The Official SCBWI Blog: German Kidlit Words, English is Long Overdue for

I am a native German-American writer, translator, and proofreader. I have been fascinated with languages since the fifth grade when we studied Latin as our first foreign language. The ancient history and culture of Rome, Pompeii, the aqueducts, and architecture intrigued me. I was hooked. Diving deep into this ancient time, culture, and way of life was truly captivating. Of course, cramming new vocabulary words every week was also tedious. So, when we finally started learning English in the seventh grade, a language that felt much more vibrant than Latin (a dead language), I was excited. I could read more contemporary texts and later books and magazines like Time and Newsweek. That made me feel very grown-up and mature.

As I got deeper into the English language, I read wider and different genres and recognized a few fully naturalized German words.

Kindergarten, literally “children’s garden,” is essentially Preschool in Germany. It was introduced to English in the 19th century. Kindergarten began in the nineteenth century with German educator Friedrich Fröbel, who built on child‑centered ideas from Pestalozzi and Rousseau. In the 1830s and 1840s, he promoted music, nature work, storytelling, playful learning, and the iconic kindergarten circle time. He established the first Kindergarten in Blankenburg in 1837.

The idea reached the United States in 1856, when Margarethe Schurz founded a German‑language kindergarten in Wisconsin. Her work inspired Elizabeth Peabody to open the first English‑language kindergarten in Boston in 1860. By the late nineteenth century, kindergarten had become established nationally.

A Doppelgänger “double walker” is a ghostly or uncanny double. It was first used by the 18th-century German writer Jean Paul. He actually invented the word and used a footnote to explain it. When the book was translated into English a little later, the word was left untranslated, and so it came into English.

Then there is Rucksack, or backpack, used especially for hiking. Lots of kids take their Rucksack, Knabberdose (Snack or Bento-style box), and water bottle to school and Kindergarten every day.

Soon, I discovered that many German words have no equivalent in English. When you come across them in translation, you have to set the scene differently to evoke the specific emotions that these German words hold. They carry whole worlds in one small, lovely bundle, and make young readers giggle, wriggle, or smile because they name something they’ve always known but never had a word for. A lot of them are also fun to say out loud.

How about Kuschelecke? A perfectly cozy snuggle‑nook with fairy lights, full of pillows and stuffed animals, where stories are so much more fun. Your dream reading nook, with maximum coziness factor.

Quatschkopf (a lovable goof with endless potential for silliness) is an endearing term for kids who love being silly. I remember those after‑dinner moments when the laughter got so big my brother and I collapsed under the table, tears streaming down our faces. We could not stop. Every time I looked at him, I started again.

Silly goose is probably the best match and also holds the same lovable endearment.

Fingerspitzengefühl (the gentle, intuitive touch that children use when handling beetles, sharing secrets, or forming new friendships). Some people possess more of it than others. It is definitely a sign of emotional intelligence and empathy when you know how to handle fragile matters or people with care. What a word! I know it’s long, but with a little phonetic help, it should be no problem!

These German kidlit terms are more than words. They’re tiny clues to how Germans view and understand childhood, play, coziness, and emotions. Part of their charm is the emotion they spark, and part comes from the way they sound.

Zappelphilipp

TSAP: like the word "zap"
el: like "el" in "elephant"
FIL: similar to "fill"
ip: like "ip" in "ship"

“Wiggle‑Phillip” first appeared in a 1920s story collection called Der Struwwelpeter and is the story of a boy who could not sit still and caused huge chaos at the dinner table.

It is used for the joyful, unstoppable wiggle-energy of a child who simply cannot sit still.

Dreckspatz,

Phonetic Breakdown: DREK-shpahts,

literally means “dirt sparrow”. A child who always ends up dusty, muddy, or delightfully dirty, a lovable mess-maker. I was that girl who returned home just in time for dinner, covered in mystery dirt. You get the picture. My parents lovingly called me Dreckspatz a lot growing up, because we spent a lot of time outside and in nature, exploring big time!

Tohuwabohu means complete chaos, utter confusion, or a wild, disorderly mess.

It originates from the Biblical Hebrew phrase tohu va‑vohu, meaning formless and void, used in Genesis to describe the primordial chaos before creation. Some fun English equivalents that capture the noisy or frantic nature of kid-induced chaos include "hullabaloo" and "ruckus."

Sorgenfresserchen,

Phonetic Breakdown:
ZOR-gen-fres-er-shen

This adorable “little worry-eater” is the perfect companion to help ease your fears and worries. It’s very soft and cuddly, too.

You write or draw whatever bothers you on a small piece of paper, feed it to the Sorgenfresserchen, zip it up, put it under your pillow at night, and voila, your worries are gone, and you are ready for sweet dreams.

Believe it or not, I still have mine for all the ridiculous, never-ending worries that pop up way too much. Keeping my little monster fed gives me a sense of control. It helps me dump everything, so I can move on. It reminds me a lot of South American worry dolls.

Last but not least is Schnickschnack.

Pronounced SHNIK-shn-ah-k,
shnik (short 'i' sound, like in "stick")
shnahk (open 'ah' sound)

It is a term for charming, unnecessary decorative little extras, a little bit like knick-knacks. Another word that has a great English equivalent and captures the playful sound of the German expression. Kids love Schnickschnack; they endlessly collect things, those sparkly bits and bobs, and all sorts of random stuff they find. I definitely did. When I was growing up, my town collected and recycled unwanted household items twice a year. My friends and I could not wait to hunt for treasures and rummage through all the boxes that our neighbors put out the night before pickup. It was almost like Christmas! I always found something special that ended up on my bookshelf for display, or in my treasure box. One year, my friends and I (six of us) built an elaborate Smurf mansion from all the Schnickschnack we gathered. We worked on it for a week. It was a masterpiece! Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of that.

I hope you enjoyed this short list of my favorites. English children's literature could really use some of these German imports because each one carries us into a familiar emotional space that children recognize instantly. I think it is time for some of these to make an appearance in the books we write. What do you think? Do you have a favorite?