Behind the Curriculum Curtain

In one of my favorite chapters from Chris Perrin’s The Good Teacher, he reminds us that a truly great teacher is someone who sparks curiosity and wonder in their students. It’s all about bridging the gap between what students already know and what they don’t yet understand—and doing it in a way that lights up their sense of wonder.

That’s really what great elementary teaching is about, isn’t it? Igniting a desire to explore, discover, and ask. Young learners naturally lean into the unknown—not with fear, but with excitement. And the most meaningful learning happens when we invite them into God’s beauty, truth, and goodness—not just as abstract ideas, but as things they can see, touch, and begin to grasp.

So how do we actually do that?

It starts by creating experiences that help students notice—really notice—what’s going on in the world around them. In science, this means giving them ways to engage their senses and imagination. We want them to marvel at creation, not just memorize facts about it.

But curiosity on its own isn’t enough. As Perrin wisely points out, curiosity needs direction. Without it, curiosity can quickly become aimless wandering. Our role as teachers is to light the spark and then guide it. We help students take their questions and focus them into meaningful discovery. That’s when wonder turns into understanding—and sometimes, even into worship.

Here’s how that looked recently in our first-grade science class.

Our students are learning about the sun, moon, and stars. But how do you bring the night sky into the classroom—or the current typhoon season has made even the daytime sun hard to see? We had to get creative. So we transformed our science lab into a mini-universe, complete with learning stations designed to awaken curiosity.

We displayed posters of stunning sun moon photos, used stick puppets of the sun and moonand placed signs labeled “east” and “west” to spark questions about direction. At one station, students used white dots on black paper to design their own constellations—connecting imagination with the patterns of the night sky. We set up a mini-planetarium by projecting space images on the wall. All of these experiences were designed to ignite their sense of wonder.

Once students have explored each station and their curiosity has been stirred, we plan to bring the classes back together and ask, “What are you curious about now?” Some questions will be predictable; others, surprising. We honor all of them, but our job is to sift through the responses and focus on the ones that best align with the goals of the unit. At that point, their curiosity isn’t random anymore. It’s been grounded in experience, shaped by structure, and directed toward understanding.

That’s the beauty of building lessons around curiosity and wonder. We’re helping students see the world with fresh eyes. We’re teaching them how to ask meaningful questions and pursue thoughtful answers. Curiosity isn’t the end goal—it’s the beginning. A beginning that draws students deeper into the beauty of creation and into the kind of wisdom that endures.

That’s what also makes our work as teachers sacred. When we help students ask the deeper questions, we’re not just teaching science—we’re pointing them toward wisdom, and ultimately, toward God.