Earlier this school year, I was reviewing colors with my class of 3-5 year olds. For each color, I have taught the students a rhyme, the ASL sign and the word in Spanish. I hold up different colors, and the students take turns calling out the rhyme, showing me the ASL sign, or saying the color words in Spanish.
One particularly enthusiastic student shouted out the rhyme associated with the color red ("Red, red, go to bed") while at the same time signing the word for red. Hoping to keep the momentum going I asked the student to say the word "red" using Spanish.
His reply?
"That's red, amigo!"
Monday, March 30, 2015
Monday, April 1, 2013
Finding the Joy
Leaving the very small, loving community that was my
last preschool was tough. And as I become more involved with the public
schools, I realize how truly special it was.
Why do I teach preschool? It is not a well paying job. I have to spend my own money on occasion to perform my job. There is an enormous amount of work involved, and my job doesn't end when the school day ends. I get kicked, spit on, bitten, pinched and scratched; I have to change clothes covered in pee, vomit and worse. I come home from work sometimes so tired that I can barely be a loving parent.
Yeah, my job sucks. I need to quit.
But I LOVE my job. The absolute joy I feel when I connect with a young child is hard to describe. The giddy excitement I feel when a child makes a discovery makes every time I get a mouthful of an uncovered sneeze worth it. I am helping these little tiny people learn to navigate their world; teaching them how to be wonderful human beings and enthusiastic learners.
Working in this new environment has exposed me to people who don't find the same innate joy in their profession as I do. Which leads me to this question I constantly ask...
If you don't love teaching, then why do you do it? It is not a lucrative position....
I overheard a conversation between a couple of colleagues a few months ago. They were discussing a student who was challenging in the classroom. "I just hate him" one preschool teacher said to the other.
This conversation made my heart hurt. How in the world is it possible to hate a preschooler? Yes, they can make you crazy. Yes, certain behaviors can drive you nuts. And certainly the 1000th time you say "use your words" to the habitual biter makes you want to head straight to the nearest bar. But hate? In my world, never.
The behavior of a preschool aged child is learned. The behaviors they bring into the classroom are what they have used in their home to get the attention they crave. Good attention, bad attention, at age 3, 4, 5 (and older...) is all the same to a young child. To work under the assumption that a young child is just being a pill just to bug you, or to make your life difficult, or to ruin your well thought out lesson plan is ridiculous. They are three, and they are behaving the only way they know how. It is up to me, their preschool teacher, to figure out where the behavior is coming from, and then teach them how to behave appropriately.
But, there is that word, "appropriate". What is appropriate? I really shouldn't toss that term about, because it really should be directed at the adults in the preschool classroom.
A teacher of young children needs to adjust their expectations to abilities of the current group of children they are teaching. The group dynamic is different every year, and what works like a dream one year may be a miserable failure the next. Embrace the challenge.
So...that child that makes you crazy. That you may even "hate" (ugh, it hurts even to type that word); figure out why. Many times, the expectations that have been set out for him are unattainable, and he expresses his frustration the only way he knows how.
Maybe he lives in a busy household, and the only time his grown-ups acknowledge him is when he acts out. Acknowledge him for his good choices and ignore the wrong ones. Praise him for even the smallest victories (good job not hitting your friend in the last 2 minutes, woo-hoo!!)
Maybe there is turmoil in his home life, and the only way he can deal is acting out at school. Make school a respite for him. Create a safe and loving environment where he feels comfortable and happy. Let him know the minute he walks into the classroom he is cherished and loved, and his day will be one of discovery and fun. Sometimes, this child just needs to be held. Hold him.
Maybe he is bored. Figure out what interests this child. Challenge him. Boredom is huge. If your students are running around like crazy people and refuse to make good choices, the problem is your classroom, not the kiddos. Change it up.
Maybe there is something misfiring in the way his brain processes sensory input and information. Early intervention is key to helping children with these types of challenges. Although, I hesitate to throw out this as a reason for challenging behavior. It is important to understand that the inability to sit still for long periods of time is not necessarily a sign of ADHD or autism. It is usually a sign of being three.
Every year I have a child who comes to me with challenging behavior. My secret to effectively teaching and engaging with this child is to find the joy in that child.
Every child has joy in them. It may be the way the crinkle their eyes when they smile. Or the way they understand my dry sense of humor. Or how they approach every activity with their entire body. Or how their face lights up when they make a discovery. Or simply the way they grab my hand when walking to the playground.
I find the joy, concentrate on it, and soon I am able to find the joy in every part of that child, even the parts that drive me nuts. The child knows that I care for them, no matter what, and a relationship built on mutual trust is born. Even when a bad choice is made, they know (because I tell them and show them) that I will always care for them. We work together to learn from mistakes, and how to make good choices.
And truth be told, as much as I try to teach them, those kiddos with the challenging behavior teach me so much more. And my most challenging students are the ones who find the biggest place in my heart.
Early childhood educators who see a child with behavior issues as a problem instead of a wonderful opportunity of mutual growth are missing out on one of the very best things about teaching young children.
Love my job.
Why do I teach preschool? It is not a well paying job. I have to spend my own money on occasion to perform my job. There is an enormous amount of work involved, and my job doesn't end when the school day ends. I get kicked, spit on, bitten, pinched and scratched; I have to change clothes covered in pee, vomit and worse. I come home from work sometimes so tired that I can barely be a loving parent.
Yeah, my job sucks. I need to quit.
But I LOVE my job. The absolute joy I feel when I connect with a young child is hard to describe. The giddy excitement I feel when a child makes a discovery makes every time I get a mouthful of an uncovered sneeze worth it. I am helping these little tiny people learn to navigate their world; teaching them how to be wonderful human beings and enthusiastic learners.
Working in this new environment has exposed me to people who don't find the same innate joy in their profession as I do. Which leads me to this question I constantly ask...
If you don't love teaching, then why do you do it? It is not a lucrative position....
I overheard a conversation between a couple of colleagues a few months ago. They were discussing a student who was challenging in the classroom. "I just hate him" one preschool teacher said to the other.
This conversation made my heart hurt. How in the world is it possible to hate a preschooler? Yes, they can make you crazy. Yes, certain behaviors can drive you nuts. And certainly the 1000th time you say "use your words" to the habitual biter makes you want to head straight to the nearest bar. But hate? In my world, never.
The behavior of a preschool aged child is learned. The behaviors they bring into the classroom are what they have used in their home to get the attention they crave. Good attention, bad attention, at age 3, 4, 5 (and older...) is all the same to a young child. To work under the assumption that a young child is just being a pill just to bug you, or to make your life difficult, or to ruin your well thought out lesson plan is ridiculous. They are three, and they are behaving the only way they know how. It is up to me, their preschool teacher, to figure out where the behavior is coming from, and then teach them how to behave appropriately.
But, there is that word, "appropriate". What is appropriate? I really shouldn't toss that term about, because it really should be directed at the adults in the preschool classroom.
A teacher of young children needs to adjust their expectations to abilities of the current group of children they are teaching. The group dynamic is different every year, and what works like a dream one year may be a miserable failure the next. Embrace the challenge.
So...that child that makes you crazy. That you may even "hate" (ugh, it hurts even to type that word); figure out why. Many times, the expectations that have been set out for him are unattainable, and he expresses his frustration the only way he knows how.
Maybe he lives in a busy household, and the only time his grown-ups acknowledge him is when he acts out. Acknowledge him for his good choices and ignore the wrong ones. Praise him for even the smallest victories (good job not hitting your friend in the last 2 minutes, woo-hoo!!)
Maybe there is turmoil in his home life, and the only way he can deal is acting out at school. Make school a respite for him. Create a safe and loving environment where he feels comfortable and happy. Let him know the minute he walks into the classroom he is cherished and loved, and his day will be one of discovery and fun. Sometimes, this child just needs to be held. Hold him.
Maybe he is bored. Figure out what interests this child. Challenge him. Boredom is huge. If your students are running around like crazy people and refuse to make good choices, the problem is your classroom, not the kiddos. Change it up.
Maybe there is something misfiring in the way his brain processes sensory input and information. Early intervention is key to helping children with these types of challenges. Although, I hesitate to throw out this as a reason for challenging behavior. It is important to understand that the inability to sit still for long periods of time is not necessarily a sign of ADHD or autism. It is usually a sign of being three.
Every year I have a child who comes to me with challenging behavior. My secret to effectively teaching and engaging with this child is to find the joy in that child.
Every child has joy in them. It may be the way the crinkle their eyes when they smile. Or the way they understand my dry sense of humor. Or how they approach every activity with their entire body. Or how their face lights up when they make a discovery. Or simply the way they grab my hand when walking to the playground.
I find the joy, concentrate on it, and soon I am able to find the joy in every part of that child, even the parts that drive me nuts. The child knows that I care for them, no matter what, and a relationship built on mutual trust is born. Even when a bad choice is made, they know (because I tell them and show them) that I will always care for them. We work together to learn from mistakes, and how to make good choices.
And truth be told, as much as I try to teach them, those kiddos with the challenging behavior teach me so much more. And my most challenging students are the ones who find the biggest place in my heart.
Early childhood educators who see a child with behavior issues as a problem instead of a wonderful opportunity of mutual growth are missing out on one of the very best things about teaching young children.
Love my job.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Why Won't They Quit Running?
My new class of two year olds had boundless energy. Run, run, run. All they did was run. And then run some more. My mantras of "We use our walking feet when we are inside" and "Walking feet, please" fell on deaf, running ears. Why would they want to walk when running is so much more fun? And for some of the students, a new found skill. Yet, they needed to learn that running in the classroom is not safe. Plus, the older they get, the more running inside is frowned upon.
I needed to figure out a way to not have to say "Walk, please" over and over again. Because even I was starting to ignore the sound of my voice.
I planted myself in the middle of the chaos which was my classroom, and watched. I noted where the main running areas were. And looking at these areas with a small, two-year-old, perspective, it became quite clear why the running was happening. These spaces in my classroom looked like a what wide open, grassy field looks like to me - a place where you have no choice but to run.
My plan? Eliminate the inviting, wide open places. I needed more furniture.
I was introduced to the campus warehouse, from which I took several tables, a couple of shelves, and a whole kitchen set for the dramatic play area (Score!).
I then placed these new item of furniture right smack in the middle of the wide open spaces. On the furniture I placed an assortment of activities; crayons, puzzles, paper tearing, books.
The new classroom design was not aesthetically pleasing. It really made no sense to my "I need Centers and stuff" classroom mentality. However, the students no longer ran. They slowed down, and showed interest in the various activities I had out. They slowed down long enough for us to discuss the merits of walking in the classroom as opposed to running. And most important, I was no longer asking them to stop doing something; instead, they were able to start doing things. Lots of fun, interesting things. Yay!
I needed to figure out a way to not have to say "Walk, please" over and over again. Because even I was starting to ignore the sound of my voice.
I planted myself in the middle of the chaos which was my classroom, and watched. I noted where the main running areas were. And looking at these areas with a small, two-year-old, perspective, it became quite clear why the running was happening. These spaces in my classroom looked like a what wide open, grassy field looks like to me - a place where you have no choice but to run.
My plan? Eliminate the inviting, wide open places. I needed more furniture.
I was introduced to the campus warehouse, from which I took several tables, a couple of shelves, and a whole kitchen set for the dramatic play area (Score!).
I then placed these new item of furniture right smack in the middle of the wide open spaces. On the furniture I placed an assortment of activities; crayons, puzzles, paper tearing, books.
The new classroom design was not aesthetically pleasing. It really made no sense to my "I need Centers and stuff" classroom mentality. However, the students no longer ran. They slowed down, and showed interest in the various activities I had out. They slowed down long enough for us to discuss the merits of walking in the classroom as opposed to running. And most important, I was no longer asking them to stop doing something; instead, they were able to start doing things. Lots of fun, interesting things. Yay!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
A New Adventure
Once I completed my Master's degree program in Early Childhood education, I tucked my new degree into my belt, and since I needed to pay for this piece of paper, I decided to leave the magical, special preschool where I had taught for the the last 10 years, and find a teaching position that offered more money, benefits, and the opportunity for advancement.
I was fortunate to be offered a position in the local school district. Teaching two year olds. After I enthusiastically accepted the position, I hung up the phone, and repeated, "Teaching two year olds? What does one teach a two year old?"
I was at a loss. All of my expertise was working with three year olds. I was good with three year olds. How in the world was I going to create a warm and engaging classroom for two year olds? Plus, I would be changing diapers. That whole celebration I had when my youngest was FINALLY out of diapers was apparently in vain. Panic started to set in. The bit of information that caused full blown panic? "Your class has 25 students."
25 two-year-olds? In diapers? Holy cow, how on earth was I going to manage this?
I walk in on the first day to a bunch of very small children running around. A LOT of very small children running around. A lot of small children running around...wearing diapers. The changing table is in the front of the room, gleaming and mocking me.
I am trying to wrap my head around how I am going to change 25 diapers. How can I possible keep 25 bottoms fresh and clean and teach them things? Can I teach children this young things?
My first day was...let's say...not perfect. I felt like all I did was change diapers, catch toys that were being tossed around the room, and during nap time I spent 1 hour and 38 minutes trying to calm a screaming child. Who tried to bite me. Twice.
So glad I got that degree.
By the end of the first week, I had established my countdown to the end of the year, and ran myself ragged trying to just make sure I had as many kids at the end of the day that I started out with.
That first weekend I analyzed why I was running so ragged. What is the key to a calm and easy to manage classroom? The students need to be engaged. They need to know what is expected of them. They need to have structure.
And thus began my adventure in the world of the two-year-olds.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Logic of the Three-Year-Old
We do a lot of cooking and food preparation in my class. Cooking provides endless opportunites for math and science exploration; kids are also more apt to try new foods if they have a hand in preparing them.
Cooking with three-year-olds can be daunting, what with the finger licking, the coughing into the food, the 12 kids all wanting a turn at once, the one child that always wants to throw the food across the room...it is chaos. And if there is actual heat, like an oven or a griddle, involved? Now there is the chance of injury. The entire prospect has sent some teachers screaming from the room.
I feel the positives far outweigh the chaos factor, so I muscle through. At the beginning of the school year, I set up basic ground rules, designed to eliminate the chaos before it starts. The class and I talk extensively about waiting for a turn (everyone will get a chance!), safety rules regarding oven, burners and the like, and handwashing.
Handwashing is huge in my classroom. The students know they need to wash their hands when they arrive at school, when they pick their nose or stick their thumb in their mouth, and before we cook. They know that washing hands helps germs not to spread, so no one will get sick.
And speaking of germs, the most difficult thing to teach my students when it comes to cooking is that they can't lick their fingers (or the mixing bowl, or the spoon, or the beaters) when we cook. I establish immediately that while licking is awesome and fun and wonderful, it is only done at home. At school there are too many germs, and so to keep everyone healthy, we can't lick. My mantra is "You can't lick or you might get sick." This little rule is incredibly difficult to follow when baking birthday cupcakes - I mean, how can you NOT lick your finger when you get a little batter on it?
But, by October, everyone knows and accepts the rules, and cooking becomes a fun, and educational activity.
Last week, we were making birthday cupckes. To celebrate birthdays, we make mini-cupcakes as a class, and eat them at the end of the day. The birthday child gets to take the leftovers home to decorate with his family. The birthday child gets to pour all the ingredients in, and have the first turn with the electric mixer, and then each student also gets a turn to mix the batter.
As she is patiently waiting for her turn with the mixer, Elise suddenly sticks her finger in the batter and scoops some up to put it in her mouth. I catch her with her finger in her mouth, and I remind her, "You can't lick or you might get sick." I send her to the sink to wash her hands.
It is important to note here that Elise had been nursing a pretty bad cold for several days. While she had been cleared by her doctor to come back to school, she still had a nasty sounding cough and a runny nose. All the more reason I really didn't want her fingers in our cupcake batter.
It took me a few minutes, but I realize that Elise had been standing at the sink, with the water running, for longer than was needed for a quick hand wash. I left my post at the electric mixer (a parent took my spot), to find out what was going on.
Elise was standing at the sink, with huge, crocodile tears streaming down her face. I thought this was a bit dramatic for having been simply remided of our no licking rule, but she was sobbing as if I had shattered her heart into a million pieces.
I helped her finish with her hands, and then I held her, and told her to calm down so we could discuss why it was so important to not lick when we were cooking. She looks at me with her tear stained face, and says, "I KNOW why we have that rule. We can't lick so we don't get sick." Me, still not getting it, says, "Then why did you stick you finger in the batter?" Elise: "Because I am ALREADY sick!"
Ahhhhhhh!
Makes total sense.
.
Cooking with three-year-olds can be daunting, what with the finger licking, the coughing into the food, the 12 kids all wanting a turn at once, the one child that always wants to throw the food across the room...it is chaos. And if there is actual heat, like an oven or a griddle, involved? Now there is the chance of injury. The entire prospect has sent some teachers screaming from the room.
I feel the positives far outweigh the chaos factor, so I muscle through. At the beginning of the school year, I set up basic ground rules, designed to eliminate the chaos before it starts. The class and I talk extensively about waiting for a turn (everyone will get a chance!), safety rules regarding oven, burners and the like, and handwashing.
Handwashing is huge in my classroom. The students know they need to wash their hands when they arrive at school, when they pick their nose or stick their thumb in their mouth, and before we cook. They know that washing hands helps germs not to spread, so no one will get sick.
And speaking of germs, the most difficult thing to teach my students when it comes to cooking is that they can't lick their fingers (or the mixing bowl, or the spoon, or the beaters) when we cook. I establish immediately that while licking is awesome and fun and wonderful, it is only done at home. At school there are too many germs, and so to keep everyone healthy, we can't lick. My mantra is "You can't lick or you might get sick." This little rule is incredibly difficult to follow when baking birthday cupcakes - I mean, how can you NOT lick your finger when you get a little batter on it?
But, by October, everyone knows and accepts the rules, and cooking becomes a fun, and educational activity.
Last week, we were making birthday cupckes. To celebrate birthdays, we make mini-cupcakes as a class, and eat them at the end of the day. The birthday child gets to take the leftovers home to decorate with his family. The birthday child gets to pour all the ingredients in, and have the first turn with the electric mixer, and then each student also gets a turn to mix the batter.
As she is patiently waiting for her turn with the mixer, Elise suddenly sticks her finger in the batter and scoops some up to put it in her mouth. I catch her with her finger in her mouth, and I remind her, "You can't lick or you might get sick." I send her to the sink to wash her hands.
It is important to note here that Elise had been nursing a pretty bad cold for several days. While she had been cleared by her doctor to come back to school, she still had a nasty sounding cough and a runny nose. All the more reason I really didn't want her fingers in our cupcake batter.
It took me a few minutes, but I realize that Elise had been standing at the sink, with the water running, for longer than was needed for a quick hand wash. I left my post at the electric mixer (a parent took my spot), to find out what was going on.
Elise was standing at the sink, with huge, crocodile tears streaming down her face. I thought this was a bit dramatic for having been simply remided of our no licking rule, but she was sobbing as if I had shattered her heart into a million pieces.
I helped her finish with her hands, and then I held her, and told her to calm down so we could discuss why it was so important to not lick when we were cooking. She looks at me with her tear stained face, and says, "I KNOW why we have that rule. We can't lick so we don't get sick." Me, still not getting it, says, "Then why did you stick you finger in the batter?" Elise: "Because I am ALREADY sick!"
Ahhhhhhh!
Makes total sense.
.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Overheard in Preschool
I walked in on this conversation in the restroom the other day...
Sasha: "So, you guys, I have GOT to tell you something"
Her girlfriends: "Ooohh, what? Tell us!"
Sasha: "I am totally getting married!"
Jill (excitedly): "To who??!!"
Sasha: "I am going to get married to Paul." (Paul is a classmate)
Sara (dubiously): "I don't think you're allowed to get married when you're little. I think you have to be big to get married."
Sasha: "But I love Paul so we are getting married."
Jill (with authority): "I know that you are allowed to get married when you are little, but you can only marry your brother."
Sasha (sees me): "Oh hi, Mrs. Velarde! Um, we were just talking (giggles) about boys and things."
Yep, they are three. Wish I could be a fly on the wall when they are 15.
.
Sasha: "So, you guys, I have GOT to tell you something"
Her girlfriends: "Ooohh, what? Tell us!"
Sasha: "I am totally getting married!"
Jill (excitedly): "To who??!!"
Sasha: "I am going to get married to Paul." (Paul is a classmate)
Sara (dubiously): "I don't think you're allowed to get married when you're little. I think you have to be big to get married."
Sasha: "But I love Paul so we are getting married."
Jill (with authority): "I know that you are allowed to get married when you are little, but you can only marry your brother."
Sasha (sees me): "Oh hi, Mrs. Velarde! Um, we were just talking (giggles) about boys and things."
Yep, they are three. Wish I could be a fly on the wall when they are 15.
.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Cell Phones in the Preschool Classroom
As cell phones have now become a necessary item for most families, it becomes the teacher's responsibility to teach her students proper cell phone protocol, and establish firm rules about student cell phone use in the classroom.
In preschool?
That above paragraph is a standard blurb that comes home from my daughters' junior high and high schools. I read it every year, warn my daughters that if they use their cell phones inappropriately at school I will toss them in the pool, and mentally thank goodness I teach three-year-olds and don't have to worry about such things.
Until this year.
I always have broken and cast off cell phones in my classroom. They make terrific additions to the dramatic play center; the kids love to call each other and text. It is always fun to see them talk on the cell phone, cook dinner and hold a baby all at the same time. They are practicing multitasking!
But this year I have found them to be a distraction...
Me: "Come on everyone, time for our story!"
Jill, age 3, with a broken cell phone pressed to her ear, gives me the international signal for "Hold on, I am on the phone" - index finger raised in my direction. She then turns her back to me and says into the phone, "Sorry, I gotta go, my teacher is calling us for a story". Obviously, the pretend friend on the other end gave her a hard time, because it took her a bit to get to the carpet. And then she was mad that I started without her.
Ooookaayyy....
Another day, Sasha is in the library, laying on the couch, talking animatedly on a broken cell phone. A friend asks her to move over so he can sit on the couch and read a book. "NO!" she tells him emphatically, "I am ON THE PHONE!"
This escalated, and by the time I made my way over to the library to diffuse the situation, we had full blown tears. From Sasha, who thought that everyone needed to give her privacy in the library when she was on the phone.
Ooookaayyyy...
The final straw happened this week when while I am trying to read a story. Two friends had the cell phones and they were "texting" each other. One would pull the cell phone out of her pocket, tap on the keyboard, and then put the cell phone back in her pocket. A few seconds later her friend would squeal, pull the cell phone from HER pocket, laugh uproariously, tap on the keyboard, and then put the phone back in her pocket. And then friend A would squeal, take out her phone....you get the pattern.
I didn't let this go on for very long - I firmly established the rule: No cell phones during Story Time. I was asked the question, "Can we have them if they are on Silent?"
Argh!
This week, my students will discover that the classroom is blissfully cell phone free. They will have to their communication with the rotary dial phone in the dramatic play center.
.
In preschool?
That above paragraph is a standard blurb that comes home from my daughters' junior high and high schools. I read it every year, warn my daughters that if they use their cell phones inappropriately at school I will toss them in the pool, and mentally thank goodness I teach three-year-olds and don't have to worry about such things.
Until this year.
I always have broken and cast off cell phones in my classroom. They make terrific additions to the dramatic play center; the kids love to call each other and text. It is always fun to see them talk on the cell phone, cook dinner and hold a baby all at the same time. They are practicing multitasking!
But this year I have found them to be a distraction...
Me: "Come on everyone, time for our story!"
Jill, age 3, with a broken cell phone pressed to her ear, gives me the international signal for "Hold on, I am on the phone" - index finger raised in my direction. She then turns her back to me and says into the phone, "Sorry, I gotta go, my teacher is calling us for a story". Obviously, the pretend friend on the other end gave her a hard time, because it took her a bit to get to the carpet. And then she was mad that I started without her.
Ooookaayyy....
Another day, Sasha is in the library, laying on the couch, talking animatedly on a broken cell phone. A friend asks her to move over so he can sit on the couch and read a book. "NO!" she tells him emphatically, "I am ON THE PHONE!"
This escalated, and by the time I made my way over to the library to diffuse the situation, we had full blown tears. From Sasha, who thought that everyone needed to give her privacy in the library when she was on the phone.
Ooookaayyyy...
The final straw happened this week when while I am trying to read a story. Two friends had the cell phones and they were "texting" each other. One would pull the cell phone out of her pocket, tap on the keyboard, and then put the cell phone back in her pocket. A few seconds later her friend would squeal, pull the cell phone from HER pocket, laugh uproariously, tap on the keyboard, and then put the phone back in her pocket. And then friend A would squeal, take out her phone....you get the pattern.
I didn't let this go on for very long - I firmly established the rule: No cell phones during Story Time. I was asked the question, "Can we have them if they are on Silent?"
Argh!
This week, my students will discover that the classroom is blissfully cell phone free. They will have to their communication with the rotary dial phone in the dramatic play center.
.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Bodily Fluids and the New School Year
I had a milestone this year. It was the first year in four that I didn't get peed on on the first day of school.
Getting peed on, or puked on, are normal occurances in the life of a preschool teacher. After a while, you get really good at figuring out how to avoid these things, but it usually takes a few weeks when the school year starts.
Three-year-olds all have their individual "I need to pee" signals. The signals can be subtle, like a slight rocking back and forth, or very apparant like the grabbing the crotch and crossing the legs while still trying to play with that truck. Some kids also have very specific times when they need to go. After a few weeks, I get quite good at reading each child's signal or knowing their schedule, and can calmly and firmly lead them to the restroom when it becomes apparent that the need is there.
Today I spot a little guy making the international signal for "I need to go now!" and tell him it is time for him to go to the potty. (I have a bathroom in my classroom, so the kids can just head in there when the need strikes).
Little Guy: "But I don't need to go"
Me: "It is time, come on, I will go with you."
The little guy puts his head down, slouches his shoulders and shuffles over to the bathroom, glaring at me from the corner of his eye all the way over (like 10 steps). He gets to the bathroom and just stands in there, head down, looking put out.
Me: "It is time for you to go potty....go ahead, I will be right outside the door."
Little Guy: "I don't want to go!"
Me: "Don't you need to go?"
Little Guy: "I need to go really bad."
Me: "Then why don't you just go??"
Little Guy: "Because I DON'T WANT TO!"
And he drops his head to his chest and heaves a dramatic sigh. By the way, this whole exchange is taking place while he is still performing his "I need to go" dance.
Me: "It is time for you to go."
Little Guy huffs over to the potty, starts to pull down his pants and I close the door to give him his privacy. A few minutes later he comes out, having flushed the toilet and washed his hands without being reminded. He looks at me, beaming, and says, "Thanks for reminding me to go potty, I feel SO much better!"
The first few weeks of school also brings the inevitable mystery pile of poop on the floor. This is always fun. First of all...gross! There is poop on the floor! Everyone please stay away...no! Don't touch it!
But I, as the teacher, get to touch the poop. (Seriously, the absolute worst part of my job). How do I clean it up without actually touching it, all the while keeping an upbeat and cheery look on my face while at the same time trying to figure out whose poop it is?
This year, it was surprisingly easy. I was informed by a student to "check out what is over here on the floor!" I make my way to the offensive pile and start trying to identify possible suspects without actually having to use my nose.
Me: "Well, what happened here?"
Adorable new student, looking at me with the cutest eyes: "I pooped in my pants and it fell out onto the floor."
Well, that was easy.
Long story short, I cleaned up everything and everyone and I made a mental note to stock more baby wipes in my bathroom.
So, here's the thing. School is a big deal for these little people. It's new, different, exciting, and probably quite scary. Can you blame them for pushing the urge to go potty to the back of their minds? I mean, they are not me, where an unplanned sneeze is not a fun experience. They have so many other things to do and to see and to experience, going potty is just TOO boring. Plus, they might lose their turn with that awesome truck.
It is my job to learn their signals and routines, and help them understand that even if it boring, going potty is necessary.
One day last year, I went to the potty in the public restroom at the same time my students were in there (we go to the public restroom as a group after recess). This was apparently a big deal, because, I was informed quite seriously, that "teachers don't go potty!" The girls were so excited to tell the boys "Mrs. Velarde peed!". I was so famous for that incident that I vowed that future students would think I never went to the potty except to tell them to go.
So far...so good.
..
Getting peed on, or puked on, are normal occurances in the life of a preschool teacher. After a while, you get really good at figuring out how to avoid these things, but it usually takes a few weeks when the school year starts.
Three-year-olds all have their individual "I need to pee" signals. The signals can be subtle, like a slight rocking back and forth, or very apparant like the grabbing the crotch and crossing the legs while still trying to play with that truck. Some kids also have very specific times when they need to go. After a few weeks, I get quite good at reading each child's signal or knowing their schedule, and can calmly and firmly lead them to the restroom when it becomes apparent that the need is there.
Today I spot a little guy making the international signal for "I need to go now!" and tell him it is time for him to go to the potty. (I have a bathroom in my classroom, so the kids can just head in there when the need strikes).
Little Guy: "But I don't need to go"
Me: "It is time, come on, I will go with you."
The little guy puts his head down, slouches his shoulders and shuffles over to the bathroom, glaring at me from the corner of his eye all the way over (like 10 steps). He gets to the bathroom and just stands in there, head down, looking put out.
Me: "It is time for you to go potty....go ahead, I will be right outside the door."
Little Guy: "I don't want to go!"
Me: "Don't you need to go?"
Little Guy: "I need to go really bad."
Me: "Then why don't you just go??"
Little Guy: "Because I DON'T WANT TO!"
And he drops his head to his chest and heaves a dramatic sigh. By the way, this whole exchange is taking place while he is still performing his "I need to go" dance.
Me: "It is time for you to go."
Little Guy huffs over to the potty, starts to pull down his pants and I close the door to give him his privacy. A few minutes later he comes out, having flushed the toilet and washed his hands without being reminded. He looks at me, beaming, and says, "Thanks for reminding me to go potty, I feel SO much better!"
The first few weeks of school also brings the inevitable mystery pile of poop on the floor. This is always fun. First of all...gross! There is poop on the floor! Everyone please stay away...no! Don't touch it!
But I, as the teacher, get to touch the poop. (Seriously, the absolute worst part of my job). How do I clean it up without actually touching it, all the while keeping an upbeat and cheery look on my face while at the same time trying to figure out whose poop it is?
This year, it was surprisingly easy. I was informed by a student to "check out what is over here on the floor!" I make my way to the offensive pile and start trying to identify possible suspects without actually having to use my nose.
Me: "Well, what happened here?"
Adorable new student, looking at me with the cutest eyes: "I pooped in my pants and it fell out onto the floor."
Well, that was easy.
Long story short, I cleaned up everything and everyone and I made a mental note to stock more baby wipes in my bathroom.
So, here's the thing. School is a big deal for these little people. It's new, different, exciting, and probably quite scary. Can you blame them for pushing the urge to go potty to the back of their minds? I mean, they are not me, where an unplanned sneeze is not a fun experience. They have so many other things to do and to see and to experience, going potty is just TOO boring. Plus, they might lose their turn with that awesome truck.
It is my job to learn their signals and routines, and help them understand that even if it boring, going potty is necessary.
One day last year, I went to the potty in the public restroom at the same time my students were in there (we go to the public restroom as a group after recess). This was apparently a big deal, because, I was informed quite seriously, that "teachers don't go potty!" The girls were so excited to tell the boys "Mrs. Velarde peed!". I was so famous for that incident that I vowed that future students would think I never went to the potty except to tell them to go.
So far...so good.
..
Room Set- Up
Every year I am faced with the daunting challenge of setting up my room for the upcoming year. Why, I ask myself, is this so hard?
I have the same furniture, in the same room, as I have had for the last several years. So, why oh why is this such a hard task??
A couple of years ago, a colleague's daughter was in my room as I complained that I couldn't remember how the room was arranged the previous year. She came up with the genius idea to take pictures of the room so I could remember how it was set up. Have I ever followed this very clever bit of advice? No, not once.
Why do I have to set up my room every year? Because every summer each classroom is emptied of all the furniture so the floors can be stripped and waxed. So every fall, we have to set up the classrooms again.
Each year I have visions of how I want the room to look. I plan it out mentally in the shower for weeks. I get excited to finally be able to arrange the room to look like the vision that is in my head.
And, inevitably, a few things happen...
I forget to include a center (who needs an art center?)
I think the room is bigger than it is (why don't these two extra bookshelves fit?)
I forget where things are (I guess I shouldn't put the easel where it blocks the bathroom door)
So, I spend endless amounts of time moving around shelves and tables and rugs, and then getting on my knees to see what a three-year-old would see, then moving everything around again.
But, quite frankly, all of this is an exercise in futility. Because I don't know how this new group of kids is going to be. Will they spend lots of time enjoying my carefully designed library, or will it collect cobwebs from lack of use? Will they love all the room in the block center or will they take all the blocks to a quiet corner to build with? Will having a music center be just too loud to handle?
All questions which cannot be answered until my new students come into the classroom and begin to explore. I know it will take a few weeks for me to get a feel for this new group and to design my classroom in a way that will be best for them.
So, why do I spend all this time the week before school starts rearranging my room 600 times?
I need to take pictures this year...
...
I have the same furniture, in the same room, as I have had for the last several years. So, why oh why is this such a hard task??
A couple of years ago, a colleague's daughter was in my room as I complained that I couldn't remember how the room was arranged the previous year. She came up with the genius idea to take pictures of the room so I could remember how it was set up. Have I ever followed this very clever bit of advice? No, not once.
Why do I have to set up my room every year? Because every summer each classroom is emptied of all the furniture so the floors can be stripped and waxed. So every fall, we have to set up the classrooms again.
Each year I have visions of how I want the room to look. I plan it out mentally in the shower for weeks. I get excited to finally be able to arrange the room to look like the vision that is in my head.
And, inevitably, a few things happen...
I forget to include a center (who needs an art center?)
I think the room is bigger than it is (why don't these two extra bookshelves fit?)
I forget where things are (I guess I shouldn't put the easel where it blocks the bathroom door)
So, I spend endless amounts of time moving around shelves and tables and rugs, and then getting on my knees to see what a three-year-old would see, then moving everything around again.
But, quite frankly, all of this is an exercise in futility. Because I don't know how this new group of kids is going to be. Will they spend lots of time enjoying my carefully designed library, or will it collect cobwebs from lack of use? Will they love all the room in the block center or will they take all the blocks to a quiet corner to build with? Will having a music center be just too loud to handle?
All questions which cannot be answered until my new students come into the classroom and begin to explore. I know it will take a few weeks for me to get a feel for this new group and to design my classroom in a way that will be best for them.
So, why do I spend all this time the week before school starts rearranging my room 600 times?
I need to take pictures this year...
...
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
And So It Begins Again...
The school year is about to start again, and I am...ambivalent. Or so I thought...
The school year, for me, is like a race that starts in August and ends, with me breathless, in May. I feel like I am running no holds barred for 10 months straight.
Just managing my own childrens' activities is a full-time job, most of which is spent in my Suburban, shuffling them from place to place. On top of that I am currently in school. (Really? What was I thinking??) And then we have preschool. Which, as I have been sitting down attending to the mile-long to-do list that accompanies starting a new school year, I have decided is just....wonderful.
As I wrote each of my incoming students a letter, welcoming them to my class, I wondered how they were feeling. Were they excited? Were they scared? Do they even know that school is starting? I found that I couldn't wait to get to know them, and fall in love with them.
As I guess maybe happens when you teach in the same place for awhile, I know the majority of my students already. And the ones that know me, know that they will be in my class. Over the summer months, that knowledge was dealt with by making plans with me ("I will always go potty on the toilet when I am in your class") or crying when they saw me, or simply pretending I wasn't there. A few were unsure ("You're not supposed to be my teacher, I only have Mrs. Drawert as a teacher"), and one future student simply denied it was happening ("I don't go to school").
I wonder how this incoming class will be...eager and ready to learn? Scared and weirded out? More than likely, a combination of both.
I can't wait!
(Note: All of the above conversations occurred during our Summer Camp Program.)
.
The school year, for me, is like a race that starts in August and ends, with me breathless, in May. I feel like I am running no holds barred for 10 months straight.
Just managing my own childrens' activities is a full-time job, most of which is spent in my Suburban, shuffling them from place to place. On top of that I am currently in school. (Really? What was I thinking??) And then we have preschool. Which, as I have been sitting down attending to the mile-long to-do list that accompanies starting a new school year, I have decided is just....wonderful.
As I wrote each of my incoming students a letter, welcoming them to my class, I wondered how they were feeling. Were they excited? Were they scared? Do they even know that school is starting? I found that I couldn't wait to get to know them, and fall in love with them.
As I guess maybe happens when you teach in the same place for awhile, I know the majority of my students already. And the ones that know me, know that they will be in my class. Over the summer months, that knowledge was dealt with by making plans with me ("I will always go potty on the toilet when I am in your class") or crying when they saw me, or simply pretending I wasn't there. A few were unsure ("You're not supposed to be my teacher, I only have Mrs. Drawert as a teacher"), and one future student simply denied it was happening ("I don't go to school").
I wonder how this incoming class will be...eager and ready to learn? Scared and weirded out? More than likely, a combination of both.
I can't wait!
(Note: All of the above conversations occurred during our Summer Camp Program.)
.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Blowin' in the Wind
One of the topics I cover each year with my class is Wind and Air. This is fun, because this is a relatively abstract topic, especially to a 3 year old.
I start out the unit with the question, "What is wind?"
Some of the responses....
"It is outside"
"It makes it cold"
"You can break it" (this one made me chuckle....)
We then headed outside to see what clues we could seeto figure out whether or not there was wind. At first, there was no movement at all; typical on the day I want to observe wind there isn't a leaf stirring. I asked the class. "Can you see wind?" After the resounding "NO!" that was shouted, I asked, "Well, how will we know if it's windy if we can't see wind?"
This is when their minds started to to click. It is wonderful to watch them puzzle out the answers to things that we as adults take for granted. As a slight breeze started to move the leaves on the trees, the students began shouting their observations and ideas...
"Wind moves the leaves!"
"You can feel the wind on your face!"
"The wind moves my skirt!"
"The wind is moving my hair!"
"The wind makes the trees wave!"
From that moment on, my class became very aware of wind. Extremely windy days were awesome; we experimented with what things could stay put in wind, and what things could not (rocks never move, no matter how windy; feathers, however, move EVERYWHERE, which, by the way, is how birds fly). We talked about how wind could be cold and hot, how wind could make you cold if you were hot, or make you hot if you were cold (we do live in the desert...). We made kites from plastic shopping bags (re-use! A favorite term from my recycle unite) and wondered at how they filled with the wind and flew in the air.
One particularly windy day, we were walking back to the classroom from the restroom as a group, talking about how the wind was moving the dead leaves on the ground and blowing our hair into our eyes. Suddenly, Paul, with a brand new summer crew cut, pipes up...
"Mrs. Velarde, my hair must be super strong. Look! The wind isn't moving it at all!"
Paul was quite the toast of his friends that day, with his super strong hair.
.
I start out the unit with the question, "What is wind?"
Some of the responses....
"It is outside"
"It makes it cold"
"You can break it" (this one made me chuckle....)
We then headed outside to see what clues we could seeto figure out whether or not there was wind. At first, there was no movement at all; typical on the day I want to observe wind there isn't a leaf stirring. I asked the class. "Can you see wind?" After the resounding "NO!" that was shouted, I asked, "Well, how will we know if it's windy if we can't see wind?"
This is when their minds started to to click. It is wonderful to watch them puzzle out the answers to things that we as adults take for granted. As a slight breeze started to move the leaves on the trees, the students began shouting their observations and ideas...
"Wind moves the leaves!"
"You can feel the wind on your face!"
"The wind moves my skirt!"
"The wind is moving my hair!"
"The wind makes the trees wave!"
From that moment on, my class became very aware of wind. Extremely windy days were awesome; we experimented with what things could stay put in wind, and what things could not (rocks never move, no matter how windy; feathers, however, move EVERYWHERE, which, by the way, is how birds fly). We talked about how wind could be cold and hot, how wind could make you cold if you were hot, or make you hot if you were cold (we do live in the desert...). We made kites from plastic shopping bags (re-use! A favorite term from my recycle unite) and wondered at how they filled with the wind and flew in the air.
One particularly windy day, we were walking back to the classroom from the restroom as a group, talking about how the wind was moving the dead leaves on the ground and blowing our hair into our eyes. Suddenly, Paul, with a brand new summer crew cut, pipes up...
"Mrs. Velarde, my hair must be super strong. Look! The wind isn't moving it at all!"
Paul was quite the toast of his friends that day, with his super strong hair.
.
Monday, May 31, 2010
When Did I Get Wise?
The school year has ended. And it was a wonderful year. Every couple of years I have a class that is simply perfect. This was one of those years.
Why was it perfect? Maybe it was because I went back to school this year, and it was fun and exciting to test out my new theories and practices. Maybe it was because I knew the majority of my students since they were in utero, and therefore felt really connected to them. Maybe it was because we tried a new class format and it was an unqualified success. Who knows, but it was a great year.
This year, more so than in years past, the parents of my students looked to me more as a mentor as opposed to a peer. I am confused...when did that happen? I look at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out which wrinkle put me into the "Older and Wiser" and right out of the "Right There With You". I think it was this one on my forehead.
Parents start telling me about issues they are having with their kids at home, and expect me, the old and wise teacher, to have magical advice to make it all better. Yikes! That's a lot of pressure!
I look back to when my own children were in preschool. Their teachers were older than me, had older kids and had been teaching for years. I respected what they had to say and often sought
their advice. There advice and counseling was always along the lines of...enjoy your children...go with your gut...you know your child the best, do what you think is right...and, my favorite...they are three (or four, or five...).
I found these talks to be comforting and empowering. And I always took what these wise women said to heart, and found myself to be a better parent for having heeded what they said.
It is unnerving to find myself in that position of the older and wiser teacher; especially when I valued the input of the older and wiser teachers when my children were young. It is also unnerving to realize that my kids' preschool teachers were my age, in the same position I am now, and were simply offering advice they had learned from being parents themselves.
When my parents come to me, I offer the same nuggets that meant so much to me. And not because I don't have anything of my own to add, but because this advice is so true and right on target.
Enjoy your kids. Revel in this moment, right now. Because good or bad, your child will NEVER be this age again. Soak it all in, as much as you can, because even if they are driving you crazy, this issue too will be something you look back on fondly.
Always find the humor. Kids are funny and wonderful. Laugh at everything, because it is all great. And take lots of pictures. Because even though you are furious that your daughter colored with Sharpie all over the wall, and then all over herself, you will want to remember how darn cute she looked posing with her masterpiece.
This too shall pass. I remember when my son would not give up his diapers for anything. He was perfectly happy to sit in a disgusting diaper all day. I was about ready to start buying Depends, because he was getting too big for regular diapers. I was complaining about this to my daughter's preschool teacher, and she said, "Don't worry about it. He will get potty trained when he is ready. I have yet to meet a high schooler who wasn't potty trained." What great advice! The minute I quit stressing about it, my son started wearing underwear. And I was free to stress about the next issue - how to soothe my son's hurt feelings when he is told "You are not my friend."
Go with your gut. This is the best advice ever. You know your child better than anyone else. You know what is best, and you should always listen to what your gut is telling you - over what anyone else is saying.
Role of mentor? Still not comfortable with it. But when asked, I will give out advice designed to help you realize how totally awesome your little one is.
...going to apply my wrinkle cream....
.
.
Why was it perfect? Maybe it was because I went back to school this year, and it was fun and exciting to test out my new theories and practices. Maybe it was because I knew the majority of my students since they were in utero, and therefore felt really connected to them. Maybe it was because we tried a new class format and it was an unqualified success. Who knows, but it was a great year.
This year, more so than in years past, the parents of my students looked to me more as a mentor as opposed to a peer. I am confused...when did that happen? I look at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out which wrinkle put me into the "Older and Wiser" and right out of the "Right There With You". I think it was this one on my forehead.
Parents start telling me about issues they are having with their kids at home, and expect me, the old and wise teacher, to have magical advice to make it all better. Yikes! That's a lot of pressure!
I look back to when my own children were in preschool. Their teachers were older than me, had older kids and had been teaching for years. I respected what they had to say and often sought
their advice. There advice and counseling was always along the lines of...enjoy your children...go with your gut...you know your child the best, do what you think is right...and, my favorite...they are three (or four, or five...).
I found these talks to be comforting and empowering. And I always took what these wise women said to heart, and found myself to be a better parent for having heeded what they said.
It is unnerving to find myself in that position of the older and wiser teacher; especially when I valued the input of the older and wiser teachers when my children were young. It is also unnerving to realize that my kids' preschool teachers were my age, in the same position I am now, and were simply offering advice they had learned from being parents themselves.
When my parents come to me, I offer the same nuggets that meant so much to me. And not because I don't have anything of my own to add, but because this advice is so true and right on target.
Enjoy your kids. Revel in this moment, right now. Because good or bad, your child will NEVER be this age again. Soak it all in, as much as you can, because even if they are driving you crazy, this issue too will be something you look back on fondly.
Always find the humor. Kids are funny and wonderful. Laugh at everything, because it is all great. And take lots of pictures. Because even though you are furious that your daughter colored with Sharpie all over the wall, and then all over herself, you will want to remember how darn cute she looked posing with her masterpiece.
This too shall pass. I remember when my son would not give up his diapers for anything. He was perfectly happy to sit in a disgusting diaper all day. I was about ready to start buying Depends, because he was getting too big for regular diapers. I was complaining about this to my daughter's preschool teacher, and she said, "Don't worry about it. He will get potty trained when he is ready. I have yet to meet a high schooler who wasn't potty trained." What great advice! The minute I quit stressing about it, my son started wearing underwear. And I was free to stress about the next issue - how to soothe my son's hurt feelings when he is told "You are not my friend."
Go with your gut. This is the best advice ever. You know your child better than anyone else. You know what is best, and you should always listen to what your gut is telling you - over what anyone else is saying.
Role of mentor? Still not comfortable with it. But when asked, I will give out advice designed to help you realize how totally awesome your little one is.
...going to apply my wrinkle cream....
.
.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Meteorology in Preschool
This week we studied the sun. I always start out the week by asking a question pertaining to whatever we are studying. This week my question was, "What does the sun do?". Here are the the responses I got...
It gets into your eyes.
It burns your eyeballs so you have to wear sunglasses.
It follows you.
It makes our mouths hot.
Makes you stay inside.
It stays in the sky.
If you stay in the sun too long it could make you die.
It gets you sweaty.
It makes our eyes hot.
It stays yellow.
It makes the house shady.
It can dry us up.
It goes up and down.
During this week, we had a very rare cloudy day, so on a whim, I asked the kids, "What is a cloud?". And here are those responses...
They are made of fish.
They are white.
They are in the sky and fluffy.
I think if I could touch one, it would be hard.
If you look real hard, they sometimes can have a face.
They go under planes.
They are sometimes like stripes.
They are made of water, and when they get full they turn gray and then rain comes out. (This child obviously has studied the water cycle prior to coming to my class...).
They move in the sky.
It was a fun week. :0)
.
It gets into your eyes.
It burns your eyeballs so you have to wear sunglasses.
It follows you.
It makes our mouths hot.
Makes you stay inside.
It stays in the sky.
If you stay in the sun too long it could make you die.
It gets you sweaty.
It makes our eyes hot.
It stays yellow.
It makes the house shady.
It can dry us up.
It goes up and down.
During this week, we had a very rare cloudy day, so on a whim, I asked the kids, "What is a cloud?". And here are those responses...
They are made of fish.
They are white.
They are in the sky and fluffy.
I think if I could touch one, it would be hard.
If you look real hard, they sometimes can have a face.
They go under planes.
They are sometimes like stripes.
They are made of water, and when they get full they turn gray and then rain comes out. (This child obviously has studied the water cycle prior to coming to my class...).
They move in the sky.
It was a fun week. :0)
.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Chasing Kittens
School has started, and it is just as fun as ever. I love getting to know a new bunch of kids, and then tracking how much they grow over the next ten months.
This year's class has a lot of kids I have known since they were in utero. I find it miraculous that a mere three years ago my students were tiny babies that I held in my arms and cooed over, and now I am expecting them to pour their own juice and go potty in the toilet. Me? I haven't changed at all in the past three years, other than maybe a few more wrinkles.
The first few weeks of school are always chaotic. It always takes me a few weeks to get the paperwork figured out (correct spellings of names, student files complete, the parent helper calendar filled out, etc.) and to get back into the daily routine. And if it is challenging for me, imagine what it must be like for these three-year-olds. While I struggle with student files, they are struggling with being left in a new place, with a new grown-up. And this grown-up has the audacity to tell them what to do.
Which explains why when this new grown-up does make a suggestion, that it is more often than not ignored. I mean, why should they listen? They don't know me, and are fairly confident if they ignore me nothing bad will happen. And they are right.
Trying to get the kids to make the transition from outside time back to inside time is always the most challenging part of my day. By definition, recess is awesome, but we always try to make it super awesome - especially in the first few weeks of school. The kids get to feed Patton, our school's tortoise (Patton has the ability to make separation anxiety just disappear), spin endlessly on our tire swing, shoot some hoops, and, a current favorite, make rivers, canals, waterfalls and dams in our sandpit which we put the hose in. In Arizona it is a bazillion degrees outside now, so even if we get wet playing in the sand and water, we are dry before we walk the length of the playground.
So, with all this stuff to do, when I sing my special line up song, I am not at all surprised that not one kid lines up. So, I will gather a couple kids up, tell them how it is time to go in and have our awesome snack, and lead them over to the wall where we line up. And then go to gather a few more kids with the same speech. And as I lead the new set of kids over to the wall, I realize the original group I had placed there have gone back out to the playground. So, back I go to retrieve the kids that left. And when I get back, the other kids are gone.
We call this "Chasing Kittens". Those of us who teach three-year-olds always refer to the first six weeks of school as the Chasing Kittens phase. We actually "chase kittens" all day long, but it actually reaches the really, really funny level on the playground. The four-year-old and kindergarten teachers laugh hysterically as we chase these babies around, trying to convince them that actually going inside to a cool room with lots of cold water is preferable to being outside in the sweltering heat.
What's weird is even though I know I will be chasing kittens on the playground, I never allow enough time for it. I keep having to shorten music time to accommodate for the kitten factor.
It is now the second week of school, and the kids are starting to get it. I am starting to chase the kittens a little less, and in a few weeks the kids will start using peer pressure to get the last kittens to join the group. And while I love it when the kids start to know the routine, and do what is expected, I always feel a pang of sadness when I realize I won't have to chase kittens for another year. These babies are on their way to their scholastic careers, and will never be "kittens" again.
.
This year's class has a lot of kids I have known since they were in utero. I find it miraculous that a mere three years ago my students were tiny babies that I held in my arms and cooed over, and now I am expecting them to pour their own juice and go potty in the toilet. Me? I haven't changed at all in the past three years, other than maybe a few more wrinkles.
The first few weeks of school are always chaotic. It always takes me a few weeks to get the paperwork figured out (correct spellings of names, student files complete, the parent helper calendar filled out, etc.) and to get back into the daily routine. And if it is challenging for me, imagine what it must be like for these three-year-olds. While I struggle with student files, they are struggling with being left in a new place, with a new grown-up. And this grown-up has the audacity to tell them what to do.
Which explains why when this new grown-up does make a suggestion, that it is more often than not ignored. I mean, why should they listen? They don't know me, and are fairly confident if they ignore me nothing bad will happen. And they are right.
Trying to get the kids to make the transition from outside time back to inside time is always the most challenging part of my day. By definition, recess is awesome, but we always try to make it super awesome - especially in the first few weeks of school. The kids get to feed Patton, our school's tortoise (Patton has the ability to make separation anxiety just disappear), spin endlessly on our tire swing, shoot some hoops, and, a current favorite, make rivers, canals, waterfalls and dams in our sandpit which we put the hose in. In Arizona it is a bazillion degrees outside now, so even if we get wet playing in the sand and water, we are dry before we walk the length of the playground.
So, with all this stuff to do, when I sing my special line up song, I am not at all surprised that not one kid lines up. So, I will gather a couple kids up, tell them how it is time to go in and have our awesome snack, and lead them over to the wall where we line up. And then go to gather a few more kids with the same speech. And as I lead the new set of kids over to the wall, I realize the original group I had placed there have gone back out to the playground. So, back I go to retrieve the kids that left. And when I get back, the other kids are gone.
We call this "Chasing Kittens". Those of us who teach three-year-olds always refer to the first six weeks of school as the Chasing Kittens phase. We actually "chase kittens" all day long, but it actually reaches the really, really funny level on the playground. The four-year-old and kindergarten teachers laugh hysterically as we chase these babies around, trying to convince them that actually going inside to a cool room with lots of cold water is preferable to being outside in the sweltering heat.
What's weird is even though I know I will be chasing kittens on the playground, I never allow enough time for it. I keep having to shorten music time to accommodate for the kitten factor.
It is now the second week of school, and the kids are starting to get it. I am starting to chase the kittens a little less, and in a few weeks the kids will start using peer pressure to get the last kittens to join the group. And while I love it when the kids start to know the routine, and do what is expected, I always feel a pang of sadness when I realize I won't have to chase kittens for another year. These babies are on their way to their scholastic careers, and will never be "kittens" again.
.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Real Life Pretend Play
Ok, couldn't think of a good title for this blog...
So, our summer program has been progressing wonderfully this year. The kids and grown-ups have all been having a great time.
Last week, one of the classrooms was set up to be a grocery store. The kids were given a grocery list of items they needed to collect to prepare their snack. For example, one day the snack was Banana Dogs. On their list was a banana, a hot dog bun, and peanut butter. The classroom was set up into different areas, so they had to go to the "bakery" to get the hot dog bun, the "produce section" to get the banana, and the "canned good aisle" to get the peanut butter. Each child had a shopping basket, and when they found the item, they checked it off their list, and put it into their basket.
Because it was a pretend grocery store, of course we had to have a pretend check out area as well, complete with cash register, a scanner and pretend money. We thought the kids would have a great time playing store.
What if no one was manning the pretend register? The customer would stand there, looking irritated, and shout, "I need help here!" until another child would run over to check out the waiting customer.
So, our summer program has been progressing wonderfully this year. The kids and grown-ups have all been having a great time.
Last week, one of the classrooms was set up to be a grocery store. The kids were given a grocery list of items they needed to collect to prepare their snack. For example, one day the snack was Banana Dogs. On their list was a banana, a hot dog bun, and peanut butter. The classroom was set up into different areas, so they had to go to the "bakery" to get the hot dog bun, the "produce section" to get the banana, and the "canned good aisle" to get the peanut butter. Each child had a shopping basket, and when they found the item, they checked it off their list, and put it into their basket.
Because it was a pretend grocery store, of course we had to have a pretend check out area as well, complete with cash register, a scanner and pretend money. We thought the kids would have a great time playing store.And they did. But what happened is that they got it in their mind they needed to pay for their snack. They would stand in line at the one cash register, baskets in hand, and wait patiently to pay for their snacks with wads of crumpled pretend money. The lines would sometimes get as long as ten kids, all standing with the baskets on their hips, tapping their toes, and looking extremely bored. Just like everyone of us has done probably at least once a week since reaching adulthood. We did suggest to the kids that they could just go ahead and sit down, and not "pay"; "But that would be stealing!" we were told. Ok.
What if no one was manning the pretend register? The customer would stand there, looking irritated, and shout, "I need help here!" until another child would run over to check out the waiting customer.
We got the biggest kick out of this very unexpected twist to our grocery store. Did they want to pay because they had been standing in lines at grocery stores with their parents since infancy? Are we genetically programmed to stand in line after checking items off a shopping list? Who knows. But it sure was fun. And funny.
.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Proven Wrong, Yet Again
Every year, I do a unit about Transportation. As part of this unit, we have a discussion about traffic lights. It is a good opportunity to talk about spatial relationships, colors, and introduce perennial favorite, Red Light/Green Light.
I get out my red, yellow and green circles, and arrange them on my white board, putting them in the correct order. We talk about how the red light is on top, the yellow light is in the middle, and the green light is on the bottom. And this is when little David raises his hand and says, "But really, green is in the middle."
I reply, with a note of condescension in my voice, "No, honey, green is on the bottom." And I reference my handy diagram on the white board to illustrate my point.
David, with a tone of condescension in his voice says, "Yes, there the green light is on the bottom. In a real traffic light, the green light is in the middle."
Obviously, David is confused. But, this is easily remedied, because the preschool is located right on an intersection, complete with traffic light. Field Trip!
I gather the class and we march outside to look at the traffic light. I was so excited to have the opportunity to use a real life example to show David this concept.
We all look up at the traffic light, and....from the top, here is the order of the lights. Red, yellow, green, yellow arrow, green arrow. Yes, The green light is in the middle. I am a dork, and obviously not versed in traffic light appearance in my city.
David, being a kind and understanding soul, did not jump up and down and yell, "In your FACE!" He simply said, "See? Real traffic lights are different than ones you make out of paper."
When will I learn that these kids know way more than me???
.
I get out my red, yellow and green circles, and arrange them on my white board, putting them in the correct order. We talk about how the red light is on top, the yellow light is in the middle, and the green light is on the bottom. And this is when little David raises his hand and says, "But really, green is in the middle."
I reply, with a note of condescension in my voice, "No, honey, green is on the bottom." And I reference my handy diagram on the white board to illustrate my point.
David, with a tone of condescension in his voice says, "Yes, there the green light is on the bottom. In a real traffic light, the green light is in the middle."
Obviously, David is confused. But, this is easily remedied, because the preschool is located right on an intersection, complete with traffic light. Field Trip!
I gather the class and we march outside to look at the traffic light. I was so excited to have the opportunity to use a real life example to show David this concept.
We all look up at the traffic light, and....from the top, here is the order of the lights. Red, yellow, green, yellow arrow, green arrow. Yes, The green light is in the middle. I am a dork, and obviously not versed in traffic light appearance in my city.
David, being a kind and understanding soul, did not jump up and down and yell, "In your FACE!" He simply said, "See? Real traffic lights are different than ones you make out of paper."
When will I learn that these kids know way more than me???
.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Watching Them Grow
It is no secret that I truly love my job. I can talk non-stop about preschool, and the kids, and what they're learning, and how they're growing, for hours. And one of the best parts is watching these kids grow. Not physically, although that is always amazing, but socially and emotionally. We teachers work very hard to provide our students the tools they need to navigate in the world. We strive to teach them empathy, conflict resolution and self-reliance. And the absolute joy I feel when I see my students put to use what we've worked so hard to teach is...well...it is AWESOME. I have been known to cry.
Our little preschool offers a fabulous summer program every summer. Every summer, several students new to the program join us for the summer to get them ready for preschool in the fall. Last summer, one of our new students was Mark. Mark was painfully shy and had never been to preschool before. Preschool, I think, can be a pretty intimidating place to a child, even if you do your best to make it as friendly and inviting as possible.
Mark really had no idea how to interact with his peers. He wasn't sure how to initiate play, he didn't know how to join in play, wasn't sure how to go about asking for a turn, and was completely helpless if another child took a toy away from. He was so overwhelmed with everything, that he spent a lot of time under tables, crying.
So we started to work with him, and give him the tools he needed. And little by little, Mark came out of his shell, and gained his confidence. We cheered the first time he asked a group of kids, "Can I play with you?". We were beside ourselves when he approached a friend for the first time and said, "Do you want to play with me?". And when he finally had the confidence to tell a child, "Please don't do that, I don't like that, you can have a turn when I'm done!", we all congratulated ourselves on a job well done. The jumping up and down and cheering came when he tentatively started to make mischief. We knew then he had finally come into his own.
(For the record, Mark was not my student, his teacher, Mrs. M., deserves the credit for helping with his social and emotional development).
Well, here it is summer again, and Mark has joined us for our summer program again. He is a leader in the group, showing the younger ones the ropes and being a good and kind friend. Of course, we have several new students, and Mark is so patient with the kids who just don't know how things are at school.
I witnessed this exchange last week....
A little boy who is new to the program, Todd, went up to Mark and tried to take the hammer out of Mark's hand. Mark, very patiently says, "I am using the hammer now, you can have a turn when I am done."
Todd makes another grab for the hammer. Mark: "I am using this, wait for your turn."
Todd wedges his way between Mark and the nail that Mark was hammering. Mark: "I don't like that, you are in the way and you could get hurt. Please get out of my way."
Todd, still firmly in the way starts grabbing at the hammer and shoving Mark. Mark's patience has run out, and he is clearly frustrated and starts yelling, "I don't like that! Wait for your turn! You can have a turn when I'm done!" It was like he opened up his tool box of ways to deal with conflict and used up every tool he had. He looks up at me, throws his hands in the air and shrugs his shoulders and gives the non-verbal "I got nothing left, here, Mrs.V."
I walk over to physically remove Todd from the situation, and start him down the road of how to resolve conflicts in preschool ("Mark is using that hammer. I bet if you asked him if you could use it when he was done, he would say yes"). As I walk away, Mark says, "That boy really needs to go to preschool."
And, we have come full circle. How awesome is that?
.
Our little preschool offers a fabulous summer program every summer. Every summer, several students new to the program join us for the summer to get them ready for preschool in the fall. Last summer, one of our new students was Mark. Mark was painfully shy and had never been to preschool before. Preschool, I think, can be a pretty intimidating place to a child, even if you do your best to make it as friendly and inviting as possible.
Mark really had no idea how to interact with his peers. He wasn't sure how to initiate play, he didn't know how to join in play, wasn't sure how to go about asking for a turn, and was completely helpless if another child took a toy away from. He was so overwhelmed with everything, that he spent a lot of time under tables, crying.
So we started to work with him, and give him the tools he needed. And little by little, Mark came out of his shell, and gained his confidence. We cheered the first time he asked a group of kids, "Can I play with you?". We were beside ourselves when he approached a friend for the first time and said, "Do you want to play with me?". And when he finally had the confidence to tell a child, "Please don't do that, I don't like that, you can have a turn when I'm done!", we all congratulated ourselves on a job well done. The jumping up and down and cheering came when he tentatively started to make mischief. We knew then he had finally come into his own.
(For the record, Mark was not my student, his teacher, Mrs. M., deserves the credit for helping with his social and emotional development).
Well, here it is summer again, and Mark has joined us for our summer program again. He is a leader in the group, showing the younger ones the ropes and being a good and kind friend. Of course, we have several new students, and Mark is so patient with the kids who just don't know how things are at school.
I witnessed this exchange last week....
A little boy who is new to the program, Todd, went up to Mark and tried to take the hammer out of Mark's hand. Mark, very patiently says, "I am using the hammer now, you can have a turn when I am done."
Todd makes another grab for the hammer. Mark: "I am using this, wait for your turn."
Todd wedges his way between Mark and the nail that Mark was hammering. Mark: "I don't like that, you are in the way and you could get hurt. Please get out of my way."
Todd, still firmly in the way starts grabbing at the hammer and shoving Mark. Mark's patience has run out, and he is clearly frustrated and starts yelling, "I don't like that! Wait for your turn! You can have a turn when I'm done!" It was like he opened up his tool box of ways to deal with conflict and used up every tool he had. He looks up at me, throws his hands in the air and shrugs his shoulders and gives the non-verbal "I got nothing left, here, Mrs.V."
I walk over to physically remove Todd from the situation, and start him down the road of how to resolve conflicts in preschool ("Mark is using that hammer. I bet if you asked him if you could use it when he was done, he would say yes"). As I walk away, Mark says, "That boy really needs to go to preschool."
And, we have come full circle. How awesome is that?
.
Preschool to a Three Year Old
Imagine coming to preschool for the first time. You arrive at a brand new place, filled with a lot of kids you don't know, and a lot of grown-ups you don't know. The grown-ups seem nice, but why do they come on so strong? Why do I have to give this lady a high five? I have no idea who she is. She's my teacher? And a teacher is what exactly? And, wait a minute, MOM IS LEAVING ME HERE??????? With all these people I don't know????? What if I need to go potty? What if I don't know where I am supposed to go? .......sniff....
OK, these toys are pretty fun. I LOVE this truck. This is the coolest truck I've ever seen! I am going to make it go down this hill and pick up some....hey! Wait! I was playing with that. That is MY truck. Well, I am going to grab it out of your hand and then hit you with it. That will show you to take my truck. The teacher just told me to "use my words". I thought that is what I did.
Circle time? What is that?? Nope, I will stay here and play with this awesome truck. Why does the teacher keep telling me I have to come sit with her for Circle Time when I don't even know what that is?
Ohhhh, Circle Time means the teacher is reading us a story. I love stories. Why didn't the teacher say "read a story" instead of "Circle Time"? I wouldn't have thrown my truck across the room if I had known we were reading stories.
Oh no, I have to go potty. Really bad. I don't remember where the potty is, and I don't know how to unbutton my new shorts....sniff..
Wow, my teacher knew I needed to go potty, and she helped me unbutton my shorts. And then she stood outside the door in case I needed help. She seems pretty nice, I wonder what her name is?
Hey! That is MY truck. You can't have it. I am going to take it from you, because I want to play with it NOW! My teacher is saying I can't play with it because you are playing with it. So? I want to play with it NOW!!! I was playing with it and it is the only thing I want to play with and I don't want to wait until it is my turn and what is a "turn" anyway and I want that truck and I am going to hit you because that is my truck and.....sniff....
Teacher just said I could play with play dough while I waited for Jack to finish playing with the truck. I LOVE play dough. And teacher just gave me a different truck, and look! I can push my truck through the play dough and the wheels make tracks! This is so fun, now I am going to cover the whole truck in play dough and...
is that paint? There is paint here? I love painting. I want to paint! I want to paint right now! That girl is painting, I want to paint too. I wonder if I could just paint with her?
That girl started to cry when I painted with her, I thought my painting looked good and then she started to cry and teacher said "Let's find you a place to paint" but that girl is still crying and I just wanted to paint and I don't think I want to paint by myself.....sniff...
Teacher made me a place to paint right next to Ann. Ann isn't crying anymore and she said she likes pink. Ann said my painting was good. Ann is pretty. I am having so much fun painting next to Ann and we are both three years old and what? We get to go outside now? I LOVE playing outside!
This sandbox is the best sandbox ever. Teacher put the hose in the sandbox and showed me and Jack how to make rivers. She got really dirty. I am really dirty but Teacher said that is what laundry is for. She gave us little boats to float down our river and I think Jack is the best kid ever. We are going to make our river longer and race our boats and...
Why are we going in? I want to play in the sand! Why can't I stay outside? Why does Teacher keep changing things? What does "line up" mean? I don't want to stand next to that boy. I want to stand next to Jack. Now Teacher is telling me to sing. I don't know this song. I want to play in the sand. I am going back to play in the sand. Teacher just told me it was time to line up, but it really is time to play in the sand. I don't like this song and I don't want to sing, and I don't know what "line up" is and I don't want to go back in and what is snack time and.....sniff....
Wait-snack time means we get to eat! I am so hungry! I love carrots. What? I can only have three? What does "pass" mean? I am really hungry, if I give the bowl to the person next to me I might not get more. I will give him one. Why do I have to pass the whole bowl? I know how to give out a carrot. OK, here's the bowl. "Teacher!! Jack took a lot of carrots, you said take three!" I am going to take those carrots off Jack's plate because he took too many and, oowwww, why did Jack just hit me? He took too many carrots, and owwwww.......sniff...
Teacher is holding my hand and asking me if I am OK. I guess I am OK. She tells Jack that hitting hurts, and that we don't hit friends at school. Jack asked me if I am OK and I say yes and we give high fives. Jack is my best friend.
MOM IS HERE!!! She asks me if I had a good day at school. Ohhhh, this is school! I LOVE school. When do I get to come back? I love my teacher, mom, she made rivers! Who is Mrs. Velarde, and how would I know if she was nice?
.
OK, these toys are pretty fun. I LOVE this truck. This is the coolest truck I've ever seen! I am going to make it go down this hill and pick up some....hey! Wait! I was playing with that. That is MY truck. Well, I am going to grab it out of your hand and then hit you with it. That will show you to take my truck. The teacher just told me to "use my words". I thought that is what I did.
Circle time? What is that?? Nope, I will stay here and play with this awesome truck. Why does the teacher keep telling me I have to come sit with her for Circle Time when I don't even know what that is?
Ohhhh, Circle Time means the teacher is reading us a story. I love stories. Why didn't the teacher say "read a story" instead of "Circle Time"? I wouldn't have thrown my truck across the room if I had known we were reading stories.
Oh no, I have to go potty. Really bad. I don't remember where the potty is, and I don't know how to unbutton my new shorts....sniff..
Wow, my teacher knew I needed to go potty, and she helped me unbutton my shorts. And then she stood outside the door in case I needed help. She seems pretty nice, I wonder what her name is?
Hey! That is MY truck. You can't have it. I am going to take it from you, because I want to play with it NOW! My teacher is saying I can't play with it because you are playing with it. So? I want to play with it NOW!!! I was playing with it and it is the only thing I want to play with and I don't want to wait until it is my turn and what is a "turn" anyway and I want that truck and I am going to hit you because that is my truck and.....sniff....
Teacher just said I could play with play dough while I waited for Jack to finish playing with the truck. I LOVE play dough. And teacher just gave me a different truck, and look! I can push my truck through the play dough and the wheels make tracks! This is so fun, now I am going to cover the whole truck in play dough and...
is that paint? There is paint here? I love painting. I want to paint! I want to paint right now! That girl is painting, I want to paint too. I wonder if I could just paint with her?
That girl started to cry when I painted with her, I thought my painting looked good and then she started to cry and teacher said "Let's find you a place to paint" but that girl is still crying and I just wanted to paint and I don't think I want to paint by myself.....sniff...
Teacher made me a place to paint right next to Ann. Ann isn't crying anymore and she said she likes pink. Ann said my painting was good. Ann is pretty. I am having so much fun painting next to Ann and we are both three years old and what? We get to go outside now? I LOVE playing outside!
This sandbox is the best sandbox ever. Teacher put the hose in the sandbox and showed me and Jack how to make rivers. She got really dirty. I am really dirty but Teacher said that is what laundry is for. She gave us little boats to float down our river and I think Jack is the best kid ever. We are going to make our river longer and race our boats and...
Why are we going in? I want to play in the sand! Why can't I stay outside? Why does Teacher keep changing things? What does "line up" mean? I don't want to stand next to that boy. I want to stand next to Jack. Now Teacher is telling me to sing. I don't know this song. I want to play in the sand. I am going back to play in the sand. Teacher just told me it was time to line up, but it really is time to play in the sand. I don't like this song and I don't want to sing, and I don't know what "line up" is and I don't want to go back in and what is snack time and.....sniff....
Wait-snack time means we get to eat! I am so hungry! I love carrots. What? I can only have three? What does "pass" mean? I am really hungry, if I give the bowl to the person next to me I might not get more. I will give him one. Why do I have to pass the whole bowl? I know how to give out a carrot. OK, here's the bowl. "Teacher!! Jack took a lot of carrots, you said take three!" I am going to take those carrots off Jack's plate because he took too many and, oowwww, why did Jack just hit me? He took too many carrots, and owwwww.......sniff...
Teacher is holding my hand and asking me if I am OK. I guess I am OK. She tells Jack that hitting hurts, and that we don't hit friends at school. Jack asked me if I am OK and I say yes and we give high fives. Jack is my best friend.
MOM IS HERE!!! She asks me if I had a good day at school. Ohhhh, this is school! I LOVE school. When do I get to come back? I love my teacher, mom, she made rivers! Who is Mrs. Velarde, and how would I know if she was nice?
.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Lunch Conversation at Preschool
Our little preschool offers an after school program, where children can stay for an extra two hours after the school day is over. They can play on the playground, do crafts, and generally just have fun. They also get to eat lunch, which they bring from home.
I had the privilege of working Stay 'N' Play this year, and got to eat lunch with the students nearly every day. This is always fun. A highlight for the kids is when they ask me to help them open their fruit cup or yogurt. Because, inevitably, without fail, I would spill whatever it was that I was opening down the front of me. By the end of the year, I could seriously rock the "yogurt down the chest with Dole peaches splashed on top" look. My own kids absolutely loved it when I picked them up from their school sporting this look.
One of the best parts of working Stay 'N' Play for me was simply talking with the kids. I love listening to how they interact with each other, the things they say and how no matter how outrageous the lunch conversation might be, no one under the age of 6 ever bats an eyelash. Those older than 6? Well, I for one have blown Diet Pepsi out my nose on more than one occasion.
The following is a lunch conversation that took place during the last week of school....
Lynn: I haven't pooped in a long time.
Kobey: I pooped just now. It stank.
Lynn: My mom says I need to poop everyday. She said my poops are all stuck in my butt.
Lilly: Why would they want to stay in your butt? Mine always want to come out.
Lynn: My mom says I need to eat different food to make the poop come out. I have an apple and a bagel (holds them up for all to see). She said if I eat these the poops will come out.
Me: Well, go ahead and eat them.
Lynn: But I don't want them to come out here!
Me: It will take at least an hour for that food to make the poops come out. Your mom will be here before then.
Lynn looks at me doubtfully as she begins to munch on her apple.
Lilly, to me: Do you know Zack?
Me: Yep (Zack is Lilly's older brother, and one of my former students)
Lilly, to everyone else: Well, Zack, he is my brother, and he is a dude. Dude means he is a boy.
Everyone else: nods in understanding and agreement.
Lynn: I don't have a dude for a brother. I only have a sister. Who's a girl.
Lilly: Well, since Zack is a dude, he has a penis. And I am not allowed to touch his penis because that is his private place. Mom tells me over and over to respect his privacy.
Bob: I have a penis - does that mean I am a dude?
Lilly: Yep. Only dudes get to have a penis.
Bob: You know what I have? (I am expecting the worst here) A new Lego set.
Kobey: Cool!
Lilly: I don't like legos.
Lynn: My dad likes Legos.
Me: I love Legos, but I can't make cool things out of them
Bob, with exasperated eye roll: No, you can't, Mrs. Velarde, Legos are for KIDS.
And so the conversation continued in that vein. I think they eventually jumped to Star Wars. What struck me about this whole exchange is that I was the only one freaking out about the topic selections. Everyone calmly ate their sandwiches and drank their juice boxes while I was was mentally trying to figure out how to delicately change topics without anyone's feelings getting hurt or causing some other emotional damage. But my intervention was not needed, because, to little ones, talking about their body is as natural as talking about their toys.
Gosh, wouldn't it be nice to have that ability as an adult?
Colleague: Wow, you seem a little off today.
Me: My poops are stuck in my butt.
Colleague: Did you eat an apple? That always makes my poops come out.
Me: No, but thanks for the advice!
Yeah, that will never happen.....
.
I had the privilege of working Stay 'N' Play this year, and got to eat lunch with the students nearly every day. This is always fun. A highlight for the kids is when they ask me to help them open their fruit cup or yogurt. Because, inevitably, without fail, I would spill whatever it was that I was opening down the front of me. By the end of the year, I could seriously rock the "yogurt down the chest with Dole peaches splashed on top" look. My own kids absolutely loved it when I picked them up from their school sporting this look.
One of the best parts of working Stay 'N' Play for me was simply talking with the kids. I love listening to how they interact with each other, the things they say and how no matter how outrageous the lunch conversation might be, no one under the age of 6 ever bats an eyelash. Those older than 6? Well, I for one have blown Diet Pepsi out my nose on more than one occasion.
The following is a lunch conversation that took place during the last week of school....
Lynn: I haven't pooped in a long time.
Kobey: I pooped just now. It stank.
Lynn: My mom says I need to poop everyday. She said my poops are all stuck in my butt.
Lilly: Why would they want to stay in your butt? Mine always want to come out.
Lynn: My mom says I need to eat different food to make the poop come out. I have an apple and a bagel (holds them up for all to see). She said if I eat these the poops will come out.
Me: Well, go ahead and eat them.
Lynn: But I don't want them to come out here!
Me: It will take at least an hour for that food to make the poops come out. Your mom will be here before then.
Lynn looks at me doubtfully as she begins to munch on her apple.
Lilly, to me: Do you know Zack?
Me: Yep (Zack is Lilly's older brother, and one of my former students)
Lilly, to everyone else: Well, Zack, he is my brother, and he is a dude. Dude means he is a boy.
Everyone else: nods in understanding and agreement.
Lynn: I don't have a dude for a brother. I only have a sister. Who's a girl.
Lilly: Well, since Zack is a dude, he has a penis. And I am not allowed to touch his penis because that is his private place. Mom tells me over and over to respect his privacy.
Bob: I have a penis - does that mean I am a dude?
Lilly: Yep. Only dudes get to have a penis.
Bob: You know what I have? (I am expecting the worst here) A new Lego set.
Kobey: Cool!
Lilly: I don't like legos.
Lynn: My dad likes Legos.
Me: I love Legos, but I can't make cool things out of them
Bob, with exasperated eye roll: No, you can't, Mrs. Velarde, Legos are for KIDS.
And so the conversation continued in that vein. I think they eventually jumped to Star Wars. What struck me about this whole exchange is that I was the only one freaking out about the topic selections. Everyone calmly ate their sandwiches and drank their juice boxes while I was was mentally trying to figure out how to delicately change topics without anyone's feelings getting hurt or causing some other emotional damage. But my intervention was not needed, because, to little ones, talking about their body is as natural as talking about their toys.
Gosh, wouldn't it be nice to have that ability as an adult?
Colleague: Wow, you seem a little off today.
Me: My poops are stuck in my butt.
Colleague: Did you eat an apple? That always makes my poops come out.
Me: No, but thanks for the advice!
Yeah, that will never happen.....
.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
My Ears Heard You....
At our little preschool we have two raised gardens - one is for planting and one is for digging. The Planting Garden is where classes transplant their bean sprouts, plant seeds, and observe how cool it is to see what you plant actually grow. The Digging Garden, is for, well, digging. We put earth worms in the Digging Garden, as well as lady bugs. This year we have had a ton of pill bugs, and our miniature entomologists have been having a field day. The Digging Garden is also where Patton lives.
Well, we are almost to May, and all the students know the rules of the gardens. You dig in the Digging Garden and you simply observe in the Planting Garden - no digging and NO PULLING UP THE PLANTS. And since about January, everyone has pretty much accepted this rule, and abides by it as well. It has been easier to enforce because everyone is excited about the plants they have planted, and they don't want to pull them out.
Everyone except Lilly. For some reason, Lilly got it in her head this week that she was going to pull out all of the brand new sprouts in our Planting Garden. She was stopped twice by Mrs. D.. who reminded her of the rules. This, however did nothing to deter Lilly from her mission. As soon as Mrs. D. walked away, she resumed her task. I watched her get back to pulling and immediately reminded her (again) of the rules....
"Lilly, you may not pull the plants out of the garden. We planted these so we could watch them grow. You need to leave them alone. This is is the third time we have reminded you to stop pulling out the plants." For some reason, I always tell students how many times I have told them something. Like they are really interested that I keep score. This method doesn't work with my own kids, and the preschool kids really don't care either how many times I say something. They probably think I am just patting myself on the back. (Look how many times I can repeat the same thing. I rock.)
Lilly's response to my reprimand was to simply continue with what she was doing without even skipping a beat. She barely made eye contact.
Taken aback (I usually at least get eye contact), I changed my tone to be more "mom" in nature and I grabbed her hand as it was just about to yank out another innocent seedling. I got right down on her level, and then, I middle named her...
"Lilly Jane Davis, you MAY NOT pull out the plants!! These plants are NOT YOURS. Your friends planted these plants and you MAY NOT PULL THEM OUT!! You need to STOP RIGHT NOW! If you want to pull out plants, let's go pull weeds out of the other garden."
This time, Lilly looked at me, but went for another seedling anyway, with the hand that I was holding.
Exasperated, I just said, "Lilly!"
To which she responded, very matter-of-factly, "Mrs. Velarde, my ears heard you, but my hands haven't heard you yet."
What do you say to that???
Me? I just laughed, and carried her to another area of the playground. And then went and replanted what she had pulled out.
And, there is yet another instance where I have been outsmarted by a three year old.
.
Well, we are almost to May, and all the students know the rules of the gardens. You dig in the Digging Garden and you simply observe in the Planting Garden - no digging and NO PULLING UP THE PLANTS. And since about January, everyone has pretty much accepted this rule, and abides by it as well. It has been easier to enforce because everyone is excited about the plants they have planted, and they don't want to pull them out.
Everyone except Lilly. For some reason, Lilly got it in her head this week that she was going to pull out all of the brand new sprouts in our Planting Garden. She was stopped twice by Mrs. D.. who reminded her of the rules. This, however did nothing to deter Lilly from her mission. As soon as Mrs. D. walked away, she resumed her task. I watched her get back to pulling and immediately reminded her (again) of the rules....
"Lilly, you may not pull the plants out of the garden. We planted these so we could watch them grow. You need to leave them alone. This is is the third time we have reminded you to stop pulling out the plants." For some reason, I always tell students how many times I have told them something. Like they are really interested that I keep score. This method doesn't work with my own kids, and the preschool kids really don't care either how many times I say something. They probably think I am just patting myself on the back. (Look how many times I can repeat the same thing. I rock.)
Lilly's response to my reprimand was to simply continue with what she was doing without even skipping a beat. She barely made eye contact.
Taken aback (I usually at least get eye contact), I changed my tone to be more "mom" in nature and I grabbed her hand as it was just about to yank out another innocent seedling. I got right down on her level, and then, I middle named her...
"Lilly Jane Davis, you MAY NOT pull out the plants!! These plants are NOT YOURS. Your friends planted these plants and you MAY NOT PULL THEM OUT!! You need to STOP RIGHT NOW! If you want to pull out plants, let's go pull weeds out of the other garden."
This time, Lilly looked at me, but went for another seedling anyway, with the hand that I was holding.
Exasperated, I just said, "Lilly!"
To which she responded, very matter-of-factly, "Mrs. Velarde, my ears heard you, but my hands haven't heard you yet."
What do you say to that???
Me? I just laughed, and carried her to another area of the playground. And then went and replanted what she had pulled out.
And, there is yet another instance where I have been outsmarted by a three year old.
.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
