It's 9.30am on a bright, crisp December morning. At the Barnardos Family Support Project in Loughlinstown, Co Dublin, about 20 children are arriving for the daily pre-school project. The purpose-built suite of rooms is warm, colourful, well-equipped and filled with sunlight. I join four beaming tots around a Goldilocks-sized table.
"We've just sung our welcome song, and now we're making our plans for today," explains Kathy, the group leader. One little girl has already declared her intention to play with blocks, sand, puzzles, play dough and the playhouse. Then she might go into the cosy room and read a book.
"Wow," Kathy says, carefully drawing a book-shaped blob on a large chart. "One, two, three, four, five, six activities. You're going to have a busy day today, aren't you?"
By the time each child - plus visiting hack - has made his or her big decision, the planning chart has sprouted a healthy crop of bricks, buckets and miniature houses. Later we'll come back and talk about what we actually did, or didn't do. The idea, as Loughlinstown project leader Kerri Smith explains, is to help the children get their heads around such concepts as time management - and disappointment.
"They learn that you can plan out your day in advance and take control of your life," she says. "But they also learn that sometimes things work out as planned, and sometimes not. And that that's okay."
THE SOPHISTICATED THEORIES these pre-school activities are based upon belong to an educational approach called High/Scope, developed in deprived areas of Chicago almost 50 years ago. To the children, of course, it can be summed up in a single word: fun. From the point of view of a visiting journalist, it's not half bad either.
Over the course of the next two hours my new playmates will cook me a yummy breakfast of play dough pancakes and plastic pasta shapes. They pass the crayons, the glue and (oh, joy) the glitter as we make decorations for the Christmas tree, help me build a Lego house, and offer me a reindeer-shaped pogo stick upon which to go chasing after Santa Claus.
IT IS, FRANKLY, difficult to believe that many of these gorgeous three- and four-year-olds come here because they have been experiencing difficulties - sometimes serious difficulties - at home. But Loughlinstown, like most urban Irish suburbs, has its share of contemporary urban angst. Many of the children are raised by stressed-out lone parents; some live in less than ideal accommodation; a small number are in care; occasionally, there are issues of addiction, illness or instability.
Families are generally referred to the centre by speech and language therapists, social workers and the health board. Many of the parents would have had tough childhoods themselves, and it is precisely this cycle of difficulty, deprivation and despair that Barnardos, Ireland's largest children's charity, aims to break.
Providing pre-school facilities is just the beginning. Barnardos also runs a drop-in centre, a parent and toddler group, after-school workshops for children who have moved on to primary school and, for both parents and children, one-to-one counselling. On Fridays, when the pre-school group is closed, key workers pay home visits, sometimes just to help a harassed mother with the weekly shopping or encourage a small-scale family outing.
"The focus here is on the children. When people come for the first time we have an initial assessment, then make a plan tailored to suit the family's needs," she says.
"In order to help children, you have to give parents as much help and support as you can. So we also organise events which help parents relax, socialise and build up their self-esteem - to help them play, if you like," says Smith.
These range from informal breakfasts through flower-arranging sessions to massages; a six-week parenting course will begin in the new year.
Barnardos was set up in the UK by Dr Thomas Barnardo in 1866, but has operated as a fully independent Irish charity since 1962. It works with 12,000 children and families, delivering services from more than 30 centres in 14 counties.
Back at our table, we were too busy to spend time in the cosy room. "Never mind," says Kathy. "We'll all go in and read a story together later on. Good idea?" Four little heads nod sagely. These kids would restore anyone's faith in humanity.
