Leaders Are Not Always at the Front of the Line

 I stopped mid way up the stairs as I heard my name along with, “Who does she think she is, telling us how to run our classroom?". I stood silently listening for more. My heart raced as I listened for more. As I listened, I couldn’t help but to feel somewhat rebuked. I began asking myself, “Who am I?" . Even though I knew I had information, perhaps what one might call knowledge, I didn’t have the thread that would ultimately sew the pieces together. I didn’t have relationship. Back down the stairs I tiptoed. After all, I didn’t dare want anyone to know that I had heard such conversation. 

My next visit would not include my notebook or handouts. My next visit would include a smile and perhaps a sincere “How can I help you today”? Actually, most of my visits would proceed in this manner. As I would visit informally in the classrooms, with genuine curiosity to learn more about others, I was better able to find ways to connect with the staff and likewise. I learned that such an approach gave myself a better picture than any formal observation with a clipboard.  Before I knew it, trust had formed. This way of being, created a mutual trust and interest in serving children and families.

Years went on, I served in the capacity of facilitator, coach, and any other hat that seemed appropriate at the time. I never shared my secret in the stairway story. I held it in my heart, not out of hostility but out of vulnerability, humility. I never want to be the one who has all of the answers or the one who makes others feel as if they do not have the answers. I learned not only how to be a coach, leader, I learned how to truly come alongside. 

Leaders are not always at the front of the line. 

When Do I Get To Teach?

I Remember the Child So Well...

I remember the child so well. He would enter the preschool classroom almost every morning like a storm and some mornings you could even smell the storm. Other children would scatter as they knew those who remained in his way risked being pushed out of the path as he would make his way to his cubby each morning. His tense dusty face displayed hurt, often disguised as anger. Only one thing was found to help calm his upsets and calm our mornings. It was the rocking chair. I had my husband’s grandfather’s old wooden rocker in my classroom. Morning after morning, we would rock together and I would sing “Jesus Loves Me”. While rocking, the anger and hurt would seem to dissipate. We would rock until his dusty, grimace face was calm and even sometimes streaming with tears. Sometimes while rocking, I would think of the other children, wondering “when do I get to teach”. Thinking of the new big book that I just couldn’t wait to share or the pumpkin recipe I couldn’t wait to try during the morning circle time. Morning after morning, circle time was often interrupted in this way.  As days went on, our trips to the rocking chair became fewer and fewer, and some days I wasn’t needed in the rocking chair at all. This sometimes grimace faced child had learned to regulate his own emotions by going to the rocking chair to rock and calm his upsets on his own. It was then I realized in those moments that I had rocked and rocked, I had indeed been teaching. I was teaching more than that of any big book or circle time activity. The other children too had learned how to calm and self-regulate as they saw first hand an upset child who was calmed each day.

I also learned that before the needs of this child could be met, I had to find out his story, and we all have a story. He was living in very impoverished circumstances. His hurting manifested itself as anger and resentment. With no running water at home, his physical needs were not being met. As I modeled compassion and empathy for the child, the other children quickly joined in. As arrangements through a local church were made to meet the child's physical needs, his emotional needs were being attended in the classroom.

One day soon after, I heard a knock at the classroom door. As I opened the door, there stood the child’s parents, both mom and dad. They had come to personally offer thanks. Their visit came as a surprise to me as transportation wasn't easily accessible for the family. After that visit, I never saw the parents again. Time not wasted. Lessons not forgotten.

An Open Letter to Heroes Unsung

 An Open Letter to Heroes Unsung

The headlines read: “New light is shed on early childhood educators, a reverence for a new respect.”, “Early childhood educators are the new front line workers”, “Early childhood educators keep doors open”. 

The news’ headlines brought forth heroes who had for so long been hidden beneath the ordinary “day to day” happenings of our communities. For so long the pillar of our economy and the free world has been a faithful silent foundation, the ones caring, nurturing, teaching our children today, and preparing futures of tomorrows. Remaining faithful and committed to your calling, you held the hands of little ones and kept children close, maintaining normalcy during  the year when the world stopped turning.

Bravely, you entered an invisible war zone of a fearless pandemic. Each day you walked into the unknown prepared with a face mask, temperature check, hand sanitizer and prayers that didn’t cease. When everyone said “stay home”, your heart said go! While there were great victories along the way, some battles were simply lost. All day long you stared death in the face while the faces of the children looked at you without any hesitation, without any reservation and even full of joy. Parents looked to you with most confidence not only as a caregiver for their child but as a source of strength and assurity. There is no test, no assessment tool that can ever measure how much our children learned this year. What our children learned is unfathomable, too great to measure. There is no teacher evaluation tool to measure your valor, your strength, or your courage.  As children lost grandparents, either to quarantine or to the grave, and locks were placed on playgrounds, churches and school doors closed, you remained constant and unwavering. When your classroom doors had to close, you opened your homes to the world sharing cooking experiences, art projects, story times and even videos to model how to dress warmly in the newly fallen snow.

In total awe, I have watched you, not sure if I could have walked in your shoes myself. 

As the world begins to turn again and waken from the nightmare, you will continue to be the pillar of strength, the sparrow’s song just as you always have been. May you stand a little taller, a little braver, displaying proudly your warrior heart. 

Pocket Size Treasures

     Pocket Size Treasures

    

    Just as the stains noticed on clothes at the end of the day can often paint a story illustrating the day's events such as time spent at the art easel or perhaps a fall in a mud puddle. Have you ever wondered about the story hiding inside of those pockets? What are some things you have found inside a child's pockets at the end of the day? Perhaps, small sticks, unusual shaped rocks, a lost key, a bottle cap. The list can go on and on. Thus, such treasures can end up inside pockets of the beholder. 

    These items can be referred to as "loose parts". Discovery of loose parts can be a purposeful extension of a child's natural curiosity and play.  Feeling the beads in a jewelry box, exploring all the different sized shapes of nuts and bolts inside a tool box or maybe just spending time alone breaking apart sticks and sorting accordingly on a sandy playground. Such activities sparks creativity, imagination and calming. Breaking apart, constructing, or just tinkering  promotes creativity and everything else for creating and inventing. 

    I remember as a child both of my grandmothers referred to my younger sister as a "meddler", meaning that she would seek opportunities to "pilfer", "tinker" with their belongings, especially jewelry, buttons, hair pins, scarves as these items were usually displayed in random collections on pretty trays or inside keepsake boxes. Looking back, I realize my younger sister was indeed a "tinkerer" looking for opportunities to extend her thinking and curiosity with loose parts. "Tinkers" can sometimes seem bothersome especially if they are facinated with other's belongings, as was my sister and of course the origianal "OG" Tinkerbell! 

     I recommend two resources to learn more about purposeful "Loose Parts" play for young children. Lisa Daley's book "Loose Parts Play Inspiring Play in Young Children". Her book beautifully illustrates objects which encourage creative play in young children. Fairy Dust Teaching is a web based resource that shares ideas to incorporate loose parts play, as well as resources to encourage a natural play based approach to learning which stimulates creativity and problem solving in young children. 

     Children's books with imaginative emphasis on what treasures can become from one's pocket are a fun way to extend thinking about loose parts. A somewhat silly and nononsense, "Whats in My Pocket" authored by Todd Key is one suggestion.  The titled book, "Whats in Your Pocket" authored by Heather L. Montgomery is a story of how a pocket treasure can become something beautiful.
And, remember what you may find in those pockets just might be the beginning of something beautiful!   

      

Voices in the Library

 

http://youtu.be/VZlOfyU64xw

    I recently visited Stony Evan's library on the campus of Lakeside High School. The passion for student voice is inspiring, motivating, and truly contagious. A place where creativity and voice is not only welcomed but encouraged. The actual visit was just as inspiring as the video featured by the Arkansas Department of Education.

When Did We Forget?

   

A call for empathy, not judgement

 A call for love, not fear

    How is it that we forget what it is like to be a kid? Do we remember just how hard it is to sit in hard seats where often our feet do not touch the floor and listen to seemingly forever lectures of subject matter that may not interest us or be so far removed from our reality of day to day living that we just can't relate no matter how hard we try? How did we forget the embarrassing growl of our stomachs when we are hungry yet are two hours away from lunch? While the rule in the handbook states "no eating in class". How did we forget the rush to the bathroom in between classes in fear of being tardy? How did we forget the fear of a forgetting homework, forgetting lunch, forgetting anything for that matter? How did we forget the embarrassment of not passing a class, or yet not being on the list of "smart" kids? How did we forget the feeling of not measuring up? How did we forget what it is like to be laughed at for whatever reasons?

   In the real world, adults have choices such a choices of where to work, choices of where to attend worship. In the workplace we have protected rights. Rights to a bathroom as needed. Rights to breaks. Rights to protect from harassment and ridicule. Today's employers are looking for employees who can problem solve and collaborate, employees who can make decisions. Are we preparing children for the real world when schedules are regimented and structured with little or no choices throughout the day? Fear based punishments produce adults with little or no empathy. Regimented structures foster assembly line labor skills-following step by step instructions without question; however, these type of jobs are no longer the norm. In many instances kids have the same stresses and problems as adults, yet without any control to change the situation. No tools to solve today's problems let alone tomorrow's.

   Luke 18:16 reminds us that Jesus himself calls the children unto him. How precious they are. The Kingdom belongs to the children. Scripture goes on to warn those who causes the little ones to stumble.

When did we forget?

ONE HUNDRED WAYS or more!

   Loris Malaguzzi perhaps had a gift of seeing the child in ways that perhaps only the child can understand just not yet convey. The child whose possibilities are limitless within the realm of an environment which understands and inspires. In spite many good intentions, possibilities are often limited if not just down right diminished within the good works of the traditional classroom setting. I am reminded in scripture that even God values the voices of infants and children, as from their mouths He has ordained them. Matthew 21:16. Perhaps we should be still, and listen to the many languages of the child. 

THE HUNDRED LANGUAGES OF THE CHILD