Should every children’s book have a moral lesson?

Ayanta is sitting on the sofa reading a book. Beside her, her grandfather is reading a newspaper. Every now and then, Ayanta giggles. At other times, she reads with wide eyes and a thoughtful expression. Finally, with a faint smile on her lips, she finishes the book and closes it.

As soon as she closes the book, her grandfather looks at her over his glasses and asks, “So Ayanta, what did you learn from the book?”

Ayanta’s smile disappears. She starts thinking about what she should say.

Like Ayanta’s grandfather, many of us have a familiar habit. Whenever children read a book, we ask them what they learned from it.

But have we ever considered that a child might read a book without learning a specific lesson and simply enjoy it?

There is a peculiar perception of children’s literature in Bangladesh. A book cannot simply be a book. It must have some kind of purpose. It must teach honesty, justice, patriotism, good behaviour or something similar. At the end of the story, there must be a moral lesson. Perhaps people in other places also think in a similar way.

There is nothing wrong with having these elements in children’s books. They can certainly be there. The problem arises when we treat them as the standard for judging the value of children’s literature. We often assume that a children’s book becomes valuable only when it contains such elements.

The question is, why must every book or story explicitly state a moral lesson?

If a child reads a funny story about a mischievous boy, must the story end by telling the child that being mischievous is bad? If the child reads a fantasy story, must it necessarily teach a lesson about courage? If the child reads an adventure simply because it is exciting, why must we explain what educational benefit the child gained from it?

We do not think this way about adult literature. Adults read novels or watch films simply for enjoyment. Do we always ask what moral lesson a novel or film contains? We do not. We read for entertainment. Through that experience, we may understand or realise something, but the writer does not necessarily have to spell it out for us.

Yet when it comes to children’s literature, we somehow want to turn entertainment into a moral lesson.

Perhaps one major reason is that we assume children cannot understand things on their own. We see them as passive consumers. As a result, we believe we have to explain the meaning of a story to them.

But various studies have shown a different picture. Research suggests that children actively participate in the reading process. They interpret characters in their own minds, try to understand their motivations and establish connections with the characters and the story. Children find their own preferences among the characters, events, language and values presented in a story. They also make decisions in their own way.

If a reader is capable of making their own decisions, trying to point out every meaning to them is essentially underestimating their intelligence.

Suppose a character in a story loses a friend’s trust after being caught lying. A child can understand what happened. The writer does not need to add a separate line saying, “Therefore, you should never lie.” The story itself has already done the job.

Moreover, when every lesson is explicitly presented, children lose the opportunity to discover the meaning of a story on their own. As a result, their ability to develop creative thinking and critical thinking may not grow in the same way.

Another important question is whether a book can simply be a source of joy for children.

Recent research suggests that enjoyment, personal choice, interest and the opportunity to make their own decisions are very important in developing children’s reading habits. A recent study involving primary school children found that when children had greater freedom to choose what they wanted to read, both their enjoyment of reading and their reading comprehension improved.

We always seem to ask one question:

“What will the child learn from this book?”

But can we also ask another question?

“After reading this book, will the child want to read another book?”

If a book inspires a child to read more books, is that not valuable?

If we want children to make reading a part of their lives, there is no alternative to making reading enjoyable for them.

Reading should never be imposed on children as if it were simply another school assignment.

There is another important question.

Are we writing for children or for adults?

Parents buy books for children. Sometimes teachers recommend books. Publishers select them. Adults decide which books are appropriate and which ones are educational.

So, who are these books really being written for?

If a book contains a clear moral lesson, it is easier for adults to understand and appreciate it. “My child has learned honesty.” “My child has learned to respect others.” “My child has learned about the environment.”

Perhaps because of these expectations from parents, writers and other people involved in producing children’s books create books that appeal to adults. In that sense, it can sometimes feel less like children’s literature and more like literature for parents.

There can also be books that simply make a child laugh for two hours, make them think about something new, inspire them to dream or make them interested in reading another book.

There is no doubt that children’s literature can help develop empathy and a sense of morality. But that does not mean these values always have to be presented directly as lessons.

A child may read the story of a disadvantaged character and learn to understand another person’s suffering without even knowing the word “empathy.” A child may watch a character struggle with a difficult decision and begin thinking about right and wrong. The writer does not necessarily have to point these things out. In some cases, the story itself is enough.

The writer’s job is not to tell children what to think. Rather, it is to leave something in their minds that makes them want to think.

So, when a child finishes a book, instead of immediately asking, “What did you learn?” perhaps we should ask, “How did you like the book?”

Because a book can make a child laugh, frighten them, inspire them to dream or leave a question in their mind that may not have an immediate answer. The child may continue thinking about that question and try to find the answer.

And perhaps most importantly, a book can create a hunger for more books.