When a group of
children from Toddler 2 North arrived in the studio, to continue the work with
glue that we started a few weeks ago, I asked them "What can we do with
glue?"
Phineas answered, "We push it out."
N. said, "We squeeze it," clenching
and unclenching her hands.
E. added, "We brush it away,” describing the
way we use brush-like tools to spread our glue.
This
conversation set the tone for my thinking that morning. I found myself paying
special attention to children's interest and mastery over the processes of
using the provocation's materials (glue bottles, glue spreaders, shakers of
colored sand, and flat, wooden tiles set in trays).
When Phineas
first picked up his spreader, he said, echoing E.'s earlier idea, "I'm
going to spread it away," moving the tool across the mound of sand and
glue piled on his tile.
N. actually
squeezed glue straight onto the spreader, then sprinkled sand on top, then spread
the materials onto her tile. She was not interested in shaking the extra sand
off of her tile at all.
K. built up
layers of sand upon glue upon sand, stopping now and then to shake off the
extra sand.
When children
emptied their shakers of sand, they were offered spoons for scooping the sand.
E. used his spoon both to refill his shaker and to transfer sand directly onto
the glue. Phineas figured out how to remove and return the lid of the shaker
without help. He also noticed the glue and sand sticking to his tile. He began
to find a rhythm: take off the lid, add some sand, put on the lid, shake some
sand, "dump it out and see it stick."
Watching all of
this, I had a habitual thought, a kind of a early childhood proverb: "It's
about the process, not the product." Early childhood educators emphasize
that children's early work with materials is about exploration, and the
tangible work produced is simply a byproduct of that time, not a piece of art
to celebrate as it is for most older artists. This idea is nothing new to me;
however, the work I saw today forced me to reconsider the word "process.”
Usually “process” seems to me to mean something ethereal, fluid, abstract, the
opposite of the solidity of a product. “It’s about the moment, not about the
artwork,” you might say. However, “process” can also be concrete, something
created or collaborated upon. It can be a set of steps needed to accomplish a
task, to make something work, or to solve a problem.
These steps
intrigued the children. They explored the ones we described when we came
together (add glue, add sand, then shake off), and then recombined the
different tools and materials to determine new processes with potentially
different outcomes. True to the cliché, they were less invested in the product
of their work – N. was not even interested in finding out what her glue looked
like under all that sand – but their participation in the process moved beyond
said cliché into something more.
Sometimes an
idea becomes so familiar that we forget to take time to examine what it really
means. Watching these children work with these materials, I was reminded to
review my own understanding of what "process" means and why we stress
its importance in the investigative and creative work of children.
Our center's
teacher provocations for the past month have all been focused on how to stay
curious - curious about the families we work with, about our teammates, and
about our environments. This visit from Toddler 2 North seems to suggest a
fourth possible topic - staying curious about the language and concepts that
inform our teaching. Part of our work as reflective teachers is to think about
what we witness in our classrooms, what it means, and why it strikes us as
important; another part is to consider ourselves within the greater nexus of
the work we do - the principles that inform our thinking.
I found myself
reconsidering my understanding of a precious axiom with greater care thanks to how it was beautifully illustrated
by Phineas and his friends as they worked. I am grateful to be reminded that
the words we try to live by still deserve a second or third look in light of
our observations, and lived experience.
Which parts of
your everyday life are “about the process” and which about “the product”?
What are the
axioms or principles that you live by that have had deeper meaning by
considering them in light of your own lived experience? How did you become
curious about them?
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