Creating Spaces for Art Materials in Classrooms

Over the past several years, art materials have become increasingly available to children in our classrooms. We have now reached the point where 5 of our 8 classrooms have dedicated mini-ateliers where a mix of different media are always out and open for children to use. Of course, like any piece of our environment, these spaces need to be revisited, reviewed, and revised as the year progresses.

After our school's break in January, I returned ready to help classrooms take a second (and third, and fourth) look at the structure of these spaces, as well as their systems for displaying children's work. In some cases, such as our Preschool One classroom, new life was breathed in merely by the addition of new and exciting materials. Restocking depleted shelves with items like cardboard tubes, popsicle sticks, string and rope, and various recycled objects opened up new possibilities for construction and collage. Although these items are commonly seen around our center, they had not been out in this classroom for some time. Adding them back into the mix gave children some wonderful materials to create props for dramatic play (a big theme for these children) and offered great opportunities for teachers to introduce the idea of making plans before building and choosing materials to match.

In other cases, more extensive (and ongoing) restructuring was set in motion in order to bring the lived reality of these spaces in line with our intention understanding of their purpose. As I worked with teachers to think about their mini-ateliers, we saw the need for a distinct, cohesive space that children recognize. All of the materials available must be close to each other (in order to invite the potential for multiple media to be explore within a single project), and the tools needed to manipulate these materials must also be near at hand in order for work to continue uninterrupted. This became clear in one classroom where materials and tools were spread across two different areas of the classroom (there was a separate area for writing). Teachers noticed sharpie caps, scissors, and paper scraps abandoned on the floor from children's journeys from one part of the classroom to another. Moving the two shelves close together in the front of the room created a central mini-atelier, where children had all of the necessary supplies within sight and reach.

This space - even if it is a single shelf - must be visually unified in this purpose. In their experiments with their mini-atelier this year, our Toddler 1 North team first placed materials on the bottom two shelves under their parent check-in table. During significant parts of the morning and afternoon these materials were inaccessible as parents checked their children in and out, wrote notes, and read documentation posted above. The children also conflated the adults' pens and check-in sheet on the top shelf with the small clipboards and other materials set beneath them, and would use the adult materials as often as those set out for their specific benefit.

In light of these differences, the teachers changed both the check-in system and the mini-atelier's location. Families now check-in using a clipboard that hangs up on the wall; large unit blocks taped together created a lower system of shelves that children could access more easily. These shelves are also set apart in their own nook close to the sink -visually a separate, special space - and materials are more available than before.

This group of teachers also found themselves asking the question - how can we make more materials open and available in a way that does not require constant policing on our part? They looked to a system they had already employed in a different area of the classroom where hanging baskets are labeled using a sample toy that is attached on the outside. For instance, a basket of trains would have a small train dangling over the edge, showing children what the basket holds. The labeling system gives children more power to ask for these additional toys when they are interested, while also giving teachers a chance to size up the atmosphere of the room before adding a new element. The teachers decided to try a similar system in their mini-atelier, creating a space for buckets of art materials to hang in sight of the children and within easy reach of the teachers. Thanks to the help of a parent who hung the rod for the buckets, messier materials, like glue and paint, are now within sight and within mind for children and adults alike, ready to be brought down as needed for the task at hand.

One piece of our mini-ateliers that many teachers are still thinking about is how to create holding spaces for children's work. We love to encourage children to take a second look, add a new layer, or seek out more details for their creations in order to deepen their thinking about them, but this can be difficult to do without a place for these creations to live in the interim. Our Toddler 2 North classroom rearranged their classroom in order to make space for a holding area for children's building projects. A long-forgotten shelf in one of our storage areas was the perfect size, and the children helped to clean it off and fix it up with a new paint job. This shelf now stands ready for three-dimensional work - from Lego creations to wooden sculptures - to be "saved" and revisited.

A Toddler 1 North Teacher shared this picture of a child at work
at their mini-atelier.Not only are the materials within arm's reach,
but the top of the shelf also acts as a convenient work space.

As a staff, we have been working with the book Designs for Living and Learning by Margie Carter and Deb Curtis in order to revisit our classroom environments together. Within this book, chapters are often broken down into the "living" piece (which are the more structural or macro changes to the environment) and the "learning" piece (which represents the materials and provocations that are set out). The ongoing process of reworking the mini-atelier spaces reminds me of the continuous give and take between these two elements -"macro" changes we might make to our environments and the intimate details of the materials we fill them with. Both are essential in helping us to build our underlying values into the physical spaces of our classrooms, and both deserve continual review and revision as our time together in that classroom unfolds.

How can we continue to build the practice of saving and revisiting children's work into our physical spaces and our daily practice with children and families? 

Paper, Light, Clay: Open Studios Thus Far

So far this year, I have offered four Open Studios (one with paper, two with light, and one with clay), inviting families into the Studio to play with and explore these materials with curious minds and eager hands alongside their children. This has been the most successful series of Open Studios I have hosted in my time as atelierista, which leads me to examine my own hopes for these precious afternoons I spend with families and what has made them so special this year.

The Open Studio for families is a great tradition that was begun by my predecessor, Viki, as a way of offering parents (and grandparents, uncles, aunts, etc.) an opportunity to share an experience in the Studio with their child. As Kendra has discussed before, our philosophy hinges on families as partners in our teaching and important members of our school's community; the Open Studios that I host every other month or so are one way in which I strive to welcome families into the Studio.  They give families a chance to learn a bit more about this space, some of the materials we explore here, and what their child in particular will do in this space, with this set up.

Last year, I wrote this post about our first Open Studio as part of our clay exploration. I was wondering how I could use these special afternoons as a way of also inviting parents into our pedagogical practice and encouraging them to consider some of the same questions we ask while working with young children. My solution to this question for this year has been to ask the families who come to the Open Studios to first read these pieces about exploring art materials alongside infants, toddlers, and preschoolers. I also try to have short versions of these available as handouts and to have poster versions up (although I admit I ran out of time to prepare these things for the latest one). In addition, I post questions to guide our thinking around the room, along with sticky notes and pens for adults and children to record their answers. Here are a few of the questions and answers from each Studio:

"How can you change paper using just your hands?"

"Wrinkling, ripping, waving, scrunching."
"Twisting, tearing, zig-zag, throw in the air."

"What did you learn about paper?"

"It makes a good wrestling mat."

"It makes big noises when you kick it and hit it."

"You can pick up REALLY big pieces." 

"(How) can you alter light?"

"'Blue on it, now black on it... green there!' Simon noticed changing light most when he was moving cellophane and drawing on the light table."

"Shadow is formed when light is blocked. There is heat, too when light is produced."

"What did you learn about light?"

"Light comes down down on it, like this." 

"K. learned that light comes in different shapes." 

"You can mix colors even without paint."

"What makes clay special?"

"You can change it many times."

"You can use it over and over again."

"You can play with it and use it for fun."

"I love the way it feels when I squash it in my hands."

"It involves all the ancient elements: earth, air, fire, metal, water."

Some of these answers came from adults, some were children's answers, and a few were a combination of the two. In every case, it seemed as though answering the questions helped to put some of our own learning and the learning we were witnessing in others into words.

In addition to these questions that I posed, I heard the parents themselves asking more questions of their children as they worked, and many of them were open-ended and inviting: What does this paper sound like? Where is that light coming from? How did you make that with the clay? Parents also asked me about the materials they encountered, questions that seemed to suggest an interest in potentially extending these experiences into their homes:  How do you get these ideas for provocations? What kind of lights are these? What type of clay is this? Where can I get some? 

I also noticed parents asking open-ended questions using their actions, rather than their words. A father turned and quietly watched what another child's work, inviting his daughter to look at the discoveries of this child.  A mother with her infant child gently brought some rope lights to her lap, running her hands over them as she held them within reach of her son. A father rolled a simple ball of clay, offering it to his daughter to see what she would do with it.

These meetings in the Studio together have also offered parents from multiple classrooms the opportunity to meet and converse with one another about subjects other than just the material. By the end of each Open Studio, many of the adults in the room have met someone new and shared a conversation with them about their children, their experiences in Cambridge and at PTCC, or their interests outside of here. I remember one of the sessions with light occurred right before Thanskgiving; as the children and parents spread and scooped sand into trays on the light table, the discussion shifted to the subject of the holiday, the traditions of the different families, and the many ways of cooking turkey. You often hear that art can bring people together in unexpected ways, and I think this is an instance of one of them.

Throughout these evenings, I was struck by the care and attention that parents were paying to their children, and the attention that adults and children alike were paying to the materials set out before them. One parent observed that the questions I asked were much more focused on the "how" ("How are you using it?" "How did you do that?" "How did it change?") of the material rather than the concrete question of "What are you making?"; I felt that the people present at the Open Studio were also embracing these "hows" rather than the "whats." I was also amazed at the attention they were paying to each other, the negotiations that happened within this shared space, and collaborations that sometimes grew out of this. I am so grateful to work in a community full of people of all ages who are invested in the work we do and are willing to learn more about it through the "hands-on" setting of these Open Studios.

Looking forward to the next Open Studio (most likely in April), I am wondering:

- What else might I offer parents to give further insight into our work as a center and my work as an atelierista?

- What should we explore together next?

"Meeting" Our Needs

Our profession is unique in how various our different chores and roles can be. To risk stating the obvious, in a given week, a teacher may work like a graphic designer, a school  nurse, a strategic planner, a researcher, a project manager, a mediator, a writer, and an interior designer in addition to their primary role of care-giver. This means that we each need a multitude of skills to do our work. Our weekly one hour team meetings are a tool that support us in all of these roles.While we have had a lot of training to become teachers, running effective meetings is not usually part of that. In the past, team coordinators  had some specific training about facilitating meetings, but we still see how all of our meetings could do more, so we had an opportunity to reflect on our meetings, how they work, and how they can serve us.

Last year, for the first time, the board approved two days each year when the center will close so that teachers can do professional development.This year, our work will be to support teachers as they find their path to in-depth project work with young children. Friday's early release focused on meetings, which are a tool for all of our work, and can therefore support us as we pursue more depth in our curriculum.

Our center puts children and their families at the center of our work. In this spirit, I called upon our families to share with us their collective wisdom about what makes a great meeting, and used their input to design our time together on Friday. Since they work in a variety of fields, their advice served us in all the various ways we meet.

We heard from sixteen parents and I distilled their seven pages of wisdom into a few key ideas. I added to these ideas a few of my own, and we had a lot to talk about. Here are the major themes.

Meet with intention.

There are different sorts of meetings: information sharing, decision-making, problem-solving, or planning. One parent suggested that we know ahead of time if we're going to have a "blue-sky" meeting or an "in the weeds" meeting in advance, and plan accordingly. Some folks suggested that some shared ground-rules for meetings can be helpful, which is another kind of intention-setting.

It was also suggested that we have a sense of what kind of work can happen in the meeting, and what should happen out of it. This will be different for different teams, but having a shared intention about it will help us keep from meandering through unclear conversations that eat up our precious time.

The idea of being intentional in our meetings is nothing new for us. This is why we started our meeting with a brief mindfulness exercise guided by one of our teachers, Kara Magaldi. We also remembered the slogan coined by Anne Lamott "WAIT: Why Am I Talking?" which we use to remind ourselves to be mindful with our speech when we are together. We also addressed sharing anecdotes, which can be useful to set the context of a conversation or share important information, or build relationship by sharing a laugh or a poignant moment, but can also eat up our time together without noticeably contributing to our goals for the meeting.

Managing time is a part of every meeting.

There were a few different points of view about time-keeping among our contributors. Many suggested that time-keeping could interrupt or stunt a brainstorm, while others asserted that it was crucial for getting through business items and decision-making. Either way, it was agreed upon that it's important that time be kept in a way that serves the meeting.

During our early release day, teaching teams had two "mini-meetings" of fifteen minutes each. The brevity of these meetings seemed to help folks focus so that they could accomplish something in so little time.

Have a facilitator and a (separate) note-taker.

Many people mentioned the importance of a "chair" "convener" or "facilitator" for the meeting, someone who is invested in the process of the meeting as well as the content. A long time ago, at PTCC, this person was usually the administrator who was present at the meeting. The administrative team decided that the meeting was owned by the teachers, and are now participants or helpful witnesses in the meetings. Generally, the team coordinator is the facilitator AND often the note-taker in our team meetings.

I asked that the two non-coordinating teachers take a turn leading each one, and that another person take notes. We heard that this was helpful for many teams who were able to learn things about their meeting just by shaking things up, or who discovered that they liked taking turns with this kind of leadership and will make it part of their regular practice. Others found that they learned about the roles that they don't usually inhabit, but were happy to go back to the roles as usual.

Agenda, agenda, agenda....

The word "agenda" came up 33 times in our collected contributions from parents! Some were sure to point out that there are relationship-building, brainstorming or visioning meetings that do not require agendas, but that most other meetings require one, with approximate times for each item.

Our teaching teams have had different relationships to agendas over time. Some use a template each week, some create their agenda over the week, others in the first five minutes of the meeting, some develop the agenda collaboratively, others leave this job to the team coordinator.

I asked teams to develop an agenda, with times for each item at the start of their meeting to test out how this can help people. Afterwards, we heard that taking specific time with the agenda at the outset gave folks more time later in the meeting because they were more organized. As one teacher said "a strict agenda resulted in a more relaxed meeting".

     Next Steps and Accountability:

       Many of the parents who contributed to our knowledge of meetings, talked about creating lists of clear next steps along with who would do each one, with deadlines. Teams were asked to spend part of their second "mini-meeting" creating such a list to be revisited at their next team meeting.

In addition to these contributions from families, we practiced some other helpful practices.

Checking In at the Start of a Meeting

We talked about "Check-ins" at the start of meetings. These are common in our center, but there hasn't been a shared, clear idea about what their purpose is, so sometimes they take too long, turn into story-telling sessions, or are uncomfortable for people who don't understand why we do them. I shared the following with teams, and encouraged every team to check in to start their first mini-meeting.

Check-ins are:

·         A way members of a team build relationship.

·         A way to share own your perspective and how it might affect the meeting

·         A way to name and then “shelve” experiences or feelings so that you can focus more fully on the meeting.

Check-ins work best when:

·         You do them every week “whether you need them or not”.

·         They only take a few moments per person.

·         Everyone understands the purpose of the exercise.

   

      Accentuate the Positive

      In order to best learn from our mini-meetings, teams described what was working well as they finished up. This practice (known sometimes as an "Appreciative Debrief") can help teams to learn from their success. I suggested the simple and whimsical "three stars and a wish"; tell your team three things that worked well and then one that might be changed.

    What makes a great meeting?  
      Throughout our time together, I asked teachers this question. Our answers were tightly tied to respect for one another and for the meeting: punctuality, considering how, why and whether we are interrupting each other, and honoring the intention of the meeting are all hallmarks of a good meeting.We also need to find time for fun, connection and humor. Finally, some kind of recording the conversation and making plans for accountability must be a part of every great meeting.

   What about you? What have the best meetings you've been a part of taught you?

How Do You Try New Things?

Those of us who live in the land of child care and education get TWO “new” years, two fresh starts. For most of us there is a fresh start in the fall and then another that we share with the rest of the world in January.

Last August, our staff decided that we were ready to integrate in-depth project work into our curriculum and started preparing during our work days. We invited Sandra Floyd, mentor teacher at Epiphany Early Learning Preschool (and friend of mine!) to visit us and share her stories and perspectives on in-depth projects with young children. Together, we made a plan for a relative timeline for beginning our own project work. Like most centers, our curriculum really deepens by the winter time. Groups have gelled and interests have ripened. In addition, since this will be a departure for our teachers, we wanted to take all the time we needed to change our systems and learn about negotiated curriculum before we jumped in. As a result, we chose January to be our turning point when we expected that teachers would invite children into our first small group projects.

There is a book by Cher Huber, called "How You Do Anything is How You Do Everything", and I bring this idea up often with teachers. If I look at how I left the house this morning (woke up late but cheerfully with my son, no real routine, enjoyed pancakes with my toddler, left the dishes in the sink, had to run back for raincoat and boots once I got outside and realized that it was raining, sang songs together and talked about big ideas with my partner in the car on our way to work) it tells me a lot about how I do a lot of things; not terribly organized or neat,very focused on some things to the exclusion of some others, involving love and fun, thinking about things and my favorite people. In this spirit, I invited our staff to think about how we started new things in the past to learn how we might start our project teams this year. 

We talked about leaving the country for the city, installing a toilet, quitting soda, presenting at a conference, bike commuting, learning to knit, practicing yoga and dozens of other new things we tried. Just listing all the new things had an effect on people; some seemed surprised at how many new things they'd attempted lately, and others had a hard time creating a list at all.

If you'd like to try this yourself, think about some new things you tried in the last few years (marriage, sushi, rock climbing, Spanish lessons) and narrow it down to one successful thing and one unsuccessful thing. Answer these questions:

Successful thing:	Not so successful thing:
Why did you try it?	Why did you try it?
What words come to mind when you think about doing this thing?	What words come to mind when you think about doing this thing?
What were your positive thoughts before you tried it?	What were your positive thoughts before you tried it?
What were your negative thoughts before you tried it?	What were your negative thoughts before you tried it?
Did you try it alone or with a friend?	Did you try it alone or with a friend?
What helped you succeed?	Why didn't you succeed?

Together we discovered that different motivations, self-talk, and strategies worked for different people. Despite this, everyone felt that they learned something about themselves that would help them on their next new endeavor. 

Whatever new things you may be trying out in 2014, this collective wisdom may help you accomplish them!

What motivated successful tries? 

Because it's: healthy, necessary, expresses who I am.
I knew I could do it.

For the challenge

I like big changes.
To prove something to myself or someone else.

Cool people I wanted to be closer to

Doing something for myself

Looking for a new hobby

I was not successful at the opposite.

Why not?

I didn't have to if I didn't want to.

It would be calming for me.

Change can be fun.

What motivated unsuccessful tries?

I felt like I was ready mentally to do it.

I thought it would be healthy.

I thought it would help me find something to do with my hands.

I was interested in it.

People around me were doing it.

I think I should/someone told me I had to do it.

I wanted to prove something to others.

Words that come to mind when we think of the successful thing:

Successful, arduous, challenging, exciting, whole body, complicated, calming, fun, intimidating, accomplished, feel good, gutsy, new, beautiful, flexibility, practice, interesting, refreshing, success! fun, relief, proud, excitement, joy, effortlessness, sharing.

Words that come to mind when we think of the unsuccessful thing:

frustrating, boring, utter failure, procrastination, self doubt, shame, anxiety, new, finances, impatient, comfort, wanting to feel a different way than I do, conflicted, cognitive dissonance, she can do it so I can do it (Comparison) competition, tired, frustrated, bored, nope, defensive, Oh my god! Wanting to turn in on myself, embarrassment, pissed off, blaming ("It would have worked if only...") 

Thoughts we had before our successes

I can do this.

I love this.

This is going to be great.

I love change.

I'm going to be so ________ (Identity)

I don't have enough resources to pull it off.

Maybe I'm underestimating myself.

Who might this affect?

Will I have the follow-through?

I'm a fraud. I'm waiting for the other shoe is going to drop

How can I do it? (Making a plan.)

I can't do it. (Self doubt)

I've failed before.

Thoughts before an unsuccessful try:

people will love it!

salary or other extrinsic rewards

maybe I'll meet some interesting people (bribing yourself)

What if it's just like the last time? What if it takes for ever?

How could I ever do this?

What if it doesn't look/turn out the way I want it to?

I'm not... (Identity)

I don't think I can afford this.

Will I embarrass myself.

It's going to take a long time and involve a lot of details.

I think I'm going to succeed

I don't like what I am going to do.

This will be easy.

I'm afraid I might be scrutinized.

I'm afraid.
This will be a neat thing to try. 
It'll be great this time I just have to stick with it. 
It'll be so nice when this is all over. 
Wouldn't it be awesome to create?! 
No big deal, I'm ready. 
I can totally do this.

What helped you succeed?

I felt good doing it

I felt healthy and got out of my head.

I knew I could.
I had to do it.

I made an investment.

My passion for it.

I had support from a team.

Listening to others telling me I was succeeding in spite of my own judgments of myself.

I played to my strengths

Repetition

I avoided comparing myself to others.

I trusted myself and others, let go of control. (For example, trusting my sister to make the onions at Thanksgiving!)

External accountability/peer support

A more flexible attitude, willingness to learn something

I brought someone else into the process.
competition

I learned from my mistakes in the past.

Why Didn't You Succeed?

It takes so long, and it's SO boring... not fun. (It was a bad match.)

fear

social opportunities

I didn't have natural ability 
I was working alone.

no support/guidance/resources 
competition

This exercise and collected insight gives us a great opportunity to learn from the past in order to succeed in the present. How could you use this information to support a new endeavor? PTCC Teachers, has this collective wisdom informed you as you get started with project work?

Bringing the Studio to Our Classrooms

The times Toddler Two South children have used wire in the Studio, there have always been interesting moments – Yoshi using one wire to hook another, D. trying again and again to poke wires down into the plug of the sensory table, S. creating a ball by smooshing the wires in his hands. However, when these endeavors became frustrating (or once they have been accomplished) the children would lose interest in the material, testing to see which of the handles and curtains in the room they can play with.

This led to a few trial weeks of bringing the Studio into the classroom. In other words, I would bring materials into the Toddler Two South room, set them up at the table, and remain there for a few hours, inviting children to join me in exploring what I had brought.

I noticed a difference in how our exploration of wire felt as a result of this change in scenery. First of all, each time that I have done this, all of the children came to the table and participated in some way. A few children (especially those newer to the classroom) were content to sit and observe, or perhaps hold a wire and stretch it out with their arms. Other children came to work at the table for an extended time, and many revisited the wire provocation in small bursts throughout the time it was available. There was still a space set up for careful work with the wire – a space that I felt was, in part, defined by the constant presence of a teacher – but children were not tied to it the same way they are in the Studio. If they felt finished with what they were doing or needed a break before coming back to try again, they were perfectly free to do so. At the same time, I felt comfortable reminding children of what they had been working on and inviting them back into it later on. This allowed children like Yoshi - who had considered the wire's possibilities as a hook - to extend ideas begun at an earlier date through more practice and new experiments. 

As a teacher, I felt as though a weight had fallen from my shoulders as I spent time in the classroom with the children and the wire. The burden of constantly keeping so many minds engaged with same material all at once was gone, and instead, I was able to focus in on the children who were interested in the material in the moment. If someone left the wire table after a few minutes, I did not feel worried or discouraged the way I might in the Studio. In the Studio, a child leaving the activity often creates a distraction, if not for the whole group, at least for the teachers who hope to re-engage them. In the classroom, a child leaving the activity meant opening up space for a new person to join, or an opportunity to tidy up the table a bit, which often attracted someone else’s attention.

All of these observations tie back into a lot of what has been on my mind lately about both the role of the Studio as a physical space and my role as the atelierista, who is responsible for that space while also being responsible for work happening in all of our classrooms. I am excited by the success I have felt in Toddler Two South and other classrooms when I have brought materials to them and helped to define a more focused area for work within their everyday space, and I am excited, too, about what this might mean for the Studio space I leave behind. My vision is that, as we are building more space for focused work in the classroom, the Studio can transform into a laboratory – a place where groups of children invested in an idea or a problem can work together to solve it or where a teacher can bring a small group for close observation in order to further her research questions from the classroom.

When do you find a separate, focused space helpful in your life, and when do you prefer to be in a place with many options, people, and ideas in play at once? 

What themes do you see continually resurfacing in your child's classroom? Do you have any ideas you could share with teachers about how we might bring these themes to the Studio? 

Waiting for the potty IS our curriculum! Thinking about our hidden curriculum with videos

A beloved colleague said the above when teachers complained about the parts of the day that seem to take time away from learning. What he meant was that young children are learning from every experience in our care, and that the ways that we choose to care for them are another way of teaching. These moments are part of the "hidden curriculum", and provide an opportunity for us to learn about ourselves as people and as teachers. When we look at how we help children with their coat, or sing a song to them we learn about who we are, which informs how we teach. 

We spent a few weeks examining our hidden curriculum so that we can shift our practices and allow even incidental moments to be informed by our highest values and our best thinking. Each week, a different group of eight teachers came together and read an excerpt from the first part of Parker Palmer's brilliant essay "The Heart of a Teacher".

Here is a little of the wisdom teachers and staff shared in reaction to this piece:

Katy: When something doesn't go well, we pick it apart, "Why is it hard?" When something is going well, we rarely reflect on it and think "What did we do well?" so we can remember that. This is true in supervising staff as well.

Sarah: I really resonated with the second paragraph. It took me a long time to realize that everyone who is a teacher feels stupid or worthless or that they're not good at their job sometimes. Sticking with the cycle long enough, I've gotten to more self-compassionate practice. I'm a flawed person and I'm a good teacher.

This week, we considered transitions, which make up a big part of our day, by watching teachers and children transition together.

We started with a ten second video by way of introduction. Sara, a toddler teacher, walks with three children to a play yard. Afterwards, I asked the group "What are these children learning in this moment?"

• to stay together (They are all holding hands.)
• that the destination is exciting ("Here we are! Yay!")
• there are many ways to get there (for example, waddling like a penguin)
• learning about Sara as a teacher, her sense of humor... if I were with her I'd feel safe
• they know to hold hands, they know they can leave their room together and get somewhere fun together

These are the kinds of things that all children are learning when we don't realize that we are teaching. Sara is a master teacher and she was teaching these children as she skipped and celebrated with them in this tiny moment. I believe that the more that we watch each other and ourselves teach, the more we practice paying attention, the less our curriculum is hidden and the more children are learning the kinds of things we want to be teaching.

We spent the next hour or so watching three videos: a toddler 1 class getting ready to go outside, a toddler 2 class waking up and getting ready to go outside and finally a preschool classroom cleaning up their classroom. Teachers had three protocols to choose from to focus their thoughts as they watched. One was about limited resources; tracking time, space and attention and how they were allotted. The next was grounded in our Reggio Emilia inspiration examining the role of the teacher, the role of the child, and the role of the environment in the clip. Finally, Some teachers used a list of Howard Gardner's multiple intelligence to see what kind of learning was taking place.

Monica: I noticed that even though they were running back and forth and doing other things, they were trusted by their teachers. the kids who needed attention, they got the attention they needed

Mari: I was thinking about our Reggio inspiration...the image of the child, the trust. Each [of the children] were focused on something different, touching  a basket, looking out the window, looking at [the class next door through the window]. This was a situation where it could be chaotic for a teacher "Don't' touch that! Come here! Your coat, and here's your hat!"  

Sarah: There was a lot of room for intra-personal learning, one kid is lying on his or her mat, taking care of themselves, waking up. Phineas is given the choice to eat inside or outside, when he is frustrated they say "I just didn't hear you, it's not a big problem." Teachers helping children learn who they are as individuals.

Debbie: I was struck by the kinesthetic part... that once they got their coat on, they weren't just sitting on the bench, they were running through. There was energy that was all allowed and encouraged.

H: I noticed the role of the teacher: I liked all the questions, asking for teamwork, asking "Can you show me where this goes?" instead of just picking it up.

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Athletes watch videos with their coaches to really see the way that their bodies work, the consequences of their choices as they work. We use videos in our professional development for the same reason; to notice things from the outside that we can't from the inside. Our center values collectivity, so we watch videos together. 

The ones we watched were all taken in one hour last week, we didn't prepare for them in any way. I just showed up with a camera and asked permission and teachers graciously assented. Every time I share video of a teacher to other teachers I'm humbled by the willingness of the watched to share themselves and by the gratitude, sensitivity and recognition offered by the watchers.

When do we teach them and when do we let them wonder?

October's Provocation: What Do the Principles of Reggio Emilia Look Like Here?

Last week, four parents of children from 1-4 years old joined Katy and I for our first family provocation to talk about what we mean when we talk about the “Reggio Emilia approach” in our context.  We started with some parent questions about our history - about how and when we found this approach and started bringing it to bear on our pedagogy at PTCC. Katy, our director who is celebrating her thirtieth year working here, was incredibly helpful at this stage. She told the story of how PTCC came to be, and how we came to our approach  (gradually, over the last fifteen years or so.)

Next, we read PTCC’s mission statement together, and spent extra time on phrases from the second paragraph, where we get specific about what we do here.  I asked the parents to work in pairs and identify examples from their experiences here at the center. Here are some highlights:

Sarah: The children are co-constructors as well. For example, I love the “Question of the Day”. One time the question was “What makes trains go?” One child said people make trains go. Two said coal makes trains go. Two said electricity makes trains go. One child said a motor makes trains go and two said batteries make trains go. My child said batteries make trains go since she was thinking of her toy Lego train at home. The other child said batteries make trains go really fast. All of them were right and they were very different and it was a wonderful question. As they're talking about the answers, they listen to each other and they think about it differently."

Andrew: For my children, transition can be very difficult. The "Question of the Day" is a welcoming ritual for my family. As they enter the classroom, they're being grounded by thinking about their life outside of it.

Rick: From the kids' perspective; they spend so much time here. I can imagine it being disconcerting if you did not have a connection with home.

Abby: [This] last [sentence] stands out for me because of the documentation. I see this all the time. I am used to seeing pictures and a verbatim story about my son, and what he said, and then a reflection from a teacher. I know what my kid is doing at school.

Jumping In and Stepping Back

Rather than simply reading a list of principles we share with our colleagues in Italy, our conversation surrounded one "cognitive knot". Striving to untangle these sorts of knots is not just the work of adults in our tradition:

"Just as a knot (whorl) in  wood grain impedes a saw cutting through it, and just as a knot (tangle) in thread stops the action of a sewing needle, any problem that stops the children and blocks their action is a kind of cognitive knot." (pg 157, The Hundred Languages of Children, Third Edition). 

To hear our staff think about these kinds of knots, read this post.  Suffice it to say, we value them, we welcome them and we know that they help us to grow and learn when we try to get them undone. 

The knot we discussed is tangled around the questions:
"When do we step in and when do we step back?" 
"What is the role of an educator or parent in a child-centered curriculum " and 
"What do we let children explore and what do we "teach" them?" 

These questions could be a whole other post, so I'll just share that we had a great chat that included:

• What's the difference between attentive inaction and inaction?
• Is it ok to let children work under a flawed or completely incorrect theory about the world? For how long?
• How do babies acquire a new skill? How can an adult support their learning?
• How do we acquire or build knowledge?
• What and how do children learn when we don't teach them?
• Valuing frustration as the starting place of innovation and learning.

We didn't answer any of these questions (sorry, everyone, you'll have to keep working on these knots yourself!) but we had a very lively and satisfying (to me) conversation that left us all wondering further.

Next, we each read a piece of documentation written by teachers. Writing about children is a big part of our practice, and we value it for several reasons. It's a great place to look to learn about what it means when teachers and staff here say that we're inspired by the educators in Reggio Emilia. Reading pieces from infant, toddler and preschool rooms we noticed:

• that documentation can give us a window into the classroom, set the context so that we can better participate when we're there
• a teacher describing her internal dialog, her own struggle about how to respond to some children's conflicting ideas
• a teacher allowing children to linger and move through the transition from naptime at their own pace, playfully
• it's hard to know what a baby is intending or preferring before they can communicate very intentionally, and one teacher/author spent time considering the possibilities for one child in one moment

Finally, I asked if anyone had any unanswered questions, and we all agreed that the question of when do we help our children or tell the "the answer" lingered. 

• I recommended the book Talking Their Way Into Science by Karen Gallas. It's by a teacher researcher about a classroom of 7 and 8 year olds, but the principles are absolutely valid when thinking about younger learners. It's short and fascinating and a great read.
• We talked about our practices with babies and young toddlers and how many teachers are also inspired by Magda Gerber. A blog by one of her students, Janet Lansbury, can be found here.
• Andrew gave us a beautiful synopsis of the big ideas behind constructivism (here's an interesting link he passed along) and suggested an article in Wired about emergent learning in the older grades. We also discussed the TED talks of Sugata Mitra, which detail how children learn without being explicitly taught.

This blog is one way that we can continue this conversation. Where do you fall as a parent or teacher on the "stepping in" or "stepping back" spectrum? What are some of the flawed theories your children have shared with  you as they constructed their ideas about the world?