Tuesday SOL: Where do you find grace?

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.

It was your typical hectic mid-day...the infamous 'lunch to nap transition' in the preschool classroom: tables needing to be cleared of trash and wiped down, cots being carried to their special napping spots, several preschoolers lingering over their last vestiges of lunch, postponing the inevitable, others are in the bathroom, last stop before sleep, and a random few more are idle, restless, waiting to land on their cots...lots of moving parts, varied noises, and everyone at different stages of readiness for that impending darkened, quiet room of sleepers.

John, my wily friend, my boundary tester, cannot simply sit back and wait, he must jump from cot to cot. I call out, "John, your cot is down, you may sit on it with a book while you wait for others to be ready for nap." He heads that way, but sees another cot to jump on. Me, again, this time more succinctly - "John, your cot!" He continues dancing on the cot and begins to sing, 

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

Just as I start to chastise him again for his continued jumping, up walks Annie, who always does the right thing and can often be found observing the antics of others with quiet fascination. (I've often wondered what tales she shares with her family about her day in the Big Cats.) I swallow my next reprimand and simply watch Annie with John, to see what she might do or say with him. Annie doesn't typically confront others; she's not a tattler or a meddler or 'the righteous one' or any of these other roles that children might fall into when learning to be with others. She's a happy young friend who enjoys following our routine and, to date, has found no reason not to do so. 

I wonder, is Annie going to reinforce the rules with John?

Annie walks right up to John and says, "we gotta do hand motions" (well, it sounded more like "hanmossa") and then she sits down on the cot...he stops his wild dancing and sits down next to her, with a bright "Okay!" and they begin the song again, adding hands motions to the words...

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

in my soooouuuuul!

These two sweet beings, so different from one another - one always testing boundaries and one always sticking to them...there they were sitting together on a third child's napping cot, in the midst of mid-day mayhem, singing a folk song...how to describe the unexpected preciousness of this moment? John is beaming at her, so delighted to have her friendship in this moment, and Annie is equally delighted in him. They are happy companions. And, look - there is no more wild jumping or running...there's no more reprimanding voice of a teacher...Annie has made magic happen, changing the frenetic, haphazard tone of the classroom into one of charmed togetherness.

Classmates wandered over and began to sing with them. After one moment of surprise, when I simply smiled at the scene, I easily finished my chore of putting down all the cots, while the children sang.

This is my goal for the new year - to notice these moments of grace all around me. In the preschool classroom, they are bounteous.

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

I've got peace like a river,

in my soul.

I've got joy like a fountain

I've got joy like a fountain

I've got joy like a fountain

in my soul.

I've got love like an ocean

I've got love like an ocean

I've got love like an ocean

in my soul.

Happy New Year, everyone!

How did this happen?

This is a 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.

"Ms. Ingram! Jack's opened something he's not supposed to!"

Try as I might, lunch in my classroom is a loud, lively, unsettling part of my day. 22 preschoolers, four tables, innumerable containers to be opened by hands that are just developing the skills...with three teachers, it can feel as if you are never in the right place at the right time. Lunch is an unending pattern of wiggly bodies moving in their seats, chairs scraping the floor, lunch boxes refusing to open or close properly, children calling out for help in opening things, items falling on the floor, spills that need wiping up, some food getting trashed before it is tasted, children rushing to the bathroom, on and on.

In the midst of this fray, here's what I hear:
"Ms. Ingram! Jack's opened something he's not supposed to!"

I walk over towards that lunch table of preschoolers and what do I find? Jack looking at me wide-eyed and a packet of silica gel sprinkled all over the table - silica gel that was inside the package of one of his lunch foods [seaweed]. Jack said indignantly, "It is part of my lunch but she says it is not!" Jack thought the silica gel was a condiment - it certainly was packaged like a condiment. In very small letters, you can see the words "do not eat" but, guess what, most preschoolers are not readers.

Thankfully, his classmate had called out to me in alarm;
thankfully, the silica gel missed his food and was emptied onto the table and floor; most thankfully, Jack had not eaten any of it.

How's a child supposed to know not to eat something like that?
How's a teacher supposed to know that this will be included in lunches?
Why is it packaged in this inviting way, much like a sugar or a salt?

One more gray hair on my head.

In recent days, in my local area, one three year old choked to death while eating meatballs at a daycare and one three year old wandered out of her school during nap and was found (and safely returned to school) by a stranger down the street from the school. The outcry is - How did this happen? Where is the supervision? What is wrong with those teachers?

My response is,
I know I am listening, watching, aware,
I know my teaching team is strong, present, vigilant,
I know our routines are sound, tested, considered,
I know my community is connected, supportive, communicative,
I know my school is safe, alert, caring.
My response is,
but for the grace of God.

What about lunch together?

It is Tuesday and this is a "Slice of Life" (SOLS) for Two Writing Teachers.  Check out their website for lots more reflections on teaching.

*******

I am determined to write a "slice of life" today, having missed last week . . . and topic after topic has crossed my mind.

Last night, I thought . . .

. . .I'll share about the fun we are having with our Ezra Jack Keats author study.

Next, it was morning, I was rushing out the door to work, and I thought -
oh, that blogpost would need extensive work/time, something in short supply today. . . there's so much I want to share about this curriculum . . .

. . . I'll simply share about our special time last week when . . .

. . . we all watched Pete Seeger sing one of our favorite class songs - Inch by Inch [Garden Song]. (This was one of those rare times when all of the Big Cats were riveted, engaged, and focused, together, trying to see the small laptop screen and hear his voice through very weak speakers. It didn't seem to matter that everyone was all smushed together - everyone was happy to hear Pete Seeger. Should I also share about how choked up I got when we all sang "Inch by Inch" together, afterwards? So sweet!)

Next, the school day was underway, and our time in centers flew by as children sponge painted beautiful pictures in red, yellow, and orange; everyone's hands were covered with paint, even the floor was speckled, and I thought this is what I should share about . . .




 . . . We have really been enjoying messy process art activities over the past few weeks . . . how much children love paint, whether using brushes, rollers, sticks, sponges, spoons, straws...they cannot get enough paint! 

Next, we were outside on a short walk, to the turn-around tree, enjoying some very rare fresh air, and I thought . . .

. . . Oh, wow, I really should write about the challenges of too much indoor play . . . how this affects kids . . .

Then, it was lunch time and I was in the whirlwind of washing hands, finding seats, helping to open lunch foods, finding straws and extra spoons, racing out of the room with a couple children who simply couldn't wait one more moment to go to the bathroom, when I returned to the room to find   . . .



Hughie's Dad seated at the lunch table with Hughie and his classmates. 
Totally unexpected. 
And, totally delightful. 
Was it just my imagination, that 
the room was decidedly calmer than just a few minutes earlier, 
before I had raced the children to the bathroom?
All eyes were on this new, surprise adult. Dressed in a nice business suit, no less! 
He told me that he was in the area, 
that Hughie had a difficult goodbye this morning and 
he thought it would be a nice surprise, 
to have lunch with him.
Was this okay?
Oh, yes!
Totally unexpected.
And, totally delightful. 
He sat in a child-size chair - and it looked absolutely natural. So right.
Hughie was beaming. 
His table buddies were full of chatter, questions, and antics for Hughie's Dad.
No one rushed their lunch.
No one threw away their lunch without eating (as is sometimes the case).
All eyes were on this new, surprise adult.

So, there, that's my small slice of life today - the magic of an unexpected lunch guest.

Totally unexpected.
And, totally delightful.

Tuesday SOL What about lunch?

Tuesday Slice of Life with Two Writing Teachers

We have changed the way we are approaching lunch these days and I thought I would share the delightful new routine...

Our routine before -
While the preschoolers sat down to lunch, we three teachers raced around the classroom to
help children at each table to open their foods, clean up their spills, close their lunchboxes,
close the blinds and draw the curtains, and
lay cots down throughout the room, adjusting their sheets, pillows, "lovies" as we moved.
We kept our eye on the clock, knowing that 12:30 pm was our absolute deadline for getting children to the bathroom and then lying down on their cots.

Well, about a week ago I read an opinion piece in the Washington Post entitled
"School Lunch Can Be A Teachable Moment" (by Wendy Costa).
The article resonated with me, especially her reflection about her own elementary school -

"I still remember conversations from those lunches 50 years ago. Lunch was part of the instruction and treated as part of the school’s mission, which is to 'enable all children in our care to discover and to develop what is finest in themselves — to achieve the highest standards in their studies, in their play, and in their character.' "

I thought to myself,

Why, in the preschool classroom, is lunchtime so sterile?  
So regulated? 
Why are we running around doing tasks rather than focusing on the children, chatting and being present?
What does this model to the children? Eat quickly? Hurry, hurry, hurry?


I decided we had to do things differently in the Big Cats.

Now, each of us teachers sits down at one of the Big Cats' lunch tables.
We bring our own lunches to the table,
and slowly, slowly, slowly,
we eat lunch with the children.

I am amazed at the positive changes in the classroom:

The children stay in their seats better.
There is rich conversation amongst everyone at the table.
The children are eating more of their own lunches.
I am more patient - and less hungry!

After lunch,
when we get back from the bathroom,
the children help to lay down their cots...which just makes so much sense, doesn't it?

Oh, and guess what time the children are laying down for their naps?
12:30 pm - same as always!!

Goodness, I can't believe I am figuring this out mid-April, rather than September! Ah well, here's to a new routine henceforth in my teaching.