What is new?

Two year old Frog is full of questions, and one reins supreme these days - "What is that?" Nothing new or different seems to escape her view. Often, what is new or different is purposefully planned by me - I will set out something playful for her, maybe hiding it in a special box or container first, and leave this near the spot(s) of my house that she most enjoys playing. These provocations always excite her; "what did you find for me?" she asks, "what is new?" 

In recent weeks, I have been madly culling and cleaning and rearranging my home, and this means that there have been many "new to her" things for Frog to notice. When her Nana is a newly-retired preschool teacher, the rewards are many for this youngster! I have created a writing studio for myself in my basement, setting out many of my school journals and photos as inspiration. My days with children are definitely my writing muse; my grandchildren are, as well. The basement is now also a more welcoming space for Frog to play and explore, with all my picture books on bookshelves, and a variety of toys included. We have been spending more and more time in the basement in recent weeks.

The other day, Frog pointed to something at the top of a bookshelf - "What is that?" Hmm. What had I moved there? Oh! It's a catapult! Immediately, she was intrigued and wanted to see it; immediately, I was transported back to my time at a conference at Bev Bos' school, which I had the delight of visiting in the summer of 2011. TEN YEARS AGO. Wow. Has it really been ten years, already?

This little wooden catapult was made especially for preschoolers, and it uses ping-pong balls - there's no one getting hurt by this play! I was excited when I saw it, and bought one on the spot, thinking it would be a fun thing to explore in my classroom. Bev Bos believed passionately in joyful, exploratory play, letting children be curious and figure out things through doing. She (and I) liked to sit back and observe what children did with things - How might they use them? What are the children wondering about? What do they think to do, as they play?

I never ended up bringing that catapult into my classroom. I began teaching at a DC public charter in the fall of 2011, teaching a minimum of 22 preschoolers every year. Although I believe firmly in the whimsical play of the catapult, I couldn't figure out how to bring in this one gadget and share it successfully with so many students, without many of the children feeling left out a good deal of the time. That was NOT an experience I wanted my students to have. Yes, truth is, these early learning years require materially-rich school environments, where children play freely and effortlessly, without fear of there not being enough, without threat of not being included.

That little catapult sat in a closet at my house; I suppose, waiting for grandchildren? I moved it to the top of a bookshelf in the midst of my decluttering and cleaning, and there my dear Frog noticed it.

I got it down from the shelf and placed it in front of Frog, along with the small bin of ping-pong balls, and I said "It's a catapult. What do you think it can do?" There ensued such a happy, laughing time. Frog roared with laughter when the ping-pong ball went sailing into the air over her Poppa's head. Over and over again, she repeated the performance. She had a little trouble keeping the base of the catapult steady, and soon realized that these shifting positions seemed to send the ball into different directions - this cause and effect fascinated her. Frog began to hold the catapult in one place, and then to aim it in certain directions. This is what I love about such discovery - it is ripe with natural, organic learning. Balls flew far and wide, with Poppa and me racing to collect them for her. So many laughs! This fabulous play did not last just a few minutes; in fact, Frog played with the catapult for more than an hour of play, ending only at her nap time. I am awed by how long a young child's attention span really is, when they are engaged in play.

What was her first question upon waking up from nap?  "Catapult, Nana?" 

A few days later, Frog - who is a very verbal 27 month old - reflected on the experience, hoping to play with the catapult again:

"We're going to get the balls and I'm going to push the button and then the ball goes everywhere and we were laughing. That's a catapult. Balls go on when you push a button, it will go. Wanna collect that one ball."

I am reminded about how important it is for children to DO - to discover, tinker, stretch, wonder, figure things out on their own.

I am grateful for Bev Bos and her wisdom about children's play.

I am grateful for Frog and catapults and laughter.

How does vocabulary grow?

Frog* loves to talk. She has been sharing her voice with us since she was very young, making so many beautiful sounds. As she approached 18 months of age, a true vocabulary emerged. I love hearing it grow! Frog is, in many ways, a natural learner of language, listening closely to the many loving adults in her world and absorbing the words. I do a lot of narration when I play alongside her and I have noticed that Frog is becoming quite the narrator herself. 

We currently go around in circles with personal pronouns. I'll say "Do you want to me to color with you?" and she'll answer "me color you" - which leaves me slightly confused. Another favorite is when she declares, "hold you!" and she'll lift her arms towards me. (I remember my boys making this same gorgeous verbal goof!) She wants me to pick her up, and is simply echoing my ask of many times, "Would you like me to hold you?" These are common, classic errors of this developmental stage, and I have no doubt that they will straighten themselves out in time.

In high school foreign language classes, I remember how challenging I found it to take the risk of talking, to dare to share a new word. Young children do this with abandon and we have so much to learn from them. Truly, to grow a vocabulary, you have to take it for a walk - you have to use words, to grow your understanding of these new words. I have been amazed by how Frog plays with words, how she tries them out in new situations. Let me give an example or two . . . .

Frog is very interested in how things change - she notices every cabinet door that has been left open, every object that falls to the floor from the table, every item that appears out of place. She greets these new states with a surprised "Oh, no!" In recent months, she follows this exclamation of "Oh, no!" with a descriptive word about the situation. I first noticed her experimentation with the word "ripped" - as in, 'yes, the book page is ripped.' It is a shocking turn of events! Frog is learning not to rip pages in picture books, but at two years of age, she is not always able to control the impulse and she is absolutely obsessed with the fact that it has occurred. A book that had a page ripped more than three months back will have this flaw pointed out every time you read the book to her. Every. Single. Time. So, here's what has caught my ear in recent weeks - Frog has started to use the word 'ripped' for other broken things. She saw a pothole in the road on a recent walk and said - "Oh, no! Ripped!" Just thinking about this makes me smile. She is noticing the change, noticing that it isn't 'right,' or as it was, and she connected this change to the ripped page of a book.

Yes, I love this! I feel as if I am seeing her brain grow and stretch. She is applying what she knows in new ways. 

The same thing has happened with the word "leaking" - a word she LOVES now, after watching endless rain pour out of a downspout during a rainstorm, and hearing us describe this as 'leaking,' 'draining,' and 'pouring out.' She held on to the word "leaking" because she had heard it many times before in relation to her sippy cup, which I have the darndest time closing tightly, and here the word appeared again vis-a-vis the rain - imagine! She absorbed this new word. A day or two later, eating oatmeal at breakfast, she ate too quickly and some oatmeal smeared onto her chin, and she declared "Oh, no! Leaking!" Again, just thinking about this makes me smile. Isn't it fascinating that this more soft, amorphous, free flowing material was 'leaking' and the harder cracked stuff (the road) was called 'ripped' ? Yes, I think her word use is inaccurate, but it is also really close. I get it. 

It's two year old code. 
It's two year old language explosion. 
It's lots of fun for this grandmother.

Thinking about her growing vocabulary, I have been working on a very special photo album for Frog. Or is it for me? Yes, I am trying my best to document this time, and so much happens every day, I must really work to keep up. I looked through photos of Frog at play and thought about all the new words she has recently acquired, and decided to connect action photos with these words. I've started a sweet little photo book with pictures of her:

closing, opening, dumping, digging, pouring, looking, hiding, finding, messy, soft, gentle, ticklish, loud, quiet, moving, walking, running, falling, jumping, spinning, dressing, wearing, helping, washing, cleaning, sweeping, raking . . . .

Oh my, the list goes on and on, and reads like the life of a happy youngster. Which Frog is!

 

"If it's in the hand and in the body, it's in the brain."

                                                 - Bev Bos

*In order to keep as much privacy as possible for my family, I try to use nicknames. Frog is the nickname for my oldest granddaughter, who is two years old. Her younger sister was born in Fall 2020; I've nicknamed her Bird.

COVID 19 - What is there to savor?

Here we are in the middle of week eight of shelter-in-place. I am finding that my phone calls with preschoolers and families are taking a little longer than they did those first few weeks...perhaps we are all seeking a deeper connection?

Truly, we seem to have shifted from
fearful and overwhelmed
into
acceptance tinged with sadness,
open to joy.
This is our life now.

These preschoolers - honestly, what a gift they are to the world! My prescription for sanity in this time: reach out and converse with a young child. Build that connection. Prepare for a journey somewhere magical! What do I mean? Let me share a few [anonymous] tidbits from my families' worlds:

- dragging t-ball equipment to a local school's baseball field and playing an impromptu game of baseball with your family,
- building a marble run on your wall, using cardboard rolls,
- using found objects and magnetic numerals and exploring math with Dad,
- putting on lipstick and having a fashion competition with your whole family,
- celebrating the find of insect larvae in a rotted tree stump, on a family nature walk
- building a hiding place for stuffed animals and Mom's high heels,
- whole family re-enactments of favorite picture books,
- driving to the airport (which is empty, of course) to have lunch; sitting in the bay windows, looking at airplanes and other transportation,
- building boats with your family, to float in the wading pool, and testing them in different ways.

It's obvious that families are becoming very creative, playing deeply with their kids. One preschooler was excited to tell me how they burnt a batch of chocolate chip cookies, and cut off the burnt edges, "I eat them but not the burned part, some parts are not burnt."

That beautifully describes this time of COVID-19 - it is possible to find something to savor. We must look for joy.

"some parts are not burnt"

COVID-19: What do you know how to do?

We've been asking the children,

what do you know how to do, all by yourself?

This has proven to be a very fun conversation starter. The children have a fun range of "I can do!" -

turn on the hose
I am an engineer
play mancala with Mommy
coloring
playing balls
play Legos
building Magna Tiles out of stuff
open snacks
grow plants
water plants
count to 20
paint on sprinkles and rocks
look at the funny hat I made
biking
ride my balance bike
play in sand box
commanding "SIT!" and "STAY!" and having your dog do this!
make rainbows

COVID 19 - What happens when we Zoom together?

We had a very special Zoom call yesterday afternoon, initiated by one of our families. This was our first time connecting with one another through this tool. I loved seeing everyone's faces, and hearing the happy pandemonium of all the children's voices. I've been on a few Zoom calls in recent days, having needed to connect virtually with a variety of groups of people during this health crisis. I think this was the first Zoom call where there did not seem to be anyone "administering." There was no one turning off and on the various mics from afar, no one helping participants to take turns in their talking. It was a glorious free for all!

My noticings:

I loved seeing all the families together...many of the children have siblings, either younger or older, and there everyone was, together, making faces, laughing, and talking.

I thought the parents looked remarkably relaxed and happy. This new normal started back on Thursday, March 12, 2020, when the President declared a national emergency and schools were closed that very next day. Relaxed and happy, on your 11th day home with your children in this surprising, unforeseen way? Go, families! You rock!!

I heard so many caring expressions from the children -

• "I want to hear ____ talk; isn't it ____'s turn?" said one preschooler; 
• Another showed a page from their new journal and a classmate responded, "I like that!!"
• "How about I try to talk to everybody?" one preschooler asked, diplomatically.

There was so much love and affection between all the kids and their families - sitting on laps, sharing snacks, stretching and moving while being held by a loving parent, squeezing closely together...so dear!

There were a series of unexpected and absurd conversation topics -

• why do people kill alligators and crocodiles?
• these are the lovies I sleep with at night.
• do you know Darth Vader?

All the children had things to share: Legos, costumes (lots of princess dresses!), journals, drawings, paintings, and stories. There was an impromptu book sharing, with preschoolers leaving their video feed to search their homes for favorite stories, to show these to their classmates. So cute! They see themselves as readers, wanting to learn more about everything.

We were so charmed by this exuberant time together, we are thinking that weekly "Zoom gatherings" would be a fun routine to add to this new normal. More to come!

Do you see an airplane?

I love large cardboard boxes. Preschoolers delight in them, too. This past fall, someone donated one to our class and it became our bear cave - with a simple half-circle opening cut into one side. The box fit four preschoolers comfortably, and this became our respected limit. The box became another way to do that important social emotional work of taking turns. Plus, it was the best place to read a book or share a story with friends.

After awhile, it was time for a change. It was January, and that old cave was looking plenty ragged after our holiday break. What else might it be? There was a lot more conversation and play about  "cars, trucks, and things that go." I bet I could turn that box into an airplane! So I did. I cut another half-circle opening on the other side  - thinking it would be helpful for children to enter the plane from both sides. With a little help from another box or two, I created a 'nose' (not sure that's the technical word) and some large flat wings and even some tail wings, though these were particularly flimsy and inclined to break. Ah, the fun the children had! We maintained our cap of four children only, for the main body of the plane, but there was now room for a fifth, a pilot, in the front. 

(I still laugh out loud when I remember J sticking her head out of the body of the airplane, holding a map in her hands, and yelling at E in the pilot's seat - "Hey, pilot, this is where we are going!")

We played in that airplane for six fun weeks, and we worked that box hard. There were many repairs made, lots of tape re-employed. When I got into the classroom yesterday morning, I looked at the dilapidated remains and thought, oh my, this plane has got to go. 

I carted it out onto the playground for one last romp before the dumpster. I set it up for the children to see as they came down the steps - I just knew that they'd squeal with glee! This would be the farewell tour.

We'll find another box, create another design goal, later.

Bittersweet for me - 

my beloved maintenance man,

who helps me and everyone on staff with every possible need that we have, always going the extra mile, a true gem for our school,

he watched me carry that box out of the school and down the steps to the playground,

and I guess he thought I was heading TOWARDS the dumpster...that I was trying to save him a few steps.

When the children raced onto the playground, there were no happy laughs of surprise - they just raced about and played. Only I knew 

the plane was gone.

It had already been thrown away.

Here's the reality of teaching -

there are so many adults "in the soup" of it! We are all working hard, alongside one another, with our own duties and concerns, often overlapping and intertwining.

We do the best we can.

We assume good intentions.

There'll be another box.

Can we talk together?

This magic moment:

It is indoor recess and they play together, building with our large, foam, 'blue blocks.' They construct a simple structure with a long bench, which promptly becomes a shared bench for conversation. They pretend to be Momma and Daddy, and talk about taking care of the baby and the dog. One preschooler does all the talking, because, honestly, the other is developmentally delayed in speaking. What makes this first preschooler persist in the conversation? She has a sixth sense for her partner's delight and interest in the game, and a huge empathic heart that is not in the least bit stopped by lack of speech. It is beautiful to watch.

We adults have much to learn from children.

Magic.

Why teach about Black Lives Matter to preschoolers?

I am posed this question a lot.

Some have challenged me, saying that Black Lives Matter is inappropriate for preschoolers. When I begin to explain the work that I do, others have said - "oh, you are just watering it down. That's not Black Lives Matter. That's 'all lives matter.'"

Here's the thing:

What do we hope for high schoolers when they graduate, regarding mathematics? Don't we hope that they will be very strong in math, that they will be able to wrestle with concepts in algebra, trigonometry, calculus, and more? What about their literacy skills - aren't we hoping to create fervent readers? Aren't we hoping to create strong writers? Aren't we hoping that they can compose their thoughts into intelligible arguments, to be able to give bold speeches, to stand up for themselves, and to defend principles?

I do not ever speak of algebra or calculus in my preschool class. I do not ever speak about literary classics. However, I offer strong mathematical and literacy opportunities at the preschool level, laying the foundation for more challenging skills as they advance through their schooling.

Black Lives Matter can be treated similarly.

What are the skills that we want to foster in our young children so that they might be able to advocate for all? How do we lay the groundwork so that they are fortified to create a softer, kinder, inclusive world where all are supported and nurtured?

It is not okay to postpone or avoid this teaching. It begins now.

What about the five senses?

Throughout this first trimester of school, the Big Cats have been exploring the fives senses: sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell. We have:

• created our own sound museum (varied containers made of different materials, with five acorns each),
• gone on listening walks (total silence, stopping to share what we hear, creating a 'sound' poem),
• banged on drums,
• worn blindfolds when playing Magna Tiles and painting pictures,
• worked with pumpkin-scented playdough,
• tasted a variety of apples (Granny Smith was a favorite!),
• made visual timers (clear plastic bottles and mixtures of oil, glitter, paint, and waterbeads),
• participated in smell tests (the children had the funniest words for smells they could not see),
• listened to John Coltrane (he put sounds from his environment into his music),
• hidden in a dark cave (well, a cardboard box...),
• dared to take three growing bites of lunch foods we didn't think we'd like,
• raced toy cars through paint (because, why not?),
• explored birdseed, waterbeads, sand, shredded paper, and more, with our bare hands,
• created a sensory alphabet (cover the cardboard letter with glue and then dip it into all sorts of different materials and textures),
• on and on and on.

All the while, we think about which senses we are using, and why things are the way they are. Preschool is a time of wonder.  Children learn best when their senses are employed. Learning in the Big Cars classroom is hands-on, active, and process-oriented. There will be lots more experimentation throughout this year.

"Experience is not the best teacher, it is the only teacher. 

If it's in their hands, it's in their hearts, and in their brain." 

- Bev Bos

Why are they having so many tantrums?

This question came up over and over again at my family conferences...as it does every year...and I thought I might ramble a bit on this topic...

Families wondered -

Do they tantrum at school?
Every little thing seems to set them off.
They fall apart when they get home.
The smallest thing upsets them!
They'll dig in their feet and refuse to move on, screaming and crying, over and over.
There's been a real uptick in tantrums since school began.
They really don't do this at school?

Thankfully,
mostly,
preschoolers do NOT do this at school.

Thankfully,
mostly,
preschoolers save this for their loving families.

One part of these tantrums is simply due to the adjustment to the school year. It is such a big transition, to be in school all day long, with so many peers, following rules, keeping to expectations, trying to take a nap with twenty peers, going to aftercare with a different set of teachers...so many new things, so much new learning. Home, where you are assured of love, is the perfect place to fall apart.

(This teacher is certainly thankful that this is mostly the case - children save their tantrums for home!)

My suggestion - make home a soft landing. Try to lessen the expectations on kids, have an easy and predictable routine - maybe some fun exercise together (a walk outside? a dance party?), favorite foods for dinner, a nice bath and some books, early to bed.

Also, ask yourselves how much power does your child actually have? How might you weave a little 'freedom of choice' into their time with you? No, they don't get to make the big decisions, but, can they have a little say on some things? A sure sign that your child needs to have a little more say is when you start having problems in one of three areas: toileting, sleep, or eating. Here, children can assert control and there is very little that you can do about this. If this is happening at your house, think about your daily routine with your child and find ways to relax some part of it - for example, lay out options for lunch and let them choose from these for their lunchbox; same for getting dressed -  keep 'appropriate' choices in their bureau and let them choose what they want to wear. Maybe you have ten minutes to play with them... let them decide WHAT you will play with them and then you follow their every command. This is so satisfying for a preschooler! Such a boost!

In addition to giving them a little say or power in their lives, look for ways to have them help with the household. They want so much to be a part of the action! These are excellent years for cultivating self reliance and responsibility. With your guidance, let them DO real work - set the table for dinner, take their plate to and from the table, push the vacuum...honestly, children are looking to DO.

And, truly, preschoolers CAN DO.

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.

What is that in the tunnel?

Time to make a move forward. Listen to your inner voice and you will know exactly what you have to do.

-Grasshopper

The preschoolers raced out onto the playground, and up onto the playscape,
and the next thing I heard was screams from within the climbing tunnel.
I ran to the tunnel to see what was the matter,
to see who was climbing over whom.

Surprise!
No one was hurting; there was a grasshopper* in the playscape tunnel!
A big beautiful green grasshopper!
An amazing find!!

Thankfully (?), someone had left a trash cup on the playground,
so I was able to catch the grasshopper.
I moved the grasshopper down to the mulch, along the brick wall,
where it delighted the children for some twenty minutes or so.
I encouraged the children to work like scientists,
to stand back a little bit and observe;
we sang “What do you see as you look closely?”
The children were in both awe and fear -
especially when the grasshopper would unexpectedly fly.
Truly, the children swarmed the grasshopper, trying to get a very close look.
As the grasshopper climbed the wall,
I lifted children individually to see it up close.
We wondered why it kept licking its front legs.

Later, after lots of observation
(and so many students playing very close to the grasshopper),
I moved the grasshopper into a bush/undergrowth by the side of the school.
Time for it to have a little privacy!

Back in the classroom, quickly trying to think of a way to extend this learning,
I placed some simple coloring pages of grasshoppers in the writing center,
to discover during our centers play. While the children colored, they shared their thoughts.
Their thoughts form almost a story:

(Me, prompting) A grasshopper came to the playground. We found him in the tunnel.
What did you notice?

(T) He wanted to have a ride.

(W) He wanted to go down the slide.

(E) I saw it. He was walking. See that wall over there. He walked under it, on it.

(C) I was running away from the grasshopper because it was about to climb on me,
all the way to my head.

(J) Why was he licking his hand? Because he ate something - our lunches!

(B) That’s just what he wants.

(L) That it flew...I saw it walking on the tunnel and I went down.

(S) He flied and I run away and then I came back and then I saw him licking his hand.

(T) He so creepy.

(W) He want to climb up the wall.

(Sh) When I saw the grasshopper, it was trying to get in my eyes, and I run and run and run.

An unexpected inquiry about grasshoppers!! Totally exciting for all.

*Full disclosure - I found out the next day from one of my parents,
who is also an entomologist, this grasshopper was actually a katydid! Ah, well,
still great learning, all around!

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!

Have you seen our restaurant?

Today, I ‘stopped by’ the new restaurant that has opened in our classroom and I thought I share a restaurant review ;-)


This is a small and casual place, with only two tables, but many willing and excited wait staff. You will not go unattended! Yes, the service is speedy and friendly. The restaurant has a real ‘family’ feel to it, especially in that you sometimes have to bus your own table. It is a very casual environment, with one host talking with her grandpa on the telephone as she directed me to my table. One challenging moment -  two hosts showed up at the front counter to welcome patrons, and they got into a loud but brief argument over which one would use the phone.


It’s clear that the restaurant is training new staff. One waiter put a hot frying pan right on my table, in the midst of my meal - that was a surprise! Another waiter took off her shoes as she was taking my order. I wonder if the wait staff is able to earn a living wage, because one great waiter was in her fire chief uniform, and she explained that she was getting ready to go to her next job.


What are the food specialties? As soon as you are seated, potato chips are delivered to your table as an appetizer. I had a delicious bowl of “Carrot and Lemon Soup.” Chef R breezed into the dining area with the suggestion “Try our cakes!” and Chef M was right behind him, adding “Try our pancakes!” Then, Chef H chimed in “We’re making cake in no time at all!” Do you know the special ingredient in their delicious sandwiches? Two small, thin cookies! A true culinary delight.


It’s clear that the restaurant is not yet accustomed to serving crowds, because when I ordered many of the menu items, I received the answer “We don’t have that.” Here’s hoping they work out the kinks in the days to come! Yes, if you have a chance to eat at the Big Cats’ new restaurant - go and enjoy their novel approach to good food.

Are you able to bear the responsibility?

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.

Second day of school. Early dismissal for preschoolers. 12 noon. Three of them wait to be picked up. Tick-tock, tick-tock. 12:10. One child helps to sweep the floor, one child dances on carpet, one colors at a table. These three watched every other child get picked up. Oh, here is a family! Down to two children. Three teachers, two preschoolers. 12:15  I lean down to tie the dancing preschooler's shoes; no sign of his parents yet. Oh, here's another family! This Mom has questions, I turn to answer her -  "yes, we need napping materials for tomorrow's full day..." and, quietly, invisibly, unexpectedly, he slips out. Elopes. Right by me, standing three feet from the door of our classroom. He, my dancer, the last child, waiting, desperately, for a Mommy or Daddy or another loving adult who never comes. He is impatient, he is three. He has just watched every classmate get picked up. 

In a split second, he was gone. 

Just a minute more, maybe only 30 seconds later, I knew he was gone, too - and I bolted from my classroom, down the hall, towards the front desk - only to be met by Mom and Grandmother, holding him firmly by the hand. Mom was livid - "I did NOT find him right here in the hall! I found him out front, coming out the front door of the school!" 

Her angry eyes will stick in my memory forever - devoid of trust, filled with hurt and anger.

I rambled,

"I am SO sorry. I am SO sorry. I need you to know, this is on ME, I am responsible. He was just here, and he slipped out, and that SHOULD NEVER EVER EVER have happened and I am totally at fault. I am so sorry. I have never had this happen in all my years of teaching and it won't happen again, I promise."

She was LIVID.

Words are nothing but nasty air when one's most important possession has almost vanished.

I continued,

"Please, this is horrible. I invite you to speak to our principal about this. It is a terrible mistake and you should report it. I can assure you it won't happen again. I'm sorry."

I moved automatically to find my principal, and I breathlessly told her, "Please speak with this family, they are so upset, as they should be - their preschooler in my class slipped out the front door of the school at early dismissal."

My principal asked with remarkable calm, "Did we find the child?"

"Yes! His family was walking right up to the school when he was walking out - they grabbed him and brought him back to me."

My principal continued to me, before talking to the family - "This is a blessing. Hear me, it's a blessing. He was found. He is safe. Now we know. We revise our plan. We continue on." 

As she walked toward the family to talk further, I dissolved into tears. 

It is hard to bear the responsibility.

***

Epilogue -

Even now, a whole year later, it is hard to think about this day.

My principal and colleagues gave me tremendous support and perspective, and I am so appreciative. We revised our 'end of day' routines, and there was never another such incident all year. I worked hard to rebuild trust with the family; I am very close to this family, now.

Truly, on this day, my biggest fear about working with young children happened: losing a child...that one might simply disappear, no matter how hard I try to keep my eyes on them. Whenever I hear one of those nightmare stories about a child who walks away from school, I think "but for the grace of God" - and I am filled with compassion for everyone involved. It takes a village!!

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!
 

SOLSC #23 And that's a wrap!

I am participating in the
March 2018 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOLSC).
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for thirty-one days.

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

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

Thought I'd share a moment from today. I really enjoyed how the children's block play grew organically, with very little input or prompting from me. I was able to sit back, observe, and take notes - the proverbial 'fly on the wall' - my favorite pastime in the preschool classroom. Let me share...

W wanted to make a house with a flat red roof. She worked with O, and continued to add pieces of different shapes and sizes. O decided it was no longer a house, but an apartment building. "A lot of people like this home," O said.

Then the focus was on the area around the house. Shouldn't there be a highway near the apartment building? "It's going to need sidewalks," C announced. More construction ensued. L suggested that the highway should have a bridge, with a road going under the highway. He became very excited at the way it was looking, declaring "We are building the whole world!" 

With this whole world in place, B wandered over and asked "Can I play family with these dollies?" Then the focus became all about the dolls [Duplo figurines]...how many could fit in the apartment building? How many would walk down the sidewalk? Maybe one or two would be on the bridge? M became very excited when she found two Duplo figurines that were identical - "Twins!! Look!!" O did not appreciate M's loud voice and reprimanded everyone with the words, "Everyone is supposed to be in bed right now!"

With preschoolers, it starts with blocks but it ends with family. Always.

This is my last slice of this March challenge...spring break has arrived and I'm off to Costa Rica in the morning, celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary! There are many more things I would have liked to write about, but I will save them for another time. I hope that everyone continues slicing and enjoys this last week of the writing challenge. I'll be back for the Tuesday Slice of Life in April. Enjoy!

SOLSC #21: How much should we say?

I am participating in the
March 2018 Slice of Life Story Challenge (SOLSC).
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for thirty-one days.

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

for teacher-writers to share and reflect.

The March For Our Lives, the national march against gun violence, is this Saturday, March 24, 2018 here in Washington, D.C., and I know many people who are participating. (Tony and I will be headed to Costa Rica for our 30th Anniversary on that same Saturday; I am sad to miss the march and so very excited about our trip.) Many families from my school have connected about this important issue and will be walking together with their children.

There have been so many tough conversations and strong opinions shared about this topic.

One tough conversation topic is about when should we be talking about these hard issues with young children? When is it appropriate to discuss these things with our youngest learners?

I wonder if one's perspective on this correlates with how sheltered one's own life is? Who falls on the side of preparing their children, talking about potential issues, opening their eyes to the cruelness of the world? Do these families have more history of violence or disenfranchisement? I wonder, how privileged are those who believe their children don't know about violence, don't know about racism, don't know about these hard topics, and we should not dare to bring these topics up?

Or is the varied responses to this - when should we be talking about these hard issues with young children? - more indicative of each adult's individual comfort with having these conversations? Do many simply not know how to approach or what to say, and therefore choose to avoid the discussion, deny its need?

In my classroom, I see preschoolers playing about real-world stuff. I hear them playing through real-world problems. I don't think children are escaping the cruelty of this world; I don't believe there is any way that they can. Example - there has been a huge uptick in gun play in my classroom these past few weeks. I believe this is precisely because of the tragedy of the school shooting in Parkland, Florida and our national conversation about guns. Just this past week, three preschoolers were "shooting" a block building that they had built. I saw the same thing after the attacks of September 11, 2001, when children built block towers and flew make-believe planes into these, toppling them to the floor. Children are like sponges, absorbing everything in the world around them - those tittering adult voices, those sad, frightened expressions on faces, that brief snippet on the car radio before a parent turns it off, the headline grabbing voice on the TV in the barber shop, the lunch counter, or car repair store. The cruel world weaves its way into their consciousness.

And whoa to the young child who has begun to read - how can they miss these stories on newspapers, magazines, TVs, computer screens?

If your child goes to school, your child is likely to hear about these hard stories from classmates and other students. Just as in the snippet about the block play above - friends will introduce children to these topics even if families are avoiding the conversation at home, even if families have walled off their child from the news.

Our violent world is the proverbial elephant in the classroom.

I don't see how it is possible to entirely shelter a child from these topics and I believe it is wrong to pretend that we can.

What is better, to have them hear a snippet of something real and violent and frightening, and then try to process it entirely on their own, in their own head? Or to dare to speak truth in a developmentally appropriate way?

We can't ignore violence.
We make a huge mistake when we avoid these hard conversations with our children.

We don't need to immerse them in the details of violent incidents, but we need children to be assured they are safe and we keep them safe. Certainly, we need to assure them that school is a very safe place. We need to honor their questions and concerns with answers, however incomplete or brief those answers might be. ("You are always safe here, I take care of you.")

Adults should intentionally cultivate opportunities for conversations about imprecise social issues, such as -
- arguments and how to have disagreements,
- how best to treat one another when we disagree,
- how to show frustration and anger in appropriate ways,
- how to join into play,
- how to be a helper,
- who is hurting? are you hurting? how to help someone who is hurting,
- what makes us feel safe? what makes us safer?
- what to do if they are scared,
- how to assert yourself when someone has something you want,
- what is fair?
- what to say or do when someone's doing something you don't like,
- how to listen to other perspectives,
- how to believe one thing strongly even while a classmate believes something else - and know that this is okay,
- how to make amends,
- how to give one another space,
-who to go to and what to do when something bad happens,
and so many more thoughtful, unending, ongoing conversations that normalize the work of living and being together. These respectful conversations will help a child feel less anxious, more able, and more hopeful. Through such conversations, we'll move from a stance of fear into one of courage.

We need to get children thinking about nonviolence. Our world needs this, now.

I believe the sad truth is - we must dare to talk about it now.