Children are relentless question machines. One moment it’s “Why is the sky blue?”, and the next it’s “Why can’t I have a pet dinosaur?” (Try explaining extinction to a six-year-old who’s already made space in the living room for her T. rex.)

But somewhere between chasing soap bubbles in terrace homes and cramming for board exams in tuition centres that multiply faster than mosquitoes in the monsoon, many of us lose that wild, wonderful urge to question everything.

Toys – often dismissed as “just clutter” by adults stepping on Lego bricks at 2 a.m. – are undercover educators. Their mission? Teach through wonder

Teach through play, teach through a bit of glorious, magnificent chaos.

In Chennai – where MRTS trains glide over centuries-old temples and auto rides feel like physics experiments, toys continue their quiet revolution, one giggle and one toppled tower at a time.

How Toys Sneak Learning Into Playtime

Keene and Zimmerman (1997) say it simply: we learn best when we connect things.
And toys? They’re brilliant at this — better than most PowerPoint presentations and definitely more popular than Monday morning worksheets.

Connections                    Questions

Toys-to-Self                    How is this toy like something in my life?

Toys-to-Toys                 What other toy does this remind me of?

Toys-to-World             Where do I see this idea in real life?”

Toys have a secret superpower: they whisper,
“Psst… everything is connected — even your spinning top and the laws of motion!”

So, how do we keep curiosity alive in spaces that often feel like Serious Work Zones (complete with pin-drop silence and laminated charts)?

By adding a little joyful disorder — the kind where a rolling marble ends up teaching gravity and triggers a spontaneous group giggle.

Ideas for classrooms and homes:

Replace stiff chairs with soft bean bags or good old floor seating (bonus: no legs to break!).

Shake up routines with curiosity corners, where questions — not answers — are the main event.

Let digital tools join the fun (apps, websites, even educational games — yes, they exist!).

Smuggle toys into lessons. A toy car + ruler = instant physics lab. (Just ignore the racing sounds. Or join in.)

Growing the Curiosity Quotient (CQ)

Imagine measuring curiosity like height:

“Congratulations! You’ve grown three inches of curiosity this week — and you barely studied!”

Here’s how we can nurture that invisible magic:

Celebrate Questions: Every wild “what if?” deserves applause.
(“Can ants do yoga?” — let’s Google it after lunch.)

Create Curiosity Zones: Spaces where no question is too weird, silly, or cosmic.

(Unless it involves aliens in Anna Nagar – that might need fact-checking.)

Host Curiosity Challenges: Who can come up with the most thought-provoking, hilarious, or head-scratching question of the day?

As J. Krishnamurti wrote in Freedom from the Known (1969): “The ability to observe without evaluating is the highest form of intelligence.”

Translation: stop overthinking — sometimes the best questions come when you’re just watching ants carry a biscuit.

Traditional and Modern Toys: Chennai’s Greatest Teachers

Thanjavur Thalaiyatti Bommai: Life Lessons in a Wiggle

These bobblehead dolls from Tamil Nadu are the original stress toys. No matter how much you push them, they bounce right back — like resilient Chennaiites after a two-hour traffic jam.

Made of humble materials, these beauties teach balance, grace, and the fine art of not falling apart when life gives you Mondays.

Marapachi Dolls: Play with a purpose

Carved from red sandalwood or jackfruit, these dolls were the multitaskers of ancient India. Decorative? Yes. Medicinal? Also yes – especially when chewed by toddlers (and occasionally by confused grandparents).

A toy, a teether, and a health hack rolled into one. Your modern baby monitor doesn’t stand a chance.

Kondapalli Bommalu: Stories in every curve

These Andhra-crafted wonders often sneak into Chennai homes during festive seasons, bringing with them village life, gods, goddesses, and the odd elephant with a cheerful grin.
Held together by tamarind paste (the same thing that refuses to leave your steel kadai), these toys prove that creativity doesn’t need glitter – just glue, grit, and great stories.

Hot Wheels: Tiny Cars, Giant Lessons

They zoom under sofas, hide in school bags, and occasionally end up in lunchboxes. But Hot Wheels are more than just parent trip hazards.

Built at a scale of 1:64, they balance accuracy with flair.

Want to teach aerodynamics, engineering, and why your sofa has dents? Start with a race.

Playful Classroom Ideas (That Won’t Get You Sent to the Principal’s Office)

The Big Question: Start a lesson with “What’s the weirdest, wildest question we can ask about this?”

(Be warned: answers may involve time travel and dinosaurs.)

Quote and Tell: Bring Walt Disney to life:

“We keep moving forward, opening new doors…”

Bonus: wear a top hat, fake moustache, or carry a chalk wand for drama.

Curiosity Match-Up: Create a game matching curiosity quotes with real-life examples.

“Curiosity killed the cat” — but it also helped invent Google Maps, filter coffee machines, and WhatsApp blue ticks.

The Secret Life of Toys

Toys aren’t just colourful clutter. They’re bridges – between science and stories, logic and laughter, childhood and life.

As Krishnamurti reminded us in The Urgency of Change (1970): “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”

So, if your classroom or living room looks “messy” with questions, playthings, and giggles – take a bow.

That’s the kind of wonderful mess that sparks revolutions — one wobbly doll and one curious child at a time.

Because in the end, toys teach what textbooks sometimes forget: To stay playful. To stay questioning. To stay joyfully, gloriously alive.

References

Keene, E.O., & Zimmerman, S. (1997). Mosaic of Thought: Teaching Comprehension in a Reader’s Workshop.

Krishnamurti, J. (1969). Freedom from the Known.

Krishnamurti, J. (1970). The Urgency of Change.