The Empowerment of Story Workshop: Guest blogger Emily

Today's blog post is from a guest blogger. Emily started off as my pre-service teacher and has finished her time with us as my friend. She had some beautiful observations of story workshop and its impact on one of my students,  and she gave me permission to share them with you here. So, without further ado, I give you my friend Emily's post:

Let me tell you about C.  

C is a sweet, quiet five-year-old boy in Mrs. Marshall’s class. He is a kind friend and a hard worker. He loves to listen to music and stories. He has a couple of close friends in the class but can play with anyone happily. Sometimes he enters the classroom like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed – he slowly trudges into the room, with his lunch box and homework bag in his arms, visibly unsure of what to do next. Sometimes his little face looks overwhelmed as he prepares to start a new school day.  

He enjoys playing with his good friend M, but sometimes playing turns into bickering and fighting – as five-year–old children tend to do. Overcome with frustration and emotion, he is the first to resort to tears. He will angrily reiterate his point of view, and he will not back down. Although he can be shy and timid, he is determined and perseverant. One time, at the end of a fight, he surprised us by “hugging-it-out" with his friend and quickly making amends, (and as we know, this is not what we expect five-year-old children to do...) 

When it comes to school, we have often felt that he needs a bit of extra help. (Or, at least we thought he needed more of our assistance...) We noticed early on that he found it difficult to grip a pencil, and to handle scissors. He is also a child that needs a bit of extra time to process instructions. He is one of the last children to get ready for recess, and to catch the bus at the end of the day. It is not unusual to see him staring blankly into space, completely flustered by the commotion around him. Sometimes there are tears, and he often needs our help. Early in the fall we recognized that C may benefit from one-on-one work with a resource teacher to help his fine motor skills. During this time, he also got a little “Fundations” boost by practicing his letters/sounds. With a little bit of extra TLC, he has shown so much progress throughout the fall. (We thought he was going to require tier two intervention, but so far he has proved us wrong.) He is on his own learning path, developing perfectly at his own timing.  

Do not put brilliance in a box.  

And this is where my profound learning begins. As a pre-service teacher, I entered my practicum full of theory and opinions. I knew I wanted to bring a strength-based approach into my developing practice, and I wanted to make my lesson plans accessible, including every child. I wanted to consider the “whole” child, and create a multi-sensory environment for my practicum students to learn in. I won the lottery when I was paired with Carrie Marshall, as it was evident from day one that her teaching philosophy runs parallel with mine.  

So, I was given the task creating provocations and invitations to elicit creativity and storytelling during our “story workshop.” I relished the opportunity to observe the children and discover what they were interested in. When children started to create stories about the planets, I tried to push them further by providing them with provocations that would encourage stories about outer space. When they started building rocket ships, I provided materials to further the exploration. I provided letters, and blocks. I baked sweet-smelling cinnamon shapes to use as manipulatives and I dried orange slices so they could incorporate their color, shape, and scent into their constructions.  

Over and over this fall, I marveled at C’s ability to create intricate, well thought out structures. For example, one day, he created a house that was an obstacle course. Every room had a boobie trap, that needed to be avoided to make it to the next room. He told me how there were so many problems that needed to be solved to escape the house - what a cognitive workout! He created ramps, obstacles, and imaginary fireplaces – all with “loose parts.” I was so proud of his construction; I took a picture. I told him that he was an amazing builder, and I remember that he quietly nodded. I remember feeling good, as a teacher, for recognizing his strength. I was proud that I could provide him with an environment that would foster his building brilliance. I knew that he found it more challenging to put his thoughts down on paper – but that did not matter. Afterall, I was providing him with universal design for learning! He was storytelling though manipulatives – which was wonderful! His work strengthened my increasing interest in the importance of fostering multi-literacies and giving equal opportunities to demonstrate understanding. I imagined C would become a wonderful “builder” one day, and that he would construct amazing, beautiful things, (… and maybe someday he will...)  

 

As a teacher, I had all good intentions at heart. I was recognizing his strengths; I was providing encouragement. I was seeing results! I had proof that I was doing my job, I had photographic evidence that proved he was thriving in his own unique way. In my mind, I pegged him as a builder, as a kinesthetic learner that needed hands-on opportunities to demonstrate his learning. What I did not consider was that...  

C just needed time.  

Today, C entered the classroom quietly and hesitantly like he normally does. Even though he could go wherever he liked, he chose to sit in his assigned seat and explore the “snowman/winter themed” provocation at his table. (Afterall, there is safety and security in what is known, and what is routine. Creating comfort, rituals and predictability is just as important to learning as risk-taking, variety and novelty.) The rest of the class worked at different tables, exploring other provocations, and C sat alone. I watched him as he slowly, and carefully looked at all the manipulatives at his table. I had placed Lois Ehlert’s book “Snowballs” at his desk, and he inspected each page slowly. Then, he looked up and asked me, “Want to come over and look at this with me?” I was excited about the invitation and smiled as he talked about what he saw on the pages. He giggled when he saw a picture of a snowman dog. Then he started to play with the fluffy pom-poms, and realized if he placed felt between them, they would stick together. He wanted to build his snowman in 3-D, and then eventually decided to build one lying flat on the table-top. I smiled to myself - realizing that once again he was building.  

 

… and then the magic happened.  

Since it is only a few days until Christmas break, we decided to forego our ”Fundations” early literacy/phonics program in lieu of more story workshop time. Without any prompting the children were busy creating stories. They were getting their own paper, after figuring out their stories using manipulatives. There was a delightful hum in the classroom as smooth jazz music played and children quietly chatted and collaborated - but C sat alone.  

Without our involvement, he got his own paper book and pencil. With a face full of purpose and intention, he got his head down and worked. He was completely engrossed. He gripped his pencil perfectly, and busily put his story down on paper. I walked over and realized that his illustrations were intricate and full of details. He was creating a story about building a snowman, and a snow dog on a snowy winter day. I could not believe how lovely his illustrations were, so I chimed in, “This is lovely C... what is your story about?” Not looking up, he muttered, “It’s not done yet.” I slowly slinked away.  

Why did I feel the need to get involved in the process? Why did I need to interrupt? In this perfect moment, what support did I really need to give?  

 

I had the best intentions. As a teacher, we want to know our students. We like to think that we know what makes them tick. We want to support them and lift them up. We want to be helpful. We want to be useful, but sometimes, the best thing we can do is keep our mouths closed and let the child take full ownership of their learning. If we are doing our jobs REALLY well, I believe that at one point, all we need to do is set the stage. We can observe and facilitate. We can guide them through their objectives and outcomes. Sure, there are times when we need to “teach“, (we need to teach phonics, letters, math facts etc...), but this is all part of the perfect pedagogical dance. Once we instill the parameters, the class rules, and children understand what is expected of them as active learners in a caring community - we need to take a step back and provide TIME! In this case, we realized that C just needed more processing and exploration time.  

As a teacher, this also takes far more effort than photocopying worksheets and asking children to complete them in a designated time. This inquiry-based, Reggio Emilia- inspired approach is intuitive, demanding, all-consuming and exhausting. It is also extremely rewarding - and highly fruitful. It is impactful. Giving children the power is powerful.   

 

 

 

C finished a whole story this morning. He wrote with purpose and focus like an inspired author. His illustrations, (which were his developmentally appropriate method of communication and storytelling) flowed onto the page, from somewhere deep inside of him. He incorporated letters that he was learning Fundations, (phonics based early literacy program) and was labelling his illustrations. (This is exactly where we hope to see him on the writing continuum in Kindergarten!) When he was finished, he put his head down on his desk - like he was relieved. A written story finally came out. Through misty eyes, I watched as Mrs. Marshall asked him to share his story. He quietly and proudly retold all the information on each carefully crafted page. When she asked if he wanted to share his book with the class, he timidly declined ... and that is ok. Stories do not always need to be shared because sometimes they just belong to the author. Although if you create enough trust, they will want to share their stories with you. If you give enough time, you will get a glimpse of the untapped brilliance and ability, just starting to pour out.