Sloyd comes from the Swedish word slöjd, meaning craft or handwork. In education, it means more than teaching a child to use tools. The act of making something useful becomes a way to practise observation, judgement, patience and care.
Made for education
Educational Sloyd took shape in the Nordic countries in the nineteenth century. Finnish educator Uno Cygnaeus brought craft into general schooling in the 1860s. In Sweden, Otto Salomon developed a method of teaching Sloyd at Nääs, where teachers trained from the 1870s and carried those ideas further afield. Sloyd could involve wood, textiles, metal and other materials; the new Sloyd Workshop project at SD Kristen Widya Wacana Jamsaren in Surakarta focuses on wood.
The aim was educational from the beginning. Children would make real objects, learning to plan a task, handle material, work carefully and judge the result. The finished object gave their effort a purpose, while the choices and corrections made along the way were part of the lesson.
Sloyd continues as part of children’s education: slöjd is a school subject in Sweden, and Louisville Elementary School in Colorado includes Sloyd in its curriculum. Finland also teaches crafts as a school subject.
Sloyd influenced education beyond Scandinavia. A 1913 British education report recorded that English teachers trained at Nääs and that English manual teaching had adopted Sloyd’s educational principles. In England, woodwork, metalwork and needlework were taught as separate craft classes. They later came under the broader design and technology curriculum, where pupils continue to design, make and work with tools and materials.
What did its founders hope children would learn?
Researchers at the University of Iceland describe the historical purpose of Sloyd as using craft in general education to develop a child’s character, moral conduct, intelligence and industriousness. Those are nineteenth-century terms. Today we might speak of responsibility for one’s work, persistence when something goes wrong, thoughtful decisions and respect for tools, materials and other people.
Salomon set out the teaching ideas in The Theory of Educational Sloyd (1892), an authorised English edition of his lectures. It is a useful reminder that the purpose of a woodworking lesson was never simply to produce a neat piece of wood. The making was a means of educating the child.
Why this matters to me
As a teenage girl at Greenshaw High School in Sutton, Surrey, UK, I didn’t always enjoy woodwork and metalwork. The unfamiliar tools could leave me feeling nervous and a little intimidated. Yet I still remember those lessons, while much of the chemistry and history I loved has faded. I absorbed something lasting: a sense of opportunity, possibility and equality that helped me flourish and succeed in male-dominated fields throughout my adult life. It helped me trust my own judgement, both academically and practically, and gave me the confidence and courage to stand my ground. Those lessons opened up possibilities that stayed with me long after I left the classroom.
Give a girl a saw and see what she can do.
Coming full circle
Technology has made it easier than ever to imagine what we might make. Carrying an idea through is a different experience. A child has to choose, work with the material in front of them, respond when something unexpected happens, and stay with the task until it is finished.
That is why Sloyd feels relevant again. After extraordinary technological advances, we are returning to a foundation of education: children learn by paying close attention, making decisions and seeing what their actions change. The new Sloyd Workshop project at SD Kristen Widya Wacana Jamsaren in Surakarta gives children a place to do exactly that.
Further reading: Otto Salomon’s 1892 book, the University of Iceland research article, and the history of the Nääs teacher-training seminar.