sol17-20 Are we listening?

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.

Near the end of a day, when many children had been picked up, and the room was growing quieter and only a few children remained, she came to me and said, "Ms. Ingram, I have a song I want to share." "A song?" I asked, "Oh please do!" She began solemnly, "I have a song about Rapunzel. There's no sorceress, only a bad guy and the bad guy, he..." I realized immediately, this was not a song, certainly not a typical song, but a story, a sharing, an outpouring of words that this little preschooler was simply bursting to offer. I got out my pen and wrote her offering down.

I love that she called it a song. 

I love that she knew I would want to capture it, that I would write it down and read it back to her.

I love that I have created the space for such sharing to happen.

I worry that I am not hearing everyone's stories.

I worry that my days get too busy, that I have too many to do's.

I worry that one day someone will say, "excuse me, that child is not focused on what is in your lesson plan for this part of the day." 

Well, I don't really worry about this happening to me, because I would no longer be teaching if that were the expectation. But, honestly - it is happening in classrooms. Yes, even in the preschool classroom, there is an ever-increasing burden for writing detailed lesson plans, noting each and every standard or objective you will teach. 

I worry about novice, less-experienced teachers who bow to administrations that ask this of them, who faithfully expend hours making the minute and predictive details of curriculum planning and who teach to these plans, but have not the time to observe, or reflect on, or to be truly present with their students. If the expectation is on the paperwork, the forms, the "shell" of teaching, how do teachers learn to focus on the individual student, to create a classroom that builds on children's own interests, and where children are curious, investigating, moving, conversing, trying, questioning, wondering?  

This little girl and her story song - these are opportunities woven like a golden yet invisible thread into the fabric of my planning. You won't find them listed anywhere in my plans. These moments are when I feel my teaching is at its best: children who have been so riveted by books, so engaged by their play, so delighted by dramatizing stories, so lost in their learning, that they must, simply must, tell you all about it. 

We teachers must be there to listen.

Isn't this what children deserve?