What is nap time like, this year?

The quiet one.
He surprises me by singing loudly, a medley of our classroom jingles:

• "Everybody's safe, everybody learns, everybody builds the community..."
• "Find your square and sit right down..."
• "Big Cats! Let's line up!"

I shush him, reminding him - it is nap time.

"Settle down, hon, it is time for nap. Let's take care of one another. Shush!"

To no avail.

The singing keeps on.

Is it louder?!

I get him up from his cot and walk him outside the classroom, into the hallway. I crouch down, looking at him eye to eye, and remind:

"John, we are quiet at nap. You cannot talk, sing, or be loud at nap."

He asks, "You take me for walk?"

Ahhh.

He has seen me do this with others.

Me - "No. We are NOT going for a walk. You are able to be quiet and it's time for you to show me quiet. What will you do - sit and be quiet on your cot, or lie down and sleep and be quiet? Those are your two choices."

"Sit and be quiet," he says demurely, resignedly.

Me - "Okay, good. Let's go back in."

I am so proud of him. I am so proud of me. Yay! Mutual understanding, mutual respect achieved.

We walk quietly to his cot, he sits down, and before I can even walk away, he sings loudly - bellows, really -

"A, B, C, D, E, F, G..."

Sweet cheeses!

Game over.

Preschoolers are powerful beings.

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!

sol17-30 Won't you sleep?

I am participating in the
Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOLSC).
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day of March 2017. 

A big thank you to Two Writing Teachers for providing this unique opportunity
for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

I have one little preschooler who, no matter the day, cannot settle herself, stay quiet, or fall asleep at naptime unless she has a teacher's help. Truly, this is an amazing year because there is only one such student in the midst of a class of twenty-two preschoolers. There are several who are slow to nap and a handful who don't nap at all - but each of these is very quiet and respectful, able to self-soothe. Now, late March, this little girl and we teachers have our routine down - we first help everyone else in the room find their cot, lovey, special blanket, etc., and then one of us finds our way to her cot and sit down next to her, rubbing and patting her back. It actually has become a very sweet ritual. As I watched her fall asleep today, I thought I should try to capture some of this in a poem. Here goes!

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She smiles and stares, all wide-eyed,

She calls out to her friends.

She's doing aerobics on her cot

Her body twists and bends.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I tell her it is time to rest,

She can't be dancing on the bed.

She frowns with slight protest

But agrees to what I said.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She fidgets with her lovey,

she tries not to make a sound.

Then she calls "Ms. Ingram!"

giving a pat to the ground. 

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I move my chair next to her cot

She asks, "Will you stay with me?"

I reassure her, "I am here,

Now you must lay quietly."

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She is so sweet and I wonder why

This napping becomes so hard.

We all learn at our own pace,

One day she will need no guard. 

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I pat her back a little bit,

And I pat her back some more.

She wiggles her feet, nestles in,

Her blanket falls to the floor.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

I pat her back in gentle rhythm.

Adjust her blanket just fine

The thumb goes in her mouth

I know that's a sleepy sign.

I'll watch her fall to sleep.

She looks up at me with one last glance,

Then softly closes her eyes.

There's a rhythm to her breathing

For which there is no disguise.

-->

I watched her fall to sleep.

SOLSC #28 Everything matters

I am posting every day during March as part of the annual "Slice of Life" Challenge for Two Writing Teachers.  Check out their website for lots more reflections on teaching.

*******
Naptime, yesterday, I observed one of my sweet students with her hair barrette in her mouth, and I instinctively, robotically, automatically,
stuck out my hand and demanded she give me the barrette -
"I don't want you to choke. I keep you safe," I whispered.
"I don't want you to take it," she cried.
"Just during nap. Then you will have it back," I explained, and I slipped the barrette ... where?
into my pocket?
onto the book shelf?
near the sign out sheet?
No idea. Didn't give it another thought.

There are so many of these motions during my day,
the instinctive, robotic, automatic.
Things I do that I hardly give another thought.

Ah, but she gave it lots more thought.
Not during the school day,
but at home,
in the evening,
with her family,
when she cried about how I had kept her barrette.

Oh my.

First thing this morning,
she came to me in tears,
"Please may I have my barrette back? I am not going to put it in my mouth anymore."

Yes, this matters.
Really, it does.

Everything matters.

However,
the instinctive, robotic, automatic move on my part 
did not result in my remembering where I put that 
very small but important object.

"Yellow is my favorite color," she cried.

We searched together,
the book shelf,
the baskets at the doorway,
the sign-in sheet.
All my usual places for lost, mis-placed, "hold-for-awhile"objects.
To no avail.

Next  - I will go home and check the pants' pockets from yesterday -
may it be there!

"Would you write me a note, so that I remember to look for your yellow barrette?" I asked.

Yes, the teacher in me turned this into a pre-literacy moment!! ;-)

Here's her note!
Everything matters.

SOLSC #10 Time change is no small thing

I am posting every day during March as part of the annual "Slice of Life" Challenge for Two Writing Teachers.  Check out their website for lots more reflections on teaching.

*******
When my boys were little, it was the fall time change that I feared - their six a.m. wake-up became a five a.m. wake-up. Ugh.

Now, as a teacher of preschoolers, the spring time change is problematic. The day begins reasonably enough, with many children arriving later than usual and, thus, a slower and quieter start to a Monday. But naptime - oh my! Ridiculous!

No one is ready to settle in at 12:30...
no one is ready to settle in at 1 pm...
in fact, at 1:30pm,
still no one is asleep.
By their body clocks,
nap should just be beginning...
1:30 is last week's 12:30.
There is a restless energy to this napping room.

How have they spent this hour?

Giggles.
Jumping.
Dancing.
Whispering.
Dropping books on the floor.
Getting off their cot to chat with a neighbor!
Singing.
Crawling.
Making animal noises.
Rolling from side to side.
Drumming their shoes on the floor.
Throwing their cuddle toy up to the ceiling.
Tapping their feet on the edge of the cot.
Stretching into various yoga poses.
Bouncing balls [how did he get his hands on that ball? those darn balls and ramps!!]

Aieeee.

How have I spent this hour?

Shaking my head,
with understanding.

**************

(A daily share by a preschooler, in their own words)

A Story Collage by Ellie

It’s summertime. And all the butterflies appear. One stormy thing comes and it hurts everybody. It’s lightning. The blue butterfly fluttered away. And a wolf appears. And here’s winter. The wolf is over by the tree. And now it is so pretty. The wolf touches the button and it makes a loud noise and the wolf runs away. It’s kind of a happy story because butterflies appear and they all live happily and powerfully ever after. The End.