What do you see in the cup?

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.

Observational drawing by Jada

It's spring and we have a cup of caterpillars in our preschool classroom! Just this past weekend, they formed chrysalises and the preschoolers are in awe. I've tried to slow down the thinking, having the preschoolers make observational drawings of what they see. (I will share a few of these here, in this blogpost.) I knew this was the perfect lesson for the "See Think Wonder" thinking routine, which I had learned from Project Zero training last summer. As they drew, I asked What do you see? I tried to keep the children focused on simply what was visible in the jar:

I see four chrysalises. I call 'em caterpillars. And the jar. And spider webs.

I see cobwebs, 'cause they make cobwebs, and cocoons.

I see cocoons.

I see this one and it has a black part.

I see cocoons playing.

Observational drawing by Misha

There is dirt on the bottom.

I see the bodies on the circle.

The caterpillars made cocoons and they are hanging up.

I see caterpillars walking and eating food. 

Caterpillars make cocoons.

Four cocoons.

Caterpillars have pointy things.

Cocoons hang from the sky. They are shaking.

I see a spiderweb.

Cocoons. They are shaking. Caterpillars make it.

I see cocoons.

Try as I liked to have them simply focus on what they saw - what they actually observed - the preschoolers couldn't help thinking and imagining. They shared thoughts aloud that were clearly not visible. I tried to return them to observation mode with a quick, What did you see that makes you think so? However, their musings multiplied and I let them answer - What do you think?

I think there was an egg.

I think caterpillars walk around and they sleep.

The cocoon is for the caterpillar

That might be food. They eat leaves.

Observational drawing by Audrey

Something's in it - maybe a butterfly.

They come from eggs, they turn into caterpillars, and then they turn into butterflies.

And push out into a butterfly!

It looks like fish; it is the same color. It looks like a Daddy Long Legs with its leg stuck in the web.

The caterpillars will turn into butterflies and then will fly.

I never even had to ask, What do you wonder? The preschoolers were mesmerized by the disappearance of crawling caterpillars and the arrival of four chrysalises hanging from the top of the jar. Their questions poured forth - 

Observational drawing by Henry

What are the webs for?

Are the caterpillars shaking the cocoons inside?

What let's it hang?

What is the gakky [sic] thing on the bottom?

Did the cocoon on the bottom die?

What do caterpillars eat? I wonder if they eat dirt?

Is it a spider web.

Are there new baby eggs in the jar?

What are the black fuzzy things on the bottom? Is it part of a caterpillar?

Why shouldn't we touch it?

Is the cocoon on the bottom eating the food?

Would the caterpillars be scared?

Observational drawing by Gabrielle

The most frequent wonder revolved around the movement of the chrysalises - these definitely appeared to be shaking, wiggling, moving. I loved this exchange between four students -

What is making them shake?

- Because they are shaking a lot of days.

- Caterpillars are playing in their house.

- Because they are trying to spread out their wings.

It is amazing how much language and thinking comes forth when preschoolers can watch this metamorphosis right up close!

sol17-25 Should we expect that?

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 was once told during an observation,

"Some children left the table after only a short while, meaning that they were not engaged."

Does it?

Well, I suppose, it might. You could probably make a case for this...whatever was at the table wasn't interesting, or the teacher didn't engage the child, or...

However, I don't think how long a student stays in one place necessarily indicates that they are stimulated by the work.

Should preschoolers be expected to stay in one place, to engage in a center?

What if they think of something else they want to do, in addition to this?
If they reach a stopping point, do we respect them enough to let them slip away?
Isn't it possible that they will perhaps return to do more in this center later?
What does engagement look like at age 3 and 4?
Should teachers be insisting that children stay put, working in one place?
Is the value of an activity directly related to how many students do it and for how long?
Should teachers insist that every student participate in every activity?
What do preschoolers learn when they get to decide what interests them?

I have open centers, student choice. On the best of days, I have nearly 90 minutes of this time for preschoolers, with a range of things for them to do, investigate, play, explore, learn. This means, preschoolers move freely from and between block building, science investigations, art exploration, dramatic play, writing, and more. There are three teachers in the classroom and at least one is a "floater," moving about the room and observing closely; another teacher (or sometimes two) is anchored to an activity, guiding students in specific ways.

I believe preschoolers should have the right and the privilege to leave the table, move away from a center, try another activity. I believe, as much as possible, they should be able to choose their learning. I believe that this flexibility of choice is developmentally appropriate practice.

Certainly, my hope is that I have stimulated them with the activity that has been introduced.
Of course, I know some preschoolers who resist new things, and I work with these students a little more, helping them to stretch and try.

Simultaneously, I am trying to cultivate longer attention spans and the ability to keep at something, even if it gets hard or doesn't go the way you expect.
Even so, I believe it is possible to work on things over time and sometimes taking a break is just what is needed.

Hopefully, I am observant about each individual student, noticing what they do and reflecting on what they need.
Argumentatively, there are so many individual circumstances that could change all meaning of what just happened!

I guess you can tell that this line from my observation report didn't sit well with me!

I walk away from my writing a lot. I'll write something, wander off and wash dishes or run a load of laundry, perhaps even go teach for the day, and then return to my writing, read through it, write some more, revise, and maybe wander off again. 

Do we respect this flexibility and choice in our youngest learners ?

Tuesday SOL: What have we done?

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.

We step forward into something new, and then we take a few steps back.

For the first many days, there was a open sensory table filled with sand and gems.
Joy,
delight,
exploration,
happy children.
Then it changed.
In a split second, a chaotic moment, a flash.
Children crowded together, struggling to share;
sand spewed, onto the floor, into eyes, into hair;
children were pushing, hurting, crying.

I closed the table and put a big red stop sign on the table.

Immediately, children dispersed, moved away, played elsewhere. It struck me that the children were use to 'losing privileges'. This was no big deal. Simply, move onto the next thing. This is daily life in an adult-run world.

Here's the reality - there is tremendous efficiency in an adult-run world.
I could take the sand out of the table, deciding that these children are too young and irresponsible to use it.
I could limit the table to just one or two kids, and make clean up much easier.
I could make a list of students, and assign them specific times to use the table.
I could make rules for the kids.
I could decide that I know best.

How deep is the learning if you simply have to turn to an adult to find out what to do?

The next morning, the table remained closed and the big red stop sign was firmly in place.

Children noticed.

One child tried to tear off the sign and lift the table top, to get to the sand again.
I moved over to him, crouching down, helping him to notice. "Oh my, look - a stop sign. What does this mean? What happened? Why would the table be closed?"

He made the connection. He said, "I threw sand."

The table remained closed and he helped me add more tape to the big red stop sign.

At morning meeting, I invited the whole class to recall what had happened at the sand table the day before -

"I got sand in my eyes."
"I got sand in my hair."
"She put sand on her."
"He took all the sand."
"I was being nice."
"You shouldn't throw sand!"
"Sand went on the floor."
"We had to sweep it up."

Yes, they had noticed.

I wrote the children's thoughts down on our white board in the front of the class. I shared their words with families. I told the children that we should hold on to these thoughts for another day or so, and to be thinking,

How can we play with sand?
How can we be together at the table?
What must we do?

Stay tuned!

I hope, through this noticing, we are moving towards real learning.

I am seeing that learning is many, many small and observant steps.