Surviving "Those Days"

Thinking about the #kinderchat summer blogging challenge, question 6, has been interesting. This question asks:"If we're honest, we all have days when, for any number of reasons (lack of sleep, family issues, minor illness, idiopathic crankiness...) we are just not at our best. There are days when, in any other line of work, we would probably call in sick, but we don't because we know the impact of our absence is so great. What are your survival tips and tricks to get yourself and your students through those days in one piece? Special supplies to keep on hand? Treats that get you through? Lifesaving lessons or activities?"

This is something I admit I was not the best at my first year of teaching. All too often I let the frustrations and isolation get to me and as a result, the entire class ended up having not the greatest days. Then I stopped and reflected and over time have grown into a better teacher. With it, the ability to seek out support to avoid the isolation and strategies to keep going past the frustrations.

I live my life with the mission of being proactive, rather than reactive and this extends into my work with children and families. This means that I work with the children and adults in the classroom (home) community to create and maintain a strong sense of community and relationships at the beginning of our time together. It's my hope that by establishing these relationships and rituals early that the bad days become minimal.

In all reality, however, I know that not every day will be the best day. There will be those days in which the Chicago winter forces us inside all day, when school photo days interrupts our peaceful existence, or when members of our community are just out of sorts (it happens, human emotions are meant to fluctuate). It is in those moments that I personally rely on large amounts of diet soda and the support of others.

In the classroom (homes), there are a few fallbacks, however, that keep the children and myself going forward:
*Using the tables, chairs, cubbies, hallways, etc to create obstacles for children to climb through/on/over.
*Blowing bubbles indoors.
*Fingerpainting.
*Playdough.
*Dancing and yoga.
*Books on tape.
*Indoor snowball fights with yarn balls.
*Shaving cream on tables.
*Attempting to pull (clean) plungers from the floor or walls. (Try it, it's amazing!)

And of course, there's always being honest. I have no problem telling my children when I have a migraine or the flu. Children have bigger hearts than adults and are amazing at adjusting themselves when the adults (children) that they love are not at their best.

Finally, forgiveness. These days happen. Forgive yourself and move on so that tomorrow is a better day.

What Do We Limit When We Say No?

Lately, I've been reflecting a lot on how adults too often jump in and break up groups of children when it appears as if the slightest hint of conflict is happening. All too frequently I see caregivers/parents/nannies/teachers rush to a group of children at the sound of raised voices and, without pausing to observe what is happening, tell the children to stop. Frankly? I think this is incredibly lazy and harmful to the social-emotional growth of the children. In particular, because often what the adults interpret as anger and conflict is actually the sounds of the children trying to solve a problem.

Take this snippet of my morning at the playground with a toddler as an example. The toddler and I were sitting near a piece of equipment that had a small horn shaped object on the top of it. The front of the horn was wide open and the back had a grate. As we sat and watched, a toddler from the local daycare that was visiting the park came over with a stick and began to push the stick through the front of the horn and out of the back. Fascinated, the toddler I was with grabbed for the stick. Toddler one resisted giving up his stick and instead handed my toddler a different stick. Satisfied, my toddler began to attempt to replicate toddler one's success at pushing the stick through the horn with much guidance and modeling from toddler one. As I sat near the toddlers I showed curiosity and excitement for their problem solving. My verbalizations attracted several other toddler boys from the daycare group. Curious, they crowded around the first 2 toddlers and eagerly grabbed for the sticks. As the original two toddlers resisted control of their sticks I suggested that we explore some of the many sticks on the ground to see which ones would also go the entire way through. And that's exactly what they did. With a lot of excited (loud) voices and a bit of jostling to get into position and have a turn, the toddlers experimented with different sticks to see if they could get the same result.

I suppose from the outside it looked as if a lot of pushing and arguing was going on. Suddenly one of the daycare teachers came running over and started to tell the boys to stop, yelling at them to drop the sticks and to leave "that lady and her baby alone". Being me, I didn't keep quiet. In my eagerness to share the boys' accomplishments I told the teacher that one of her children had discovered that he could make a stick slide through the horn and that the other boys were now exploring this phenomena. I told her that if she stood back she would hear their conversations and see that the boys were not fighting, that they were attempting to figure out how to get a turn and how to watch what the other children were doing. They were not fighting. They were discussing the ideas of fairness ("let me have a turn", "I do it too"), the properties of the sticks ("your stick is fat", "do this one"), and they were observing ("it's stuck, mine now"). I told her that, all because one of her young students initiated an exploration, that the boys were now engaged in scientific inquiry and were able to practice solving conflict problems.

What would those boys have missed out on had their teacher simply made them disperse before finding out what was happening? What had the teacher missed out on learning about these boys? That's a huge price to pay, missing out on learning about what your children are learning, by being too quick to rush in. This is why I say that it's lazy. It's easier to use your power as an adult to make a child or group of children stop something rather than taking the time to observe and then facilitate (if needed) among the group. We owe more to our children. We owe them the best use of our power as adults, in many cases the willingness to relinquish this power and to back up and let the children figure things out, so that our children can grow up to be problem solvers and innovators. Yes, it is hard work as an adult to do this. It requires us to trust the children and to honestly listen and observe. But it's work that must be done.

As the toddler and I got ready to leave the park for the morning it struck me by the amount of adult voices I heard yelling (from a far) at children telling them no. "No, don't touch that child's ball." "No, get down from that block." "Stop digging a hole." Lazy. As a caregiver/teacher/nanny/parent it is our responsibility to our children to facilitate and encourage problem solving and innovation rather than simply suppressing it because we can't be bothered to walk over and engage with the children, to truly see what they are doing.


Let's provide our children with opportunities to face a brick wall and figure out how to get over it.

Strengthening Relationships: A Mini Intro of Me

For week five of the #kinderblog2012 challenge we were asked to create a photo post showing five things from our homes, describing them in 140 characters or less, that provides the community with a glimpse into who we are perhaps outside of the education realm. This was surprisingly more difficult than I thought, but I thought I would give it ago and simply use the cropping tool to hide the scattered mess that my little basement apartment tends to be!




Two things I do completely for myself and where I find balance and growth, but that tend to branch out to my work.




My love of scrabble, turned into a drive to create, inspired by the ways I try to live life.




This shelf is my metaphor; a mix of grad student, professional, avid reader, eclectic.




A bit random, a bit off center, full of potential. Chaos that works within structure. The way I work and live.




World's meanest cat. (Don't let her small size fool you.) Rejected by 6 families, my weakness for the outcast gave her a home.

Perhaps this tiny glance into my world outside of play and learning adds a little insight into what I tweet and post. Or perhaps it has confirmed the fact that I'm a bit off the wall!

Mama Mia! A Teacher's Hidden Dream.

After a bit of serious and reflective posts, I thought it was time for a bit of levity and question four for the #kinderchat2012 blog challenge provides just that opportunity.  This question asks, if you were not teaching, what would you be doing?"

This is an interesting question because upon first reading this most of my thoughts flowed towards things that I'm in the position to pursue and/or very likely will do in the future.  For one, I am currently in the midst of a teaching hiatus as I embrace grad school and new opportunities.  This, however, doesn't quite count as something new as I'm attending a graduate school in child development and will be completing an internship in which I will be working with teachers.  So though I'm not a classroom teacher, I still consider myself a teacher at heart.  I also thought that I would write about how I would open a yoga studio for children and families and spend my days helping children learn healthy habits and how to use yoga to calm anxiety.  Well, that's still education related and a dream that I will pursue when finished with grad school, so that doesn't count for thinking outside of the box either.  Okay, I've got it, were I not teaching or in grad school I would join the peace corp.  Nope, this doesn't quite stretch the imagination either as this is still a path I could very likely take after school (and will probably involve teaching, so no dice!)

Are you ready?  My secret fantasy, the one that sometimes surfaces in my dreams at night, is that I am a Broadway musical star.  Never mind that I have the worst sense of rhythm that even country line dancing provides challenging for me.  Forget the fact that when I sing in guitar class I do so so quietly because I know that I'm off tone.  It doesn't matter that though I sing all day long when with children I know that I don't stay in any kind of a lovely tune.  Let's not even forget that I'm still quite nervous and shaky speaking in front of large crowds.  Regardless, I think that being a star on Broadway would quite possibly be the best job on the planet.

I have seen RENT from the front row every single time it has come into town (waiting in line for hours to get the $20 rush tickets), I cry at the end of Wicked every time I see it-heck, every time I hear Defying Gravity, I watch the DVD versions of my favorite musicals over and over since I can't watch them at the theatre every night.  I love musical theater.  And despite the fact that in high school I spent my drama club days frolicking in the background as a wicked stepsister in Roger and Hamerstein's Cinderella or as a green leotard (I'm not kidding, it was horrendous) clad guardian of the gates in 'Oz while my friends belted out the leads as Cinderella and Dorothy, I had a blast.  And there is a little part of me that wishes I had the talent to be on stage.

But then I wake up and I remember my passion for children and education and social justice and I'm quite content that my closest brush with the Broadway stage was when we bought onstage tickets for Xanadu and I sat next to the daughters of Zeus waving my little glow stick proudly.

The City as a Playground

This summer I decided to take on the monumental task of throughly reading "The 100 Languages of Children", first the advanced reflections version and next the newest version in which the educators discuss how their thinking has changed throughout the years in Reggio Emilia.

As I concluded a chapter on the spaces in which children learn I was struck by this particular quote, "the many ways in which the familiar space of the city can become the stage for and subject of activities and constructive explorations" (Reggio Children, S.r.l, 1987,1996). I began to reflect on how underused our own city, and outdoors in general, has become. Yes, Chicago has many amazing museums that our children should off course have the opportunity to visit. But our city is more than the museums, and in fact the museums are very disconnected from the daily life of the children. In a city like Chicago where there are dozens of neighborhoods with their own flavor and vibrancy, shouldn't our children have the opportunity to explore their familiar surroundings in a deeper manner? Think of the learning that can be constructed right outside the schools, daycares, and homes!

Shadows are such a fascinating phenomena and are of particular interest to young children. Consider the different shapes and designs that familiar, city objects make on the ground. What an opportunity to play with light and the child's own initiative right outside our doors.













Children enjoy the exploration of interesting shaped places and, when given the time and space to do so, will peer through the cracks in fences, gates, bridges, buildings in order to see things in a different manner.






Children will look at every day landmarks in a new way. These landmarks will cause them to imagine what it's like to be a different character; they can become lions or live among giants.







The city is waiting for the children to embrace it and make it their own. Step outside of the classroom and allow the children to construct meaning in their city. They are after all our youngest citizens.

To Me, Cute is a 4 Letter Word and Other Random Annoyances

The third question in the #kinderblog2012 challenge is to tell the group about your pet peeves. While I tend to have many (I'm looking at you people who refuse to move away from the eL doors when there is an abundance of room inside the cars), for this particular reflection I'll stick to some topics that have recently been bothering me in terms of education and schooling.

I have a huge problem with the word "cute". Not only do I find it disrespectful when used to describe a child, I also think that it's quite unhelpful in terms of feedback. By telling a child that they themselves are cute they are hearing that their physical attributes are something they should focus on. By telling a child that their work is cute they are hearing that all of their effort, dedication, problem solving was not important and that what matters in the end is a pleasing product. I also take issue with the way the word "cute" is thrown around when planning activities for children. When I ask a teacher that I am working with why they chose to have the children complete a particular activity (most often these end up being the cookie cutter art projects that end up looking the same for every child and match a holiday) and they tell me it's because the activity is cute I seriously question the validity of the activity. Choosing to do an activity because it is cute is not developmentally appropriate and focuses too much attention on the end product and not the process of getting there.

Along the same lines, I also am bothered by the abundance of false and meaningless praise. All too often I hear well meaning adults telling children "good job", "you're so smart", "that picture is beautiful" and it tends to grate on my nerves. "Good job" does not provide the child with any feedback on what skills they are using are actually successful or what it is about their work that was done in the correct manner. Telling a student "you're so smart" or "you're so artistic" treads on the dangerous territory of focusing on what may be perceived as innate traits rather than on the effort and determination used to reach a goal. As I have written in my posts about the mindsets of education, this can be quite detrimental to a child's willingness to try new things. Finally, praise such as "that picture is beautiful" not only draws attention away from the process of the child, but can also end up being counterproductive. Children are smart. They know when they have created something that is not necessarily beautiful and they are okay with that (in fact I've met children who use art as expression and quite purposely create art that is "ugly" or "angry" because that is how they are feeling, they most certainly don't want to hear that their picture is beautiful". Hearing an adult tell them that it is beautiful when it's not tells them that the adult isn't really looking at their product.

I hate flashcards and worksheets. This is probably abundantly clear to anyone who reads this blog or my tweets.

This one may cause a bit of discontent among my readers, but I'm going to list it anyway because as members of a professional learning community I feel that it's healthy and productive to disagree from time to time. I cannot stand factory created signs, borders, decorations, etc inside of classrooms. A classroom should reflect the community that resides in it and store bought decorations do not promote this. They are also too busy and primary colored for my educational beliefs. I want the children's learning space to be natural, encouraging curiosity, and representative of who we are. As such, the only things I believe belong on the classroom walls are the children's work, expectations that the children and teacher have come up with together, class and project work (for example chart papers with the recordings of a meeting discussion that the children and teachers refer to), a visual schedule created by the teacher using student's photos, and photos of the children and their families. I'm all for signs informing the parents and visitors about the learning taking place in each center, but signs created by the teachers.

I've recently began to hate the terms "academic preschool" or "academic kindergarten". To me, these terms not only devalue the other classrooms or programs without those titles by inferring that they are not as rigorous, but they also strongly disrespect play. Play is the academics of early childhood and we should defend that and shout it from the rooftops. Play is valuable and does not need to be minimized by saying that one room is academic and one room is play-based. In early childhood these are one and the same and the less time we spend trying to hide play and more time highlighting play the better.

Finally, I've lately been struggling with teachers who are anti-collaboration and have the "my room is my island" mentality and with teachers who have an unwillingness to try new methods or materials. As someone who is a teacher, a student, and a teacher mentor, these two things are very frustrating. But, as these are also two qualities that I know I will have to learn to work around and inspire change, I also know that I will have to not let them annoy me, but rather allow them to push me to be better and to share by example the wonders of collaboration and risk taking in learning among adults.

The Growth Mindset and the Opportunity to Play

As I've written earlier I've recently read Carol Dweck's "Mindsets: The New Psychology of Success" and was struck with the implications it has on education. In particular I began to reflect on the growth mindset and the opportunity to play.
Play is the integral learning of children. It is both enjoyable and frustrating. It is fun yet difficult. Play defines how children learn to process their selves, their emotions, their world. It is through play that children learn to negotiate among other people, to solve problems, to persist. When Dweck talks about the growth mindset she talks about people who believe that through effort they can change their intellect, abilities, and skills and that within the growth mindset there is the thought of learning and creating. What she is describing are all attributes that are developed through high quality play. Through spontaneous play and play that occurs in quality learning environments children are teaching themselves and each other how to have a growth mindset.

Through play children are learning what it means to take turns, how to deal with both winning and losing in a manner in which they still feel good about themselves, and how to ask for help.

Through play children are learning how to cooperate, how to help each other, how to try something new.

Through play children are learning the courage to investigate something new, to dig a little deeper when they don't understand.

Through play children are learning to take a chance, how to let their curiosity lead them to new learning.

Through play children are able to feel safe in creating and looking at objects in a new way.

Through play children learn that they can keep trying if they fail the first time.

Through play children are creating a growth mindset. Let's defend the children's right to play and with it their right to grow their mindset so that we are teaching a generation of people who are free to take risks and challenges, who are excited to learn and create, who know that if they fail it is only the start of a process not the definition of who they are.