child, in a quiet moment before sleep, remembers — “I made this.”
This image in the child’s head matters more than it seems. Because the adult who remembers from childhood that they were able to make their own light — in hard adult moments has something to reach for. In a career crisis. In lost love. In illness. In every life darkness. Deep in memory there is a small lantern from childhood. It shines. It says: “Do not give up. You make light yourself.”
Maybe this sounds too poetic for preschool pedagogy. But after years of running Art Academy I see that children who have been through our programme go into adulthood with something stronger than classical schooling. They go with a stance. With the stance of a person who creates themselves.
And learning through play is what the Krasnoludki love most. And January is the best time to teach how not to surrender to darkness. The lantern is our answer.