Teasing Curricular Threads Out of the Fabric of Children's Play; or What's In a Metaphor?

Our curriculum is built by teachers around the interests we see in children’s play.

Lately we’ve been thinking about how to find children’s interests and questions in our observations, extend children’s learning over a longer time, and connect it to more fundamental questions, rather than staying on the surface of their learning. We often call these underlying questions, interests or themes “curricular threads.” 

Each week, a teacher from each classroom comes together at our center for professional development we call "weekly provocation". I often plan these mini-workshops with the admin team or with Katie. Today we came together today to practice finding these threads.

Thinking about threads… real threads.

The metaphors we choose tell us something important about what we are thinking. Why do we think of persistent questions or themes as “threads”? Our table was decorated with fabric and other examples of “threads” for us to consider as we entered. We spent some time describing thread together:

·        We use threads for some of the oldest human activities, it’s ancient.

·       We use thread for … practical things; baskets and fishing nets … across cultures.

·        It doesn't come to an end unless you cut it, it seems like it could go on and on.

·        There are many pieces to one piece of thread…intertwined.

·        You might add to it and make a knot.

·        Thread can be very orderly; the spools of thread in my sewing room are very orderly and they're all wrapped up, but if they're on the floor they're a mess and they are impossible to take apart.

·        Two weak, little threads can make a very strong seam.

·        Thread has a curved and windy journey in fabric.

·        Something so simple goes into something so big and meaningful. [When you hem shorts] something so little as a thread can make such a change in something big.

·        You can use different materials... but one thread can [bring them together].

·        They make connections that can hold things together. Small pieces can build upon each other and make something larger.

Next we looked at old notes and pictures about children who examined machines over four months. As we read, teachers hypothesized about possible curricular threads that may have been woven into the work. Throughout this conversation we differentiated between the content (the superficial, visible interest) and the curricular thread (the developmental struggle, big question, underlying theme), often with gestures signifying the surface, or the depth. 

I told about two different three year old classrooms (in two different centers and two different years) who were doing a lot of fire-fighter play (content). One group was so interested in fire; what it was, why it was scary, why it was so important for fire fighters to put it out. Another group was interested in the feeling of reunion, of rescue. They were all new to group care, and focused on the moment when the fire-fighter saved the person and brought them back to their family. You can see how this play might look the same on the surface; same props, running to get hoses and put out the fire, saving moms and dads and cats, but how children's interests are quite different. We all referred back to this example as we spoke. It was not easy, to identify the threads and we sometimes missed.

Some of the interesting details that we noticed that were probably not curricular threads were:

·        Color, size or other visual aspects of the machines

·        Wheels

·        Things that turn on and off

·        Chains

      These details or interests are meaningful to the children, but they are different from what we can pursue over months of curriculum. They are useful aspects of children's experience that we might include in provocations, but they're different from the curricular threads we're seeking today.

The curricular threads we identified were:

·        How do mechanical things work?

·        How can we keep one another and ourselves safe in unfamiliar situations?

·        What is the relationship between the function of the whole machine, and functions of the parts?

·        Names, labels, categorizing or taxonomy

·        Cause and effect

·        Finding ways to control things; making them stop and go

·        How do machines connect us to the adults who use them?

·        Wondering about and trying on “real” things, adult things

·        Making connections between bigger grown up machines and children's own things

·        Finding a new, more intimate relationship with everyday things

Pilar, Danielle, Tracy and Sarah looking for threads in the stories of children's work.

Finally, we looked at our own documentation over the last year and tried to identify curricular threads that children pursued over time.

We guessed that it was easier to find the threads in the collected documentation because it was already gathered together around a shared theme. We wondered together if it's easier to find curricular threads in children's work when looking back at what's already happened, rather than looking at curriculum that's still in process. Since our documentation process is always inviting us to look backward and forward, we have a unique tool to assist us in finding these threads. We also talked about how once we are following a thread, smaller moments that may have been ignored before stand out as we see children integrating their every day play into whatever theme they are working on in the moment.

How did you do that painting? Part II

When Monica (one of our Preschool Two teachers) and I decided to offer a splatter painting provocation to her Studio group, I suggested that we invite an “expert” on the subject from Preschool One. A. volunteered to join us, and together we read some parts of my documentation of Preschool One’s splatter-painting session. The children then examined the other splatter paintings, offering their thoughts about how it had been made before A. told them a little about his experience.

L: “Maybe they put paint on the paper and then they put the paper on one of those [canvases].”

J: “I think they did that they used a paint brush and then put paint on.”

A: “We just standed up and splattered it on.”

Monica: “What did you splatter on?”

A: “Paint. We did it like this.” [He swoops his arm back and forth].

Monica: “With your hand?”

A: “No, with a paintbrush.”

We examined the canvas we would use.

Nina: Wow, feel this!

Katie: Please be gentle as you touch it.

A: Yeah, or else it will break through.

Nina: It’s smooth and ticklish.

A: It’s a little dirty. [We turn the canvas over to see the wooden frame.]

Nina: It looks like a window.

A: It’s F’s symbol.

Next, I asked if there was anything we should keep in mind as we splattered our paint.

A: When you put some paint on your paint brush, don’t get your paint on the walls.

L: Don’t splatter it too high or it could go in someone’s eye.

J: You should keep your eyes closed like this.

We moved onto painting, needing only a few reminders about the specific technique we were trying today. 

A: It’s making bumps on it.

Gaia: Oh! I got paint on my foot.

A: It’s okay. Katie will put some water later…. That’s gonna be a splatterfoam!

Gaia: There’s a lot of light blue.

A: A big flop just came off!

J: I see green and blue and purple and yellow.

We examined our painting together:

A: “Look at that one. It looks like a really big brown river.”

Nina: “It reminds me of a big rainbow.”

L: “It reminds me of a big, humungous, huge color.”

Gaia: “It reminds me of a big, humungous rainstorm.”

Finding that the corners needed work, we focused our efforts on them during our last few minutes painting.

What does the experience of such a painting project provide?

What does the experience of such a painting project provide?

On the one hand, it offers a chance for children to gain a new perspective about paint. These children have a lot of practice using paint at a table, touching the brush (or a hand being used as a brush) to paper. Splatter painting (in the style of Jackson Pollock at least) involves a canvas set out on the floor, which the artists move around with their brushes poised above but never touching it. There is a new layer of kinesthetic movement added, but also a different sense of cause and effect. You can aim your brush towards a certain part of the canvas; you can move your arm in different motions to change the appearance of the paint; but you don’t have the same control as when you actually touch your brush to the surface you are painting. Each movement has the potential to surprise and excite its maker.

On the other hand, there is the collaborative nature of the work. Everyone is sharing the same jars of paint. Everyone is sharing the same space for painting – they must keep track of the many other bodies at work as they move around the white rectangle of the canvas. Everyone is conscious of where their paint is going, making sure not to “splatter it too high,” as L. said.

One piece of this collaboration, too, is the development and sharing of expertise. In this case, A. took on the role of the expert in the fullest sense. He had so much to share about the process and about the painting as it was created. Having been there for both of his experiences with this style of painting, I noticed that A. had a lot of insights about the way the paint looked and moved that he had not necessarily voiced the first time around. The moment where he told Gaia not to worry about the paint on her feet also showed how aware he was of his fellow painters and how eager he was to share what he knew with them. I am sure that the other children gained a lot thanks to A’s presence, but I also felt that A. gleaned a great deal from the opportunity to not only make use of what he had learned before but also to share it with others.

What differences do you notice between the two documented painting sessions with different groups?

What do you think children learn from being the teacher or the “expert”? How is this different from their learning in other roles? 

 

How did you do that painting?

On January 28th, two PTCC alumni – T. and A2 – joined E., Theo, A., and M. of Preschool One in the Studio. The subject of the group’s collaboration was to create a new, big splatter painting together. T. and A2 were experts at this, since they had made one such painting before, which now hangs in the Studio.

The impetus for this project came from Ian, a teacher in Toddler One South. Ian had asked me if any children might be interested in creating another beautiful splatter painting that he could hang up in his home. I knew that many Preschool One children were curious about the painting, so I talked to the Preschool One teachers about the idea. They then offered it to the children, who agreed to take the job. They were excited to try out this new technique, and T. and A2 agreed to come and teach it to them. Serena (a Preschool One teacher who had also taught T. and A2 the year before) helped to arrange the meeting.

The afternoon visit began with a conversation about the painting hanging in the Studio and how it had been made.

Theo. : “How did you do that painting?”

E: “With feet?”

T. & A2: “No!”

T.: “With paint and brushes.”

A2: “And glue.”

T.: “We splattered the paint.”

A2: “We moved it around.”

T.: “We moved it fast.”

We then took a moment to feel the canvas that we would be painting on.

A.: “It’s soft. It makes me go to sleep.”

Theo: “It’s hard, too.”

Serena: “Look at what is underneath.”

(She lifted the canvas so we could see the other side).

E.: “Wood!”

With these conversations done, it was time to take action! A2 and T. demonstrated how to apply the paint, scooping their brushes into the paint jars and waving them over the canvas. Dots and strings of paint appeared on the white surface.

M., Theo, E., and A. joined in, adding new drips and new colors of paint. It took a little practice to add paint without actually touching the canvas with the paintbrush.

Theo: “That looks kind of messy.”

E.: “I’m doing like scooping it.”

T.: “It’s like exploding fireworks.” 

After fifteen minutes of steady painting, we all took a step back to look at our painting. Theo's verdict?

“It doesn’t look done yet.” We asked the children what parts of the painting needed more work. Several of the artists identified one corner that had less paint than the rest, so we agreed to focus our efforts there. We also discussed what new colors we should add. E. suggested that our painting needed some red, so we poured some fresh red paint for the next round of work.

We returned to painting, working together to add more paint in the more empty areas.

As he worked, T. observed of their painting technique, “You can’t control the paint. The paint controls itself.” 

Although he was not able to come down while the artists were working, Ian came to look at the painting not long after they left. “This is so cool! I love it,” he declared. “I’ll have to come by to say thank you!” 

TEACHING, DOING, THINKING, LEARNING

What a wonderful opportunity this was! Not only did the Preschool One children learn more about the painting that has so often piqued their curiosity, but they also had a chance to try their hand at making one themselves.  In addition, the project opened up possibilities for collaboration (not only with fellow classmates, but with older “experts”), as well as for a growing knowledge of their current PTCC community (by creating this artwork for a teacher that many of them did not know before they began the work).

This experience also made me think about the multiple layers involved in learning about something. In some instances, like this one, there is an element of “teaching” involved. A2 and T. both did a great job of teaching the children about their process, answering questions, explaining their technique, and then demonstrating it for the younger children. However, the act of “doing,” of trying this out for yourself, is equally important. You won’t necessarily realize what it means to “move it around fast” until you have a brush in your hand. In addition, I felt that our conversation as we worked, as well as our break to examine and discuss our work part-way through, showed the added layer of “thinking” – thinking about what we were doing, how we were doing it, and what we could do better. To me, it would seem that the real learning occurred at the interstices of these three processes. Together, they made the experience powerful. These children were at once learning about and carrying on a past tradition, exploring paint and its application in a fun and visceral way, and reflecting on their work like true artists. If any one of these elements had been removed, some of the meaning would have been missing.

Where else do you see a sense of community being built in the Studio and in our center?

What learning experiences have stuck with you throughout your life? Were all of these elements – teaching, doing, thinking – a part of them?

Building a Nest, Building a Culture

I want to take you back to December 13th, 2012. A group of preschoolers had finished their work for the day on a ceramic sign for their classroom. As they still had some time left in the Studio, they used some leftover clay to work on their own individual experiments. A few minutes in, T. decided, "I want to make a nest. Can you help me make a nest?" F. echoed him. "I want to make a nest, too."

Their seemingly simple request actually held a lot of meaning for me, and for them. These children had embarked on a clay exploration last year, and the result had been a deep investigation of the creation of baby birds/eggs and nests to house them in. One artifact of this process was a set of plans or recipes for making these forms, which helped the children remember the steps that they and their friends had previously deemed necessary for success. 

I still had these recipes in the Studio, hanging from a hook on our clay shelf. As I turned to reach for them, thinking I could offer them as one way to make a nest, F. added, "I need a plan to make a nest." I turned around to show him what I was holding. "Is this the plan you mean?" "Yes! I need the one that shows a nest." "I need one, too," said R., who had also been a part of last year's nest-and-bird making. M. and A., who had not tried nest-making before, were also interested in this idea and came close to look at the plans. 

The children examined the plans, carefully following each step, stating aloud the work they had to do: "Make a ball, poke a hole, then pinch"..."I need mine bigger so I'm pinching more"..."Here's my baby. Let's see if it will fit." R. in particular made an entire family of birds, which necessitated an especially large, open nest. With this complete, she then created one big, one medium, and one small egg, crafting a separate nest to fit each size.

Why has this interaction stayed with me so strongly that I still feel the urge to write about it over a month later?  

Two words: History & Culture

These two words are, of course, inextricably linked, for without the building blocks that a history provides, it is impossible for a culture to develop. For me, the plans are a piece of history - of my history as a teacher here, of these children's history in the Studio, of the medium of clay and the way it has been used here. They are, as I said before, artifacts that speak to an important journey. The fact that the children remembered and asked for these tools in their work nearly a year later suggests the establishment of a culture - a culture of planning and looking back to what we know and have learned in order to achieve a goal. The practice of "making a plan" is, in fact, used in many of the classrooms here. A plan helps children to slow down and focus their ideas, thinking hard about what exactly they are working towards and all of the steps, parts, and pieces necessary to fashion it. It holds them accountable throughout the process of construction, but it also acts as a testament to their hard work when the project is completed. Integrating this idea of plan-making into the everyday work and play of classrooms and schools helps to build a culture where thoughtfulness and follow-through are key, and where each step of the creative process is honored.

This particular encounter in the Studio also speaks to the way in which a long-term relationship with a material helps to foster a culture, as well. In this particular instance, the children's combined knowledge of nest-making and their greater level of expertise with clay allowed them to bring their ideas to fruition more easily and with more accuracy than would have been previously possible. For instance, R.'s nests have become more complex - custom-made to fit the problems she poses for herself - because she has had time to develop her understanding of space and volume as well as her confidence in working with clay. 

This story reminds me of how important it is to look back at where we are coming from and to continue to practice with the tools we have appropriated in our travels. Something we might think had already served its time might prove useful at some future point. It also makes me think of all the ways that we craft our own cultures in the many spheres of our lives through the roots of the unique histories and the artifacts we carry with us. 

My wonderings are: 
What culture do you perceive in your school, at your work, in your home? 
What is the culture that you strive to inculcate, and how does your history help to inform this ideal?

A Conversation about a Castle, A Reflection on Fairness

A group of older preschool children have been working hard to build a castle out of clay.
During our last session in the Studio, the following conversation unfolded.

R.: Excuse me, Susan, Ian, Nina, E., can I make a bridge on that castle?
Nina and Susan say “Yes”. E. and Ian say “No”.

Katie: Why not?
Ian: It goes down.
E.: Because it might fall down.

Katie: Can you show us where you want the bridge to go?
R.: (points to a space across the top of the castle.) Can I make it go this way, E. and Ian?
Both: No!

R.: Why?
Katie: Why?
Ian: No, because that's like a sky.
E.: Because it will fall down inside.

Katie: Maybe you could show us what you want the bridge to look like?
R.: (to me) Can I use your clay?
Katie: Sure
R.: Is it okay if I do something like this? (She draws lines on the clay and holds it up for everyone to see.)
E.: Yes, that's okay.
Ian: No.
R.: Why?
Ian:  no answer
Katie: Well, now we have three votes that say yes, and one for no. If we are voting, it's okay. 

As R. began to draw the lines for her bridge, Ian seemed hesitant as to whether or not to accept them at first. However he began to nod his head and point to other places he thought the bridge could extend to.

This happened over a week ago and continues to resurface in my thoughts. Even in the interaction, I wondered about my words and my influence on the situation, about the values I was upholding in moderating the moment. Specifically, I’m thinking about fairness and all of the possible ways to present a decision or action as "fair."

Why Did I Suggest a Vote?

I suggested voting as a way to answer R.'s question as to whether or not it would be okay about making the bridge. Later, I wanted to analyze why I jumped to using this form of problem-solving rather than allowing the conversation to continue until everyone felt happy with the agreement.

Time Pressure
First, I recognized in myself a feeling of pressure about time. Studio only takes place once a week for forty-five minutes, which means that these children have a limited amount of time to work on their projects each week. Although I knew that hashing out the issue would be very valuable on multiple levels I also worried that if I didn't help to resolve things quickly, they wouldn't be able to make any progress on the castle. This is reasonable of course, but looking back I wouldn’t prioritize time if I had it to do over again. Next time, I think I’d give the children time to resolve their issues, even if that did mean we would have to wait until the following week to enact our decision.

The Power of No
By the end of the conversation I was unsure whether Ian's continual "no" was rooted in a true aversion to the idea of the bridge or whether it was rooted in the power of saying "no" in the face of so many saying "yes." I wish I had waited to ascertain this and let R. try to work more closely with Ian to try to achieve a compromise before I offered a solution. Even if his ideas had revolved more around power than around the actual bridge question, I would have liked to hear the discussion the children's discussion about this.

The Majority Rules
Finally I knew that these children were familiar with voting and had suggested it as a problem-solving method before. But now I wonder if this was the right way of handling this particular argument.

Is Voting Fair?

Now I wonder why, in a bigger context, this idea of voting rose to my mind (and comes up elsewhere in our school) as a means of solving disputes "fairly."

On the one hand, voting is an essential part of America's political problem-solving system. It is what we hold up as being a fair way of making a single, united decision for a large group of people. Perhaps, because of this, it is ingrained in those of us who grow up here that voting is a fair and just way of making decisions and resolving disputes.

On the other hand, voting compromises the feelings of the individual for sake of the majority. Decisions are reached more quickly without having to appease every dissenting voice. When I think about it this way, voting feels less than fair to me, and it is not the ideal tool I would like to give children for solving their problems.

So, what would I prefer to advocate?

• I think of the consensus-building exercises we have undertaken as a staff this year, where we have worked together to reach an agreement "we can live with" about issues like the possible adoption of a school-wide playground policy.
• I think about the ways in which we constantly try to provide children with a sense of their own autonomy in as many aspects of their lives as possible, including decision-making.
• I think about the fact that, even though there is a necessity for schedules here, there is also a lot more breathing room here than these children may encounter in other settings of their future lives.

I think that I would like to make more space for children to undertake the hard, sometimes grueling process of consensus-building, even at the expense of time and action. I would like them to feel in their hearts that fairness is important, that it can be hard, but also that it is attainable. And I would like to be a teacher who supports them in discovering this. I suppose I have found my new year's resolution!

What do you notice about the conversation I documented?
What perspectives do you have about fairness and problem-solving?
Do you ever find yourself interfering in a similar way, and how do you react in those moments?

Boys ironing and girls shooting nerf guns

Many of us have been spending time online or in stores shopping for gifts for loved ones lately. Much has been made of the "gendering" of toys, the color-coded packaging, the narrow boxes of behaviors that boys and girls are welcome to enjoy. The degree to which EVERYTHING is proscribed in this way can make even the most open-minded parent feel funny about shopping for their child in the "wrong" section.

Well, a Swedish toy manufacturer has done something really unusual. They published a catalog (filled with toys made by Toys 'R Us) that has pictures of boys and girls playing together with every toy. Click here to see some images. This was done voluntarily, but, according to the Wall Street Journal's blog, the toy store had been criticized by the national ad regulator for contributing to gender stereotypes with it's catalogs in the past.

Have you bought your child a toy that has been assigned by our culture to the opposite gender? How did that feel to you? How did your friends and family react? I think that changes like this one could take some of the pressure to follow "gender rules" off of us when it comes to getting toys for our children.

I wonder what would happen if we shared these photos with some of our older children. (Preschool teachers? Are you game?)

-Kendra

Looking for our beliefs about children in the materials in our classrooms

What do we mean when we say "image of the child"?


The image of children that the educators and families in Reggio Emilia, Italy hold is quite radical. It may sound ordinary to say that children are whole people, that they are protagonists of their own lives, that they can be in control of their own learning. It's not. If you go to a local playground, watch parents and their children, and try to infer what they believe about children, you'll find that most of us act as though we think children are out of control, that

without adult reinforcement and coaching

they will be unkind, in danger or that they won't know what or how to play.

Here, we try to let our image of the child guide us in our work. When a teacher says to two children who are not yet two years old “What do you think we should do to solve our problem?” you see what it means to trust children. Teachers all over the world who are inspired by those in Reggio Emilia are struggling to define our image of the child in these terms.

This year our center-wide intention is “Bringing Our Image of the Child to Our Work”. One way we can see what a center believes about children is to look at how spaces are designed and materials are stored.


For example, in our classrooms:

• three year-olds have a range of art materials available to them at all times.
• Two year-olds use porcelain pitchers to pour milk at snack.  
• One year-olds carry around framed family portraits and have access to musical instruments.

Our classrooms embody our image of children in these and other ways, and we wanted to look together to see where we could do some more work and where we were succeeding.

Each team coordinator took some time to visit another classroom and reflect on what the space communicated about how the inhabitants see children. We used a protocol that invited us to think about how we described our image of the child back in September. (See the inset list). Then we came together at our monthly team coordinator meeting to share feedback.

Over and over again, teachers told us that they could see that teachers believe that “Children are capable and deserving of respect.” Some of the examples people shared:

• "T2N did an amazing job with their mini-atellier, and all around the room I saw spaces for collaboration... The message was 'I trust you with tape all the time.' The forks and spoons were out where kids could get them when they need them."
• "T1S also shined... They took all the railings off a climber, which I’ve never seen anyone do before".
• "Everything was available! There were no gates to bathroom, plants and fish bowl are  available to children."
• "The [P1] room gives [the children] the opportunity to explore or confront the rigid constraints of materials. You could see that all toys are props for play".

We asked teachers about what parts of our image were harder to see in classrooms.
This could be because of our own biases and agendas as “lookers” or because of what was there in the environment. We heard it was harder to see:

• "That children are constantly in relationship to people and materials. I could see notebooks and I know that certain things happen, but I couldn't see it in the environment."
• "Partnership with families. I could see family photos, but does that really tell about partnership?... I didn't feel like I saw partnership."
• "It was challenging to see an emphasis on process over product in the infant room, since babies don’t “create” in the same ways that invite us to concentrate on the product."

It was clear that teachers really appreciated the feedback, and the glimpses they got in to each others' classrooms. As teachers, we often find that we have “our heads down”. We’re so focused on our own tasks, our own classrooms, that it may be a few days or weeks before we notice the documentation or new climber down the hall. This is part of why we love opportunities to really see what each other are thinking and working on: weekly provocations for teachers, this blog, our annual showcase, and our hallways full of documentation are opportunities for seeing this place through someone else’s eyes. 

Grounding our observations in our image of the child seemed to help us formulate our feedback, and translate it immediately into changes in the room. Right away, teachers seemed to see their own rooms differently, and the changes that some people made in the following days and weeks were made because they looked at their rooms through the lens of our image of children.

When you first came to PTCC, what could you infer about how we view children?

How do you feel to get or receive feedback from your peers or colleagues?

 We didn't have teachers assess our common areas. (The piazzas, outdoor space, grown-up bathrooms and the yard) Do you have any feedback about them?