I feel like there is a weird thing in education where the solution is always “start earlier”.  I think it’s a CYA thing: “see, we spent X hours working on this, so if they haven’t learned it, it’s not us”.  However, what I see happening is that while there is a huge push to start earlier, it seems like it is often followed by a drop in rigor later. As my son moved through late elementary and middle school, the cognitive demands really did not seem to advance nearly as quickly as he was capable of. And I know from my own experience as a teacher for over 20 years that most high school classes are not as rigorous as they could be.
I blame grades, which become increasingly important as they move through those later grade levels. There is this incredibly annoying tendency for both teachers and students to percieve the teacher’s job as mostly that of grade assigner in a transactional relationship. There’s also a weird obsession with the arbitrary standard of 90% mastery = A, and finally a belief that the fear of a bad grade is the only reason any kid, ever, at any time, would be motivated to learn anything.
When you put that all together, it leads to this weird dynamic where a teacher feels obliged to test everything they teach, and the only way to get an A is to get 90% correct. That means they can’t teach past a kid’s independent learning level, they can’t leave a kid with a truly challening idea half learned, because a half learned idea means a kid “earns” a bad grade. For all that we tell kids “failing is important! failing is how we learn!”, we also punish them pretty vigorously when they do, and we seem to think that the only way to avoid punishing failure is to make it hard to fail.
I cannot begin to tell you how much the grade obsession makes it difficult to be truly rigorous. If you are grading a paper with a rubric, your comments are not useful feedback: they are justifications. And it leads to this weird thing where you are like “well, this thesis could be better, but is it so bad he deserves to lose points for it? Is that fair?”  And if it doesn’t seem fair, you don’t say anything, because you don’t have grounds to say anything–the only reason anything ever gets said is to explain why points were lost.
I don’t do that, for what it’s worth–I just give completion grades on most everything, and write the comments I want to write, and the kids work as hard for me as they do for anyone. I can give a test where they will get no questions correct, and they get tons out of it. But I have convinced maybe a dozen people of this after years of trying.  They are so used to the grade-giver model that they literally can’t imagine a different way.
That whole tangent is for me to ask what is meant by “academically rigorous” in Kindergarden. Because when I read the NPR article and it talks about wealthy parents putting kids in school where they are asked more open-ended questions, to me that is more rigorous. Rigor is not how miserable kids are. Worksheets are not academically rigorous. What I would expect in an academically rigorous kindergarten is lots of talking to kids, lots of open-ended questions that allowed kids to build their own understanding, lots of opportunities for creative problem solving, lots of exploration.  But I know what most people think “academically rigorous” is, which is lots of pressure and lots of punishment if you fail. Lots of “data” and concerns with “expected growth”. That’s horrible.
That said, I do think they love to learn at that age. They are so wonderfully accepting in a way they will never be again. They give everything the benefit of the doubt. Kindergarten is the age when they are like “That’s Bob. He eats boogers” without a trace of judgment. I don’t think it would be best to just let them roam free, playing pretend and learning to get along. I don’t think that would be tragic–I think there’s plenty of time later to make up whatever they don’t get in Kinder. But at the same time, I know my kid loved learning in Kinder and I am glad that it was an environment that treated learning as both important and satisfying. He used to ask me for math questions on the way to school because he enjoyed the puzzle of them–and if the ones I asked were too hard for him to answer on his own, he loved talking about them as I led him through. Why wouldn’t we want to lean into that?