Autumn-Themed Sentence Starts and Label Pack at TPT!

 It's been quite some time since I've been inspired to create activities for emergent writers and readers to offer to educators over at Teachers Pay Teachers, but this weekend's cooler weather and changing leaves did the trick, providing me with inspiration while Mr. Coffee kept me fueled, warm and cozy with my autumn beverage of choice.

Students can write on pages featuring individual or combined images, and can utilize a word bank while labeling parts of the same clip art!

Head over to see the pack and make sure to check out my other autumn/October activities featured this month!

Pedagogy in Crisis: Goodbye Art Cart, Goodbye Dramatic Play, Goodbye Puppets

Today was the first day of my twenty-fifth year in the classroom.

I wore my mask on my face and a button with my face on it.  Upon admittance to the building and my classroom, I found tables and desks set up spaced six feet apart with all of the other furniture pushed against the walls and stacked upon cabinetry. After early morning PD, I was sent back to the room (will I be teaching here in a month, or stationed elsewhere as a remote learning instructor? Who knows.), ate lunch, and then started my assignment: determine what remaining furniture, if any, could still be used, and remove all of my own personal belongings and all cloth items from the room.  Furniture to be stored had to be labeled and put in a central location within the classroom so it wouldn't clog up the hallway.

I might have been able to maintain some semblance of stoicism for the remainder of the afternoon, but a dear friend walked into my room, and it was all I could do to not sob. After drying some tears (crying and having one's nose run behind a mask is NOT an ideal situation), I pushed through to problem-solving mode: what do I need to keep? What must I send to storage?  What must I take home? How can I provide visual cues to students (who I may or may not have in-person) so they know where to keep their very moveable individual desks (one solution would be Sit Spots on the floor, one marking the upper right desk leg and the other marking the lower-left desk leg) as we attempt to maintain social distancing requirements?

But being the first day of my twenty-fifth year of teaching, I recognized that I am being required to do exactly what I have fought doing for my entire career: I must work against my students' very nature, coach and praise them against how they learn best, and constantly redirect them from their very selves.  And if I manage to do it "successfully," I know that there are other teachers and possibly even administrators who would find the arrangement of kindergarten students sitting face-forward in straight rows for seven hours each day at desks ideal, even desirable post-pandemic.  I'm experiencing a pedagogical crisis.

Here is the furniture to be removed:

Goodbye art cart.  Goodbye alphabet rug.

Goodbye Dramatic Play/"House" Center.

Goodbye lightbox, Lego table, and painting easel.

Goodbye reading table.  Goodbye Play-Doh table, and math table, and writing center table.

Goodbye discovery table with the roadway on one side of the flippable topper and a farm scene on the other.

The wooden barn and dollhouse will sit high atop the upper cabinetry, stored, but not out of sight.  Students will wonder why they are there, and why they are out of reach.  If I'm not reassigned, my class set of scoop seats will join the barn and dollhouse.  So will whatever extras might fit that we won't be allowed to use... but students will see them.  And wonder.

As for the personal belongings that I have to bring home, here's the first load:

Kindergarten will have no resting mats.  

No storytime chair. No mini couch or chairs. 

No shopping cart. No puppets, no apple basket tree to hold them.  

No stuffed animals to "buddy read" to. 

No balance beam.  No stepping stones.  No sensory bin.

No side table for plants or book displays.  

No rolling cart for lunch box and snack bag collection. 

Kindergarten not being kindergarten is supposed to pass as a solution this year, but a developmentally inappropriate learning environment will never be the correct answer. 

I am grieving. 

Goodnight Room... But For How Long?

My room is packed and put away, my report cards are finished, and my curriculum is checked in.  At the same time that I was turning off the classroom lights and turning in my key today, other schools in the country were opening back up and admitting students.  I'll admit it: I cried. I cried for myself, cried for my Super Stars, and cried for the teachers and students stuck in horrible situations where going back to school while COVID19 remains just as dangerous and deadly is preferable to staying at home.

Because at home there might not be any food.  Or at home, the only engagement from family members may be abusive or neglectful. Maybe there isn't a home at all.

As for the accommodations that reopening schools are making for students, especially in regard to kindergarten and other early childhood grades, I just want to cry some more.  It doesn't matter if you space individual student desks and chairs six feet apart: young children seek connection, and they seek to interact with toys, materials, books, textures, nooks, crannies, scents, tastes, and one another.  They don't just want hugs when they get hurt, they need them.  They need them when they're scared, proud, unsure, and filled with joy.  They explode with enthusiasm, anger, fear, relief, discovery, and acknowledgement, and it doesn't matter if there's a poster with rules on it or a sticker chart "rewarding" (shaming) them into compliance, or a reminder note, or the threat of a phonecall home put in place to "manage" them: NOTHING is going to change the fact that these dynamic, organic, spontaneous and constantly inquisitive learners will not be contained.

And if they decide that their masks itch, or are too tight, or feel gross after they open-mouth cough and sneeze into them leaving a soggy mess rubbing against their skin?  How many extras will be sent to school in backpacks, or distributed by teachers? How about when students play with the masks or take them off while using the restroom, dropping them to the floor, or dangling them from their little fists as they grip the toilet seat and flusher?  How "preventative" and "protective" will that be? Nosepickers and booger-eaters (just keeping it real, because it's important that none of us ignores all authentic aspects of childhood as we swift march ourselves toward "solutions" that make grownups feel good) aren't going to stop picking, eating, and wiping those germy morsels all over themselves, the furniture and other surfaces or objects just because they're wearing masks.  And when those masks begin to chafe and hurt their faces, or families discover that their children are allergic to the fabric content of the masks and ties?  How about the vomit?  Good lord, the vomit.

Arranging desks six feet apart is a new classroom layout. It is not proof that the children who sit in them (or the teacher who will sit and stand elsewhere) will be safe. Requiring children to wear masks shows that we're attempting to reduce the spread of disease, but it doesn't prove that we're going to succeed, especially when we continue to make decisions while purposely refusing to consider how young children will, in fact, remain tactile young learners who simply aren't designed to leave things alone.  And for those students who will remove their masks, refuse to wear them, or wear them ineffectively?  Who will be blamed when those children become sick?  How many long-term subs will be available to replace the teachers who become sick due to exposure from children or from the over-use of disinfectants?  How many family members who remain at home will become ill from school children?  And when parents return to work, only to become sick themselves?  Their family goes into quarantine, including their schoolchildren, correct?

I'm no virologist, but I **know** kindergarteners.  I **know** children.  And I **know** adults.  So do you... which is why reopening schools is an experiment, at best.

At worst, it'll cause more than just tears.

Ed. Resource Publishers, We're Navigating This Election Minefield Too

It was interesting finding an email waiting for me this morning from a curricular resource I love to use, addressing how they provide age-appropriate election information to my kindergarten students. I have never before received this type of explanatory communication either via email or included with the materials utilized at school. "We think long and hard about what is appropriate for young learners" was part of the sender's message, which also included the resource's learning goal that students be able to understand, identify and express: "1) that in our country, we elect a President, 2) the name of the current President, and 3) the many jobs of the President."  Definitely age appropriate, and illustrative of why I've been a long-term subscriber.

The content of the message was vaguely interesting in that it verified my assumption that two inauguration issues are prepped each election cycle, with only the correct issue printed and distributed once election results are finalized. The possible reason behind the email is what I find notable: curricularly, much about our President-Elect isn't appropriate content for inclusion in resources marketed to elementary schools and young children. The publisher, trying to ensure that teachers don't worry about the inauguration issue, or consider not renewing their subscription in the spring, is telling.

Veteran teachers are likely experienced enough to know how to teach kindergartners about the job and histories of the presidents of our country. Quite a bit of readily available age-appropriate presidential curriculum includes character traits of presidents such as Washington and Lincoln (honest and caring, fair and brave), stories to enjoy, and crafts we often do in February or in January of election years. My students have many opportunities to express their likes and dislikes, and vote for preferred learning activities, validating their right to feel the way they do and to express their tastes and opinions. They've been learning what fairness means, and are encouraged to be safe, kind, and helpful. Young children face and survive disappointments both big and small, building the resilience of which many adults often forget we're capable.

The President of the United States when I was in kindergarten was Richard Nixon of whom I knew nothing about, thanks to my age, my mother's discretion, a notable lack of media saturation, and the distinction between adults and children in society: kids were protected from and generally uninvolved (and uninterested, to be honest) with the political world. As I grew, I wondered why President Ford tripped and fell so often, and liked President Carter because he was a peanut farmer: I loved peanuts on my tin roof sundae from Farrell's Ice Cream Store. I was living in Barrow, Alaska when a man tried to kill President Reagan, and I remember how my sixth grade teacher cancelled our learning activities for the afternoon, having me and my classmates rest our heads on our desks while he listened to my mini-radio.

In my youth, I was allowed to be a kid and build the necessary social, behavioral and academic schema that made it possible for me to become at the very least, a contributing member to our society.  As a teacher of young children, I purposely design my classroom to be a respite from the information overload, sensationalized, entertainment-as-news environment to which many of them are exposed, in an attempt to separate the curricular wheat from the chaff and meet their needs.  I did not/will not show my students news footage of 9-11.  I encouraged families to wait to listen to news reports after bedtime or when my students were at school with me after 9-11 and Sandy Hook.  After this blog post in 2009, I never thought I'd have to consider whether it would be appropriate to watch a presidential inauguration in real time with my students, but... here we are.  Unlike my own kindergarten experience all those years ago, it's quite possible that many of my five and six year old students already have a significant opinion of our President-Elect because of their exposure to content experienced away from school.  Much of that content is shared and delivered widely without regard to an audience that now includes a large proportion of children, and many students unnecessarily parrot and worry about both political facts and propaganda.

Education content publishers, we're navigating this election minefield too.

Repost: Children Can Emulate Native Americans Without Adults Screaming "RACISM." Here's Why...

This post was originally published last year and is worth sharing again as the debate regarding costumes and cultural appropriation make their annual appearance prior to many schools' Thanksgiving plays and feasts.

*****

After reading through a debate regarding a parent's complaint about pre-k students making construction paper feather headbands in November, I came across this post at Education World, "Are You Teaching the 'Real' Story of the 'First Thanksgiving?'"  The article and debate made me realize how lucky I am to have been brought up the way I was as the child of  both native and non-native parents.

Born in Kentucky and raised for the first ten years of my life in Texas, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to be immersed in Inupiat culture, and live for over two decades in a state where Native peoples' values, history, songs, beliefs, mythology, subsistence lifestyle, and art aren't merely on display for one month out of the year: Alaska.  I learned about the good, the bad, the historical cruelties suffered by, and remarkable achievements of Indigenous Peoples. I have been a witness to the prejudices that remain and feel pride in the accomplishments and contributions of my Native family and friends today. Endurance, strength, resilience, community, love for family, pride, skill and artistry are all traits worthy of being shared, respected, and celebrated, no matter a person's ethnic or cultural background. 

To develop empathy, children must be encouraged to walk a mile in another's shoes, to imagine how they might feel when meeting strangers for the first time, when deciding who and HOW to trust. Young children try on the clothing and garb of others every day, from their mom's high heels to their dad's Army cap, to sister's riding boots and brother's varsity jacket, developing their personal identity by trying on the markers of others.  They also emulate family members, friends, sports heroes, celebrated musicians, actors, historical figures, community helpers and those blessed with a special talent or gift.

Can children create feathered headbands without the kitsch or racist connotations that instantly pop into their parents' minds upon viewing? Absolutely, but it's up to the teacher to share culturally relevant and accurate information about the earning of feathers (or wearing of a blanket, mask, or story belt) with students AND families.  It's also a family's responsibility to try to understand the intentions behind a lesson or activity before rushing to judgment and labeling a teacher as racist or insensitive.  Do I find it offensive if children emulate respected chiefs, warriors, healers, or shamans, just as they do ballerinas, astronauts, painters, singers, veterinarians, or teachers?  No.  Just as teachers, family and society expose children to other professions and roles worthy of respect through literature, history lessons, field trips, guest speakers, arts and crafts, so too can we teach children about Native Americans and Indigenous Peoples.  Native AND non-Native teachers need quality non-fiction materials and resources, or know how and where to find them. It's also up to teachers and parents to be aware of what's not only culturally sensitive, but developmentally appropriate for young children. 

Three, four, five and six year olds do not need to be exposed to and master the vocabulary of genocide because of the gut reaction of the adults around them. Rather, children should be gently guided as they broaden the scope of their universe from their immediate selves and family to their neighborhood, community, state, nation, and world.

When Asked by Parents About September 11

It's the fifteenth anniversary of September 11, and as I have done since that original event, I respectfully requested that my Super Star families do what they can to prevent their youngest children needless worry this weekend.

Here's what I included in my weekly newsletter, advocating for my students, their families, and developmentally appropriate practice:

Several families have asked how kindergartners learn about the events of September 11, 2001.  In a nutshell, they don't.  Adults themselves have a very difficult time observing, processing, reacting to, and coping with the visceral and terrifying acts of violence, terrorism, and cruelty which our nation and society have had to endure.  It is in my opinion, inappropriate to expect four, five, and six year olds to see and consider the possibilities of such horrors happening to them, their family members, friends and neighbors.  When viewing or hearing what is now considered historical footage of planes crashing into buildings and people jumping to their deaths, children are unable to discern that the events aren't occurring in real time, in front of them.  Compounding the stress, confusion and anxiety for children are their parents' reactions when reliving the event.

As many of us have news sources available to us twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, please consider limiting your television time over the events of September 11 to after-bedtime hours.  Just as children learn about health, human development, and receive driving instruction when they are age-appropriate topics and lessons, students can learn about our nation's distant and recent history when they are developmentally and emotionally ready to do so in later grades.

*****

Fifteen years ago, I was very fortunate that my Super Star families heeded my request to turn off their televisions and radios prior to school starting for the day.  NONE of my students had any idea what had happened, and it was our school's priority to protect them from the news as we prepared to handle the aftermath and form our responses to the questions we were going to be inevitably asked.  My Super Star families and I shared proposed responses to the kindergartners' anticipated questions with one another, and were able to maintain our students' perception that home and school were safe places.  They were an exceptional set of parents.

A friend once told me that he greatly respected all that teachers do, but that he didn't envy a very specific requirement of our job: we always have to have the right answer, the correct response, and be perfectly supportive of our students in every planned and spontaneous situation we encounter.  My school, my colleagues, and our families were up to the challenge on that life-changing day.

Children Can Emulate Native Americans Without Adults Screaming "RACISM." Here's Why:

After reading through a debate regarding a parent's complaint about pre-k students making construction paper feather headbands in November, I came across this post at Education World, "Are You Teaching the 'Real' Story of the 'First Thanksgiving?'"  The article and debate made me realize how lucky I am to have been brought up the way I was as the child of  both native and non-native parents.

Born in Kentucky and raised for the first ten years of my life in Texas, I was fortunate to have the opportunity to be immersed in Inupiat culture, and live for over two decades in a state where Native peoples' values, history, songs, beliefs, mythology, subsistence lifestyle, and art aren't merely on display for one month out of the year: Alaska.  I learned about the good, the bad, the historical cruelties suffered by, and remarkable achievements of Indigenous Peoples. I have been a witness to the prejudices that remain and feel pride in the accomplishments and contributions of my Native family and friends today. Endurance, strength, resilience, community, love for family, pride, skill and artistry are all traits worthy of being shared, respected, and celebrated, no matter a person's ethnic or cultural background. 

To develop empathy, children must be encouraged to walk a mile in another's shoes, to imagine how they might feel when meeting strangers for the first time, when deciding who and HOW to trust. Young children try on the clothing and garb of others every day, from their mom's high heels to their dad's Army cap, to sister's riding boots and brother's varsity jacket, developing their personal identity by trying on the markers of others.  They also emulate family members, friends, sports heroes, celebrated musicians, actors, historical figures, community helpers and those blessed with a special talent or gift.

Can children create feathered headbands without the kitsch or racist connotations that instantly pop into their parents' minds upon viewing? Absolutely, but it's up to the teacher to share culturally relevant and accurate information about the earning of feathers (or wearing of a blanket, mask, or story belt) with students AND families.  It's also a family's responsibility to try to understand the intentions behind a lesson or activity before rushing to judgment and labeling a teacher as racist or insensitive.  Do I find it offensive if children emulate respected chiefs, warriors, healers, or shamans, just as they do ballerinas, astronauts, painters, singers, veterinarians, or teachers?  No.  Just as teachers, family and society expose children to other professions and roles worthy of respect through literature, history lessons, field trips, guest speakers, arts and crafts, so too can we teach children about Native Americans and Indigenous Peoples.  Native AND non-Native teachers need quality non-fiction materials and resources, or know how and where to find them. It's also up to teachers and parents to be aware of what's not only culturally sensitive, but developmentally appropriate for young children. 

Three, four, five and six year olds do not need to be exposed to and master the vocabulary of genocide because of the gut reaction of the adults around them. Rather, children should be gently guided as they broaden the scope of their universe from their immediate selves and family to their neighborhood, community, state, nation, and world.

Is it Possible to Provide Academic Rigor ~Without~ Dramatic Play?

Being extremely busy at work while also spending the past two months battling allergies/sinus issues/bronchitis/the common cold/pneumonia has kept me away from blogging for quite some time.  My Super Stars will tell you that I'm on the mend though, because last Wednesday and Thursday, I actually sang a song, all the way through, and didn't forget any words OR COUGH mid-verse.

Look!  It's a light at the end of the Respiratory Tunnel!

Being unable to speak (or sing) did make for increased opportunities to participate in online chats via Twitter and Facebook groups during the lead up to Halloween, and the predictable debate between fellow teachers regarding whether or not dressing up at school was educationally relevant.  A lament across multiple chat threads occurred when fellow early childhood teachers expressed frustration that they weren't allowed to have dramatic play or "pretend" centers in their classrooms. Many veteran teachers shared stories of how they had been asked/told to remove their dress up and puppet centers to make room for more "rigorous" activities, such as worksheets or increased time in front of a computer.  These demands were all made by tech-integration advocates, administrators and school boards, none of whom specialize in child development (it's a real thing).

Considering that children, young adults, and grown ups regularly:

1) go trick-or-treating wearing masks and costumes, using props that they don't usually need in their day to day lives
2) experiment with new hairstyles, clothing, and cosmetics
3) wear the jerseys and sports colors of their favorite athletes without necessarily being athletes themselves
4) don gowns and tuxedos or suits for dances, weddings, anniversaries, proms, birthdays, and religious events
5) participate in cosplay events, portraying their favorite superheroes, book, television, and movie characters
6) wear their "Sunday best" for church
7) participate in clothing themed days for Red Ribbon Week (Wacky Tacky or Pajama Day anyone?)
8) dress up OTHER items, such as their pets, or turn soda bottles or pumpkins into book characters for school projects
9) and perform in dramatic, romantic, or comedic theater

...advocates of developmentally appropriate practice are right to be bothered by the double standard regarding imaginary play.

As illustrated in the list above, it's obvious that adults support dress up and pretend play when it comes to emulation, entertainment AND education, but for some reason, when they walk into a kindergarten classroom and find a child-sized kitchen, box of dress up clothes, or creative construction zone where students fashion artwork and props for their own dramatic play, many voice concerns and criticisms regarding rigor, academic readiness, and "real learning."  Parents are worried their children won't really learn what it means to be at school if they're playing with dolls, filling purses, or pretending to cook a Thanksgiving feast with plastic food.  Teachers worry that the time children spend trying on the roles of others and practicing social skills will reduce the amount of time available to cover academic concepts required for kindergarten mastery.  Administrators can't figure out where dramatic play falls on the evaluation rubric they must use as they determine the efficacy or needs of their teachers, because "developmentally appropriate practice" isn't included on many observation tools or checklists.

My kindergartners like to pretend to be superheroes, villains, weather elements, soldiers, or fantastical creatures when they're outside playing during recess.  They also run, kick, bounce, throw, and catch balls, swing, climb, slide, and work their way across monkey bars.  They roll in the grass, race with their friends to the fence and back, and try to build nests from fallen leaves and twigs.  In our classroom they pretend to be mothers, fathers, older siblings, chefs, veterinarians, office workers, authors, illustrators, and even teachers, their dramatic play role models being more closely associated with real life.  These girls were pretending to be mommies out shopping.  They packed their purses, prepared their babies, and took along their "cell phones" so that they could call one another in the mall to find out where to meet for lunch when their shopping was done.  During dramatic play they regularly "ran into" one another at the mall, discussed purchases they had made, determined which stores they still needed to go to, helped one another with her "baby," and negotiated which restaurant to meet at and what type of food to eat for lunch. One of the girls even created an ATM card out of a post it note to use when paying for her meal, adding her name to the note and the numbers 123456789.

During pretend play, my students' language use and development far surpasses mere vocabulary exposure.  Increased use of adjectives, tenses, and the corrections by peers of misused words can all be heard as classmates try on the personalities of individuals or animals other than themselves.  Empathy, sympathy, humor, and the growing awareness of multiple perspectives helps to widen the scope of each child's world, a development also facilitated by pretend play during our center time.  Opportunities to expand upon concepts introduced somewhere ~other~ than a desk and chair help my students to express their creativity.  Why merely cut and paste pictures of animals on a worksheet that a veterinarian might help, when I can invite students to bring stuffed animals from home to create an animal hospital, complete with stethoscopes, play medical kits, bandaids, scrubs, surgical masks, and cardboard boxes?  Adding paper and pencils to the dramatic play corner enables "animal doctors" to write down prescriptions and medical directions for pet owners, and signs for designated treatment areas too.  Is there another activity where reading, writing, math, sequencing, cause and effect, fine motor, communication, negotiation, turn taking, language and social skills development, problem solving, transitioning, sorting, and cleaning up after oneself are all completely integrated?  And guess which activity is always marked by 100% student engagement and time on task?  That's right: dramatic play.

Casual observers and critics demand to know how we can provide academic rigor through pretend play, to which I must reply:

How can we provide academic rigor and opportunities for growth and development without it?

I've Said it Before, and I'll Say it Again

Reading David Kohn's "Let the Kids Learn Through Play" this morning, my child advocate's voice asserted itself loudly in my head, greatly surprising me since I'm facing the last week of kindergarten, a time when many teachers are near collapse from exhaustion and the wide range of emotions washing over them.  Instead of grumbling incoherently, the voice roared "I've said it before and I'll say it again:"

What I really wish new-to-service teachers, ivory-tower administrators and bubble-boy/girl politicians understood is this: play does not equal "unproductive and non-beneficial fluff time."  Rolling over, crawling, standing upright, balancing, walking, running, climbing, and babbling are ALL challenging to the child beginning to develop his or her skills.  So too are sharing, negotiating, coming to understand cause and effect, developing patience, and learning to use new tools safely and efficiently, such as pencils, scissors, squeeze glue, buttons on a keyboard, or the fragile skin of technology and books.  Don't forget to add broadening language and building stamina to the mix as well, especially because a child's typical work day is full of new tasks, deadlines, social mores, and transitions requiring copious amounts of sustained attention and interaction.  Yes, the "school day" IS a work day schedule that young children are introduced to when they start kindergarten, and it's not an easy or immediate adjustment to make.  I've always found it ironic that many administrators will tell you that kindergartners "don't need naps" by the end of the school year, though we all know plenty of adults who require rest and down time throughout the day.

Because advocates for developmentally appropriate practice are regarded as old softies, our pedagogy is assumed to be lacking in "rigor," "challenge," and even "standards," likely because we insist on giving our students plastic knives at the play doh center instead of surgical grade scalpels.  Well-intentioned (and usually inexperienced) colleagues and administrators bound by asinine funding equations run roughshod over our suggestions, protests, and advice when we dare to express what is obvious to us: young children aren't committing a crime, lacking gumption, failing to perform, or offensive because they're not behaving like short third and fourth graders during their preschool and kindergarten years.  Even worse: teachers who don't appreciate or even like all of the incredible things that four, five and six year olds are, take positions where they inflict their distaste, judgement, and severe lack of knowledge regarding child development upon our youngest learners. These adults are easy to recognize: they're the ones complaining in the lounge or staff meetings about how "these little kids just don't get it" or "they just can't DO anything," while those much better suited to the grade and students are expressing how the academic expectations or assessments aren't appropriate matches for the children we teach.  Guess which group of teachers is regularly criticized for their point of view?  

The development that naturally occurs through play, exploration, partnership, and emotional bonding is not an affliction or unnecessary detour from all things curricular: it's an essential prerequisite for further growth.  Children must, with very few exceptions, roll over before they crawl, crawl before they walk, and become acquainted with and develop many more skills that are necessary in order to build a firm foundation upon which their ABC's, 123's, empathy, and life's passions will stand and grow.  These stages of skill acquisition occur on a continuum: you don't hopscotch over a few squares to get to the end faster, or interpret the wobbly or full face-plant landing as proof that a child needs ankle braces, ski poles, smaller squares, larger squares, or a stunt double in order to be successful within the  grading period allotted.  Time, practice, and encouragement, not developmentally inappropriate demands and deadlines, are the initial supports most children need as they continue their journey as brave, capable human beings through play and partnership.

I Have to Wonder

Between teaching, mothering, housekeeping, illness, wonky weather, committee work, and a looming yearbook publication deadline, it's been difficult to regularly peruse my favorite education blogs, or check every interesting link on Twitter or Pinterest that comes along my feed.  Over the past month, I've only participated in one edchat, my usual Saturday morning global PLC gift to myself.

Don't get me wrong, the classroom has been HOPPING, my Super Stars have been growing, exploring and learning, and the weather, while not my preferred temperature, has not been as inconvenient for us as it has been for many others.  I have just twelve pages of the yearbook left to finish, and my personal goal has me completing the entire annual a week before the company's deadline.  My home has remained relatively clean, and (~whisper voice~) other than one bout of food poisoning, big bad bugs haven't breached our threshold.

Knock wood.

I've been able to tune into bits and pieces of education related conversations and topics though during this busy season, and I've caught myself wondering:

1) Pro/con arguments aside, how can the Common Core ever ~be~ common if the states that adopted it are now in various stages of its implementation or have begun working on repealing it?  And how many publishing companies, knowing the supply and demand rules that always follow fads, mandates, and "needed reforms," are already poised to re-label and resell all of their "Common Core aligned" materials without the CC stickers on them when the pendulum (that never ceased to exist) predictably swings the other way?   Publishers have been able to hit districts multiple times right in the wallet under the guise of providing current and much-needed materials thanks to the reforms of the last ten years.  Budgetary collapses impact STUDENTS in every way, and I haven't met a curriculum publisher yet who feels sorry for its contribution to the misallocation of needed monies  that once made possible appropriate teacher-student ratios and education and life-enhancing programs such as music, band, theater, home economics, art, or AcaDeca.  Those who want to hold folks accountable for their child's school and learning experiences fall for the huckster jive as well, and go straight for the teacher ~instead~ of the reformers, their funding agents, and the publishing companies whose wares they hawk.

 ""

2)  As a veteran instructor, when I hear a teacher (or three) from a single school sing the praises of newly discovered behavior tracking apps and classroom "management"/disciplinary tools, I think "Hmmm... must be a tough group of kids this year" or "Wow, that one must have hit the jackpot in diverse and clashing personalities, bless his/her heart.  Thank goodness a helpful tool has been identified, put in place, and is having a positive effect."  When I hear that an ~entire school~ is considering following a behavior management protocol that includes collecting data on each and every student in every classroom, the LAST THING I think is "Oh good, a tool that'll help manage these troublemakers."  Instead, I become VERY suspicious that a program, schedule, curriculum, pacing guide, or even the general expectations of children are waaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy off base, especially if so many children demonstrate "misbehaviors" regularly.  Recesses are taken away from students who haven't "earned them."  Mastery of skills/content is expected earlier, and battery drill and kill "interventions" replace rich, repeated and varied exposure over time as acceptable pedagogical approaches.  Teachers complain that students won't stay in their seats, and even worse, that THEY TALK TO ONE ANOTHER during activities or even (gasp!) DURING L-U-N-C-H!

Let me ask you this: When did children stop being children?  When did they cease to NEED recess?  When did they cease to NEED deep immersion and practice at their own pace to build layers of learning upon a sturdy foundation?  When did children cease to obtain benefits from speaking, interacting, negotiating, questioning, or expressing themselves with adults and with one another?  When did children's natural tendencies, developmental stages, and even quirks, make them deserving en masse of public shaming?

Answer: They didn't.

When did it become okay for parents, teachers, and administrators to believe the hooey sold to them, based on the premise that ~overnight~, children could be rebuilt,  and have their very natures rewritten?



No child deserves to be looked at in disappointment and disgust, with parents, teachers, administrators, and society trying to figure out how best to efficiently and effectively erase, re-write and rebuild the incredible thinkers, doers, and learners that children already are into the automatons of the future.  Children are inclined to do naturally what best suits their growth and development, it's we adults who become impatient with their timeline.  It's we adults who want to speed things up, find a pill to make resistance to our will less strong, and find quick-fix tools that force children into immediate compliance any way we can, even if it means crushing their spirits and making them hate school.

So I have to wonder: Why can't we teach children, instead of inflicting ourselves upon them?

Re-Post: Popsicle Sticks, Colored Cards and Clothespins Aren't Classroom Management Tools

This post was originally published by me several years ago, but has been updated to include reference to today's ever popular "clip up" behavior management charts.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a complete popsicle stick, card and clothespin advocate when it comes to classroom and home crafts, or, go figure, for making popsicles, playing games and hanging up laundry.  It's when these creativity-inspiring, cool-snack-enabling pieces of paper, wood and plastic are used for discipline (oops, I mean "classroom management tools") that I find myself biting my tongue and checking my facial expression and body position (don't want to be accused of negativity or not being a team player, now do I?) as I mentally maneuver my way through possible suggestions or responses to colleagues who are asking for my input on how best to get their students "to behave."

Discipline: training that corrects, molds, or perfects the mental faculties or moral character; control gained by enforcing obedience or order; orderly or prescribed conduct or pattern of behavior; a rule or system of rules governing conduct or activity; a form of punishment.

Have you witnessed a student being told to go "pull a stick" in a classroom after demonstrating behavior that a teacher doesn't like?  How about overhearing a student being told by classmates "Oooh, you're gonna have to flip a card?"  Perhaps several students have whispered "Uh oh, if you clip down you won't get to go outside for recess!" Are you a teacher who routinely warns students about their "stick status?" Substitute the words "card," "face card" or "move your clip" for "stick" in any of the above examples- it's the same concept: using public humiliation as a form of behavioral control. Sadly, popsicle stick pocket displays and clothespin clipper charts are popular classroom management tools.





Excerpts from "Public Humiliation" at Wikipedia: "Just like painful forms of corporal punishment, it (public humiliation) has parallels in educational and other rather private punishments (but with some audience), in school or domestic disciplinary contexts, and as a rite of passage. Physical forms include being forced to wear some sign such as... a "Dunce Cap", having to stand, kneel or bend over in a corner, or repeatedly write something on a blackboard ("I will not spread rumors" for example)." "In some cases, pain or at least discomfort is insignificant or rather secondary to the humiliation..." "Even when not strictly public, humiliation can still be a psychologically "painful" aspect of punishment because of the presence of witnessing peers, relatives, staff or other onlookers, or simply because the tormentor witnesses how self-control is broken down. This is also true for punishments in class."


Classrooms are not supposed to be prisons. I am no warden. As a teacher, I am employed to educate, guide, and serve the academic, physical, social and emotional needs of my students. To fulfill my job requirements successfully, I take the time at the beginning of each year to build a positive rapport with my students and work with them to establish a safe environment in our classroom. This means I observe my students at length, I interview their parents (personally and in surveys that are sent home), open lines of communication between school and home, and I constantly model appropriate behaviors and reactions to most, if not all, of our classroom experiences.  No yelling or threats, just explanations, questions, and role playing appropriate reactions for "next time."  Praise, explanation, appreciation, modeling, practicing, and more praise.

"You must feel so good inside. You accidentally spilled the glue, but you told me and helped me clean it up. That's terrific!"

"Thank you for showing J. what a good friend you can be. You hurt his feelings, but then you apologized. I think he feels better now, I hope you do too."

" I'm so glad you remembered how to move safely during free center time! You didn't run, so you didn't get hurt/hurt others today! Good job!"

"Thank you for letting B. have a turn to talk with me. When I'm done talking with her, your turn will be next. Thank you for waiting nicely, you're being very polite."

I'm certain I sound Pollyanna-ish, and admittedly, I go home with a sore throat and sore face every day for the first month of school because of how much I verbally communicate and smile with each of my students. In my classroom you'll find popsicle sticks in our Creative Construction Zone and counting chart and centers.  Clothespins clip to our lunch chart and help us display our artwork and posters.  Cards are used for games and our word wall.  You won't find any of these tools used to crush a child's spirit into compliance.

*****

~ Just-turned-five-year-olds are not experts of self-control.  Neither are many adults.  Have you ever seen an adult burst into tears, "vent" in a less-than-appropriate venue, or behave in publicly embarrassing ways?  Of course you have.  No one is perfect, though adults have years and years of experience built from successes, mistakes, and regrets that young children can't and won't possess after a month's worth of classroom time, no matter how many time outs, cards pulled, clips moved, or whistles blown that you inflict upon them.

~ First graders tend to be a little more acclimatized to school than kindergarten students are, while second graders demonstrate a bit more familiarity with the choreography of the classroom environment than they did the previous year.  Fifth graders don't have automaton groupthink mastered, just as tenth graders don't march lockstep between classes because they're in high school.  Students are children, organic and dynamic individuals who are in school to experience and explore concepts and materials introduced to or suggested by them.  They are not dull, programmable mimics.

~The need to guide and respond in meaningful ways to our students is great, but it's a practice that many teachers and schools ignore because they believe "there isn't time." Popsicle sticks are faster.  Clothespins are faster.  Embarrassing a student is faster.  Encouraging silent and not-so-silent peer pressure via public humiliation is faster.  But it's not better, and if you really think about it, it's bullying.  I don't care what polka-dotted or chevron patterned decor you use on your behavior charts, bullying isn't cute, appropriate, or necessary if you build authentic relationships with your students.

~ Too often teachers forget that their students are children, no matter what they wear, how they behave, or what they say. While children aren't social savants, they are certainly masters of observation, and they have emotional reactions to and an elephant's memory for interactions, good and bad, with the adults in their lives. You are making an impression on your students, and your treatment of them will determine their reaction and responses to you.

~ Students are not sent to school in order to make a teacher's day brighter, comfortable, or to feed a professional's ego, so it's amazing to me that a classroom full of children "complying" by sitting in their chairs, completely silent, demonstrating no interactive or inquiry-based behaviors, is considered not only a successful model of classroom management, but is also a preferred outcome for many a teacher.  No questions are being asked, no ideas are being explored, no communication is occurring, but teachers continue to receive praise for the silence their administrators and colleagues witness.  Knowledge should be exchanged with students, shared and explored amongst peers and guides, not just dumped into their open skull caps, lips zipped.

For my initial month's worth of teaching, guidance, and constant communication, my students work in an atmosphere that frankly, throws people for a loop for the remainder of the year.   Month after month, observers, parents and colleagues come in and sit at my reading table, just to watch and listen, and take it all in. They hear children, those "uncontrollable and impulsive" kindergartners talking, apologizing, encouraging, laughing, singing, and debating.  They witness students approach me with questions, not interrupting, waiting until I'm done speaking to someone else.  They hear explanations of feelings, expectations of how someone can help, negotiations between peers, instead of tattles and screams and cries.  They hear productive noise, which many had previously felt indicated mayhem, a "lack of control," a "zoo," or proof that I'm lacking classroom management skills.  Funny the things visitors hear when they stop to truly listen, and what they see when they truly observe.

Because I've listened respectfully to my Super Stars, and because I've shared and explained without threat by modeling expectations and appropriate responses, I've demonstrated kindness instead of humiliation. I've appreciated my students for who they are and what they do, and in turn they reciprocate when I indicate it's time to transition from one activity to another. They respond appropriately, they enable each other, they cooperate.  When difficulties arise, we work through the problem together, and recover quickly.  There are no reminders of failures or mistakes lit up with neon and glitter on our bulletin boards.  My students help me create and maintain a positive learning environment, their ownership and sense of belonging being the essential foundation upon which the rest of our learning is built.  They apologize, forgive, negotiate, compromise, and contribute.  So do I.  I invest in my students, their feelings, and their potential to learn.  I do not believe their first and foremost responsibility is to learn how to comply, Pavlovian in nature.

If you can only control/direct your students through threats and public humiliation, it's time to rethink your purpose, pedagogy and moral compass.  How would you feel if your principal, administrator, or spouse put you on a popsicle stick chart or added a clip chart to the front of your refrigerator?  Go ahead, imagine it: You speak out of turn to your grade level partner during inservice, and your administrator stops the meeting (or uses a hand signal recognized by all) to tell you to pull a stick.  You arrive late to a staff meeting because your potty break could only happen as soon as the bell rang and you had bus duty, and the speaker stops mid-sentence and tells you to flip a card.  You accidentally forget to stop at the store and pick up milk, so your spouse reminds you that you'll have to move your clip down on the behavior chart before you fix dinner (no worries: your spouse used a cute zebra stripe and clip art pattern on the chart!).  I'm betting it wouldn't take long before you'd categorize such public tracking/shaming as emotionally abusive.  How long would you tolerate it?  How willing would you be to perform your best?  How long could you perform your best while suffering from repeated overdoses of humiliation inducing fight-or-flight adrenalin?  How about the stress and performance anxiety experienced by those who are always "on green" or at the top of the chart?  That's right: those "good kids" often remain on top out of fear of you and the threat of public embarrassment for daring to be human.  Worse still, they come to believe in their own superiority, trickling out on the playground, over the lunch table, and on the bus ride home, thrown into the faces of classmates who didn't clip up.  What happens in the classroom doesn't stay in the classroom.

Many teachers never question why their mentors and role models do everything possible to ensure that public humiliation goes hand in hand with public education, and many new teachers are distracted by the glittery and gimmick-y products fellow educators sell or share online.  Working with a staff made up of mostly popsicle-stickers and clothespin clippers can be excruciating. You see your former students shamed into compliance, their new teachers finding fault in their questions, their exuberance, their anxiety, their need to adapt, and their need to move, express and explore... every behavior that demonstrates how students are children who require guidance, instruction, experience, and time to reflect on situations that occur both within and alongside the math or reading curriculum, children who are expressing their excitement for learning.  When I've suggested relationship-building to colleagues who ask how to get their students to behave like mine, they groan and roll their eyes, obviously disappointed that I didn't offer them a quick fix.  My advice is perceived as a chore or imposition, an invalid "touchy-feel-y" approach, instead of as my professional practice that supports the building of the foundation to which I referred earlier, an essential "safe" zone where students can re-evaluate, recover and learn from natural mistakes.  Apparently many teachers don't or won't invest in effective content-rich communication with their students because its results aren't immediate, and its skills aren't mastered by a particular grading period.

Are you a teacher who prefers efficient embarrassment?  How often do you put yourself in your students' shoes?  Do you appreciate reasoning, valuing, fairness, and communication?   What, other than the time involved, prevents you from investing in an attainable and appropriate ideal that enables the best kind of learning to take place?

Stop investing in popsicle sticks, colored cards and clothespins as "classroom management tools."  Look past the chevron, glitter, and fancy fonts.  Stop thinking "faster is better."

Invest in your students.

*****

Imagine my relief in finding that I'm not the only one:

Pernille Ripp's So What's My Problem With Public Behavior Charts?

Alfie Kohn's Why Punishment Doesn't Work

*****

Yes, I feel the same way about public data walls.

*****

I know... I referred to it as a "potty break."  I'm a kindergarten teacher, remember?

Kindergarten Teachers: Do You Need to Switch Grades?

I believe in self-reflection and self-evaluation.  Eighteen years of teaching kindergarten for me marks eighteen years of learning, practicing, making mistakes, tweaking, revamping, sharing, guiding, and learning some more.  Shifts and changes have been thrown into the mix as I've worked in different states and as I've fought for balance when what is mandated isn't complimentary to what is developmentally appropriate for my students.  I've blogged for over seven years, followed other edu-bloggers, and reaped the benefits from having a perspective that stretches far past the walls of the building in which I teach.  There are a lot of teacher bloggers out there who discuss education policy, politics, classroom humor and inspiration, lesson plans, ideas, and many who hawk their teacher-created materials.  My favorite Sunday-reads are more obscure teacher bloggers, the ones who post questions, ideas, strategies, woes, and successes.  The ones who share their personal opinions about their jobs.  The ones who are blunt and occasionally raw, the ones who keep the fluff and cute fonts off of the monitor, the slam poets of our profession.

As for my students, many in my first group of Super Stars have married, started families, and have been gainfully employed for years now (I took two years off from teaching, so don't worry about them being too young).  Several of them have become friends with their former kindergarten teacher.  Two have asked me kindergarten-specific questions as they anticipate the start of their childrens public school adventure.  One shared a story of how she recently overheard teachers talking at a restaurant, venting their frustrations about their students.

Both friends were discussing progress monitoring assessments that their kindergartners recently completed, and both were stressed because a fantastical jump in measurable growth hadn't been recorded in the scores.  Both teachers appeared new to service, and as my former student continued to eavesdrop, she noted that neither of the teachers ever once cited test bias, lack of technology tool use schema, student indifference, an uncomfortable and/or confusing testing environment, or the inappropriateness of the activity itself as reasons for why the scores and subsequent proposed "instructional tips"  might be inaccurate, skewed, or frankly irrelevant when it came to reflecting upon their responsibility as teachers: providing a safe, student-paced, age-and-skill appropriate, and highly experiential learning environment for a very diverse group of young children.

Instead, the teachers put all of the blame on their students, and I cringed as I listened to the examples:

___________ drives me nuts!  Every time we test, he acts like he doesn't care.

I haven't been able to start our first grade sight word list!  We're halfway through the year and my kids STILL haven't mastered the pre-primer list!

The crazy weather doesn't help, all my students want to do is play! I can't keep them on track.  

My kids need to ace these assessments by the end of the year.  I don't need to be screwed over on my teacher evaluation because of them.

*****

One might think that eighteen years of actual in-classroom teaching experience and the temperament that comes from being a forty-four year old mother of three would guarantee a calm response from me.

But no.

My Star asked me what I thought.  Possibly using a raised voice, I told her I thought the two teachers she overheard needed to 1) take classes on early childhood development, 2) study the standards/Common Core/curricular requirements, 3) find an experienced mentor who will play devil's advocate, 4) develop a keen eye, observing and reflecting upon how their students behave in the learning environment provided to them, 5) learn about poverty, cultural and social issues, 6) turn a critical eye inward, 7) evaluate what they think their own responsibilities should truly be, and 8) if necessary, switch grades.

Admission:  I definitely used a raised voice, and I had to pause at the end to catch my breath.

In my opinion:

Kindergarten teachers who can't stand the fact that their students aren't completing first grade work... need to switch grades.

Kindergarten teachers who find themselves greatly annoyed by immature behavior, need to switch grades.

Kindergarten teachers who don't understand that play IS how young children best learn and develop necessary skills, need to switch grades. 

Kindergarten teachers who believe their students are out to "screw" their teacher's evaluation, need to switch grades.

Kindergarten teachers who believe today's hype that says in order to help Little Janie or Jeffery become a neurosurgeon after college, we must put scalpels in their tiny fists prior to age four, need... to... switch... grades.  

That's right, I went all Jeff Foxworthy over those two kindergarten teachers and the others that I know concur with them.  But I get it.  I was once a first-year teacher, a third-year teacher, a fifth-year teacher, a seventh-year teacher.  I remember listening politely during staff meetings as more experienced colleagues talked circles around me and over my head.  I too, remember when teaching kindergartners became so natural for me that the inevitable continuation of the rinse/repeat cycle of education-related acronyms and fads became more entertaining (some frightening) than inspiring.  I can recall the exact moment during a job interview when I knew that it was important for me to tell my potential employers that they did not want me in a sixth grade classroom, a fourth grade classroom, or a second grade classroom.  I was advocating for not only kindergarten students, but the children I would not have been a good match for, even though my honesty was not a surefire way to guarantee me a paycheck.

With experience and commitment, teachers often find their niche, be it a subject, grade level, or community.  For those newbie and not-so-newbie kindergarten teachers who find yourselves frustrated and angry, let me lay this nugget of truth on you:

It's not the four, five, or six year olds' fault. 

Let that sink in for a moment.

It's not the four, five, or six year olds' fault.

Your lack of experience (or overstayed welcome in the wrong grade) isn't at fault either.  But I caution you to guard against allowing your frustrations to inspire you to think up consequences that you might purposely or inadvertently inflict upon young children.  They are not mutineers, and if you choose to not make your own professional plan for self-improvement, then it behooves you to step aside, find another grade (or profession), and let those of us who know, respect, understand, and work best with young children share our energy and skill with those who deserve it most.

Take a deep breath. Be honest.  Are you constantly angry at your students?  Do you truly believe that the group of people with the least amount of control and say inside a school system are the ones responsible for how you feel?  If so, this is your wake-up call.  Step back, reflect objectively, learn, and, if necessary, acknowledge that kindergarten might not be the place for you.  As long as it's developmentally appropriate and respectful of its youngest learners first, it's a wonderful place for children and the teachers who care for them to continue to learn and grow as they experience and share collaborative learning environments.

*****

You can read more about the debate regarding testing kindergartners here: "Is Kindergarten Too Young to Test?" by Holly Korbey

*****

Once in August, Again in May

I've shown you these before-and-afters over the years in previous blog posts, but you know I can't resist sharing this project with you again!

The directions are the same in May as they are in August, but the results are incredibly different:

 August:

May:

August:

May:

August:

May:

August:

May:

August:

May:

And the best part?  I got to be there every step of the way.

Should it Really Be Developmentally Appropriate Practice VERSUS Differentiated Instruction?

Rant time: I'm asking a question, and sharing my opinion.

When it comes to best practices in our early childhood/kindergarten classrooms, should it really be developmentally appropriate practice VERSUS differentiated instruction?  I think not.

There are different philosophies and ideas on teaching and about how children learn best, but it is beyond frustrating to me that advocacy for our students, each of them a WHOLE child, can occasionally be perceived as out-dated, anti-education and anti-progress. As we work to implement Response to Intervention effectively for our students and examine best instructional practices for our youngest learners, I've found that a significant number of newer teachers react with nonchalance when faced with the costly reality:  with a set number of hours in each school day, formal assessments that we are required to administer on a much more regular basis eat into the very valuable yet limited instructional and experiential time our students have with their teachers and one another.

Despite the arguments over NCLB, I can concede this: well-intentioned instructors, parents, and friends of education want to do whatever they can to ensure they are teaching effectively and/or helping children to receive an effective, quality education.  Unfortunately, many believe that the only documentable proof of their students' development and mastery of skills are formal assessments.  Does the acquisition of skills happen on a firm timeline for every child?  No. What if you drill and kill, bribe, punish, throw interventions of all shapes and sizes at them, and successfully enlist the help of their families?  Do all students acquire and master cognitive skills with the utilization of these "tools" at the same time, by the same deadline?  No.  If you're a teacher or parent with an opposing view, hear me out: I'm ~not~ saying that young children should never be assessed or should not have ready access to whatever help and intervention they might truly need.  I'm saying that the mastery outcome dictated by the constraints of the school's calendar year shouldn't ignore the fact that many cognitive skills are developmental in nature.  Prior schema, age, health, learning disabilities, vision, emotion management, social skills and personal interests all vary, student to student.  In my opinion, this necessitates that BOTH developmentally appropriate practice AND differentiated instruction be implemented in our classrooms.

I have no problem changing to meet our students' needs in the best way possible.  I just don't believe that drill and kill instruction and over-assessing while pre-established school calendar deadlines loom are good enough building blocks for my Super Stars.  None provide necessary time for the hands-on, rich and deep experiences my students need in order to build the sturdiest foundation upon which the remainder of their formal school experiences must be built.

Teachers, is developmentally appropriate practice recognized as a valid instructional methodology in your district?   NAEYC coined the term to describe the process of matching the learning environment to the diverse needs of children/students.... exactly what differentiated instruction provides for academic goals.  The significant difference between the definitions of DAP and differentiation is this:  DAP works to match learning environments to the abilities, developmental level, and social, emotional, and physical needs of the whole child as s/he dynamically changes throughout the school year.  It does this by providing exposure, deep rather than superficial experiences, and truly flexible pacing to practice, interact and share so that additional skills are fully developed as each student reaches his or her readiness milestones.  Differentiated instruction applies primarily to helping students master academic skills necessary for curricular success and completion.

Organic development is very different from mechanical development, and should be respected, not seen as an obstacle around which we must maneuver.  Not every student is ready to read at the same time.  Not every student is able to sit still or control his or her outbursts by a pre-established deadline. Not every student retains number by the same date on the school calendar.  They’re not ready until it’s their time to be ready.  Building upon prior schema and providing an experience-rich environment and the time to fully absorb concepts and develop understanding helps students become solidly ready.  DAP aims to provide for the physical, social, emotional AND cognitive needs of children, not just their technical pre-reading and math skills.  I believe that it's the whole child's ongoing, ever-changing developmental stages, needs, and milestones that must be met and supported in order for him or her to be successful at math, reading, socialization, and future problem solving.  Data-driven doesn't always equal student-oriented, and it's that discrepancy that causes our educators and parents to jump to the conclusion that what's best for the test scores child is to immediately barrage him or her with a multitude of "helpful" interventions, none of them being time.  None of them, except retention or encouraging parents to red-shirt their kindergartners.

Am I telling you that I employ a laissez-faire instructional style?  Certainly not. Am I telling you I don't use our common core standards and appropriate tools and assessments as part of the architecture that is my students' learning environment?  No.  But purposely ignoring or assuming that the time required to teach classroom behaviors, routines, problem solving, etc. is separate from how and when we’re best able to effectively teach reading and math concepts means that we value our students’ scores and a school’s calendar deadlines more than our students’ individual needs.  Like young children, DAP isn’t convenient for tests and deadlines.  It’s not designed to be.  It’s designed to best prepare children for all of the future learning they will do. As much as adults wish it possible to create super-children sooner, stronger, smarter, faster, we cannot separate a child’s emotional, developmental and social readiness from his or her academic readiness, no matter what guarantees late-night infomercial peddlers promise to eager, worried, and well meaning parents.  Young children aren’t convenient.  It's not their job to be.

I sincerely wish we as teachers would stop actively trying to force mechanical “improvements” upon organic learners by avoiding debate and limiting our dialogue and time together to figure out how we’ll wring-forth earlier mastery from children who might not be developmentally ready, no matter the teacher's instructional style or number of interventions attempted by many chefs stirring the same pot.  Students have varying needs, but we ignore the fact that one of the best interventions for young learners is simply the gift of time.  Not retention, TIME during the instructional year exploring, revisiting, rethinking, and fully absorbing the meat and potatoes of what has now come to be called the common core standards.  Where will our students find the time to expand their minds and solidify their conceptual understandings if their opportunities to engage in experience-rich activities are dramatically reduced by test after test after test?

Is DAP a new-to-you phrase?  Here are some sites with DAP info for non-early-childhood-ed. specialists.  Uninformed but well-intentioned partners in education can still do more to undermine our students' learning than help it:

Developmentally Appropriate Practice Q and A's

Developmentally Appropriate Practice Defined (article)

Crisis in the Kindergarten (Institute for Democratic Education in America): Why Children Need to Play in School (forward by David Elkind) ;

Quality educators want to teach students well.  They want to offer them all of the necessary tools that they can, to include best instructional practices, so that children remain engaged and capable lifelong learners. Kindergartners are neither inferior nor under-developed, requiring "fixing" to become Wonder Students, capes flowing in the breeze just because they're NOT reading on a first grade level by the end of December or acing time-consuming, boring, and often developmentally inappropriate assessments.  I sincerely hope that someday advocacy and respect for children will replace the bigger/better/faster/sooner mechanical ideal that so many prefer. Numbers are easier to crunch than organic variables, but just because we CAN reduce and categorize students by scores for reading and math doesn't mean we have the right to disregard all that they are, can, and will be, and call it "best practice."