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.

A Call for Context

Today I had to take off my teacher hat and put on my mom crown.

Having taught for eighteen years with three children of my own, this isn't the first time the chapeau-switcharoo has had to occur.  Conferences, social issues, injuries and illness... I've heard it and dealt with it all.  My eldest's seemingly never-ending fascination with all things Titanic... that time when my daughter punched and bloodied a kid twice her size because he tried to prevent her from coming to tell me that he was harassing her... and the ever popular "s/he isn't turning in his/her homework" conversations.

Oh yes.  I've been there.

Today was different however, and I've decided to share the story of it with you partly out of professional courtesy, partly out of professional frustration, and partly because I believe education professionals need to be reminded of a parent's perspective regarding the sharing of disciplinary actions in the public school system.

My youngest is a second grader, and has attended the school where I teach since preschool.  He was diagnosed early on with developmental and communicative delays, likely caused by contracting pneumonia at two weeks of age followed by surgery while still an infant.  He continues to receive speech/language services as well as modeling and practice time with a social skills group.  Learning how to express himself clearly and appropriately has been a long term goal for him, set by my husband, myself, and our stellar school team.  Now, at age eight, he loves dinosaurs, planets, the mysteries of Egypt, and all things Minecraft.  Thanks to the anything-but-petite builds of both me and my husband, The Second Grader is very tall and stocky for his age.  It won't be much longer now before football scouts start knocking at our door, if you know what I mean.  His size makes his outbursts, exuberance, and silliness seem larger than life compared to many of his classmates.

You.  Can't.  Miss.  Him.

This morning, my instructional time was interrupted when I was asked if I could help handle a situation that arose with The Second Grader not fifteen minutes earlier.  Apparently, while lined up outside of his classroom, he was speaking with a classmate, venting his frustration that yet again, his birthday fell during the last week of school, preventing him from being able to enjoy a birthday party during the week.  Despite the fact that he's 1) eight years old, 2) into all things Minecraft, and 3) developmentally delayed (most notably in the areas of communication and social skills, with an IEP in place), an adult became greatly concerned after overhearing The Second Grader speaking to his classmate in the hallway, saying something along the lines of how he wished he could "blow up the school so nobody would have to come to school the last week," and then "blow up all of the schools in the country" so no one would have to spend their "birthday week at school doing work."

I know.  Deep, slow breath in.  Now... exhale.

"Blowing up the school" out of context IS very alarming sounding.  I've been a teacher during the time of  9-11, Columbine, Sandy Hook, and other school-related horrors and tragedies. I've been trained in school safety, and performed fire, tornado, and intruder drills with my students.  I have been fortunate enough to have been partnered with parents and families who have protected their kindergartners from the terrifying images, sounds, and reports of terrorist attacks and unexplainable massacres in real time and when rebroadcast year after year.  I too, have protected not only my students, but my own children from details of the atrocities that humanity can wreck upon itself.

I know.

Though ~not~ a "credible threat," The Second Grader's comments initiated a DEFCON threat level response from the adults around him.  Not quite DEFCON 1, but certainly not DEFCON 4.  His comments weren't questioned, nor was the context determined by the adult who overheard them.  His comments without context were reported to his teacher.  His teacher, concerned that the comments would be shared elsewhere before she could address them had to make sure that higher ups were aware that the comments had been made and that she would be getting more information about what had transpired in the hallway between the Minecraft-savvy students.  Adults other than myself were notified and asked to intervene, despite the fact that I am only four doors away.

Thank goodness for professional courtesy. One adult came straight to me to ask how to proceed.  You can imagine my confusion and my concern as I had to rapidly downshift from teacher to parent unexpectedly.  Appreciative that my aide could take over calendar and story time, I was able to leave the room to question two of the folks involved, though not the adult whose concern initiated the scene.  The Second Grader admitted saying he wanted to "blow up the school."  When I asked him why, he replied "because it's my birthday this week and A-G-A-I-N, I don't get a party until it's the weekend.  I don't like having my birthday during school."  When I asked if he wanted to blow up our school, or our school that he would build in Minecraft, he replied "The school in Minecraft.  I can build it exactly like this one, and have lava explode from a volcano, or have it flood, or make it explode from bombs.  I don't know how to make real bombs, but you can get bombs in Minecraft to get rid of stuff so you can build again."

Context.

(photo here)

What eight year old would express him or herself with "Oh, I strongly dislike having my birthday during the school week.  Do you think we could ask the principal if all of the students could just take the week off so that we could celebrate our birthdays and have parties like we want to? Perhaps we can open up this topic for debate and a vote utilizing Robert's Rules of Order?"

You've likely heard something similar to what The Second Grader is purported to have said.  Your children have said things like it to their friends.  Perhaps in your youth YOU even muttered something along the lines of "Oooooh, I can't stand my mom.  She won't let me go to the mall today.  I wish she'd just die" or "I could just KILL my dad, he's driving me crazy over prom!"  Children reference what they know as they learn how to navigate not only their feelings but how to express them.  My son knows Minecraft.  I knew Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street movies (and so did many of you).   You didn't really drive a bowie knife through your father's chest because he was stressing out over a formal dance, and I didn't invite Freddy Krueger over for tea and crumpets with my mother because she didn't like a boy I thought was cute.  Similarly, The Second Grader isn't going to track down ordnance in order to blow up a building so he and every other child can stay home and enjoy birthday cake, presents and a party on their weekday birthdate.

Unfortunately, thanks to events such as Columbine and Sandy Hook, adults now believe they must respond immediately and severely for the good of the many, often at the expense of the individual.  Parents are forced to expose our children to details of adult fear and horror so that they won't unknowingly risk accidentally crossing a line in places like school, day care centers, or play dates.  Educated professionals, who are supposed to be schooled in child development and psychology are trained to react first, and ask questions for clarity, understanding, and context for appropriate interpretation later.  What a relief it is, knowing that my son's innocence, lack of experience, and peace of mind were sacrificed for the good of his classmates and teachers, those folks who were never truly in danger anyway.  Common sense has given way to hysteria, and the professional trait of knowing when to immediately react and when to calmly respond is nowhere to be found.

Too bad for the child who ate around the edges of his Pop Tart, identifying what was left over as a gun shape.  If only he had shared that it also resembled the letter "L," or the states of Idaho or Florida.  If only the adults responsible for the guidance of his lifelong learning experiences had taken a breath, controlled their internal fears and biases, and taught him how to recognize alternate possibilities and forms for his creation, utilizing acknowledgement, redirection, and encouragement to explore other possibilities.

You know, those things that we as educators are supposed to do.

New Curriculum Materials and Suggested Resources? Take the Time, Make the Time

I've spent the past week looking through the kindergarten chapters in Common Core Curriculum Maps (Jossey-Bass pub., 2012), and have been putting my visual self to work creating and filling Pinterest boards as I explore each of the six units recommended for my grade. I've included links to samples of the suggested artwork, music, literature, and videos as well as to many teacher-created activities and resources, most of them offered as "freebies" at the time I pinned them.

In the case of unit 3 (Exploring with Friends in the Neighborhood), you'll find I've pinned alternate artwork in addition to the two pieces suggested by the authors.  Appreciating the fact that the unit's activities are "neither prescriptive nor exhaustive," and that teachers "can select from among them, modify them to meet their students' needs, and/or use them as inspiration for creating their own activities," I sought out examples of vibrant neighborhood/community art that would engage my students and get them talking about the friends, family, neighbors, animals, activities and professions that they encounter daily.  But why did I feel the need to seek out alternatives in the first place?

Units 1 and 2 suggested works by Picasso, Matisse, Whistler and others:

As I look at each piece, I can hear in my mind the comments and questions that my Super Stars might pose and share as they examine color and make inferences.  I can imagine their journal entries and interpretations of the artwork that they'll create at the painting easel, creative construction zone or art class.  Families might even decide that a trip to a museum or art gallery should be moved higher up on the to-do list this year.

I can also imagine the dialogue borne of not only inquiry and intrigue but of confusion and possibly fear if my students were to reflect upon all of Pieter Bruegel's Netherlandish Proverbs, 1559, one of the two pieces of artwork suggested for unit 3:

According to Wikipedia, the painting depicts Dutch proverbs of the day and includes representations of "the absurdity, wickedness and foolishness of humans."  A fascinating piece, I can imagine junior high, high school, college students and adults studying it and engaging in colorful discussions and debates over the imagery, style, humanity, complexity, economy and iconography depicted.  But four, five and six year old children?

Ew, I can see their butts!

What is she doing to that devil?

My mom/dad says that the devil can sneak into your heart and...

Etc.

Teachers can interject themselves into the conversations of their students when they feel it's necessary, but in my opinion, Netherlandish Proverbs risks requiring excessive amounts of maneuvering and redirection as students explore, reflect upon and compare their own neighborhood to the one depicted by Bruegel.  This maneuvering can further be affected by a teacher's own interpretation of and feelings about the painting, or beliefs about religion, modesty and morality, topics about which parents and families feel very strongly.  As you imagine yourself viewing Netherlandish Proverbs through your kindergartners' eyes, do you think they'll examine the painting as a depiction of collected scenes in a neighborhood/community, or do you feel their attention will constantly be divided between the separate images that for whatever reason, catch their eye? 

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What kind of community artwork do I think is appropriate for young children?  Todd Berman has created collaborative neighborhood art full of colorful characters found here:

Angela De La Torre depicts colorful architecture in Buffalo the Beautiful:

Faith Ringgold's Tar Beach art quilt and story (link to Amazon.com):

Reading the foreword and introduction in Common Core Curriculum Maps, I was unable to find a statement contributed by an early childhood/kindergarten teacher, though the Maps were "written by teachers for teachers" in the public school arena.  Hoping to find an explanation about the consideration and final selection of Netherlandish Proverbs, and provide my two cents regarding suggestions for future fine-tuning of the Maps, I checked online and found that commentary and suggestions can be shared only if an educator becomes a member ($25 fee) of the Maps site.  As I've already purchased the book and am comfortable tracking down resources and activities to supplement each theme, I won't be spending the extra money, though I'd love to hear from any of you who have decided to access the Maps and the additional bells and whistles online. 

Teacher Tip: Whether you're an experienced teacher or one new to the profession, always take the time to look over curriculum materials suggested to you or utilized by your district.  If you're swamped, make the time, as no one knows your students like you do, and your professional judgement must be utilized for their benefit.  

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Links to artwork suggested by the Maps can be found in a PDF Art Guide available here.

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~Michaele~