Does it spiral because there are too many of us together?

Read-alouds.
These are ubiquitous in the preschool classroom.
Every day, there is a story time - children gathered on the carpet, listening to the teacher as they read a picture book aloud.
In this early part of the school year, the children are learning how to sit within a group of classmates and listen to the story. This is such a foreign art for the average three year old! I mean, really, aren't you nestled on someone's lap, when a book is read at home?
Here at school, you must sit without touching another student, several feet distant from the teacher, and you should sit quietly, listening. Honestly, my books are short and concise for these first many weeks - the children have so much learning to do about the routine of a read-aloud, that I dare not read a long, rich, interesting book, but instead spend my time 'setting the stage' with the children, noting and complimenting their seating, their quiet, etc.
Ugh.
I am losing my excitement about these read alouds! I feel so shackled by them.
I hear Bev Bos' wisdom...she only read to those children who wanted to listen to her. She let other children - the uninterested - engage elsewhere in the room, playing at the dollhouse, mashing playdough or clay, building with blocks. If the book was interesting enough, they'd wander over. Oh, and she didn't make them sit in a particular way, she didn't make them put down toys they had been playing with....
(Isn't that respectful of children - to let them decide what they want to do? Choose their own learning?)
She didn't die on the hill of the read aloud. (My emphasis.)

In the public school classroom, everyone gathers and sits for story.
End of statement.

Another wild idea by Bev Bos - if the children didn't seem to have any interest in the book she chose, she'd close it and pick another. Again, respecting children where they are.

Here's what my most recent read aloud looked like  -
One child running around and around, unable to sit still.
Several other students watching him, captivated.
One student is in full tantrum, and my teaching assistant is doing her very best to figure out what is wrong.
Another student echoing every line of the book.
Others yelling SHHH, I CAN'T HEAR!
Still another student yelling, No! No! No! (To whom? I wonder? Yet, I cannot figure this out...must keep the book going.)
One child trapped in the classroom's bathroom, needing our assistance, calling for teacher's help, with tummy troubles that are above his skill level.
One child is crying because another has chosen her favorite spot on the carpet.
Another child is crawling across my lap while I read.
Several students are holding books of their own, flipping pages, oblivious to mine.
Half a dozen of my students are seated with their backs to me, having lost attention due to all of the above.

Yay, beginning of the year read-alouds!

They can only improve.

What do you do when you are waiting?

"You can live life as if there are no miracles, or

you can live life as if everything is."

- Anonymous

These first six weeks of school are, necessarily, focused on guiding children to understand the routines of school...and there is simply no end to all the small things that children must learn how to do in a preschool class. The more that they can fulfill these tasks and routines independently and/or automatically, the more their play will be rich and varied in the very near future. 

It is life-giving for me, to mix a little magic in with the routines...to soften the 'work' of it, and to make these more fun. Otherwise, teaching routines would be dull, dull, dull. Children absorb the learning much more easily when there's a little silly or surprise to go along with it. Song provides a lot of magic, and I sing through many of our routines - gathering on the carpet, readying ourselves to listen to a book, and, even, singing 'baby sooooaaaap" to the tune of 'baby shark' as I remind them to take one squirt of soap when we are washing our hands.

This week I discovered a little bit of magic of the children's own making. When we wash our hands before snack and lunch, we line up one-by-one at the sink. This line, when the children initially line up, curves alongside the art table, past the easels, and around the back of the room - 22 preschoolers can make a long line! Well, lo and behold, in addition to singing as we wash our hands, these preschoolers have been making art at the easel (see the picture above). I was too focused on the hands at the sink to notice this fun sideline activity. Then, the hand-washing was complete, the children were happily seated at the lunch table, and I walked by the easel, and - whoa! What a surprise! I can't help but feel that these students will become strong academics in the near future - they have made great use of their time, throwing themselves into a creative task, together, as they wait their way through a drudgery of a task!

What time is it?

Another school year begins in the Big Cats preschool classroom, and the children are at all different levels of acceptance about being there. It is all SO new - long days, so many classmates, so many new adults, new routines, new activities, new expectations, new, new, new.

Our first day of school was a half day for the children, with dismissal at noon. Even this was too long for some. At about 10 a.m., I noticed one little girl who seemed ill at ease about being in the classroom and I went over to her, to find out what was wrong. She declared, "I want my Daddy!" and the tears welled in her eyes.

"Look at this calendar.," I redirected, showing her the visual calendar on our front wall. "See how it says "Centers"? That's what we're doing now - we're playing. Then, see, we have "Read Aloud," then "Lunch," then "Goodbye." We just have a little bit more to our day together. After lunch, we all go home. Come, let's play."

She went quiet, gazing at the schedule. I figured I had helped her understand time, a bit.

A moment or two later, maybe 10:10am, I found her sitting in her cubby, unzipping her lunchbox. "I see you with your lunchbox, Cindy; what's up?"

"I'm going to eat lunch," she quickly replied.

"Well, it's not time for lunch yet," I said cautiously, fearing that she might begin to cry again. "It's early in the morning. Remember our schedule? We are playing together now, in Centers."

"After lunch, Daddy comes. I'm eating lunch now," she replied with conviction.

Ah, I see.

She's keeping 'preschool time.'

The signs said Lunch, Goodbye. Let's skip all that fluff leading up to Lunch and get straight to the good stuff: we all know, Daddy comes right after lunch.

My laugh for the day!

What about the first day of school?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life with Two Writing Teachers.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Today was the first day of preschool for this school year, 2018-19. What an amazing day we had together!  We worked hard to prepare the room for them...and I believe the children felt both comfortable and safe right away. 

Although we only met for half a day, I am totally worn out in the happiest of ways. Here's to the year ahead!!!

For this Slice of Life, let me simply share my note to the families -

Happy first day of school!

We had a fabulous day in the Big Cats! There were so few tears - and these lasted only a brief moment. Your children loved dancing, playing, singing, running, painting, exploring, building, writing, and reading together! We tried to take lots of pictures of their fun together. Here are a few things we noticed them doing:
 

• loving babies

• finding sharks

• painting with marbles

• reading books

• creating tall mountains of sand

• making tea parties

• being Mommies

• racing cars

• build a castle to the ceiling

We are learning the routines of school each day. Today, we played ‘follow the leader’ to investigate every center of the classroom. We practiced:

• washing our hands,

• lining up together and walking quietly through the hall, and

• ‘going quiet and listening’ when the teacher calls for our attention.

We learned a couple ‘call and response’ techniques - 1) when someone calls “Agoe” [do you hear me?], we answer “Amay” [I am listening to you]. 2) when someone says “bop bop ba bop bop”, we answer “bop bop.”

Our books today: From Head to Toe by Eric Carle and Owl Babies by Martin Waddell.

Again, such a special day!! Thank you for sharing your children with us!
 

Tuesday SOL: Just how?

I am participating in the
Tuesday Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day.

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I am a teacher of teachers and it is tongue-twisting,
mind-bending,
metacognitive work.

This is a poetic attempt to describe this work at the beginning of the school year.

Just How

just how

do I know what to say in the moment?

just how

do I hold a mirror to the effect of her actions?

just how

do I help him to see from the student's perspective?

just how

do I discern what is the most essential thing to notice, to give feedback on?

just how

do I encourage her to see the power of her innate tools of voice, emotion, timing, and even physical presence?

just how

do I decide if this is important enough to mention?

just how

do I see the right and the possible in the midst of missteps?

just how

do I move him from simply being alongside a child to fostering the child's ability to play with peers, learn new routines, explore new things?

just how

do I help her see that she can be with more than one child?

just how

do I help him to react with a developmental lens rather than moral authority?

just how

do I give feedback in the moment, while keeping the classroom moving right along?

just how

do I encourage them not to give up, but to see the process and growth of their own learning?

just how

do I say just the right thing?

Shall we begin again?

We begin again.
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.
She will observe.
He needs a hug.
He has an allergy.
Good luck with her naps!
Be on alert - he will elope.
Let's learn how to line up.
How to clean up.
What are the quiet signals?
When should we listen?
Shall we build with blocks?
What about paint?
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.
He doesn't eat well, very picky.
She has so much to say!
She is somewhat shy.
Do you remember his older brother?
She's my oldest,
He's my youngest,
So good to know their birthdays.
Watch him run!
What a great laugh.
Oh, she's getting ready to cry.
Mommy coming soon?
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.
Oops, I think he's had an accident.
Listen to their play!
"Bugs for dinner"
"They're scared."
"We can pretend it's a beach."
"A dog and a firefighter and some food."
"There's a monster coming."
Learning about the children,
oh so quickly.

Tuesday SOL: What have we done?

This is a Tuesday
Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day. 

Check out the Two Writing Teachers website for many more reflections on teaching.

We step forward into something new, and then we take a few steps back.

For the first many days, there was a open sensory table filled with sand and gems.
Joy,
delight,
exploration,
happy children.
Then it changed.
In a split second, a chaotic moment, a flash.
Children crowded together, struggling to share;
sand spewed, onto the floor, into eyes, into hair;
children were pushing, hurting, crying.

I closed the table and put a big red stop sign on the table.

Immediately, children dispersed, moved away, played elsewhere. It struck me that the children were use to 'losing privileges'. This was no big deal. Simply, move onto the next thing. This is daily life in an adult-run world.

Here's the reality - there is tremendous efficiency in an adult-run world.
I could take the sand out of the table, deciding that these children are too young and irresponsible to use it.
I could limit the table to just one or two kids, and make clean up much easier.
I could make a list of students, and assign them specific times to use the table.
I could make rules for the kids.
I could decide that I know best.

How deep is the learning if you simply have to turn to an adult to find out what to do?

The next morning, the table remained closed and the big red stop sign was firmly in place.

Children noticed.

One child tried to tear off the sign and lift the table top, to get to the sand again.
I moved over to him, crouching down, helping him to notice. "Oh my, look - a stop sign. What does this mean? What happened? Why would the table be closed?"

He made the connection. He said, "I threw sand."

The table remained closed and he helped me add more tape to the big red stop sign.

At morning meeting, I invited the whole class to recall what had happened at the sand table the day before -

"I got sand in my eyes."
"I got sand in my hair."
"She put sand on her."
"He took all the sand."
"I was being nice."
"You shouldn't throw sand!"
"Sand went on the floor."
"We had to sweep it up."

Yes, they had noticed.

I wrote the children's thoughts down on our white board in the front of the class. I shared their words with families. I told the children that we should hold on to these thoughts for another day or so, and to be thinking,

How can we play with sand?
How can we be together at the table?
What must we do?

Stay tuned!

I hope, through this noticing, we are moving towards real learning.

I am seeing that learning is many, many small and observant steps.

Tuesday SOL: New school year begins

This is a Tuesday Slice of Life for Two Writing Teachers. 

Check out their website for many more reflections on teaching.


______________________________

The start of the school year.

Summer gone. School begins.

I always, always, always forget that it is going to be like this.

What is the appropriate metaphor?

A predicted storm, shifting the calm weather into wild wind and rain?

The contrast of an idling race car at the starting gate and the fast and furious laps that follow?

The quiet of a house followed by the big surprise party, filled with raucous, loud guests?

Whew.

We are only two days into a week of professional development.

5:30 am alarm.

Out the door to the metro.

New staff, new faces, new names to learn.

A whole new cohort of teaching residents.

Get to know, 

think, 

plan, 

reflect, 

hear, 

review, 

still more.

Working lunches.

Get your keys, your ID photo, your handbook, your binder.

Reflect on lessons and teaching, role play teacher-student interactions - what might you do?

So many "conversations," 

lower school, middle school, special ed, lead teachers, teaching residents.

Get to know, 

think, 

plan, 

reflect, 

hear, 

review, 

still more.

Update vertical plans for literacy and math.

Add details to unit and lesson plans.

Review mission, core beliefs -

what does it mean to learn through inquiry? 

allow student voice? 

be a teacher leader?

Get to know, 

think, 

plan, 

reflect, 

hear, 

review, 

still more.

Was it just a moment ago that I 

was sleeping in,

basking in solitude,

writing with abandon,

making my own plans

for how I would spend my day?

Or was that long, long, long ago?

Only two days in.

Three more to go.

When do I get to prepare my classroom for preschoolers?

Tuesday SOL Thoughts from our first week together

This is a Tuesday "Slice of Life" for Two Writing Teachers. Check out their website for lots more reflections on teaching.

*******

Day One, Nicky sat down in his cubby and cried for his family.
He had watched his older sibling come to school here for the past couple of years,
but be here by himself? Without his family? Who thought this up?
James was in tears, too, and clutching his lovey.
It is so hard to say goodbye to family and then stay with these people you don't even know at all, for a whole morning. 
I encouraged James to help me build a road out of blocks,
a road that led to Nicky,
straight to his cubby.
James and I started building and, right away,
James was too busy to cry.
Right away, many others were there to help out - Paxton, Mateo, Henry, Dmitry, Avery.
Nicky watched our every move,
and listened to me, giving the 'play-by-play',
"I wonder if we have enough blocks to reach Nicky? 
To make a road to Nicky?"
Everyone was building, and
soon the road reached Nicky,
who decided to leave his cubby
and join us in our building.

I've had so many sweet, tender moments, this first week of our new school year!

I am touched by their trust and acceptance and overall good humor.
Imagine,
it is all new to them.
Their first time with so many peers.
It might even be their very first experience away from family.

There we are,
three loving adults,
using calm and happy voices,
entreating children to try, play, follow.
And there they are,
all about us,
surrounding us,
following our every move, with
both their eyes and their bodies.

If I grab a book to read,
instantaneously, children reach for book favorites
from the open shelves,
wanting to join in on the process.

If I pick up a broom by the sensory table,
instantaneously, children look for ways to clean the floor,
scurrying to get the sand up,
working diligently,
loving my small, child-size whisk brooms.

If I wash an art container out in the sink,
instantaneously, children mill around me at the sink,
pushing step stools up close,
balancing with classmates on a single stool,
reaching for sponges, getting to the faucet, searching for soap,
seeking ways to wash, as well.

If I set out a toy or project or snack,
instantaneously, children draw up chairs,
begging for a place at the table;
although I may not have explained what will happen,
there they are,
wanting to participate.

They want to do, do, do.


Yes, we have had a few tears,
separating from family,
but mostly, all has been going so well.

I know to keep their hands busy,
giving them plenty to tinker with…
I know to keep the routine clear and moving forward.

Two new friends checking out the family photos.

When the tears flow,
we head out on a walk,
often just me with a little one,
hand in hand,
heading on a simultaneously unnecessary and yet essential task,
"I need your help; would you help me get some paper from the supply room?"

They need to feel needed.
They need a moment, out of the classroom.
They need to be reassured, all will be well.

We are off to a very sweet year.

New year, new school, new everything

Something happened to my blogging during August. 

It disappeared!

Here's the main reason - we moved to a new school, with construction crews still making final touches as we teachers were setting up classrooms. Here's what my room looked like when I first entered...the with both the ceiling and flooring still needing finishing touches by the construction crew:

This room has gone through quite a transformation. It is absolutely, hands-down, the best early childhood classroom I have ever had.

We will not be squished at gathering.

I am delighted with its spaciousness.

You can't see it, but there's a sink in the art area!

I am delighted with its natural light.

Plenty of room for blocks and building.

Science and discovery in natural light!

I am delighted with my views - green, truly green, space...a field, a couple trees, a playground across the field.

Behind that door is our classroom bathroom - yes!

I am delighted with its bathroom and sink...and, excitingly, a sink in the main part of the room, too.





I am delighted with its charm...not just a typical rectangle classroom, but one with special nooks and angles and other features, allowing me to set up centers and spaces in fun, new ways.

There is so much fun reading ahead!

Yes, I am delighted!

The children came through for "Meet Your Teacher" day this past week, while we were still in the midst of setting up the room. When I got home, I said to my husband - "Oh, you should have seen these kids! They are the most adorable children!" He said I say this every year.

My dining room table today - creating photo cards of all the children,
so that they will feel at home in their new space.

Tomorrow is the first day of school! 

Here goes!

Beginnings are hard

This morning, I feel as if this blog post could write itself - that I might actually get in the way of it! Words are bursting from me, waking me in the middle of the night to put themselves into sentences and paragraphs. Ah, yes, it is September! The school year is underway and my "muse" - preschoolers - are here, front and center, waking me from my summer writing slumber and giving me so many writing ideas, inspiration, possibility....


I woke up thinking about how hard, how all around hard, the beginning of the school year is in preschool - whether you are the child, the family, or the teacher! There is so much to figure out, so quickly...so much to communicate...so much possibility for miscommunication, mis-steps, "do-overs."

No matter where these preschoolers were before - at home, daycare, other - the fact remains that they were then in the second year of life and are now just stepping into their third year of life. Which means, in a nutshell, that they are leaving behind the "It's all about me, all the time, I am the most important!" and stretching themselves into, "Oh, hey, you exist! This world is bigger than I realized! I want friends!"

Three year olds are on the cusp of being social, of seeing themselves as part of a larger community.

This is huge, developmentally.
Huge.


The first days of school are exhausting for a preschooler, as she is immersed in the new teachers and many new classmates ("How do I make friends? How do I fit in?"), new routines ("What comes next? When does my family come back? Wait, I can't do that now?"), new activities ("Is that fun? Dare I try that? Am I able?"). As you can imagine, a lot of different emotions and feelings come up...and many of these are brand new to the child, since the very experience of being in a new classroom with peers is so new.



How do you - an adult - respond to new, challenging things? Imagine - a new work situation, some new, huge issue for which you are now responsible. Often, as adults, we face the new challenge head on but find ourselves slipping up in other ways - perhaps we eat or drink a little more, or stop exercising, or find ourselves impatient or brusque with loved ones.

How do these preschoolers respond to new, challenging things? Yes, they seem to have setbacks. The talkative child goes quiet at school. The potty-trained child wets herself frequently at school. The sweet, predictable child goes wild at nap time, seeming defiant.



I know it is very hard on families to see these changes...to see their child regress upon entering the preschool class or do things that they've never seen the child do before.  A big part of my job as preschool teacher is to help the families process these transitions. (I guess this blog post is one aspect of this help - trying to give my reflections on this oh so normal, hard process of starting preschool.)

For me, as teacher, it is also a very hard time of year...

as I learn about, plan and organize for, juggle,
children's interests, habits, special needs, allergies,
family concerns, situations, interests, communications,
school schedules, meetings with colleagues, specials, playground times, fire drills,

mentoring and guiding my Teaching Resident, giving instruction on two levels - to both her and the children,
creating lesson plans that soothe, welcome, bring joy, engagement,



all the while,
trying to,
first and foremost,
welcome each child and family individually,
helping each one feel cherished, respected, and safe,
building - as quickly and solidly as possible - a relationship of trust.

Yet, knowing full well that relationships take time.