the classroom composition

Bliss

2011-10-03T16:32:00.001-07:00

On my organic milk carton, there is a bit of marketing that says, "We allow cows their bliss: Green Pasture."

I think of this every day when we launch into our long-awaited free choice time in my classroom. The children are so happy. Finally, after our circle time, our literacy rotations, our specials, our lunch, recess, and rest, I allow them what they've been waiting for. Play is a child's bliss.

visiting the frogs

2011-06-01T18:23:00.000-07:00

We had tadpoles in our classroom. They were my first as well as the children's, and I learned as much as they did. It turns out that it's a very short season in a frog's life when it swims like a fish and eats little bits of spinach. Then suddenly it's a froglet and must be returned to the pond post haste, or it'll drown. I missed the chance to drop off our froglets, with their proud, brand-new little front legs, with our science teacher. She took the rest of the school's froglets back to the local nature center, from whence they came as eggs.

So my daughter and I loaded them in the car and took them ourselves. It was just before dark on a peaceful spring evening. I took photos of the froglets' homecoming to show my students, sad that they couldn't see them as frogs after all our careful observations and conversations about these little guys. My daughter and I wished them good fly hunting and all the good things in a froggie life, then released them back into the pond.

In the meantime, I was busily planning a trip to the Smithsonian American Art Museum in DC. Specifically, I wanted the children to see the folk art wing, where they could see art created with tin foil and bottle caps and bits of wood, and other stuff that would look familiar to them--and yet brand new--after our work with found materials. I couldn't wait for my low-income students to set foot in their very first art museum.

But it wasn't working out. The museum was hesitant to schedule a docent for a group so young, and if we waited until the museum opened to the general public, then we couldn't get a bus. I was disappointed and annoyed--the first field trip that I had conceived of from scratch and eagerly anticipated, and it wasn't gelling.

But then there I was with my lovely daughter, among frogs and birds and dappled sunlight, and I knew I'd found our field trip. We would come visit our frogs! It turned out that the nature center does a frog lesson just for our age group. We're going to take bag lunches and frolic around the pond for the better part of the day. It'll be grand.

We go on Friday. The children can hardly wait to see "their" frogs.

Next year, I'm going to figure out how to go the the Smithsonian American Art Museum AND the nature center. I love field trips.

A shout out on the NASA site

2011-04-30T13:17:00.000-07:00

My school has an education partnership with NASA, and our recent science fair is currently highlighted on their website. You can check it out here:

http://wiki.nasa.gov/cm/blog/NES_Teachers_Corner/posts/post_1304087977891.html

I'm especially excited about this because it includes a photo of the little pre-K science project my class did. As the photos scroll, look for the one that says "Float or Sink," made out of bread. It's brief, but it's there!

There are times when pre-K can feel like a bit of an afterthought in an elementary school, and it made my day to see that our work was included in our submission to the NASA site. Yippee for us!

It was a really fun experiment, too. Big, airy slices of bread (low density) float on the surface of the water, but if 4-year-olds mash up that bread into tight little balls (high density), then lo and behold, they sink! Good times.

Push down

2011-03-27T17:31:00.000-07:00

I wanted to make sure you saw this article over at Slate. I didn't know about these two, independent studies on the importance of play in early childhood, and I am really glad to know about them and their consistent but independently reached conclusions that play is essential. Two more studies to point to in the growing body of data calling for a focus on play in early childhood education.

I think about this issue every day, about the pushing down of curriculum. I think about how my pre-K classroom for at-risk four-year-olds is what many people envision a Kindergarten classroom to be. I bend over backwards to keep our learning fun and hands-on and full of light-hearted exploration, but I'm still asking them to come meet me in what I have designed, and it normally involves numbers, letters, and concepts that they are expected to know before they get to Kindergarten in my school district. I jealously guard their precious self-directed time, but it's still not enough in a day of so much curriculum to get through. I think about how many middle-class peers of my low-income students, in their private preschools around town, are getting lots of richly resourced, free exploration time.

There are times when I'm proud of what my students are learning and all the fun they're having while they're learning, and then there are times (when I read this article for instance) and I think, yowza, my program is part of the problem.

I have a lot to think about.

Hypnotic

2011-03-17T19:53:00.000-07:00

I was getting to the point where I hated rest time. We would be on the playground, running and playing and getting fresh air, and I would already start to dread going inside, because it meant minutes on end of policing a wiggly group of pre-K children who would rather do anything, anything, than lay quietly on their mats. I tried offering them books. One book. Two books. Unlimited books as long as you stay on your mat. I tried little stuffed animal friends. I tried passing out everyone's journal. I tried letting them choose their own spots, and I tried assigning spots. I tried music and no music. I tried singing a little ritual song as they lay down. I tried guided relaxation. I tried stern looks. I tried shaking a little egg shaker when they were too loud (which was always). The only thing left, the thing I'm not permitted to do, was to get rid of rest altogether.

Besides, they are only four, and a whole day at school is a very long time when you are four, so a true rest would be a good thing. If only I could figure out how. Instead, they were subverting any rest rule I made, and I was spending a chunk of each afternoon in the role of police officer, which is by far my least favorite role. I would sit at my computer and try to accomplish something (this is supposedly my planning time/lunch break, because they are supposedly asleep), and chaos would erupt behind me. (Sadly, I have a built-in wall desk in my classroom, so having my back to the action while I'm at my desk is not something I can fix.) I hated rest and so did they.

It was time to try something completely different. It just wasn't working as read aloud time, so I recast it as read aloud time. I read aloud to my own children at home almost every day, even though they are now eight and eleven years old, and it's something I love to do. I can read aloud quite happily for long stretches of time.

I told the children that today there won't be books to look at, or animals, or journals. Today I would read a book that's just words, no pictures. They will lay on their mats just like statues and listen, just like a statue stands in a garden and listens to the birds. Then I read aloud from a book of fairy tales.

On the first day I tried this, seven children out of fourteen fell asleep. This is up from zero. And the other seven were as quiet as, well, as statues. The next day, nine fell asleep. The next day, eleven, out cold. My wonderful assistant, who is out of the room for most of this on her lunch break, says that listening to me read fairy tales in our darkened room, in my purposefully lilting voice, is hypotic, as if we are all in Sleeping Beauty's castle under a deep spell.

I love rest now. True, I'm still not ticking anything off of my endless to-do list, but I am getting a mental break, a dose of deep quiet, and a journey to never never land in the middle of my day. More importantly, the children are, too. The rest of the afternoon, after we open the blinds and fold away our mats, is noticably smoother.

Now the number of sleepers tends to hover around nine or ten. Today, one child asked me if we were having rest (we don't have it on Wednesday due to an early dismissal, so he was making sure today was a normal day). Yes, I said, and he said, yay! My clearest indicator yet that I'm onto something. Something hypotic.

Society's preschool investment: a bargain

2011-03-12T18:28:00.000-08:00

I love reminding people I meet that while Virginia spends millions to run the Virginia Preschool Initiative (the program in which I teach), to prepare 4-year-olds from low income families for Kindergarten, that's actually a bargain.

Sounds like Mr. Bernanke thinks so, too.

"In the long run...the most important fiscal issue is whether the structure and composition of the government budget best serves the public interest. Research increasingly has shown the benefits of early childhood education...to promote the lifelong acquisition of skills for both individuals and the economy as a whole."

- Ben S. Bernanke, Federal Reserve Chairman

parents and teachers and conferences

2011-03-05T19:35:00.000-08:00

I just held my first round of parent/teacher conferences with the parents of my pre-Kindergarten students. In some ways this felt extraneous, since I see these parents every day when they pick up their children (it so happens that I don't have any bus riders this year). But in other ways it felt absolutely essential, because most of them speak Spanish as a first language, and my Spanish is only good enough for a casual conversation, not for an in-depth discussion. (I am working on this. I need to improve my Spanish, stat.) At the conferences, we have time devoted just to that one family, and I have a translator, and I have materials ready for them to see and for us to talk about. So it's very useful and very artificial at the same time.

To cut down on the artificial quality of it, I try to keep it as conversational as possible. I greet them at the door, to communicate that they are my welcome guests, not an appointment. I offer them cookies and water. I sit next to them so we can look at the portfolio and discuss it together, not across the table from them like I'm conducting a job interview. I ask them if they have questions or concerns or comments, so I'm not talking the whole time.

I've been the parent in this equation at many, many parent/teacher conferences, and I would have liked (and occasionally received) this kind of treatment. But the bottom line, what I always wanted to know (especially when mine were really small, as the children in my class are) was this: is my child loved? Is my child safe? Does my child have friends?

So that's the message with which I start and end the session. I'm so glad to be your child's teacher. I love your child. Your child is safe here. Your child has friends. Frankly, how many letters your child knows, or how high your child can count, feels like small potatoes compared with that. Or, perhaps what I mean is that any academic issues feel solvable after that.

I'm humbled after all these women and men up-ended their schedules to sit down with me and attend so carefully to every word I said. I'm reminded what a huge gift and responsibility I have to care for and educate their little ones, every day. It's the way I feel about all my own children's teachers. I am trusting them with so much.

My parenting life informs my teaching life every day.

The book that has it all

2011-03-03T18:02:00.000-08:00

Well, no book has it all, and that's why we need a million, but The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Erik Carle comes pretty close. Sometimes I think I could develop a year's pre-K curriculum around it.

Rich vocabulary? Check.

Rhythmic text? Check.

Colors? Check.

Counting? Check.

Growing pattern? Check.

Shapes? Check.

Days of the week? Check.

Opposites (little, big, hungry, full)? Check.

Science lesson on metamorphosis? Check.

Science lesson on the effect of healthy and unhealthy foods? Check.

Social studies lesson about the value of restraint? Check.

Gorgeous collage artwork to study, discuss, and try for ourselves? Check.

Big guffaw laugh on the Saturday page? Check!

I love this book. Mr. Carle, thanks.

In the days of Judy Instructo

2011-01-22T13:04:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to keep some of these, the ones in good shape with all their pieces intact, because a little bit of times past seems like a valuable thing. Besides, that car! That sink! Number 3, here! They crack me up.

But at the same time, I can't keep too much. There are so many other materials to have on hand. And people of color, or artifacts outside of main stream 60s Americana, are not represented in these materials.

It's a balancing act.

Bust out the good crayons

2011-01-09T12:46:00.000-08:00

I am starting my position mid-year because the teacher I'm replacing retired after many, many years of teaching. There was a lot of stuff in the classroom. A LOT of stuff. She didn't throw or give anything away, as far as I can tell. I have found instructional materials from the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, and 00s. I know how incredibly lucky I am--I have heard stories of teachers walking into absolutely bare classrooms.

We all have our own styles, and I am finding that I need a little less stuff and a little more space to function well in this classroom, so I'm moving on a few things to new homes. This is a long process, to look at each item and evaluate it. So many things have value in an early childhood classroom, but a balance must be struck between storage for lots of good resources, and lots of good space for the children to explore those resources.

Something I am noticing in this process is that a lot of excellent, barely used or never used supplies were in the cupboards. Some were still in the shrink wrap. But, a lot of the things out for the children were well past their life span, like puzzles so frayed on the edges that they really couldn't be put together anymore.

I understand this impulse. It's easy to keep a new set of paints perfect on the shelf, and hard to put them out, to their inevitable fate in small hands. But, of course, who are the paints for? What is their purpose?

What is the lesson I'm taking from this? It's to bust out the good crayons. If you, too, have a lovely set of high quality oil pastels hidden away, let's do it together. Let's both offer the good stuff to these children, this year. Maybe even tomorrow.

I. Love. My. Job.

2011-01-09T12:42:00.000-08:00

I am now one week into my new job as a VPI (Virginia Preschool Initiative) teacher, teacher pre-Kindergarten to 4 year-olds from low income families at a public elementary school in Arlington, VA. Even if you have never met me in person, you would recognize me: I'm the one with glitter all over my sweater, paint on my skirt, and a big grin on my face. I am a very lucky person to get to do this work. Yeah, I'm overwhelmed, too, with everything I need to learn and figure out and simple FIND in my new classroom, but I'll get there, with 16 children and a truly wonderful instructional assistant to accompany me on my journey. Life is good.

No, it's real teaching

2010-12-21T19:38:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting conversation today in the hallway with a parent. His son is in the Kindergarten class in which I interned in the fall, and the whole family had been a delight to know. I told him the happy news that I am now teaching Pre-Kindergarten just down the hall from his son's class.

His reaction was not what I expected. "Oh," he said, with a look of commiseration on his face, "well, I'm sure it's just a foot in the door, and they'll move you up to Kindergarten soon."

I was pretty stunned. Since then, I have thought of perhaps a dozen or more things I would say, but in the moment I had children to attend to, so I merely said, "No, it's real teaching. It's a good thing."

Now, I know perfectly well that early childhood educators have an image problem. But it still stopped me in my tracks to see his look of disappointment on my behalf. The idea that those who teach preschool are teachers who aren't quite ready for prime time sounds ludicrous to me, but it's a perception that's alive and well out there.

If I had a moment more to talk with him and formulate my thoughts, I would have talked about the crucial importance of the four-year-old year. I would have mentioned neuroplasticity. I would have sited studies on the life-long value of a quality preschool experience. I would have told him that it's not just real teaching, but that it's real learning, too. I would have told him that I'm exactly where I want to be, that I will have a life-time supply of intellectually stimulating challenges in this environment, and that I can well imagine teaching Pre-Kindergarten for the rest of my life.

I'll have my one-minute speech on the value of early childhood education better prepared next time. One parent educated, a few million more to go.

Grades are for Dogs

2010-12-17T06:23:00.001-08:00

My eight-year-old daughter is in third grade, and therefore now receives report cards. The first one came home not long ago. She did fine, but it gave me a pang that this form with its boxes and letters was meant to summarize the skills of this joyful, unconventional child and her particular quirky genius. I didn't love the "outstanding" "satisfactory" and "needs improvement" system of last year, but I liked it a lot better than this. I did what parents do: I praised her, and then we brainstormed some ideas she could use to raise a couple of the grades. And then I worried. Because eight seems mighty young to spend precious energy strategizing to raise grades.

I just recently, however, I came across the following in a stack of her drawings, stories, and notes. (By the Way, George is one of our two dachshunds, who we adopted from a rescue society last summer.)

George's Report Card

Sleeping Skills A+

Racquetball skills C-

Talking in class B

Eating the trash A+

Shares his bone B

I shouldn't have worried. If the kid can write a report card for her dog, I think she's got this in perspective.

My new school is a happenin' place

2010-11-30T21:15:00.000-08:00

My new school, where I will begin teaching in just a few short weeks, just won a local human rights award for its outstanding efforts in parent outreach and inclusion. I am so excited to be a part of this!

You can read a short blurb about it here.

Giving Thanks for my new JOB!

2010-11-21T20:51:00.000-08:00

I have some good news to share with you. I interviewed for a position on Friday, and I was offered it over the weekend. I'm employed!

I will be a Pre-K teacher in Arlington Public Schools, part of what is known here as the Virginia Preschool Initiative, or VPI. This program, funded by the state lottery, offers a high-quality preschool experience to four-year-olds from low income families.

I start in January, just a couple of weeks after I graduate with a Masters in Early Childhood Education in mid-December. I'll teach in a public school just 3 1/2 miles from my home (it's the same school where I had the good fortune to do my internship). I already know and admire my new colleagues.

I'm just pinching myself. This is exactly the work I hoped to do. I am grateful down to the soles of my shoes that I get to have this opportunity, and that it starts so promptly after my graduation. No waiting! Step right up and start your new life!

So, this is how this story ends. I've been wondering for so long now....when I'm done with this degree, where will I teach? What will happen next? And now I know the answer. This story is ending, and another one, a really interesting one, is about to begin.

I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, even in addition to the great bounty of being with my family. Wishing you a peaceful Thanksgiving full of blessings!

I think he was talking about classroom management

2010-11-19T07:38:00.000-08:00

"What you do

speaks so loud

that I cannot hear what you say."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Serious Play

2010-11-18T09:34:00.001-08:00

PLAY: the heart of an early childhood classroom. Vital to learning. Vital to childhood.

In a recent class project, I had the opportunity to defend play in a pre-K classroom to an adult who comes in the room and wants to know why the children are "just playing."

I'm glad you asked! My response:

When you describe the children as “just playing,” I feel you may be defining the word “play” as a time filler between sessions of “real learning” with a pencil and a worksheet. An alternate definition of play I offer is that play is a crucial process that contributes to learning throughout the life span, and motivates learning in addition to contributing to cognitive development (1). Simply put, play the most powerful and efficient way for children to learn and remember what they learned (2).
Serious benefits await children who engage in serious play. According to researchers Bodrova and Leong (3), play builds foundational skills and complex cognitive activities, such as memory, self-regulation, distancing and decontextualization, oral language abilities, symbolic generalization, successful school adjustment, and better social skills.
Children at play not only hone these cognitive abilities, but they also develop specific literacy, math, and social studies skills that connect directly with Virginia’s Foundation Blocks for Early Learning: Comprehensive Standards for Four-Year-Olds (4). As these standards astutely note, four-year-olds have serious work to do. But it can be accomplished with joy, enthusiasm, and engagement; in short, through play.
I integrate play with standards through careful observation and documentation of the children’s self-directed play. When I observe recurring themes, I develop whole group and small group activities to deepen their base of knowledge, their understanding, and their mastery of skills. I organize my classroom so that every play activity builds literacy, number sense, social interaction, and information about the world around them. Their dramatic, constructive, and exploratory play is richly layered with the core standards. They are building the skills they need to excell in their school careers and in their lives.
Play is an even more important component of a young child’s school day than it was in the past, because the nature of children’s play at home has changed; that is, not all children come to my classroom knowing how to play, and I must teach them how. “Nowadays, young children spend less time playing with their peers and more time playing along, graduating from educational toys to video and computer games” (3). When I see children struggling to play cooperatively and constructively, I scaffold their abilities with well-placed play props, questions to get them thinking, and interventions when needed to help them develop these essential skills.

1. Myck-Wayne, J. (2010). “In Defense of Play: Beginning the Dialog About the Power of Play.” Journal of Young Exceptional Children, 2010, 13: 14.

2. Elkind, D. (2007). The Power of Play: Learning What Comes Naturally. Da Capo Press: Cambridge, MA.

3. Bodrova, E., and Leong, D.J. (2004). “Do Play and Foundational Skills Need to Compete for the Teacher’s Attention in an Early Childhood Classroom?” Spotlight on Young Children and Play. National Association for the Education of Young Children, Washington, D.C.

4. Viriginia Department of Education (2007). "Virginia’s Foundation Blocks for Early Learning: Comprehensive Standards for Four-Year-Olds." Retrieved on November 15, 2010 from www.earlychildhood.virginia.gov/documents/foundationblocks.pdf.

An Ending and Many Beginnings

2010-11-16T21:39:00.000-08:00

I just came to the end of my 11-week long internship. It was dreadfully hard to say goodbye to the children! I know how lucky I was to be part of their lives for a while. I learned so much! My mind and my heart are full. Now I buckle down to a few more weeks of intense course work, and then I graduate in December! Almost there!

Make lots of mistakes

2010-10-28T19:05:00.000-07:00

This message is written on a white board in my school, in a hallway I traverse several times a day. It helps me relax and take a breath every single time I pass it. Make lots of mistakes. Who ever this fellow teacher is, I thank her or him.

Five-year-old children

2010-10-16T20:52:00.000-07:00

I'm on a campaign to refer to "Kindergarteners" as what they are: five-year-old children. Not students, pupils, or class members, but five-year-old children. "First graders," likewise, are not that if I had my way, but rather six-year-old children. I think calling them so makes it easier to remember both that they are whole people, interested in and capable of a range of human activities--not just academic ones, and that they are very, very young.

Half way through it

2010-10-09T21:03:00.000-07:00

I am now half-way through this internship. It is something like finals week, except for 12 weeks in a row. The workload is extraordinary. I am learning so much that I can hardly keep up with the new ideas and new perspectives. I wish I was recording more in this blog, but truly, I'm doing all I can for the present. In mid-November I'll be through with the internship, and then I can pause, think, and write. And sleep. Oh, yes, there will be sleeping. And then I'll begin the process of searching for a teaching position, with applications and job interviews. Oh, my. Any tips for me, experienced teachers?

great article on neurodiversity

2010-09-08T19:52:00.000-07:00

What am I more excited about: this article, or the existence of this magazine? And how did I not hear of Ode Magazine before? Good reading. Have a look.

The Child Cannot Wait

2010-09-04T22:34:00.000-07:00

“Many things we need can wait. The child cannot. Now is the time his bones are being formed, her blood is being constituted, his brain is being developed. To her we cannot say tomorrow. His name is today."

- Gabriela Mistral, Chilean poet, stateswoman, and teacher. She was the first Latin American to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, in 1945.

Many thanks to the Minds on Music Blog, by Kindermusik International, for this and many other inspirations.

Empathy

2010-09-03T17:03:00.000-07:00

I loved this animated talk, and I wanted to share it. It's only 10 minutes long, and every minute is compelling. I love how the study of child development is an important part of the conversation here.
Jeremy Rifkin on "the empathic civilization" Video on TED.com

This also puts me in mind of the Roots of Empathy curriculum, a Canadian program that I came across a couple of years ago. Very exciting ideas.
http://www.rootsofempathy.org/index.html

I'm also reminded of the work of Kenneth Dodge, a psychologist and researcher at Duke University who is interested in (among other things) studying children with aggressive and violent behavior. He and his fellow researchers are finding out that these children (and adults) haven't built the skills of reading another person's facial expressions and body language, and therefore are less able to empathize with the other person's feelings. Since they are unable to decode the others' cues, they tend to assume the worst and then act out. One of the things they are doing is breaking down the complex process of reading the cues of others, and then teaching these children how to do it, one step at a time.

There is very good work going on out there.

Your ideal classroom

2010-09-01T19:42:00.001-07:00

A little later this semester, I will have the chance to design my "ideal early childhood classroom." In this assignment, money and existing buildings will be no object. I can dream big! Ahh, doesn't that sound lovely.

What is the design feature/area/organization technique that you wouldn't live without?

What is the one element that isn't in your environment, but you pine for it?

What websites or books are your favorite sources for ideas on classroom design?

Thanks, friends. I have seen many versions of ideal classrooms in your education blogs, so I know you have been exploring this.

Starting from the beginning

2010-08-31T05:17:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the first day of my internship AND my first day of this semester of evening classes at George Mason University. Last night I slept like a stone dropped to the bottom of a blue sea.

Most students in my program do their internships in the Spring--a few of us are doing them now, and I think we're lucky. Yesterday, for example, I was there when my cooperating professional, E., opened her classroom door with the key. We surveyed the piled furniture in a corner, the supplies stashed willy-nilly along a wall by others who had used the room over the summer. We sniffed the air. Then we dug in. E. described where and how she needed things, and A., the assistant teacher and I, set up. It was a very good lesson for me to see the state of a classroom when a teacher begins her year. An enormous shelf that she'd relied upon for storage had also disappeared over the summer, so the set-up had to be different from last year. We discussed and schlepped and labeled, and it was a very good day. It's a privilege to be there from the very beginning.

Ready, Set, GO.

2010-08-29T14:37:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I begin my internship. I've been both eagerly anticipating it and fretting about it for so long, that it's a great relief that it's finally here. It's going to be hectic--no doubt about it--with my classes and my own two children and lots of logistical gymnastics, but I welcome it. It's not a sustainable schedule for the long term, but doable for one semester. My husband is extremely supportive of all this, and we'll manage it together.

I can't wait to meet my new people. Teachers, assistant teachers, administrators, parents, and most of all, twenty-something five- and six-year-olds who are about to start their first ever day of Kindergarten. I'm honored that I get to be a part.

I should mention before this internship begins that I intend to share the inspiring aspects of my school and classroom, the good stuff that I learn from and that make me a better teacher. These will be ample to keep me a very busy blogger. If there are moments that frustrate me, as there are in any human endeavor, I'm going to keep those to myself. This approach means that I run a risk of a Mary Sunshine Cheesecake kind of a blog, I suppose. But this isn't one of those anonymous education blogs. I'm Launa, a real person at a real school with real colleagues and families, and I'm interested in sharing the best. All indications are that there will be tons of that. Thanks for coming along!

Aditi Shankardass: A second opinion on learning disorders | Video on TED.com

2010-08-25T13:45:00.000-07:00

This TED talk struck me as one we early childhood educators should know about.

Aditi Shankardass, a brain researcher, says that it's a funny thing that we typically only evaluate symptoms when we diagnose brain disorders--we don't look at the brain itself. She points out that if someone makes a diagnosis regarding another part of the body--say, heart or bones or blood, we take a look at it first before we proceed. So, she invented a new means to LOOK at brain waves and what they are telling us, with fascinating results. This one's just 7 minutes.

Aditi Shankardass: A second opinion on learning disorders Video on TED.com

Pigeon Post

2010-08-22T16:00:00.000-07:00

This is a continuation of my last post....

We just finished Coot Club, the fourth in the Swallows and Amazons series by Arthur Ransome, and we've begun Pigeon Post. I've been eagerly waiting for this book; this is the one I read when I was a kid. It's delicious it is to revisit a book that I loved so long ago, and share it with my two children, who love it, too.

When I was 8 years old in the mid-seventies, my family lived in what was then West Germany, near Frankfurt. My father was stationed at a now-defunct American Air Base. It was July, and my family was on a summer vacation in our bright red, 1965 VW camper. We were trying to hit as many countries as we could in my father's three weeks of leave, and one afternoon found us in a bookstore on Trafalgar Square in London. I had begged to go in. I had blazed through the books I'd brought along for the many hours on the road, and I was intrigued by this place--with its dense walls of shelves to the ceiling, it felt like a bookstore I'd seen in Frankfurt, yet these books I could read. My parents said I could choose a book to keep me company as we journeyed to Scotland, and I chose Pigeon Post. I had no idea it was #5 in a series, and I didn't learn this until a couple of years ago, when a British friend and I were chatting about beloved books from our childhoods, and she filled me in on what I'd missed.

I decided to start the series from the proper beginning with my own children. Finally, instead of checking out the next book from our library, we are reading the musty, yellowed Penguin Paperback that's been sitting on my shelf all these years.

It's better than I remembered. It's wonderful. And I keep having these marvelous moments of short-term clairvoyance: like when Rodger gets a surprise package on the train, and I realize that I know what's inside of it. Or when Nancy comes back from the High Topps full of news, and I know what she's going to report. Thirty-two-year-old memories that I didn't know I had. It's a tale of brave, funny, daring children (eight of them!) and their summer at the lake, doing their best to avoid adults and scare up some proper adventure.

What a great way to end our summer together.

We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea

2010-08-16T18:25:00.000-07:00

That's one of the titles in a series of novels for children by Arthur Randsome. The series starts with Swallows and Amazons, where we meet four British schoolchildren on their summer holidays in the Lake District, circa 1920. They learn to sail, camp entirely alone on their own little island, and all around have the most fabulous adventures you could hope for. Yet the characters never for a moment stop being believable--you're sure that if you knew your nautical knots just a little better, were just a little handier with a pocket knife and a campfire, and had your courage bolstered by your brothers and sisters around you, that you, too, could do and dare. They are wonderful tales, and my kids and I are sailing through them as read-alouds. Highly recommended.

Also, We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea describes exactly how I feel about this blog. I meant to take a little time away to get into the house we just bought and paint a few walls. But oh my goodness, I didn't mean to sail off for the entire summer. How did that happen? It feels great to be back, and if you're here reading, then hey, thanks! I appreciate it. I look forward to sharing my adventures as a student teacher. My internship begins in two short weeks in a Kindergarten classroom right here in Arlington, Virginia, right outside Washington D.C. It's just what I hoped for. It's a terrific assignment, and it's bound to be an epic voyage of learning for me. Thanks for sailing along.

A brief mention of two great friends

2010-05-04T03:47:00.000-07:00

Gratuitous dachshund picture. I could not resist.

We just adopted George this weekend, the charming little guy on the left.

He and our dog Lacey, on the right, are already inseparable. It's a joy to watch them play together.

George lived with three different families before he was rescued by the Dachshund Rescue Association of North America. At the last house he was kept outside, all through winter. His ears were severely frostbitten. Remarkably, the hair grew back, though the ragged edges remain as a reminder of what he went through. I plan to keep him toasty warm for the rest of his life.

You'd never know George has had it so hard. He is gentle, loving, patient, and assumes everyone he meets, especially children, have come to see him.

A quick note about keeping a dog outside: um, why? Why take a pack animal from its pack, bring it into your "pack," but then not actually let live with your pack? Also, many breeds, like dachshunds, don't grow undercoats of fur. They are unable to withstand cold temperatures. This story of frostbite is not uncommon.

I love watching my two children with them. Caring for animals gives children a unique opportunity to develop nurturing skills and empathy for other living creatures.

George and Lacey are curled by my feet right now. Great dogs, both. Back to education topics next post!

Home plate

2010-04-21T11:27:00.000-07:00

My ideal house in 1976, when I was six years old. I made this plate on my grandmother's kitchen counter.

We are moving into our home! We just signed the papers and it's ours.

(This is, by the way, a different home from one I mentioned in a previous post. That one didn't work out, which was deeply disappointing at the time. But now we adore this one. Things have a way of working out, you know?)

We have moved a lot, and I've collected some anecdotal evidence about how moves, whether from one house to another or from one state to another, are HUGE events in a young child's life. They require a lot of conversation to help a child understand. If a child in your class or family is moving this summer, it's worth checking his or her understanding of what's going on.

For example: Before a previous move, my then-5-year-old daughter and I were perusing an online real estate site. In one group of house photos, we paused on a little girl's pink bedroom. "I like that bed," Leah said, "so let's get this house." She had made the perfectly logical assumption that moving house meant leaving all our things, too, her toys and dolls and bed, and assuming all of their things. How stressful that must have been for her, to think that. It was a good lesson for me in thinking about a young child's perspective and frame of reference, and making sure I provided all the important details.

When my son was five, we lived in Alabama, and we knew when we moved there in June that we'd move away the following June. A few weeks before my son's birthday in December, I asked him who he'd like to invite to his party. "Well," he said, "maybe we won't be here for my birthday." So, when my husband and I said, "Just one year," we knew what we meant, but my little boy couldn't yet envision what a year was. He only knew that some day soon, bags would be packed. I almost cried when I realized how much uncertainty he was living in. Another great lesson on a young child's need for context and examples and lots of detail to understand a big idea.

One more: We lived in our current neighborhood for two years, then moved to Ohio for one year, then moved back here to this current rental house last summer. So my children's friends have seen us take off before. This came very clear a few days ago when we told my son's best friend that we bought our house. He grew pale, gulped, and said in a very small voice, "Is it in Virginia?" Never mind that he knew we were looking for a house in the neighborhood. He knew that we'd left before, so as far as he was concerned, we were perfectly capable of moving again to Ohio or Timbuktu. I decided we needed an object lesson, so I loaded my kids and the three friends they had over to play in the car, and I drove them to the new place, just up the street from their elementary school. "This is our house," I announced in my best radio announcer voice, "and we're staying right here."

Everybody cheered.

Excellence vs. Competence

2010-04-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

"Test scores don't measure excellence, they measure competence. I didn't send my kids to school to learn competence." John Young, as told to Gary Cartwright.

These are the cleanest, truest two sentences on standardized testing I've come across yet.

Read this commentary for more clear-thinking on education reform from John Young. It hinges on a compelling metaphor: would you blame the mechanic for struggling to repair a neglected car, whose owner never changed the oil or checked the oil pressure? No, you would not. It makes as much sense to blame the teacher for struggling (though still in there, trying, every day) to educate the children whose home lives are marked by the corollary of human neglect. John Young is a recently retired columnist for the Waco Tribune Herald. Lucky for us, he's still keeping an eye on education politics and writing about it.

Another gem from Young's article: "No one craves assessments — quality, diagnostic assessments — more than a teacher, or at least the vast majority of true classroom professionals."

Yes.

Reading Up on Reggio: Possible Schools

2010-04-11T10:46:00.001-07:00

Between textbook readings, I'm trying to read up about the Reggio Emilia approach to early childhood education. I just finished Possible Schools, by Ann Lewin-Benham. Have you come across this one? It's not new: published in 2005, it chronicles the life and times of the Model Early Learning Center (MELC) in Washington, D.C. For a few short years in the early 90s, this school went from being choked with problems (running through several new directors within months, and many issues stemming from the poverty of their students and families), to becoming a truly child-centered learning environment that deeply, meaningfully involved their families. They were so successful at adopting Reggio's philosophy, that the Reggio Children organization, in Reggio Emilia, Italy, adopted them into their network of schools. This meant that Reggio Children supported 37 schools: 36 in Reggio, Emilia, and the MELC in Washington, D.C! But, then there were subtle changes in leadership and vision, and that proved to be enough to dismantle the hard-won gains. The school closed.

Possible Schools is an honest account of this school's life, and I'm grateful for that. Lewin-Benham celebrates the huge accomplishments, but she also lays out the glaring shortcomings and disappointments. She doesn't hold anything back about their early days, including the arguments among the teaching staff and their confusion about Reggio. Then, once they achieve the magical learning environment that was the MELC at its apex, she shows how fragile it was, and how susceptible to being dismantled by outside forces. It's a sobering tale. It's also a hopeful one, as the title implies. Lewin-Benham seems to be saying, okay, this was our attempt. This is was we made possible, even if briefly. What will you make possible?

Spring in DC

2010-04-07T08:30:00.001-07:00

We managed to get tickets to the White House Egg Roll this year, along with 30,000 of our closest friends! While it certainly was crowded, it was a treat to see the White House while standing on the South Lawn. I'm happy to report that it looks great up close, especially with all the Spring blooms. The people you see here were members of an orchestra.

How exciting to get a look at the new White House organic veggie garden, pictured here. This garden was part of a whole display on healthy foods at the Egg Roll, part of Mrs. Obama's "Let's Move!" initiative. I'm hopeful her program will lead to changes in public school lunch (more on this in another post.)

And have you heard of Mrs. Obama's apiary? Yep, right here on the South Lawn. This makes me so happy. I realize this one apiary is not the same as a sustained nationwide effort to protect honey bees, but I appreciate the symbol. I believe in the power of a well-placed symbol.

And DC just enjoyed the legendary cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin, too. We went one evening for a dinner picnic while blossoms snowed down on us. Oh, my, I loved it. I must get my future students to a spot where they can stand under a storm of cherry blossoms.

I hope signs of Spring are all around you, too.

on teaching writing

2010-03-25T07:04:00.000-07:00

I’m looking forward to teaching writing. In fact, I predict it'll be one of the things I love the most about teaching young children, because writing has great meaning in my own life.

Before I became a teacher, I was a writer. If I met someone new, I would tell them, “I’m a writer,” and for a while in my late twenties, I could even say that without cringing. I could point to my Masters in creative writing, and the few poems and short stories that found willing publishers in small, literary journals. There was the smattering of book reviews and articles that appeared here and there in those years. I even held an editorship of one of those small literary journals, doing my part to save a piece or two from the depths of the slush pile. Writing was serious business for me, and I worked at it.

But then I had children. I stopped sending pieces to publishers, and my confident, level-gazed assertion of being a writer faded quietly into the daily rhythms of motherhood. I wondered who I was and what I’d do next, and I wrote those questions in the multiple journals I stashed around the house. I wrote snippets of poetry on grocery lists, and I jotted notes for essays on the back of receipts. When my children went to preschool and I became passionate about early childhood education, I wrote about that, too. I sure wrote a lot for someone who wasn’t a writer anymore. And that, I finally realized, was all in my head. The problem wasn’t a lack of publication credits. The problem was that I didn’t accept and enjoy my writing in the organic way it was woven into my life. All healthy people find a way to express creativity, and my way was a collection of words and bits of prose with which I formed a nest around my children and me. I wrote because it helped me think. I wrote because it made me feel human. When writing wasn’t my work anymore, it became a valuable element in a rich, creative life. For me, this was a new way to see the use of writing, and it gave me a sense of peace as I transitioned to my new work as a teacher.

Now I see writing in a third way: as a part of my students' curriculum. Some may be writing for the very first time. I will make sure that they have sharp pencils and sturdy paper, word walls full of sight words, phonics lessons and spelling lessons—all vitally important building blocks toward the skill of writing.

But the most important lesson I want to share with my future students is that writing can make them feel human. Not only do I want them to be able to pick up a pencil and write down a thought, I want them to want to. I will tell them, you can have a thought—a unique thought that belongs only to you—and you can put it down on paper. Then I can read it, and I’ll understand. It’s a way of saying, “I am human! I exist!” and both of us will know it because there is your unique thought, right there on the paper. What power! I think this has the potential to be a great joy for a brand new writer. Perhaps it will become the way in which a child expresses himself or herself the best. Or perhaps there will be another way, but that child will know about writing, too, and take pleasure in the act writing for years to come. In the parlance of the Reggio tradition of early childhood education, writing will be one of my students’ hundred languages. I feel fortunate that I’ll be a part of that discovery.

your favorite baby and toddler books?

2010-03-20T14:20:00.001-07:00

I have the opportunity to buy a baby gift for an expecting friend, and naturally I want to buy books. A big basket of magical books that I'd like to give to every baby, you know what I mean?

The basket will need to include a volume of Mother Goose. My children and I especially liked this one, edited by Iona Opie and illustrated by Rosemary Wells, which sends me into a little reverie of nostalgia just looking at the cover.

And I think a Tana Hoban title or two is in order.

But I'd love to hear from you if you work with babies and toddlers, or are parenting them, or just remember your family's best books from that stage.

What book would you put in the basket?

a popcorn poem

2010-03-15T20:34:00.000-07:00

This child's task was to practice writing the classroom "popcorn words" on her white board. "Popcorn words" are sight words, or words that the children are encouraged to memorize and know on sight, without needing to decode them--as quickly and effortlessly as popping a kernel of popcorn. It's a pretty good task--it's empowering to know those popcorn words, and everybody likes writing on (and erasing) the white boards.

She did this at first, and then she was struck with the idea of trying to make sentences with them. I think she went beyond even writing sentences, and wrote a poem.

I was assisting at that literacy center, and I'm pretty sure that technically, my given task was to discourage the fancy outlining of the letters, and encourage her to carry on practicing writing the popcorn words instead.

But I pretended I didn't notice. When she finished, I took a photo and told her I felt she had written a poem. She gazed at the white board for a while, then carried it around to share with her friends. She created learning for herself and others that was far beyond the original task.

Everyone read it, even children who are struggling to read the popcorn words. We all understood it.

shadow and light

2010-03-09T10:15:00.001-08:00

A classmate and I are creating a unit of curriculum for a Kindergarten class hovering around, and expanding from, SHADOWS. We're having a great time dreaming up ideas and researching, but I know there are more ideas out there.

Will you share with us your classroom explorations with shadow? We would be so grateful to learn from you. All ideas are very welcome. If you are using a projector in your classroom, as many Reggio Emilia classrooms do, I'd especially love some info, a book reference, or a link to your ideas with that.

The sun has just made its welcome return to the DC area, so it feels like perfect timing to dream up ideas with light and shadow. I hope the sun is shining where you are, too.

lunch box poetry

2010-03-01T13:42:00.001-08:00

I pack my children's lunches every day. When my son was in Kindergarten, I also carefully included a note, every single day. I tried to vary them to keep them interesting--a drawing, a sticker, a new word I knew he'd learned to read.

All that creativity was a hard act to keep up first thing in the morning, and as the years went by, I did it less and less. My daughter got notes once in a while, and now, neither of them has received a lunchbox note in a long time.

Well. Yesterday, I happened to be standing next to a Kindergartener who was getting ready for lunch. He had just fetched his lunchbox from his locker, and having a moment to spare, he opened it and pulled out a paper towel. Carefully, with both hands, he smoothed it out, and I then saw that it wasn't just the napkin for his lunch, but something very special.

I love you! oxo, Dad

He saw that I was looking, and he read it to me. Then another friend read it over his shoulder.

The little boy unzipped a side pocket on his lunchbox and pulled out five more paper towels that he had saved from previous days. One by one he smoothed them and read them to us. Every one of them said,

I love you! oxo, Dad

The little boy wasn't interested in creativity and variety. He was interested in his dad's notes. He loved them and saved them, and shared them with pride.

Which was the more beautiful poem: the dad's notes, or the little boy's face as he read them? It's a toss up.

This morning, I wrote both my children notes and put them in their lunches.

I love you! oxo, Mom

Observing

2010-02-24T20:29:00.001-08:00

You can observe a lot just by watching. ~Yogi Berra

I've just begun my field experience for this semester. I'm lucky enough to have the chance to observe a Kindergarten class. Perhaps this is stating the obvious, but the most interesting part of this student teaching observation is that I have the chance to observe. Mindfully so. How much does this come up in life, that you can just sit quietly and watch it all happen?

Even in these usual circumstances, I don't sit much. I'm constitutionally unable to sit while others are working, so I figure out something useful to do in the classroom I'm visiting and I do it. Even so, there are moments when I really don't have a job, and all I can do is watch.

When I'm simply watching in a classroom, instead of being either a teacher or a student, I see things I wouldn't otherwise see. For example, I used to know a teacher (not the current teacher I'm observing, who is absolutely lovely, by the way) who didn't like to be kept waiting when she called on a child whose hand was raised. She would say the child's name, and if he or she took a long pause before speaking, she was say, "Too long!" and move on to another raised hand. This teacher had a lot of great qualities, and no doubt she picked up this technique somewhere as a means to teach children to think through their responses before they raised their hands.

But I wonder if she would have kept using this technique if she saw what I saw. She was busy, thinking about several things and trying to deliver content at the same time. But I was just observing, so my eye could linger on one little boy who had just received a "Too long!" His face sagged inward, he slumped his small shoulders, and he looked down at the carpet. Did he learn the intended lesson, that he needed to think through his responses before he raised his hand? I don't know. But through watching him, I could gather that he learned that raising his hand is not something he planned to do again anytime soon.

What else would I learn if I had the chance to sit and observe my own classroom? It's a great argument for videotaping class sessions, and going back over them later, to pick up the small cues that I missed in the moment. Does anyone do this? What did you find out?

My new friend TED

2010-02-17T19:50:00.000-08:00

So, I've just crawled out of my cave, where I've clearly been living, to learn about TED. I'm pretty amazed it's been around for so long without my notice.

You've heard about it, no doubt. But just in case, you, too, are a cave-dweller, here's the story in brief:

At the annual TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) conference, speakers are asked to speak about one big idea for 18 minutes. No more, no less. (I haven't yet found the reason for this specific number, so if you know, fill me in.) It started in the 80s with people who were connected to the Silicon Valley, so the ideas shared were largely about technology and design. But the concept has evolved to encompass the scope of human thought and endeavor, so the speakers now come from a huge variety of disciplines. They speak before a live audience, and then their talks are disseminated on the web. Because, as the tag line goes, they are "ideas worth spreading."

You know how once you know about something, you suddenly see it absolutely everywhere? This has been my experience with TED. They just had their 2010 conference, so it makes sense that there is an up-tick in internet traffic about it.

For example, I read about Jamie Oliver's 18 minutes on educating children about healthy food on a couple of Blogs I Love, Teacher Tom and Bakers and Astronauts. Then, a friend forwarded to me a link to Aimee Mullins stunningly great 18 minutes on making use of adversity. And then, someone on Facebook posted Sir Ken Robinson's compelling 18 minutes, in which he asks if schools kill creativity. Intrigued, I dug into the TED archives on their website, and found another education-related 18 minutes from Dave Eggers that I'd love for you to see.

18 minutes is just long enough to cover the topic, but short enough to feel like you can just sit and watch one (or two) without clearing your schedule. (By the way, the TED site seems to offer some 6-minute and even 3-minute presentations, too.)

I can tell my beautiful new relationship with TED is just getting started. What are your favorite TED talks?

A side note: the Sir Ken Robinson talk was posted by a very socially conservative Facebook friend of mine. I wasn't sure that I'd relate to a view of education that this friend agreed with enough to post in his status. As it turned out, I loved what Sir Robinson had to say, which reminded me that my sources for inspiration and growth can surprise me, and it's best for me to keep an open mind. This, I would venture to say, is what the spirit of TED is all about.

Heavy lifting for your book list

2010-02-14T05:33:00.000-08:00

A couple of months ago, I read Johnathon Kozol's Letters to a Young Teacher, and I promised myself I would read more of his sobering work.

So, I read Shame of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America. (It came out in 2005, so I bet many of you have read this.) I thought while reading, why haven't I heard this perspective more frequently, from more quarters? Why aren't we talking about this? Indeed, it's a question that Kozol poses himself toward the end of the book. "It's hidden in plain view," he says.

In brief, his point is this: too many black schoolchildren go to schools that are nearly 100% African American, with very high rates of poverty, with extremely low graduation rates and even lower college admission rates, with over-crowded classrooms and decrepit facilities. This has the effect of cutting them off from the mainstream of American society, which carries over from their school days into limited opportunities in their adult lives.

While I was reading this book, someone saw the cover and said to me, "Apartheid? Well, that's overstating it a little, isn't it?" I didn't say anything at the time, as I had just begun, and I honestly wasn't yet sure if I thought Kozol was overstating his case or not.

Now that I have read it, I do not think Kozol is overstating the separation of the races in American public schools today, nor the negative impact of that separation. "Apartheid" is a razor-sharp word, and makes readers extremely uncomfortable--a reaction, no doubt, that Kozol and his editors were specifically going for when they chose the title and stark cover design for this book.

Interestingly, though, the prose within doesn't match the cover. Kozol is an excellent writer and debater, highly skilled at probing points and dismantling opposing viewpoints, but he is not shrill or coarse as this cover might lead you to expect. Instead of being hammered with angry discourse, I found passionate but polite discussion. It's a really good read, and vitally important to anyone interested in a macro view of the American public education system.

Which should be every American citizen, you know what I mean?

I am really interested in how much Kozol's position on how to intercede for black schoolchildren is in direct contrast to the ideas laid out by Mike Feinburg and Dave Levin (founders of KIPP schools), and other educators who have created highly structured curricula for inner-city children living in poverty. I also recently read Jay Matthews' book Work Hard, Be Nice, which chronicles the development of the KIPP system of schools. I thought that was a fascinating must-read, too. I love the accomplishments of the KIPP schools, and I admire the work and determination of the KIPP educators. But how excited can I get about a program in which I would not want my own two children to enroll? I want nurturing education for my kids. I want open-ended exploration of ideas, and I don't get that impression from KIPP or other programs that are similar to it. Do I think that the needs of inner city children in poverty are really so different from my suburban kids?

Kozol is emphatic that their needs are not different, and that poor black children should get the same forward-thinking education that administrators and teachers tend to arrange for their own children.

I'm thinking this over. I know I have much to learn. I feel a heady level of discomfort talking about the educational needs of inner city children, as I have just a little direct experience (I used to teach a parenting class for teen mothers in an alternative high school in west Dayton). But I also feel that my discomfort is a pretty good indicator that I should read and think more about race, poverty, education, social justice, where they intersect and where they don't and what is our next step.

Read it and let's talk!

The classic roots and wings debate

2010-02-10T09:16:00.000-08:00

As I learn about and think about emergent curriculum and the project approach, I wonder about that boundary.

You know the one? The dividing line between how much to direct an activity, and how much to stay quiet and see what develops. When to step in and when to step back. What to limit, and what to purposefully free from limitations.

I'm reminded of the swallows that used to annually built their nest just outside my parents' bedroom window. My parents would lay on their bed and watch the swallows busily craft their new home. Every year they followed a certain pattern somehow passed down to them in bird lore. But the new nest was also a distinct creation, suited to the materials they had at hand, and possibly (may I anthropomorphize?) suited to their own sense of beauty.

Except one year, the swallows got disorganized. They didn't seem to know what to do, my parents reported, and while they worked and worked, they never did come up with a nest that hung together.

I think about balancing this dual need for pattern and no pattern constantly during our Odyssey of the Mind meetings, and it's in the back of my mind as I study early childhood education.

Children need something to start with. A framework. A template. A paradigm. But it must be structured just enough to stimulate creativity without clipping it.

I've recently found Marla McLean's teaching blog, and her long-term dream house project helped me a great deal in thinking about this boundary. She gave very specific rules to follow at some steps along the journey, and then some steps were as wide open as the ocean. She also started with a story, so that the children were all working from a shared frame of reference.

The results are breathtaking, but it's really the process that is so beautiful. Have a look here, here, here, and here to follow the evolution of their dream houses. Oh, heck, just read the whole blog. And if it's taking a moment longer than usual to load, it's because of the gorgeous photos she posts, and they are worth waiting for.

AND, they are not done yet. Now they are writing about their dream houses.

Thanks, Marla!

In the key of snow

2010-02-09T12:25:00.000-08:00

The snow fairies came for a picnic.

More snow, another foot or so, is due any time now. The refrigerator, the book basket, and the craft supplies are all well stocked. My own little family is doing just fine in the biggest snow in DC in 90 years, but I worry about the people in my town who are out of power, or who are sick, or who must go to work. I know how fortunate we are.

Emu teeth and other internet lies

2010-02-01T06:42:00.000-08:00

This is a real emu. See his beak?

This is fake.

You probably knew that, but allow me to share a little story.

My daughter is doing a report on an animal in her 2nd grade class, and she chose an emu. She wanted an animal 1, with a funny-sounding name, and 2, that she knew nothing about before doing the report. I admired both those reasons.

So we sat down at my laptop together and went to a few reputable sites on animals, and she wrote down some facts on emus.

Then she decided to print out a couple of pictures. We went to google images, she typed in "emu," and picture #2 above was the first one that popped up.

Wow! We said. That's astonishing, I said. I explained to her how surprised I was, because I'd never heard of a bird with teeth before, let alone canine teeth, and we talked about how the kind of teeth you have shows what kind of food you eat. I said I was surprised that what we'd read so far hadn't mentioned anything about teeth, and we needed to do some more research. I was thinking of the platypus which is only one of two mammals on the planet that lays eggs, and the platypus is also from Australia, so could the emu be another example of species blending that I'd never heard of? The sad truth, gentle reader, is that I bought it. Of course this emu with teeth is just someone online having a bit of fun and doctoring photos.

So we did further research and found out we'd been had.

I was embarrassed, but this was a teachable moment if I'd ever seen one, so I called to my 4th grade son, and we all studied this photo carefully and talked about how real it looks. Never, I said, think that just because it's online, it's true. Especially stuff drawn randomly in a google search. There is a wealth of wonderful and useful information, but there is also a whole flotilla of silly jokes and downright lies, and it's up to us to check and double check any information gleaned from the internet.

And other sources of information too, for that matter.

I hope they remember this. Ha! I hope I do, too!

Leaders in education

2010-01-29T12:57:00.000-08:00

I have a cool assignment this semester in my policy class: I need to select a leader in education, research his or her life and work, and write a profile.

Who are some heroes of yours? Who do you recommend?

[not] an ode to passive voice

2010-01-29T06:26:00.000-08:00

One of my textbooks has been written entirely in the passive voice. Assessment has been chosen as the subject matter. Coma has been slipped into. Disbelief is registered that editing wasn't applied. Teeth are grinding.

Pen, paper, and a new idea

2010-01-27T16:06:00.000-08:00

I love my teaching literacy class. Today, in small groups, we went through a stack of student writing samples. We talked about the stages represented in the writing:

pre-phonemic: strings of letters or near-letters without any attempt at word groupings

early phonemic: some matches of initial consonants with their corresponding phoneme, evidence of word groupings

phonetic: letters represent phonemes, some evidence of knowledge of sentence structure, beginning, middle, and end consonants, often readable by others without assistance from the author

transitional: a vowel in every syllable, a lot of phonemic accuracy, accurate spelling on sight words, attempts at other conventions

conventional: most conventions of spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and syntax in place

But these stages are points on a continuum, of course. Thinking of a writing sample in a particular stage is only helpful if we're not too rigid about it.

There is a big emphasis in this class on teaching writing as an essential part of the literacy package--we don't teach only reading, but reading and writing together. Like cross-training for an athlete--training in one sport builds skills in the other, and vice-versa.

My happiest memories in school involved a pen, paper, and a new idea. The freedom! The possibilities!

I love those early writings so much--the intense labor. The inventiveness. The brave willingness to say, well, I don't know much about this, but I'm willing to give it a go.

Helping children help Haiti

2010-01-26T18:42:00.000-08:00

We adults may donate to Haiti relief and get involved in bigger, more direct ways, but I'm intrigued by some of the small ideas people have out there. Because small donations add up.

My children's elementary school is collecting coins. This encourages the children to give from their own piggy banks--a size of donation that's in their grasp. But all of it together will add up to something.

I'm reminded of a favorite quote of mine:

I am only one
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything.
But still I can do something.
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.
- Edward Everett Hale

a note about home

2010-01-25T21:43:00.001-08:00

This piece is called "Never Leave Home Behind," an original painting by an artist in El Paso named Danita (she goes by her first name only). This one is sold out, but you can see her other work in her Etsy shop, here.

My husband and I just bid on a little house in our neighborhood (we rent right now). We have moved A LOT, and settling down feels so good, I hardly have words for it. We don't actually have our offer approved, so I'll keep you posted, but I have a good feeling about it.

We decided to go with a cozy, 1944 cape cod that needs a lot of TLC, but is on a wonderful, treed lot on a dead end street. We have friends on this street, and there are a dozen or more kids, and it's walking distance to our schools, the Metro, and a little bevy of shops and restaurants called Westover village here in Arlington.

It's going to require jettisoning some of this stuff we've accumulated over the years so that we can shoehorn ourselves in there, but honestly, that sounds good. Purge. Simplify. Lighten up. Settle in. Come home.

My fingers are crossed.

A tale of two classes

2010-01-22T06:27:00.000-08:00

I have two classes on Thursdays, back to back, and they just met for the first time yesterday.

Boy, is that pairing going to be interesting.

The first is called Assessment. I had a chip on my shoulder when I walked into the room, because I didn't feel happy that 3 credits of this 32 credit program are on assessment alone. This spoke volumes to me of where current public education priorities lie.

But (I bet you saw this coming) the first class already challenged my preconceived notions and forced me to think more deeply about the big picture of assessment, not just the standardized, high-stakes kind that were on my mind. There will be a lot of discussion in this class about informal assessment, and how to use it to evaluate my own teaching. This is a focus that makes sense to me. And regarding standardized testing, the sharp and extremely prepared professor said: "There are rules to follow that are in state law, and I will help you understand them, because you are a professional, and you must know the law."

Okay. 10 minute sprint across campus, and I'm in my Education Policy class. The welcoming, engaging professor shows us a documentary about some young students who organize a cross country trip for their friend with Duchenne's Muscular Dystrophy, which becomes an awareness-building tool for wheelchair accessibility and a fundraising tool for DMD research. How their own awareness grew and how they built their coallition was meant as a model for our work in education. She said this: "Anyone who works with young children is an advocate. You are an advocate, and you need to understand policy, so if someone tells you, well, that's the policy and we can't change it, you'll know whether that's true or not."

All five of my classes this semester are challenging and useful, but the juxtaposition of these two classes--these two roles to envision myself in--is likely to break open my head to a lot of new ideas. Break open my heart, too.

PS. I highly recommend that film, Darius Goes West. It's a powerful story, a marvelous cause, and it manages to still be light-hearted and joyful while it takes on a heavy issue. There is no cure for DMD, a genetic disease. It is 100% fatal to the children, mostly boys, who are born with it, and they normally die in their late teens or very early twenties. I just checked, and it doesn't seem to be on Netflix, but I bet it will be in a good public library in your area. Or, if you choose to buy it for $20, $17 of that will go to Charley's Fund, which is working to find a cure within the current DMD kids' generation. Check it out here.

A new semester begins

2010-01-19T20:50:00.000-08:00

I went back to school today; it's the first day of Spring semester at George Mason University. My break was long enough that I felt rusty and unsure of myself again. I could handle all my classes last time, but can I this time?

It feels a little like taking in a deep breath, and letting it out in mid-May.

So I went to class with a little of the first-day jitters, but now that I'm on my way again, I'm relieved. Clearly, I'm doing what I should be doing, because I love it. I'm one semester closer to my teaching license. My sense of purpose is very strong as I commute on the Metro, as I find my way to class, as I take my notes and ask my questions.

Welcome, Spring semester.

Odyssey of the Mind

2010-01-13T11:29:00.000-08:00

I'm the coach for my 4th grade son's Odyssey of the Mind team. While I mean to mostly discuss EARLY childhood eduation in this space, Odyssey is so eye-opening for me, and such an amazing education journey, that I want to share a little about it here, even though the participants are a few years older.

Have you heard of Odyssey of the Mind? A quick overview: in the 70s, a professor of engineering at a community college in New Jersey wanted to get his students excited about their end of semester projects, so he staged a contest. The students loved it, and stimulated by the friendly and open-ended competition, they created some stunning projects. He did it the next year, and then they competed against another college, then some local high schools got involved...and now it's an international non-profit that organizes regional, state, and a world competition each year for kids from Kindergarten through college.

Each team of 4 to 7 kids is given an open ended problem. They have 8 minutes to perform their solution at the competition. To get there, they must work together, learn through trial and error, and dream big.

The white-hot center of the Odyssey experience is a rule called "no outside assistance." This means coach, parents, teachers, siblings, friends--we must all keep quiet. The team and only the team dreams it, plans it, builds it, and performs it. The kids totally own it, from beginning to end.

As coach, I am there to watch for safety issues, to gently remind them of the passing of time, and to make sure that every team member's voice is being heard. Mostly, I'm there to learn. Sometimes I have to cover my mouth with both hands to keep a suggestion from popping out. But I know from experience (this is my fourth year coaching) that if I resist that urge and see what the kids come up with, they will eventually figure out what I had noticed. Or--and this is the magic--what they figure out far outstrips my conventional, ho-hum, grown-up idea.

In Odyssey, the shy perform, the boisterous focus, the artist calculates, the planner dreams. The kids exceed their own expectations. And the adults pray a lot, because all this magic looks exactly like chaos until impossibly late in the game.

This year my son's team is building aircraft that perform different kinds of flights. I'm so worried, because they've talked so much and build so little and the competition marches nearer every day. And at the same time, I'm not worried at all. Ah, Odyssey.

Read more about the program at http://www.odysseyofthemind.com/

How young is too young for the SAAM?

2010-01-07T19:53:00.000-08:00

Edited to mention that this sublime painting is "The Girl I Left Behind" by Eastman Jackson, on display at the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, DC.

I don't go back to class for another week, so I've been filling my days with the kinds of stuff that is hard to get done when the semester is in full swing: I took the car in for a tune-up, went to the dentist, deep-cleaned the fridge...that kind of thing.

But I also went on a field trip with my son's 4th grade class to the Smithsonian American Art Museum. I am so grateful any chance I get to go on a trip with them. Especially an art museum! Especially THIS art museum! Just to be in that building (the third oldest in DC, home of the first patent office, locale of President Lincoln's inaugural ball, home of the stunning new Kogod Courtyard) is enough reason to go, and then the art collection is jaw-dropping. Check it out here.

These fourth graders are getting pretty sophisticated. They were asked to walk through the museum for 1 1/2 hours, pausing to contemplate about 12 different works of art, and they did it. When they were asked for their input, they said things like, "The colors are vibrant." I don't think I knew the word "vibrant" in the 4th grade, ya know? They were great kids, a pleasure to tour with, and I think most of them gained a lot from the experience.

Since I am studying the education of little guys, they were on my mind as we made our way through the SAAM. Could I bring Kindergarteners here? What would I show them? How long could they last? What could I do in advance to prepare them?

My children's school takes the Kindergarteners to the farm. (And that's a terrific field trip. We all love it. Nothing wrong with going to the farm.) It's not until 4th grade that they take them to the art museum. And that seems reasonable to me.

But I didn't always live in the shadow of the Washington Monument. I'm a relative newcomer here, so I'm keenly aware of what a gift it is to be able to hop on a school bus, gaze at a few American treasures, and be back in time for lunch. You can go to a farm in virtually any corner of the US, but there are unique opportunities available when you live here.

So, how could I prepare a group of really young students to get something out of a resource like the SAAM? Perhaps we could study a particular medium, and try it many times ourselves, and talk about the life of a particular artist....and THEN go on the field trip. And only see two or three things before we regroup in the Courtyard (which is its own artistic achievement) to engage in a portable art project of some kind, and a snack. Then perhaps view one more work, then get back on the bus. And go on a January weekday, as we did, when we pretty much had the place to ourselves.

Have you tried taking little ones to a place like this, that requires prepping? How did it go? Does it sound like a good use of time and energy?

We got a little snow.

2009-12-28T18:04:00.003-08:00

This photo is from just before Christmas.

snow tunnels

snow forts

snow angels

snow people

snowballs

sledding and shoveling and loving all this

SNOW.

I thought a lot about this post from Kristin at her wonderful blog Preschool Daze, although I regret to say we didn't actually do it. Perhaps it's not too late...

Peaceful, hopeful, joyful

2009-12-25T10:18:00.000-08:00

My first semester of graduate school for my early childhood education license has been put to bed. I've had few days to reflect on it, and I'm more glad than ever that I've started this project. I'm learning so much, and it really won't be that much longer until I'll have a teaching license in my mitts. As much as I enjoy being a student (and I'll always be a student--there is always more to learn), I can't wait to get back into a classroom. I miss it so much.

We're visiting my parents for the holidays, and I'm pleased to report that finally, this year, we came to a "gifts for the kids only" agreement, and we actually stuck to it. With so much less stuff around, we're focussing on sharing food and sharing stories. I'm with my loved ones, and it's a quiet, lovely Christmas. I hope your holidays are joyful and peaceful.

Music in the classroom

2009-12-17T13:45:00.000-08:00

Before my current student phase, I was a Kindermusik teacher. I read a lot of research while I was doing that about the myriad benefits of music on the human brain, especially the young, developing human brain. More synapses are firing and more sections of our brain are in use when we make or purposefully listen to music than when we do any other activity. When I think about my future classroom, I think about songs, dances, rhythmic storytelling, and little tunes woven into the fabric of our day.

I came across this video on Kindermusik's blog, called Mind on Music. Sometimes this blog can be a little too much about Corporate and not enough about education, but often there are gems, like this summary of Northwestern University's research on the effects of musical education on language development. Really nice graphic representations here of their data.

I'll have ice cream with my pi

2009-12-16T11:37:00.001-08:00

I just completed the second of two math courses I need before I can earn my teaching license in early childhood education. These classes are called "endorsements" in the parlance of the Virginia Department of Education. Every state has endorsement requirements, and Virginia has some of the most stringent in the country. For grins, I checked on the requirements in some other states where I've lived, and my current undergraduate transcript met the requirements in each of them. But, here I am on the Virginia side of greater DC, so I took the math.

Were they a waste of time? Or were they a worthy pursuit on my way to a teaching license? I'm still not sure.

On one hand, I rather enjoyed the work. I had moments in the middle of an equation when I could forget the rest of the world and just get very deeply into an alternate mathematical state. It was a glimpse, I think, into why people absolutely love math. I was an English major and words are my first love, but I think I understand "number love" a little better now--and that puts me in a better place to inculcate "number love" in my students. I also seem to have put old math anxieties to rest, so that alone was probably worth the cost in time and money. I think of myself as a life-long student, and studying math at age 40 certainly fits with that vision of myself.

On the other hand, I have a bachelor's degree from an accredited university, and I took the required amount of math for that degree (one class). Why isn't that enough? Also, Virginia requires a passing score on the standardized test called Praxis II, one-fourth of which is on math. I passed the Praxis with flying colors, but I still needed the two extra math courses. Doesn't that constitute a double-check for the same body of knowledge? I'm all for high standards for teachers, but I'm also for applicable standards, and I'm not certain that three college level courses in math, plus an additional standardized test, all for a license that's good through 3rd grade, is the best use of state resources.

I regret to tell you that these two math classes (plus an economics class and a geography class, by the way) were responsible for a couple of years of prevaricating before I finally decided to bite the bullet. Now that I'm here and I'm doing it, I'm sad about losing that time. Shame on me. They weren't that hard. But they were a huge mental road block on my way to a teaching license. And I had to pay for them. And I had to study for them, studying time I could have applied to researching a teaching philosophy, reading a case study, or practicing a teaching technique. Time is precious, you know?

It's water under the bridge now--I've done it and I'm deeply relieved to have them behind me.
What do you think? Is Virginia a little overboard on the endorsements, or is this exactly what should be required?

My teachers

2009-12-13T09:42:00.000-08:00

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

- Buddist saying

Some of my teachers are obvious, such as my professors I have this semester. One in particular is so wonderful, so full of information, so funny and insightful, that I'm not close to digesting all the information in each class. This is my Foundations of Literacy class, and she is a linguist with a special interest in how young children develop language and literacy. I'm grateful to her investment in teacher training.

Some of my teachers are less obvious. Many teachers I've found online, such as Allie in Brussels, making magic in a reggio-inspired classroom at the edge of an old growth forest, and Tom in Seattle, who leads a co-operative preschool at the zoo. (Warning: when you read his prolific blog, you will want to drop everything and move to Seattle just so you can be a part of his amazing preschool.) I have many more teachers online, some of whom would not call themselves "teachers."

Some of my teachers are in the house. Like my daughter, who recently said this: "You never know what's going to happen. You don't know if your lollipop is going to be orange or pink. You don't know if you are going to Antarctica. You just don't know, so you have to be looking."

Or my son, who at this moment is playing the clarinet with a focus and pleasure that I didn't know he had. We had tried piano and we had tried choir, and he really, really didn't want to do either of those. Even though I know better than to label a young child, I started to think of him as simply not the musical kind. Then he started fourth grade this year, when they have the opportunity at our school to start instrumental music. He went to an instrument petting zoo put on by our wonderful music teachers, and he saw the clarinet and fell in love. He loves the way the parts nestle in their protective case, and then how they fit together. He loves the black and silver. He loves the sound. And then, he could not get a single note out of it for over two weeks. Doomed, I thought. But my son persevered, and he is playing MaryAnn right now and honestly I can't think of anything that sounds more beautiful. He thinks he is a music student, but he is my teacher, too.

A little off balance

2009-12-09T12:37:00.000-08:00

I feel happiest when I've created something during the day. Lately my creating has been strictly the academic kind--another paper, another discussion post, another test. This is okay, because I love what I'm studying, and I'm very focussed on the goal of a masters in early childhood education and its accompanying teaching license.

This is a tough season, though, to be at my computer instead of at my craft table. This year I've made no cookies, no handmade cards, no handsewn gifts, no crocheting, nor any other craft idea that is usually spread all over the house about now. I miss it.

And when I don't allow myself time to play, I find that I end up stealing time anyway, like writing a post for this blog and changing its banner. Or going out on the deck to visit our stalwart snowperson and offer him a hat.

And now, honestly, I must get back to work. Just 12 days left in this semester, and friend, they are packed.

Moving books from a master teacher

2009-12-07T08:34:00.000-08:00

Vivian Gussin Paley is a very bright star in my constellation of teaching mentors. She has written a dozen or so books about teaching preschool and Kindergarten in Chicago. I admire her for several reasons:

- She has honed the use of children's stories in the classroom to an art.

- She takes children seriously. She sees them, in the words of my wonderful Foundations of Literacy professor, "...as worthy collaboraters in their classroom narrative."

- She understands children's feelings and motivations better than anyone I can think of. She notices children.

- After decades of teaching in the classroom, she now teaches teachers, so now her body of expertise is reaching more and more children.

I just read Girl with the Brown Crayon and The Boy Who Would be a Helicopter. I'm eager to read the rest of her books. I highly recommend them--both for what they gave me in new ideas for an early childhood classroom, but also in their emotional content--the children she writes about feel very real to me. They are extraordinary children, but at the same time I understand that they are the ordinary children I'd meet in every classroom, but they feel extraordinary in Paley's books because she noticed them and recorded their extraordinary qualities. She's not a literary stylist--don't read them for heightened prose. Her dialogue, especially between teachers, isn't very successful. But if you read them for insights into great teaching, I think you'll find a treasure trove.

Here she is, speaking last year at the 92Y (92nd St. YMCA, NYC) Wonderplay 2008 conference. In the last minute, she gives one piece of advice to new educators to follow if you follow nothing else. It's pure truth.

art + poem

2009-12-03T07:33:00.000-08:00

This interview made my day. Not only is Susan Marie Swanson a wonderful poet, but it turns out that she's also kind and generous to her fellow poets (I'm not surprised). She also spends huge swaths of her writing time as a writer-in-residence in elementary schools. Lucky children. Smart schools.

I also love it that I found this interview on Jean Van't Hul's lovely blog dedicated to art for young children, The Artful Parent. It would have been no surprise to find it on a children's literature site, but finding it on a visual arts site imbued it with that sense of serendipity, of cross-pollination, of unexpected composition, that I hope to create in my future classroom. Which I can hardly wait to get to.

Now that is a very long list of rules.

2009-11-30T19:49:00.000-08:00

I picked up this book from my local library after my Rafe Esquith kick, because I had a suspicion that this is the guy Esquith upbraided for leaving his classroom for a book tour and a motivational speaker tour.

Turns out that hunch was right--this is the teacher. While I certainly don't agree with all Esquith's personal opinions on his fellow educators, I have to agree with him here.

The word that comes to mind: manipulative. In this list of 55 classroom rules, many interesting stories arise, and many are good ideas. But an equal number made me cringe for their deception, manipulation, and showboating.

For example, he tells a story about calling a student's parent and "lying through his teeth." He tells the parent that the kid is terrific, both behaving and performing well in school, in order to have a positive first contact with the parent. But the opposite is true. Then, after three days, he calls back and tells what's really going on, and this time the parent is on his side and disciplines the child. Starting out positively with a parent sounds like a great idea to me, but with lying? There's got to be a better way.

In another story, he tells us about his "famous Dorito rule." No student is ever allowed Doritos, ever. He relates how a student brought Doritos and noisily began to munch them, just so she could see Clark's theatrical confiscation. He is proud of this. It made me wonder what could have been accomplished in the time all this showboating took.

One more: Due to his great ideas and the huge scale of his projects, several years ago Clark was short-listed for the Disney Teacher of the Year award. He lands an anonymous donation to take the whole class with him to the award ceremony. But he doesn't tell them that. Instead, he gathers the students and their parents in the library for a big show of drawing three lucky students' names from a bowl. Just as he's about the draw them...he announces they're all going! Hurray! I felt bad enough for the children who were strung along like this, but to manipulate parents like that? Fellow adults who are your partners in the children's education? I would have been steamed if I were one of those parents, just so Clark could have his big Santa Claus moment.

To summarize: he's obviously got energy and ideas to spare, and I appreciate his enthusiasm. (55 class rules! Some of them are about how to clap or where to place your napkin at a restaurant!) But I am not drawn to this particular teacher's style.

A bit more on Rafe

2009-11-25T17:09:00.000-08:00

So, I decided to go backwards and read There are no Shortcuts, the first book by Rafe Esquith, the fifth grade teacher who is parting seas and turning water into wine in downtown LA. Well, okay, he's turning 10-year-olds who speak English as a second language into Shakespearean actors on world-reknowned stages, and taking his math team to state competitions--which they win against private school competition. I'm deeply impressed by not only his level of commitment, but his skill. He's a master, and just by reading his books I am learning so much.

There is, as well, a disquieting egoism lurking in these pages--this book more so than his second. While I found this distasteful, I completely understand it. The teaching profession is so misunderstood and so maligned, that it's not surprising that one of its greatest practitioners must spend the bulk of his book explaining why he is so great. He has to tell us, because otherwise, we may not understand--or care--what it is exactly that he does that makes Room 56 at Hobart Elementary School a model for the rest of us. Far too many people would look at a fifth grade teacher and say, well, that couldn't be too hard. And a man, no less--so many would think, gee, if he's got any brains or talent, why isn't he using it to make some real money? So he has to explain it to us. His passion, his commitment to children's futures, his well-honed teaching skills. It made for an awkward read, but I get it and I'm glad I know some of what's happening in his classroom. It's inspiring, and I do intend to read his book that just came out this year, titled Lighting Their Fires.

WWRD?

2009-11-21T19:03:00.000-08:00

I went to a square dance tonight with my daughter, my husband, and about 150 other young Girl Scouts and their parents. (My son is at a party of his own.) L. definitely enjoyed herself, pigtails swinging, and my husband was a wonderful dance partner who patiently taught her steps and do-si-do'ed for a long, long time.

I wish every girl there were so lucky. There were masses of parents around, but perhaps half were dancing with their daughters. The other girls were left to their own devices, which more often than not meant swinging madly around until one of them slid across the floor or running around--you know, just adding chaos to the event--while their parents either chatted or checked their blackberries. As an extra adult, I asked several girls if they would like a dance partner, but dancing with someone else's mom was not an offer many of them took up. So, I had some time to observe the scene and ponder.

This happened to come right after I finished Rafe Esquith's book Teach Like Your Hair's on Fire. So much fodder for thought, especially his emphasis on behavior, standards, and striving for excellence with every minute. According to this teaching veteran, his students would never have behaved like that. They would have remained attentive so that they would have learned the dance steps. They wouldn't be crazy, to make sure they weren't interfering with anyone else's efforts to dance. They would have participated, had fun, and left feeling like they really earned their Girl Scout square dance badge. I feel like my daughter can feel that way--not because she has perfect behavior--she doesn't--but because she had a loving adult attending to her and making sure she got something meaningful out of the evening. I found myself asking, how would Rafe Esquith handle this situation? Of course, they weren't students in tonight's context. They were daughters, and their parents were present. They just weren't present.

By the way, I highly recommend this book. It's a quick read and gave me much to chew on about the possibilities of a single classroom.

Perspective

2009-11-02T07:48:00.000-08:00

I'm taking Cultural Geography, too, because Viriginia requires a geography class on my transcript before I can be licensed. I can imagine many worse fates than having to take geography--fascinating material. I'm writing a paper about population growth in Ethiopia, and its effects on--among other things--education. Simply put, girls are not educated in rural Ethiopia, and few boys are.

When I dispair, pondering the problems with our education system in the United States, I think it's helpful for me to put it in reference to education in Ethiopia.

the depth of a single utterance

2009-10-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

In my foundations of language and literacy class for my masters in early childhood education, we are delving deeply into a few utterances by children. We dissect them to discover what the child is showing about his or her language development, and what foundations for literacy they are laying. It's fascinating, and I've learned that even one utterance has enough material for an unending amount of linguistic research. Syntax, phonology, morphology, semantics....that's just for starters. We're going deep!

This marvelous A, by the way, is the work of Rhett Dashwood, a graphic designer from Australia, who pored over satellite images until he found all 26 letters.

stretching my thinking

2009-10-25T22:08:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading my first Jonathan Kozol book. I intend to read Savage Inequalities and Shame of the Nation as well. I'm intrigued by his life experience and what conclusions he's drawn from what he's seen.

He tells many jaw-dropping stories in this electic account, but one that really sticks with me is the story that began him on his education activist journey: when he dared to teach Langston Hughes to inner-city Boston black middle school kids, and he got fired for it. The parents and larger community got angry. They defended him and began a huge protest on his behalf. It was the kind of moment that defines a life, and now, 40 years later, Kozol is still testing boundaries, speaking his truth, and getting people fired up.

I had to ask myself, what kind of teacher am I? Where do I intend to teach? When I'm there, will I maintain the status quo, or will I challenge it? What is best for the children whose education will be entrusted to me?

I must protest, for a moment, on Kozol's treatment of teacher education personnel who come into schools for continuing education. He skins alive a woman who makes a reference to text-to-self connection. Meta-speak, he dismissively says. But framing our work in theroretical terms makes sense to my brain. If I know the theory, if I have a map, then I know where to drive and how I'm progressing. I can like theory and still speak plainly. They are not mutually exclusive.

Observing Glebe

2009-10-15T13:51:00.000-07:00

I am observing in a 1st grade classroom this week at Glebe Elementary School in Arlington, VA. I feel very lucky to have this chance. Glebe has a very good vibe going--the staff and faculty smile and say a few collegial words to each other in the hallways. The children are engaged in good learning in so many ways, with good teachers and good resources. There is a busy hum here, and heck, look at this building! It's only five years old. It's a treat to enjoy this cutting edge educational architecture and design. Just to see the library alone is worth a trip to Glebe.

The teacher I'm observing couldn't be more kind or generous with her time and ideas. One of the things I need to develop is my classroom management skill, and I'm picking up many, many ideas from her.

The week is going too quickly--I already feel attached to these children, and I'll miss them when I'm done with the observation.

Thank you, Glebe!

All journeys begin with a single step

2009-10-11T16:05:00.000-07:00

Not that I'm on my first step--as a matter of fact, I'm well along my way, but I still have a long way to go. I'm getting my masters in early childhood education, as well as my license to teach in the state of Virginia, at George Mason University. When I'm finished in December 2010, I will be licensed to teach preschool through 3rd grade.

I hope this blog will be a good tool for me, as a record of what I've learned and to show the progression of my thoughts on education theories and practical techniques.

I hope this blog will join the many edu-blogs I admire that add something useful to the online conversation about teaching and learning in early childhood classrooms.

I hope this blog will eventually be a community tool for my future classroom. I most often envision it to be a Kindergarten classroom, but I would love to teach all the grades for which I will be licensed.

I wish I were already there! But, at the same time, this education journey has its own pleasures. Thanks for coming along!