Tuesday SOL: How's it going, two days in?

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.

Black Lives Matter Week of Action is underway! Just completed day two...I want to share a few extraordinary, beautiful moments...of which there are many. Let me begin with the "piece de resistance," our whole school banner - 

We worked on this fabulous banner throughout the school. Each floor of our school had one word, painted large on a 6 foot by 30inch piece of black banner paper - and each floor was expected to interact with their one word in developmentally appropriate ways. Everyone had special silver and gold Sharpie markers! The early childhood classrooms (PreK-3 through Kindergarten) worked on the word "Black," and we invited families to to work with their child at morning drop-off or evening pickup; some signed their names, others drew handprints, and some adults left special messages. Our questions were simple - What is Black? What is special about Black? What do we love about Black? Upstairs, on our elementary floor, students in grades 1-4 worked on the word "Lives," thinking about What do we need to live? What makes us feel alive? What is most important to life? Finally, on the third floor, our middle schoolers (5th grade through 8th) reflected on the word "Matter," and wrote messages in response to such questions as What matters to me? How will I matter? How do my actions matter? How do I make change that matters?

This afternoon, my colleague Monisha and I hung the three words together in our Commons, for everyone to see - creating the large vertical message Black Lives Matter.

It is breathtaking. I am so proud of our school!

Also hanging in our Commons are the 13 principles of the Black Lives Matter movement. Over the past several weeks, our middle schoolers prepared beautiful posters focusing on each of these. I am in awe of these students! They are our future.

Of course, preschoolers are not being immersed in these 13 principles...
my classroom has been both ordinary and wonderful these past two days.
As I said, we must be developmentally appropriate.
What have the preschoolers been up to?
Well, yesterday we created skin color handprints of our class community –
using multicultural paints, we worked with children to add their handprints
to a large circle of handprints. We asked, “Which color do you think most closely
matches your skin?” and preschoolers chose the paint that (s)he felt most closely
matched her/his skin, without correction by the teacher.

Skin color discussions are often fraught with tension for adults, something we would
never dare to speak about. Preschoolers are a refreshing change from this, so literal
and clear in their observations, noticing the variations and finding them to be simply
that, variations, nothing more – here are the children’s words:

I’m brown

I’m pink

I’m pinkish

I’m really light beige

I am red

I’m peach

I am brown

I’m tawny

I am silver

I am pink

I’m really light pink

I’m really light brown

It’s just peach

I’m pink, but I want purple

I’m a yellow pink

I am brown.

We've read two special books. Our first was Each Kindness by Jacquelyn Woodson, a story about a new girl coming to school and trying to make friends. This is a very long book for preschoolers and therefore, we began with a quick dramatization of the plot. Drama helps preschoolers get “into” a book, to feel it with their bodies. We had a lot of fun with this! As we acted out the plot, and reflected throughout –

What do we think new student is feeling?

What is her face telling us?
Think of things to say to a classmate when their face looks like that.

Have you ever been to a new school?

Have you ever been somewhere where kids were playing and you were not?

What did it feel like?

Is there anything the new student should say or do?

What are some kind and welcoming things we can say or do?

Then, we read the story…and it turns out, the children in the book were not
nearly as kind as our Big Cats. Jacqueline Woodson writes, “Each kindness makes
the world a better place.” She shared the metaphor of dropping a stone into water
and seeing the ripples it makes - each time you are kind, it sends ripples out
into the world.

Of course, then we had to get out a bowl of water and have the children
drop in pebbles, one by one…I asked the children, What is something kind
you have done, that ripples into the world?:

I play with my brother.

I share with somebody.

The kindness that I share.

I like the new friend.

Kind is being kind.

Play with friends.

Say hello to people when you go to school.

If you share, that’s nice.

Sharing is caring.

You can ask nicely.

I shared my toys with others.

I play with my brother a lot.

Mommy, she kiss me.

I love to hug with my Mommy and Daddy.

Share something with somebody.


The world is in good hands with these sweet preschoolers!

Today's special book was Beautiful Blackbird by Ashley Bryan.

Black is beautiful mural in process

This book led to a "black is beautiful" mural...the preschoolers love a process art project, especially one that involves glue! We have a white banner paper mural that students have painted with watercolors and oil pastels. Today, we began to cover it with all sorts of beautiful black materials, using glue – black construction paper, felt, sequins, pipe cleaners, tissue paper, fabric, pom poms...yes, a zillion different materials and textures for the children to explore. They are loving this!

Only two days in, we are off to an amazing start on our Black Lives Matter Week of Action.

Tuesday SOL What am I going to do?

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.

I haven't written a blog post or a slice in several weeks. To be honest, I've had a good bit of a writer's block with early childhood reflections - have I used up all my thinking? I'm sure that is not so. I feel pulled to write in other ways, especially about social justice. I am considering starting a second blog, to have a more specific outlet for such writing.

However, today, I simply must share with you.
Let me write into the pain, dare to speak it out loud, however inappropriate it may be to put these thoughts in an early childhood blog.

This past week has reminded me of the days that followed September 11, 2001.
Except this time,
the pain is internal, self-inflicted, our nation at war with itself.
My fellow citizens are the source of the horror.

Angry America showed up at the polls.

As I experienced in 2001,
my classroom is my refuge,
where I can shut out the news,
quiet the radio,
avoid adult conversations,
ignore the outside world, and
immerse myself in loving my babies.

How happy and loved and safe I feel within my classroom walls, with children keeping me very much in their "present" ...let's build blocks, let's play with clay, let's sing songs together, let's tell stories, let's chase one another around the playground, let's be together. I have the greatest job in the world.

I teach children
to listen to one another,
to watch another's face for emotion,
to say kind things,
to speak their truth,
to care about others,
to respect our individual uniqueness,
to try their very best,
to take actions that are good for all,
to live with love.

Our newly-elected President is the antithesis of this.
He has demonstrated an appalling lack of pretty much any value I hold dear.
One week later, the sick continues to sink in: his first appointment is a white supremacist.

When I am not at school,
I am aware that I am deeply sad.

When I am not at school,
I will not be silent.

When I am not at school,
I am going to keep writing into the pain.

SOLSC #20 What if we take one step closer?

During the month of March, I am participating in
the Slice of Life Story Challenge.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, every day for thirty-one days. My slices will be primarily about teaching preschoolers.

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

He appeared out of nowhere in the hallway with several of his middle-school classmates, on his way to class. She, the mom, had just dropped off her sweet little guy at my preschool classroom, to start his day. As she passed by, his shoulder knocked against hers, and then he fell to the floor - much to the merriment of his classmates. Mom was a little surprised, asked if he was okay, he nodded yes in the midst of the laughter, and everyone went on their way.

The next morning, as Mom left my classroom after kissing her little guy goodbye, there he appeared again, tall, imposing, mischievous, surrounded by his middle-school friends. As Mom headed down the hall, he jabbed his shoulder into her shoulder, all the while sporting a big grin, and he threw himself down onto the floor, accompanied by more laughter from his friends. Mom hurried out of the school, on her way to work, but, unlike the day before, an uneasy feeling lingered. Was he doing this on purpose? Why this interaction two days in a row? After some thought, she contacted our principal, to share her concerns.

She didn't know his name. She could only provide a physical description.

The first I heard about any of the above was when the sixth grade boy was brought to my classroom by the principal mid-day, while the preschoolers were napping. The principal asked me if I had a little boy named Mark in my class. Yes, I do. Then she introduced John to me, the middle-schooler, and asked him to tell me why he was here. "I bumped into Mark's mother today and yesterday," he said in a quiet, uneven, chagrined voice. The principal continued, "John has written a note of apology. I think it is very important for him to meet Mark's Mom in person, to deliver the apology. What time does she pick up Mark?" And so it was agreed that John would return to apologize in person that afternoon, and give the note of apology.

Oh these foolish, young boys. There is nothing more important than making your classmates laugh.

The end of the day arrived, preschoolers were being dismissed to their families, and John appeared as planned. I introduced him to little Mark, saying "You'll be apologizing to this little guy's Mom." John was visibly contrite, looking a little nervous about what was yet to come. Into the classroom walks Mark's Mom and she sees John and me and her eyes grow wide. They step out into the hallway and John says his apology and gives her the note, and then he scoots away. Mark's Mom comes over to me, and whispers "How did he know to come here? I didn't want him to know who my child was. I have to tell you I am very scared of him. He said a very nice apology, but he did that mean shoving two days in a row. I think I'm being stalked. I spoke to the principal because I am scared."

I was caught off-guard by this and simply patted her arm, assuringly, saying, "It's okay. He feels very badly about what he did." Mom and Mark went on their way.

However, I couldn't shake the taste of this interaction, her words to me. I wondered,

Does it matter that this middle-schooler is Black?
Does it matter that this Mom is White?
How are we to be in community together - diverse people, diverse ages, preschool, elementary, middle school?
What does it mean for our community if adults are afraid of certain students?
How do we move towards one another?

I am the mother of three boys and any one of them could have done what John did when they were in middle-school. They did many, many foolish things. My boys are White. Did they get a free pass for silly, immature antics at this age?

After several days of wondering and wrestling with this, I followed Mark's Mom out of the classroom after drop-off and opened up the conversation again. "Hey, I was just wondering, have you seen John again since his apology?"

"No, actually, I haven't. Isn't that weird?"

"Well, I hope you do see him soon. I think it would be great if you gave him a big hello and called him by name. 11 and 12 year old boys are so foolish sometimes; my own boys embarrassed me greatly at that age."

And I left it at that.

Maybe a little preachy on my part...but, I wonder. How do we move towards one another? What if we dare to take one step closer?

Tuesday SOL Thoughts about Charleston

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

Check out their website for many more reflections on teaching.

I am finding it impossible to think or write about anything other than the horror of what happened in Charleston, SC last week.

Nine innocent, beautiful people were killed 

in their own church, 

during bible study, 

simply because they were black.

Simply because they were black.

Simply because they were black.

Careless Gardeners

This racism, this terrorism, this hate

is growing in the midst of so much beauty and good, 

like a pernicious weed in my garden 

emerging so similar in looks to neighboring flowers, 

tricking my eye and avoiding my trowel, 

unbeknownst to me, 

ignored, invisible, irrelevant, 

until I see it has begun to strangle my precious peonies and bleeding heart.

Am I a careless gardener,
hastily pulling off its lengths,
and simply smoothing out the soil about the plants,

oblivious to the multitudinous runners 

underground 

coursing every which way, 

still rampant?
Or do I dig down deep,
eliminating roots,
nourishing, cultivating, enriching,
turning over the soil?