Tuesday SOL Why are they always in the block corner?

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

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After winter break, I added ramps (and balls, cars, tunnels) to the block corner. This area has become a favorite activity for the children. We take over the large blue carpet - creating roads, race tracks, jumps, and more. It is a very busy area, with children doing lots of different things, all at once, all together, excitedly adding, changing, and eliminating features with abandon. 

At our January family conferences, several families noted that they didn't have to read my daily note to find out what their child was doing...they KNEW their child was ALWAYS in the block corner. 

Blocks and ramps are such a learning-rich area of my classroom this year. I am amazed by the work being done here.

How to make the learning obvious to families?

How to respect the play? 

How to help families see the beauty in this daily focus? 

What is the learning? 

Let's look at some photos and consider.

Somehow, everybody fits in the block corner. The children work together, always making room for one another.  There are many hands at work, many bodies moving closely side by side, and, somehow, staying aware of one another in the midst of all the motion. 

The children have both space and time to explore cause and effect, what works, what needs to change, what can be fixed, what will happen. 

I see children developing the greatest attitudes for learning - daring to try new approaches, to consider new ideas, to take a risk on a new path. 

They work so closely with classmates, listening and considering others' ideas and opinions.

They laugh at mistakes, screech with joy at surprise endings, and repeat, repeat, repeat their work until they get it right. Yes, this is persistence!

Working with balls and ramps, children become so engrossed and focused that they often continue working entirely by themselves…just to see if it will work this one time!

We have so many sizes of blocks and a variety of pieces to be used as ramps. I am continually surprised and delighted by the novel designs the children create.

I love how the children work together - calling out to one another, supporting, and assisting. 

I am so appreciative of how much time we are able to devote to centers, allowing the children to "go deep" in their building, creating complex designs. Centers are at least one hour each day and several days a week they last ninety minutes or more.

The design of ramps is moving, fluid, active work - ideal work for preschoolers. How does Bev Bos put it? - "If it is in their hearts and hands, it is in their heads." This is work that children are curious about, craving to know more about…this is where real learning happens.

The children show tremendous focus, another excellent academic disposition.

When I work alongside the children, I am gleaning so much extraordinary data: mathematical skills of spatial awareness, measurement, and some numeracy; cognitive skills of attention span, using materials in new ways, and recall/memory of earlier designs; literacy and language skills of dialogue and storytelling; social emotional skills of taking turns, working with others, and sharing materials.

Many friendships have grown through this play; I see children seek each other out, to repeat something they have done before, or to invite another to try something new. We have very few discipline issues in the block corner. I think that one of the reasons why is that there are ample materials, able to be used in so many different ways.

The conversations - the back and forth - are fast-paced and constant. With teachers as "guides on the side," listening and taking notes, sometimes instigating and provoking language, I know their vocabulary and fluency is growing through this play.

Look at the inexpensive materials we are using! Leftover trim moulding from household construction, strong cardboard packaging pieces, plastic bed supports…all these add to our ramps play! I love that children are learning to look at things in all new ways…to create something out of nothing.

The work is both temporary and long-term…there are so many different ramps every day, nothing lasts very long, and, yet, over and over and over again, we practice and build.

The children are filled with questions - how fast will it go? will it make it in the container? what happens if I move this? how do I get over this bump? did you see that?!!

Yes, I am amazed by their work in the block corner.

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.

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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.

Tuesday SOL How many more walks do I have this year?

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

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Three things immediately excite me when I think about our move to a new, permanent school location next year:

- Playground and green space at our school.
- Bathrooms in close proximity.
- A much larger classroom.

When I see the plans for the new school, it is as if a weight is being lifted from my shoulders. I'm not really sure which of these matters most - their importance varies with each week, day, or hour.

Right now, I find myself obsessing about next year's playground and green space.

Our daily walks on the walking rope have been very difficult.

Won't it be so awesome to throw open a door and let the children play?
To let the children get their wiggles out, at a moment's notice?

Yes, my mind wanders and I begin imagining - things to climb, room to run, places to dig and explore...

however...

the reality is, we still have six more weeks of school.

There are still many more daily walks.
Now.
This year.
With these preschoolers.

This is how we get to the local playground, several blocks away,
this is how we get to the national park,
several blocks away,
this is what we do each day,
after centers,
before story time,
for fresh air.
Twenty-three preschoolers
on a walking rope.

It has been the best solution for a difficult environment.

Keeping them safe,
moving through the city blocks,
all together,
one community.

It is our routine.


Our routine has reached
a painful crescendo.


How to describe the recent walk that did me in?


A blur of shoes, falling off feet,
new summer shoes - "larger, to grow into,"
ballet flats that slip off when you think about them,
big preschool feet stepping on the heels of the child in front of them, forcing that shoe off,
incessant "shoe problems!" (as the children cry out) that
stop the entire process,
forcing the walking rope to a halt,
as we tend to the missing shoe.
How impossible it is for two dozen small beings to walk so closely and precisely together.
A blur of voices, disturbingly loud,
in each other's ears,
singing, "Let It Go!"
calling, "Ms. Ingram! Ms. Ingram! Ms. Ingram!"
shouting, "STOP! That's hurting my ears!"
making our movement together
so painful.
How impossible it is for two dozen small beings to walk so closely and precisely together. 
A blur of hands, full of motion,
pulling on landscaping and flowers,
bending over to pick things up from the ground,
pushing classmates,
jerking the entire rope to a stop.
How impossible it is for two dozen small beings to walk so closely and precisely together.
Shoes, voices, hands
tears, whines, hurt.

Yes, this was the walk that did me in.

Back in the classroom,
as the children settled down for story time,
I explained that we had to talk about today's walk.

First, we did some deep breathing together.

Then, a show of hands,
"Who felt sad on today's walk?"
[Everyone's hands shoot up - and lots of voices, with corroborating stories...]

"What makes us sad on walks?"
This question resulted in four specifics:
- when someone walks on another's heel
- when someone uses a very loud voice
- when someone hurts another with their hands
- when someone keeps singing even when their partner says "Stop!"

[I was struck by how no one mentioned the "individual" wrong-doings, such as - pulling a flower from the landscape, or kicking one's own shoes off...everyone focused on the "injustices" that had been done to them by another classmate. I see this as growth - preschoolers who want friendships. These preschoolers are no longer playing parallel, alongside one another, but desire cooperative togetherness. I decided not to interject my own voice on this list, not to have it include all the challenging behaviors that I noticed. Instead, let's build those friendship skills!]

Me - "What might we do to prevent each of these? Let's take them one at a time and think about them. How can we get along in the community of our walking rope?"


We talked about how physically close everyone is on the walking rope, with
no one able to move to a further location...
how this is different from other parts of our day, when
everyone is allowed to move freely.
Maybe we have to behave differently on the walking rope?


With that, there was a sea change -
preschoolers began thinking about actions they could each do that would help us all.


We made

"Our Walking Rules"

- Watch our feet as we walk
- Use calm voices
- Take deep breaths and keep our hands to ourselves
- "Stop" when asked


The next day,
just before leaving on our walk,
I reviewed their ideas from the day before and
asked each child to sign the rules,
indicating that they would try their very best on our walk.

I love how these preschoolers were able to reflect and suggest changes.

Now, when walking,
the children are noticing helpful behaviors.

We are making the best of it.
Accenting the positive.
Working together.

[But I am still counting...
How many more walks do I have this year?]