Handwriting- What is it good for?

 Handwriting -Huh! What is it good for?

More than you may think! 

I know, I know, I’m a play based educator. It’s kind of my “thing”. And, to be honest, handwriting instruction has always been NOT my thing. I find it frustrating. I mean, if the students would just form their letters the way I tell them, we’d all be happier! But that’s not how it goes.

As a play based educator, there is always the tension between giving the students autonomy in their learning and direct teaching. I will just say here, there must be time for both in a kindergarten class. There are concepts that do need to be taught directly, though the learning becomes ingrained through the play. The whole day should never consist of direct instruction, but there should be time within your schedule for learning letters, both formation and phonics.

We’ve gone through phases in education, as we do. Many of us Gen X and older teachers can remember spending time in class making lines up and down, across, circles, etc. over and over. We were told how to hold the pencil, and how not to hold the pencil. Some of us have horror stories of being smacked with a ruler if we didn’t do it properly. We never were told why, just that this was how you do it.

Many millennials (particularly on the younger end) and younger don’t have those memories. They learned what the letters looked like, how to write them, but never in nearly as formal ways as older generations. My own children (31, 28, 26) have atrocious handwriting and “interesting” pencil grips.

So, why is it important? We have keyboards now! We don’t need to print, we can just type! 

Ah, but it isn’t as simple as that.

In the past 15 years, though, thanks to the Occupational Therapists working with my particular school board, I have re-learned the importance of proper letter formation and proper pencil grip. 

I like to think of it this way: there is a direct connection from the fingers to the brain, so when we learn to form letters properly, we are also learning to recognize that letter. Couple that with learning the letter sound, and you are getting more bang for your buck! 

Proper letter formation builds fine motor muscles, which are sorely lacking in our children. Learning to sit properly while working builds our core muscles, another area we are lacking in this modern society. Learning letter formation helps with learning our letters, learning our concepts of a word, and our concepts of print.

“Correct letter formation and writing forms the foundation for creating neural pathways that are essential for reading, memory, visual skills and higher neural efficiency.” So says this article from The Play Projects: 

https://theplayprojects.com/why-learning-correct-letter-formation-matters/#:~:text=Correct%20letter%20formation%20and%20writing,skills%20and%20higher%20neural%20efficiency.

Your Therapy Source digs even deeper into the importance of letter formation here:

https://www.yourtherapysource.com/blog1/2019/09/20/letter-formation/

Both of these are respected sources. 

Proper letter formation builds stamina in writing. When we know our letters and have automaticity printing them, we are able to write our thoughts out more efficiently and effectively. We can build our stories from simple sentences to books. On a personal level, I wouldn’t worry too much about letter formation during independent writing time, as I wouldn’t want to weigh them down with that expectation and stifle their creativity. However, in group writing, and in letter practice, I can be a stickler that we form those letters the way we have learned.

Something I have noticed this year, particularly, is a correlation between letter formation and the concepts of the printed word. My students who consistently struggle with proper letter formation, also struggle with the idea that we write from left to right, and that letter order matters for words. I am not saying that improper formation leads to struggles in our reading and writing (beyond legibility), because I have not done research in this area, but I do wonder if there is a correlation between the two. This wondering has made me focus more on the formation and emphasizing proper formation and pencil grip this year. It is a routine we have daily when learning our letters, and now weekly in order to solidify it.

How about you? What are your thoughts on letter formation? Important? Not? Do you use a particular program or do you have your own sequence you follow? Let’s talk about some of these more mundane tasks from our day! We may find what we view as mundane is actually the bedrock of our education!

2024 Word of the Year: FLOW

The stream that flows by my house.

I actually don't choose a word of the year. It's more like my word of the year chooses me. I then go about my year and realize all of the ways my Word shows up for me. Last year it was the word Freedom. I was feeling like my life was happening to me rather than being in control. In December 2022, that word Freedom showed itself to me in a variety of ways. It was like, "OK, OK! I get it! Freedom!" That's how my word came to be.

2023 gave me a new vision for the word Freedom. Freedom wasn't found in anything outside of myself. It was found inside. In the way I thought, in the way I reacted, in the way I experienced life. It was a year of being free from others opinions, others expectations, others beliefs. I felt free from the constraints I believe were put on me. But, like Glinda told Dorothy at the end of the Wizard of Oz, "You've always had the power, my Dear. You just had to learn it for yourself." 

I am thankful for a year of lessons on true Freedom.

As 2023 approached its close, I was keenly aware of a few words that kept popping up over and over. Wonder, Awe, were two of them. But there was one word that really stuck out the most. FLOW. It seemed everywhere I turned, every book I read, every video I watched, the word flow appeared to me. As I said before, it isn't I who choose the word, but it is the word that chooses me. And Flow has chosen itself to be my word of the year.

I don't know what it will bring, I have ideas, but who knows? It's all very personal anyway, right? I just know that there will be lessons along the way. Many, many years ago, I wrote in a little journal I had something along the lines of, "I will live in a small house with a stream running beside it." About 25 years ago, we moved into just such a home. Small, but perfect for our family, with a small stream that runs beside it. This year, I intend to see what lessons this little stream can teach me about flow. 

There is a book I love to read to my students when we are learning about patterns, called, "Flow, Spin, Grow: Looking for patterns in nature". This year, as I was reading it to my students this quote stood out, "Wherever there is flow, there is branching." From rivers, to the blood pumping in our bodies, to the roots and branches of a tree, flow is there. Life has flow, it meanders and moves. It branches into new growth. But, like a stream, it is never the same thing twice. Water flows from stream to river to ocean. No river is the same from one moment to the next, just like one life isn't the same. There is always movement.

So, here's to 2024 and Flow. To the lessons I can learn, and the wisdom of the stream.

I'm So Glad I'm Here

This post was originally published on Substack. This is also just the beginning of something more- not sure what, but something! Thought I might share it here as well:

 I'm so glad I'm here

So glad I'm here

So glad I'm here, here today!

So glad I'm here,

So glad I'm here,

So glad I'm here, here today

This is the song that calls us as we gather on the carpet each day in my kindergarten class. It's a joyous time, one of song, conversation, dance, and (I hope what my students feel), love. The ukulele comes out, the rhythm sticks tap out the timing of a song. We’re learning about patterns, though we don't realize it. We are expanding our phonological skills, though we can barely pronounce that word, let alone know what it means. This is the joy of learning that should infuse all of our lessons, but especially the lessons of play in kindergarten.

Because many parents and new teachers were raised under “No Child Left Behind”, our culture has forgotten the value in play. Play has become a devalued word in our “rush and do” culture. But, at its purest sense, play is the ultimate goal for learning. Consider the fox pups as they wrestle each other, or the kittens as they roll around, the birds as they learn their unique song. The animal world is steeped in play as they learn to survive in a wild creation. We humans are no different. Play is how we have learned not only to survive, but thrive. Play is how we got to outer space, and how we came back from the moon. Play is how we learned to speed across the earth faster and faster. Curiosity followed by play- that's the sum of the evolution of the world.

There are concepts we must directly teach- mathematical procedures, letter sounds, letter and number formation, and the like. Of course there is information that must be directly passed on. But I theorize that in order for us to fully understand these concepts, we need to be immersed in them through play, stories, and song first.  We sing the ABC song before we ever talk about what a letter is. We read rhyming books to our students and children before we ever define what rhyme is. We play counting games before we attempt to teach addition and subtraction. Play immerses us in the world, and it's only when we’ve been immersed in the concepts that we learn and comprehend them.

How are you playing in your classroom? Is your room a place of joy? Are you emphasizing co-learning over direct teaching? Do you feel that there is more you could be doing but you aren't sure what? Reach out! Let me help you! I am convinced that the more we play, the deeper we learn. Let's figure it out together.

Professional Development: By You, For You

 This post was originally posted on Substack. I thought I would share it here:

Imagine this. You are ready for a new school year, you’re excited to meet your students, it is going to be awesome! But then you get to school and your orientation days are filled with professional development that is cookie cutter bland. It doesn’t challenge you, nor does it meet the needs of your students. What is a teacher to do? Whatever you need to!

Everything I’ve ever needed to know about teaching came from a lifetime of curiosity. I love to learn. I am interested in others and in their perspectives. I care about nature and I want to pass on what I love to the next generation. I also know that I don’t know it all, that I can’t possibly know it all, but living in the 21st Century provides me with the opportunity to find out!

There are so many opportunities to look into learning on our own, if we have the time and the inclination. I am a huge proponent of continuing education. We cannot take what we’ve learned through our schooling and use it year after year. If we aren’t growing as educators, we are going to struggle to pass on meaningful learning to our students.

What, then, can we do? Look into organizations that interest you, and see if they provide any free learning or information. Use the internet and social media for professional development. Places like #kinderchat where we share our knowledge with each other, National Geographic has free, online learning. I just finished a wonderful Free to Play Summit with FairyDust Teaching! There are Facebook groups, and Instagram accounts, all dedicated to learning.

The main thing it will cost is time. And, it doesn’t have to take up all of your time, but it may take some effort. But, be forewarned! You may come away inspired, energized, and ready to rearrange your classroom! (I am speaking from personal experience here, btw).

So, as we finish off one calendar year, and look forward to the next, let me encourage you to look into some personal professional learning. And let me encourage you to pass that learning on to your colleagues and other professionals! You will not be disappointed!

Harold and the Purple Crayon

 

I have been in the field of early childhood education/kindergarten for over 30 years. I have seen things come, and I have seen things go. I used to teach in ways I don't teach anymore. And sometimes I have gone back to teaching the way I used to teach. If you are a good teacher, you are always questioning your practice, you are always trying to do what is best for your students. Some years you may need to be more direct in your teaching, and other years you may be able to loosen up. This is why we call teaching an Art- because it's a process.

I was sitting with a colleague today while the children were out at recess. She was so excited about a book she had, one that talks about using proper colours for our illustrations. I thought to myself, "I really don't care about that anymore. I used to, but I don't care anymore." It was a full circle moment for me. Because a long time ago, I wouldn't have cared what colour one of my students used to draw a tree. A few years later, because began to teach kindergarten, I fell into the trap of caring about "proper" illustrations. Now, I am back to not caring. I call this my Harold and the Purple Crayon moment.

Do you know this book? It's about a boy who is going to sleep, and he draws a picture of his dreams with a purple crayon. That's the only colour he uses. And, guess what? We know exactly what he's doing. Does it matter that the moon is purple? Nope. All that matters is that Harold knows it's a moon. That's what we need to be focusing on. Not what we want, but what they, the artist and author wants.

Like most things, I think the notion of "proper colours and drawings" is more of an experiential/developmental thing. If we, as educators, provide proper modeling, and leave it at that, I believe most children will ultimately figure it all out on their own. And if they don't? Does it really matter? I'm not so sure anymore. What I am sure of is, we tell children how to do things way too much and don't allow them to express themselves nearly enough. 

So, let them make a purple tree. Let them colour their whole face blue. Let's let them be who they are. There's an old poem, I'm not even sure who wrote it, but I remember it being at the beginning of a textbook I had in university. The course was The Role of Play and them poem said, 

    Many the times we teach

    Many the times we are taught

    But only once, a child.

We have taken away too much of our children's lives. Let's give some things back to them.

Word of the Year: 2023 edition

January 1 is a time for reflection for many. Yes, I know time is a construct, that nothing is really different today than yesterday, but there are certain moments in time that lead one to become more introspective and reflective. As a teacher, I usually have three times in the year where I spend time contemplating:

June because it's the end of a school year and I begin to think about what worked, what didn't, what to keep for the next year, and what to put on a shelf for another time.

August/September because it is the start of the upcoming school year. I dust off all of my thoughts from June, compare them to the class I've been given, and I update and reassess. Until I no longer teach, September will be its own special "New Years". 

And January 1. This one is more personal. This one is more about me, as a human, than me, as a teacher. And, while, I am not a fan of resolutions, per se, I am a HUGE believer in choosing a Word of the Year.

I know many people practice this as well. Some spend time thinking about a Word. I understand this method, because, at my heart, I am a bit controlling. But, I have learned to allow the Word to come to me, instead of trying to make the Word fit into my life. And a Word always finds me. And, once that Word finds me, I don't spend all of the next year thinking about it. Many times I forget what it even was, but when I review my Word, I realize how important it actually became.

For 2022, my word was Focus. I know I struggled with focusing. I would flit from one idea to the next, only partially pay attention to conversations (confession: the word didn't help with this 😂. Menopause brain is REAL people!). What I learned this past year- find one thing and build on that. 

A friend and I tell each other, "You can do it all, you just can't do it all at once." Focus certainly helped me with this. Professionally, I made some huge shifts in my teaching practice, away from what others were telling me, and towards what I knew in my heart was right. But I also realized, I can't do every single shift all at once. I needed to Focus on one thing. And that was Story Workshop. Not only did Story Workshop help me focus my writing instruction, I found the process helped my students focus, as well. 

I also learned to focus on my own health and fitness. I learned to fine tune what I was doing, and I learned to seek out the opinions and ideas of people who knew what they were talking about. 

For 2022 Focus proved to be the perfect Word.

My Word for 2023 found me in December (as my Words do). I was listening to Janis Joplin, and the phrase, "Freedom's just another word for, nothing left to lose" struck me. Freedom. I can't tell you why because I don't know yet, but Freedom is what it is.

 

Bonus Content: Songs About Freedom

Parent Teacher Interviews: I'm On Your Side

We are just finishing up our first rounds of Parent/Teacher Interviews here on our gentle Island (that's parent teacher conferences for my friends who may use different terminology). These are such an important part of our teaching. I love being able to touch base with the families of my students. It's a 15 minute snapshot into their child's lives at school, and for me a peak into their home life. I always leave these weeks exhausted, and yet fulfilled. 

Each meeting is my chance to tell the adults in my students lives that I see their beloved. I see them and I notice them. I notice not only how they are doing, but who they are, what they like, who they love. I want parents to know that I, too, have their best interests at heart. This is a tougher concept for some.

Some of us have great school memories, it isn't a scary place for us. We are excited about being able to pass on that love of learning to others. But sometimes, we don't have such a positive experience- and when we become parents, we can unknowingly pass on that apprehension to our children. Or we view these meetings in a way that puts us on the defensive. My goal for every meeting is to be positive, show the parents I care for their child, and make sure they know we are on the same team- Teach "your child". That's why I wore my new favorite t-shirt today- "I'm on your side."

Our classroom is a community, dare I say we are a family! But we aren't a community in a vacuum. We all come from other places, and by luck, chance, or fate, ended up here- together, for this season. I love Bronfenbrenner's Ecological Systems Theory. We all have circles of influence, and those circles impact and flow through each other. Each of us has our circles, and as we grow and age, we gain new circles. Maybe we even lose some along the way, but each circle is important in helping us grow and develop into fully formed human beings. In order for this circle to have it's greatest impact, we need to be working in conjunction with the families circles. 

Parents, I am on your side. I love your child and I want to see them grow and develop into the best version of themselves. I want to support you in any way I can, from offering a smile to suggesting books to read at night, to offering tips on helping behaviours grow and blossom in the best ways. Your child is my priority. 

I love working in conjunction with families to help my students be the best they can be. It is always my goal to make sure families know we are in this together. I hope my fellow teachers feel this same way, for it's only when we keep these circles woven together that we do what is best for the children. And that is our number one priority.

Cultivating a classroom environment

Scenes from my room: just put on some quiet jazz or nature music and you have the full picture

It's Saturday afternoon, and I am sitting in my classroom getting ready for the week ahead. You might think, Carrie! What are you doing? Why are you slaving away in your room when you could be at home relaxing?? 

What if I told you, I am relaxing? Workaholic tendencies aside, the environment my students and I have cultivated over the years in my classroom has made it one of the most relaxing, creativity inspiring places in my life. I am calm here, I can think here, my nervous system gets a reset here. I believe, I have passed this on to my students.

I've been sitting in on meetings these past few years. Meetings about kindergarten, meetings about play, meetings about instruction and practice. This past week, I was sitting in on yet another meeting which we were discussing all of this. We spoke about kindergarten and play based learning, and about setting up our environments, and this thought occurred to me: setting up my classroom environment is the single most important direct instruction I can do as a teacher. Teaching math concepts is good. Teaching literacy concepts is fine. But the single most important Teaching practice I can do is set up my classroom for learning. 

I thought of all of the lessons I want to teach my students and it all came down to this:

Create a space that is joyful, welcoming, and calm. Provide quality materials for the students to explore, and let them play. Don't micro-manage, work together to create community, be an example. Give them the time, the space, the freedom, and the trust they need, and you will see them learn. 

The Power of Community

 The Power of Community

Sitting at my local community hall, charging my laptop and my phone. Hurricane Fiona came to visit our “gentle” Island this past weekend and left a path of destruction in her wake. No power island wide, save for a small sections. It's not expected to be back on for about a week. We are so lucky to have warming places like this at our disposal, and so grateful to the community members who volunteer their time and efforts to help.

Community halls and centers are the backbone of our society. When the whole world crashes down, they are always open for coffee and tea… for heat… for power…for companionship.

An older gentleman has just come in talking about the state of his yard. “How much you charging to clean up the trees?” He asks the younger man. “You’ve gotta ask my boss!” “I wonder if insurance covers that?” “I don’t know- all I know is, if you need help, give us a call.” Friendly banter with an undercurrent of help.

A man sits with another, reminiscing about a storm that happened in the 50's and how they handled it back then.

A family with an autistic son comes in. He’s wandering around, checking it all out. No one bats an eye.

Another family is feeding their children breakfast. They lost their home, but they still have cornflakes enough for everyone. More kids from other families arrive- smiles and waves to the friends who are meeting up here after a long 48 hours of hurricane and its aftermath. The place is buzzing. People helping people, friends and families together. People are bringing in buckets and jugs to fill with water, left over sweets to share. Milk, coffee, and tea. It does take a village. 

We all need each other. Why? Because it’s a community, that’s why.

I often think of these so-called “preppers” who have stockpiles of food and guns and ammo. They won’t last when the fall of society happens, because they are alone. They may live for awhile, but unless they are prepared to work together, they will not last like they assume or hope. 

“No man is an island” John Donne once said. And he was correct. We cannot live in isolation. Rugged Individualism only works when you have community support. Don’t believe me? Look into how many pioneer women committed suicide because they were left on their own in the wilderness without support. 

It makes me think of the important work we do in schools- building community in our classrooms. I have seen some trying to claim we are "indoctrinating" students with this kind of "CRT"- it just shows how sad their lives are. To think we shouldn't be teaching our students that they are a part of a greater whole. What we do in our classrooms is nothing short of magical. We take a ragtag bunch of kiddos at the beginning of the year- some know some, others know no one- and by the end of it all, we are a family, we are a community. 

I am a proud public school teacher. I will always teach my students that our lives are interwoven with each other, with nature, with the greater world around us. And it's times like these, in the midst of disaster, that I see it come to fruition.

Create community in your classroom. Be available to others. Be the change we so desperately need in our culture today.

We are community. We are family. 

The tides of learning

Stop.

Slow Down.

Back up.

Give them time.

Learning is not linear. Learning is a wave, a tide. It goes forward, then back, forward, then back. But each time it goes forward, it goes a bit farther. Each time it goes back, it doesn't go as far. When you stand at the edge of the ocean at low tide, you see where high tide was. The tide line doesn't disappear, it just retreats for a bit. Learning is like that. When we are babies, parents are told, "It may seem as if they lose a skill as they develop a new one. Don't worry, it will come back." Learning is like that.

Stop.

Slow down.

Back up.

Give them time. 

It begins with a bang and ends with a hum

Play time in Kindergarten is so complex. In some ways it's straightforward, and others it's an intricate dance between fellow humans learning to navigate in the world. What I have always noticed: It always starts loud. Children jockeying for attention, for position, for a place at the table of play. But after awhile, it settles and shifts. The volume goes down so subtly that you may not even notice it until, suddenly, you realize you can hear your own thoughts again. 

Children come to school from so many varied backgrounds. Some of those backgrounds fit neatly into preconceived notions about what childhood should be. Others would break your heart. But at the center of all of them is the Child. And a child is built to play. Play is how we break it all apart and put it all back together. 

Every child brings their life experience to the play. The good, the bad, the in between- they all have a place in our play. If you are quiet, observant, able to step back, you will hear the story, see the dance. It takes discipline to not rush in to change it, to quiet it, to take it over. It takes trust to let them lead. However, when we do, we begin to see their spirits shine through. The insecurities melt away when children are allowed to master a skill through play. They begin to see themselves as capable, as independent, as someone who can lead. 

They learn to share space with each other, which, in turn, teaches them that there are other perspectives in the world, not just their own. When we allow the play to evolve independently from the bang to a hum, we know that's where the good stuff happens. That's where the noise of play turns into the music of community.

So let them play, let them be loud. Because, and trust me on this, naturally they will soften and quiet. Their will turn the noise into music, the bang into a hum.

Love Always Wins

I saw these tweets the other day. At first I was mad, but I quickly shifted to sad. Imagine the lives these people must live. To take something so innocent as a welcome to kindergarten sign and see "indoctrination". Or to hear, "My class is a family" and think that the school wants to steal your child away. What sad, pathetic lives they must live. 

But, you know what? We can't let this ruin the beauty that happens in our classrooms. You know what I mean- every year we are given these incredible individuals with amazing minds, and we are blessed to have the opportunity to become a family. Yes. We are a family. We become a group of people who look out for each other, who care about everyone's well-being. We LIKE each other! 

So while the angry, sad, small minded people are out there trying to destroy us, remember, beauty rises from ashes, hope prevails, love always wins. 

Let's go love our class families ♥️

Thoughts on Story Workshop: A Year of Story

 It was the night before the last day of kindergarten. I laid out their writing folders, and sorted through all of the stories and the writing. I made note of each student, and how much they wrote. Some wrote a lot, some didn't write very much. Some wrote books, and some wrote notes. Some were neat, making sure every letter was neat and every tree had just enough leaves. Some were messy, so many thoughts to get out, and not enough time to be exact! Some were complete, and some had multiple stories on the go. But, you know what? We all wrote. We all proved we were writers. 

I was proud of the work we did last year. We started with a brand new idea for me- Story Workshop, and built upon it, to make it our own. It was a work in progress. There were a few zigs and zags, but, in the end, as always, we made it. We all had stories to tell and share.

It is the start of a new year, and a new crew to work through Story Workshop. I am excited. I am excited to build on what I learned last year, and excited to see where this group takes it. It's hard to think about setting up the space for story when you haven't really met the soul of the room yet- the children. But I think, and I plan, and I read to find ways to help facilitate their journey.

I may not know everything about this upcoming year, yet. But I do know one thing- by June we will all be storytellers and writers. Now it's time to begin that journey.

A Little Magic Along the Way

"Your room is so calming." "I feel so happy when I'm in here." "I can feel the joy when I walk into your class." "This place is magical."

These are some of the comments given to me by people who visited my room. It gives me great pride to hear these things. I strive to make my room a calm oasis for my students (and me), a place to escape from the world so that we can get right on to the important things- the business of learning and growing, the important work of play. I don't want too many distractions. The sound of a bell may be occasionally jarring, the sounds of unscheduled announcements may invade from time to time, but my classroom is our little world within a world.

The name of my blog is "Awefilled Wonder" because that's what I wish for my students. Awe filled wonder for the world around us, and the world within us. Whether it's in our story workshop and writing time, to our play, to listening to and reading stories, I want to approach my students in a way that incites wonder.

 I have been listening to Glennon Doyle's podcast "We Can Do Hard Things". I am finding it incredibly inspiring over these last few days. As I was listening to their talk with the poet ALOK  What Makes Us Beautiful, What Makes Us Free , I heard Glennon say she reads a piece of poetry in the morning before she gets out of bed because she isn't quite ready to give up the Magic of that space. She does it to prepare herself for going out into a space and place that isn't quite as magical as her inner world (I am totally paraphrasing here, knowing I don't have the words to convey the beauty that my mind created when I heard this). Of course, as a teacher, it got me thinking about this idea of Magic and Sacred Spaces in relation to my classroom, my Kindergarten classroom. 

When I think of Kindergarten, I can't help but be reminded of Froebel and his idea that it is truly a garden for children. I want my classroom to be that magical, sacred space between early childhood and the rest of life. I often say Kindergarten is the half-way house of school. I want my students to know that it's more than that. It's the beginning of something beautiful. The beginning of a life of learning.

Happy New Year to all of you teachers and students out there! 

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad RUN

 

I am a runner, and, yes, I actually like to run! Well, most days. Some days are better than others, and today was not in the better category. Over on my Strava feed, I believe I wrote, "This run ranks in my top 3 Worst Runs ever". And I meant that. It was hard! From start to finish hard. It went a little like this:

1K- Man, it's kind of hard today. But maybe it's just that beginning of the run struggle. I'll get into my rhythm soon.

2K- Man, it's hot. Maybe if I ditch the t-shirt I'll get into my rhythm. Throws t-shirt into the trees to pick up on the way back. And, yes, I have on a very supportive sports bra that covers a lot. Plus, I was the only one on this stretch of the trail.

3K- I should have brought my water. Why didn't I bring my water???

5K- I want to quit. I need a new attitude (fixes ponytail and changes playlist to something more peppy)

7K- Only 3 left. I'll walk a bit

8K- There's my shirt. Maybe I can put it back on

8.25K- Nope. Still too hot (takes t-shirt back off).

10K- Ugh.

And, no. I never got into my rhythm. 

Today was hard. I think what made it feel harder was last Saturday I ran the fastest 5K ever. This week has been such a chaotic one, my whole groove has been off. But, the thing about running on the trail here, it's out and back. So once you're out, there is only one way to get back. 

There's a life lesson for runs like today, and for runs like last Saturday. Not every run is easy. You're not going to get a personal best every time you're out. Some runs are fun, some are horrid. Most are somewhere in the middle. 

That's what life is, though, right? Some days are great, some are horrid, most are a blend of the two. Nico and Vinz have a song, "Lie Down In Your Arms" with lyrics that go, "Sometimes I feel like I can't run, I can't crawl. And sometimes I feel like I ain't nothing at all. Life is a journey where you stumble and fall"

Life is a journey. We fall down, we get up, we fall down, we get up. We are on the top of the world one week, and in the valley of despair the next. But every day the sun rises, and so should we. Keep looking for the sunrise. Keep moving forward. Don't let the bad days become your standard, but let them remind you that you can get through anything. And keep on training, keep on trying. Someday you'll look back and realize the hard runs were the best training you could do to push you through. And, even if it's a bad run, a bad day, give yourself permission to stop and look around. You'll find that even in the hard times, it's still a beautiful world.

  

Community and Intrinsic Motivation

At the beginning of the school year, I made the conscious choice to opt out of our all-school "Rewards" system. It took standing up and speaking out to our new principal, and saying, "I don't believe in giving these types of extrinsic rewards to students. Especially when someone is going to get left out." It wasn't easy. If it was10 years ago, I probably wouldn't have had the confidence to do this. But, I am established enough in my school, and I have enough of a reputation as a Kindergarten teacher, that I felt I could make this stand. 

My principal was very good when we discussed this. She and I have differing opinions on it, still, but that's ok. She didn't push me to conform, and I don't go around talking about how I disagree with it. Except, that is, when other teachers ask why my students aren't included. It's interesting to note that other teachers tell me they wish they could opt out. It's one of the benefits of being at this stage in my career, I suppose. 

To be honest, at first, I started to doubt my stance. I was the only one not doing it- what would happen when or if my students found out? What did it say about me as a team player? I struggled with that decision, and I knew, once I talked it out with others, I was right. 

In our school we have "Shining Stars" and a "Hard Work Hall of Fame".  At the end of each month we have a big all-school assembly to celebrate these honours. These are what I rebelled against. Not because I don't think we should celebrate our students, but because I believe it turns our behaviour into a competition. I believe it enforces the idea that a good deed must be rewarded, and it must be recognized. The reality is, if we are to live and work in a compassionate society, we should be doing kind things because we are kind people, not because they make us feel good or because we will get honoured.

So, we go about our merry way in my class, while others are busy trying to decide who deserves school-wide recognition for picking up after themselves or some such excuse. An interesting thing happened at the beginning of the school year. Our Physical Ed teacher gave one of my students a "shining star" because he was so helpful in class. Now, this is a kid who is always helpful. It's who he is. But as soon as he got that Shining Star, the whole vibe of my room began to change. I pride myself on my class being a community. I pride myself on having students who work together and work toward the common good of the group. But, once this "award" was given, suddenly we had a "Look how great I am! I am a shining star! I should be the line leader, right?" attitude. Then there were the, "Look at me, I am doing nice things too! Give me a shining star!" attitudes. It totally changed whow we were as a group. That was the moment I knew I made the right decision. I couldn't imagine a year of competition in order to get a shining star. That would be one of the worst things I could think of.

That was in the fall. Since then, we have plugged along nicely. We have ignored the Shining Stars, and the Student of the Months, and all school assemblies via google meet, and we have worked together to form a community of friendly, kind, responsible, and respectful students. Here is the result of that:

Everyone who comes into my space: 

-comments on the camaraderie of my class. How chill they are as a whole (which, granted, has a lot to do with the individual personalities).

-sees students working together, problem solving together, creating together.

-talks about the feel of the room, the vibe, the joy they have when they come in.

And then the best thing happened: I took my class to music, and as they were all going to their spots, two of them went to the hand sanitizer bottles, and started giving everyone a squirt until everyone had sanitized their hands. Now, I thought this was pretty cool, and my EA said, "They do this every time!" I was proud of them, but thought that was what happened with every class. I thought that might be the routine of the music class. However, the music teacher told me they were the ONLY class in the school to do this. It wasn't common practice for any other class.

That's when I 100% knew that I made the right decision back in the fall to ignore the extrinsic reward system. Because, after all, what is the point of those systems? What are they trying to create? Kind people? Responsible friends? Helpful students? Didn't we just prove that we are that? Why would we need an extrinsic system to strip away our agency, and make us dependent on rewards? That's not what it should be about, but that is always what happens when we give rewards for behaviour that is already expected. As author Alfie Kohn tweeted:  Educational psychologist John Nicholls spent a year observing a classroom that featured a rewards-for-good-behavior program called Assertive Discipline (think PBIS or Class Dojo). Whenever the teacher uses it, Nicholls told me, "her inherent intelligence & humanity are defeated." (https://twitter.com/alfiekohn/status/1524354083481661440?s=20&t=HN1NTIncUKag_RrVtHRDYA) Further, in the article Why Rewards are Destroying Your Motivation (https://www.getsupporti.com/post/intrinsic-motivation), Brigitte Granger says, "In the research summarized by Ryan and Deci, studies have found that extrinsic rewards undermine intrinsic motivation. When people expect a reward for performing a behavior, they’re less intrinsically motivated to do it." And that's just it. As soon as we introduce an extrinsic reward, we damage any personal growth, we take away intrinsic motivation, we become less human.

On our way to help form our next generation, let's not lose our humanity in encouraging responsible and respectable behaviour in our classrooms. Let's remain human, and let's give our students that same opportunity. I have a class that works together, that cares about each other, that wants to help. We are a community. We do it because we want to, because that's how society needs to function. Not because we are going to get a reward for it.

The songs of childhood: I'd like to teach the world to sing

 

I'm this many years old- Coca-Cola teaching the world to sing years old, that is. As I was singing this very song (well, the actual song, not the commercial) with my class today, I thought, "Wow. Music really does matter." So much of how I would like to see the world is shaped by the music of my youth. From this Coca-Cola commercial to Marlo Thomas's "Free to Be, You and Me", they taught me and molded me to be a person who wants a better world for everyone. Someone who believes in the inherent worth of every single person. Even old Church Camp songs like, "They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love" helped shape my view of the world, of what church should be, how people should be. 

That's why I sing the songs I do with my students. Yes, we sing those traditional childhood songs, like the ABC's and nursery rhymes, but I like to throw in some non-traditional songs too. Songs like teaching the world to sing in perfect harmony, songs like trying a little kindness, and peace in my fingers are frequent requests. I truly believe that music can help change us. And, by changing us, it can change the world. Idealism matters. Hope is stronger than fear. We are all the same, even in our differences. When we fill our children's minds with the hope that things can and will get better, we empower them to treat others as they would like to be treated. We empower them to be that change that Ghandi spoke of.  We empower the next generation to be great.

Music is a powerful tool that is underutilized in many classrooms today. In many instances, it's viewed as a filler, or as a transition. But when we make music a main focus, we make words come to life. We make learning stronger, too. That's a beautiful by-product, and not my main goal. I could fill a blog post full of the academic reasons to sing in your classroom. It builds phonolgical awareness, it builds sequencing, it increases literacy and numeracy scores. But we don't really need that today. What we need today are kinder, softer people. What we need today are peace makers.Friends. We need lovers of peace over lovers of war. We need critical thinkers who can envision a world beyond the current divide. Music does this. Music makes us better people. My main goal as a teacher is to help parents create a stronger generation. Stronger, not in might over right, but in right is right. A generation that knows loving our neighbor's is more than words. Music propels us to do and be better.

The late Christian musician Rich Mullins once said, "Music is the most useless thing. You can't eat it, you can't wear it, it doesn't help protect you. But your life wouldn't be worth much without it." He was absolutely right. Can we live without music? Sure. But can we thrive without music? No. Will the world become a better place, just because we sing happy, hopeful songs? I don't know. What I know is that music was and is a powerful force in my life and learning. So if I can pass that gift on to children today, then I have done all I need to do.

Sing. Sing a song...

(not going to lie- Sesame Street probably had a lot to do with all of this too)

What I Learned in 2021

Every year I choose a "word of the year". It's an interesting task, because it truly does change the way the year goes. It isn't that I am consciously thinking of that word every day, but I guess I become more aware if its importance on the day to day. The word I chose for 2021 was Learn. I wanted to be open to what life had to teach me, how I could use that knowledge not only in my work, but in my day-to-day. Life has a way of teaching us, not how we want, or how we think, but in ways we can't always understand.

On a personal level, the word Learn took on a whole knew meaning. 

The year started off with my father entering hospice care. He passed away on a sunny, winter day, February 5. I was teaching my class at the time- well, we were sledding. It would have made him happy to know the kids were happy- and they were. Some of them were sledding for the very first time. This is the year, I learned that grief is nothing like I thought it would be. I thought grief was sobbing uncontrollably. I thought grief was debilitating. And maybe grief is like that for some. For me, it's a quiet reminder that taps on my shoulder at the oddest times. Like walking down a trail and remembering my father taking my kids there. Like driving to work and getting irrationally angry at another driver. Grief is unpredictable. And grief has no time limit.

The pandemic happened in 2020. I didn't get to go home to see my parents in what would be my father's last summer. When he got sick in November, I couldn't go home and help my mother figure things out and support her in her journey. When he went home to receive hospice care, I couldn't be there to help my son navigate this time. I couldn't hold my dad's hand that one last time. People talk about how hard it is to not visit family, but sometimes those same people have no idea how actually hard it is. I did go back home this past summer. I went to say goodbye to dad, goodbye to my childhood home, and to move mom across town. I also went home to watch a beloved niece get married. Highs and lows and everything in between.

I went back home this Christmas, at the height of the Omicron wave. I learned that sometimes you can't care about pandemics. You have to be there because it's your first Christmas without your dad. Your mom's first Christmas without her husband of 61 years. Your sons' first Christmas without their beloved grandfather. And I was reminded that home is where the heart is. That the government doesn't own your life, and sometimes you need to go your own way. I was safer in Illinois than probably 75% of people in Canada. I have no regrets. But I also knew that it wasn't going to be a popular decision by some peoples standards. Sometimes right and popular aren't the same thing. And I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.

Grief still has lessons to teach me. I have learned that grief can make you tender towards others' grief, if you allow it. That grief isn't selfish; it can be giving, if you allow it. Grief gives you a wisdom, a membership into a secret club, that allows you to view others through a softer lens. If you allow it. And you should allow it.

On a professional level, I learned (OK, I've always known this but work with me) you can never stop learning. That sometimes you have to re-evaluate what you do. And sometimes you need to say goodbye to practices that do not serve your students. I am learning to be an anti-racist teacher. It is a hard lesson to learn. It is flipping some long-held beliefs on their head. And I like it like that. I need to be the best teacher I can for all of my students. I need to be the teacher who stands for truth and justice, even if the majority don't understand or see it that way. I continue to learn, continue to grow. 

In the book Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by CS Lewis, there is a scene where Eustace, who has been turned into a dragon, meets the Lion, Aslan, for the first time. Aslan tells him he can change back to a human if he scratches his skin. Eustace begins to scratch, and the scales fall away, but he doesn't seem to make much headway. It isn't until Aslan comes along with his lion claws and digs down deep to peel off the layers. Becoming an anti-racist thinker is a lot like being Eustace here. So many layers of built up assumptions and beliefs that are just plan wrong. We need these Aslan's in our lives- the kind who will dig down deep, regardless of how much it may hurt, and peel off those layers. Because, in the end, we will become the humans God intended us to be in the first place.

So, here I am, on the cusp of 2022. I have big goals and dreams for this year, and for my future. I hope you do too. We keep moving on, we keep learning, we keep growing. As is my practice, I have already chosen a word for 2022. It is this: Focus. May 2022 be my year to focus on what is important, to focus on what I need to do, to focus on growth. Happy New Year to all of you, my readers. Happy New Year. Hopefully we'll get to go sledding some more.

2021 was a year of highs and lows- pretty much like every year- so love when you can, smile when you can, learn when you can, and grow when you can. Thank you all for being a part of my journey. Here's to 2022!

 

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.