Kids Will Be Kids
See what learning really looks like at the new Knock Knock Children's Museum
Lucie Monk Carter
Once upon a time, there were two little girls named Julia, age 5, and Sarah, age 3. Julia exhibited bottomless curiosity and demanded to learn things at every moment of every day, while Sarah the Threenager took her parents on an emotional roller coaster from dawn ’til dusk. And their mother was tired.
Julia and Sarah’s story begins in Late Summer in a kingdom on the sun’s surface known as Baton Rouge, and since it was Late Summer on the sun, there was nothing to do but shrivel, sweat, and despair over skin that had turned to leather weeks ago. Summer camps were over, yet, mysteriously, school was not in session. With no distractions, Julia and Sarah’s unending blast of questions and erratic behavior threatened to destroy their mother. And their mother was scared.
Elsewhere in Baton Rouge, a gang of creative, intellectual movers-and-shakers who sincerely admired children dreamed up a place where young ones and their imaginations could run wild, a place where energy and curiosity would be welcome, encouraged, and celebrated. It would be a place where both toddlers and third-graders could play indoors in harmony. For more than a decade, this gang of dreamers traveled, gathered ideas, drummed up community support, and POOF! The new Knock Knock Children’s Museum opened to the public in August 2017.
Lucie Monk Carter
Julia and Sarah rejoiced. On their first visit, the girls spent three blissful hours buzzing through the museum’s learning zones, and when it was closing time, the girls begged to return the very next day and every day for the rest of their lives. In their three gone-in-a-flash hours at Knock Knock, they had climbed, danced, painted, crafted, constructed, tinkered, sorted, measured, counted, and engaged in all sorts of pretend play and open-ended goodness. And their mother was happy.
The Knock Knock Children’s Museum is indeed a happy place, a fantastical feather in Baton Rouge’s cap. Perched high on a lakeshore slope and surrounded by mature live oaks, the beautiful museum is poised to shoot to the top of Baton Rouge’s “must-see” list for families.
Lucie Monk Carter
“It’s truly been a grassroots effort. The community has been involved every step of the way,” noted Cate Heroman, the museum’s education chair and vice chair of the Board of Directors. Starting with kitchen table conversations, then evolving to focus groups including educators, special educators, community leaders, and people in the arts, “they slowly built the educational framework for the museum, always wondering what learning really looks like.”
Erin Reynaud, the museum’s director of marketing, notes that the museum is set to be a gathering place for children from every corner of Baton Rouge. Thanks to the Knock Knock for All Access Fund, to which anyone can donate, low-income families can enjoy the museum at reduced admission, and field trips are free for children in the city’s Head Start program.
“We’re here to provide a community, a sense of place, for kids to learn and grow, no matter their background or what school they go to,” said Reynaud. “It’s a place where kids can unplug, build confidence, challenge themselves, and practice those skills that only free play can provide.”
Lucie Monk Carter
Julia and Sarah discovered their free play favorites in no time. In the Story Tree learning zone, the girls employed the supply of stationery to write messages in a “secret language,” then used the soaring pneumatic tube system to deliver their letters. This single activity was almost more than Julia could bear. She was overjoyed. Meanwhile, I perused the Story Tree’s book titles—chosen to complement the museum’s learning zones—while a sweet soundtrack of chirping birds played through the tree’s branches overhead.
Another favorite zone was the B.R. Star Studio. Julia and Sarah sheepishly entered the dance studio space, but initially declined when the museum volunteer asked if they wanted to dance. Seconds later, the volunteer hit a button on a panel of music styles, a children’s dance troupe was projected onto the mirrored walls, music was pumping, and Julia and Sarah danced like no one was watching. Meanwhile, I watched as my timid children abandoned inhibitions and danced their hearts out to everything from ballet to Bollywood music.
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Lucie Monk Carter
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Lucie Monk Carter
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Lucie Monk Carter
Later, while Julia was grocery shopping with gusto in the Pelican Pantry and Sarah reeled in catch after catch in the Fish Tales exhibit, I had several minutes to truly take in my surroundings. To the left was the Art Garden, presided over by bona fide local artist John Lawson, where easels, paintbrushes, and loads of art supplies invited children to envision, mold, and freely create. To the right was the Maker Shop where children were designing circuits, making machines, and discovering old computer parts. Behind me in the Go Go Garage, children were racing cars, tending to a car in the shop, and launching themselves into a car wash. On the ground floor below, children suited up as veterinarians and oh-so-tenderly cared for stuffed animals in the Paws & Claws Clinic.
From fun costumes at every turn to animal tracks near the fishing swamp, every detail of the Knock Knock Children’s Museum honors the wonder of early childhood and celebrates its magic.
Heroman noted, “The kids are just wowed. It’s magic. We have a forty-person education team made up of the rock stars of early childhood education, and these people are just so darned passionate about it.”
In the Story Tree learning zone, the girls employed the supply of stationery to write messages in a “secret language,” then used the soaring pneumatic tube system to deliver their letters. This single activity was almost more than Julia could bear. She was overjoyed.
And the sense of “kids are the best” extends to the volunteers who patiently encourage or assist when needed. The volunteer in the By You Building zone cheered for Sarah as she attempted to operate a crane with her tiny threenager muscles. And the volunteer manning the Storybook Climber gave each child a superhero identity as they began their ascent on the forty-foot tower of flying books. (My two were Catwoman and Wonder Woman.) At closing time, the volunteer in the Maker Shop sensed Julia’s disappointment at having to leave, and offered, “Please come back and see me. Let’s make something new next time.”
Julia and Sarah returned home in the evening and gave their father the full report. “There was even a message sending system” … “They had a climbing thing like flying books” … “We danced with some girls on TV” … “We got to press some buttons!”
Julia concluded, “It was literally the best museum ever,” followed by a precious echo from Sarah, who has trouble with r’s and l’s: “Yeah, Daddy. It was litewawy the best.”
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