The Rock Stars of Play

So. Edcampkinder reflections.  Meeting some of the #kinderchat dream team face to face in Vegas of all places.   I told an absent Patty:  Don’t worry - it will feel like you are there!  I lied.  Wireless headaches aside, it can’t feel like you are there. She was right to start a counter #edcampkinder movement called #grouchycamp.  It affects you deeply.  

I told Patty that it was weird.  I stand by that.  It is not the right word to describe it, but it is weird.  Like Alice through the Looking Glass weird. And unsettling. And butterflies in the tummy.  Because it is a huge deal.  These are minds you have lurked, retweeted, engaged with, DMed, snarked with, collaborated with, shared Twitter and Skype and Facebook and Google hangouts with.  

But let’s face it.  Seriously. Face to Face it.  There they are in real life, sitting across from you.  Each bringing a uniquely rich and diverse personality to the table.  Joking, sharing, connecting, gesturing wildly, intense, passionate, reflective,  #CanyouSingitSister/BrotherAMEN!

And you lean back and think - these people are Rock Stars to me. And I get to PD in the pool with them.  I get to dump an expensive conference session because I don’t want to miss a thing. I get to lament the fact that I did not spend nearly enough time with each and every one of them. I get to wish more could have come.  I get to feel like I am namedropping when I mention them to others. I get to smile when amazing Principal @ChrisWejr want to be our #kinderchat principal.  I get to meet THE  Lisa Murphy AKA  @OoeyGooeyLady because I think she sees this  #Kinderchat PLN as Rock Stars too. 

And yet, we are not.  We are Educators.  From small towns, cities, quiet schools, massive districts. Engaged in the task of advocating for Play. Many operating covertly like 007.   Over and over, at the conference, in side conversation, I heard the educator’s lament  “I feel so alone where I am. No-one knows that I think this way. Thank heavens there are others who think this way.” 

So, my take-away? Another Just for Me Epiphany?   Time to get fierce people. Time to stop saying “I’m alone” and start shouting “Here I AM! We Play in MY room!”  

And so, if you are lurking - step out, step in, get fierce.  You are definitely not alone.  

So to all of the  #kinderchat PLN, thanks is too small a word.  

To #edcampkinder Protector of Play Rock Stars @hechternacht @LirenmanLearns @MauiMickey @Garrioch @Matt_Gomez @happycampergirl @tashacowdy @Havalah @Mr_Fines 

To our Virtual #edcampKinder crew - it was messy and hectic and amazing to bring you in via Skype and Facetime : )  @mrsmelva @pattymcn @erocklewitz @tori1074 @jasongraham99 @soltauheller  Sorry that we missed connecting with everyone who wanted to. 

PS  Can I  trademark the word fierce? 

The Learning Curve. Letting the World In.

#Kinderblog2012: Question numero un!  Details here

What did you learn this past (or, for our southern hemisphere friends, what ARE you learning this current) school year that you couldn't have learned any other year, from any other students or colleagues or administrators or parents? What lessons did this particular year, this particular setting, these particular children bring into your life?

So. Back at the blog challenge.  I love how this pushes me to think. Thanks Amy. 

A funny thing happened to my t’other on a dog walk. He ran into a friend walking his puppy.  They chatted about the trials and tribulations of puppies, and as they parted, the man reflected that his puppy was on a learning curb.   Mine smiled, and walking away, shook his head. Learning Curb.  Ha.  

I love the new saying.  We use it often now in our household.  But as I reflect on this blog question, it occurs to me that as shiny brilliant a teacher as I might have imagined I was,  I have been on a learning curb for a few years now.  Sitting there, happily plunked down, still playing in the dirt, but not looking around me. Just sitting still. 

This particular year has been like no other. This year took me off the curb and  onto the curve. A troubled, complicated, figure it out, fly by the seat of your pants, fail, rethink, honest learning curve.  Like the one our kids are on. Everyday. 

I let the world in this year. Into my classroom, into my friendships, into my thinking. 

And it shifted things for me. 

It gave me perspective as I railed against the idiocy of my current government, then calmed me as I chatted with somebody a world away, passionate and committed to providing for children what we have at our fingertips. 

It showed me  that my passion for play had been diluted by other’s indifference, a passion now re-ignited into a fierceness. 

It allowed me to revisit that clueless, do-whatever younger me, as a still no wiser, older me. 

As always, writing clarifies things for me. I have been struggling to loop my thinking back to my kindergarten students. How all this is reflected back to them. As it always has. My students have been the driving force, barometer, guiding light every year of my 25 years as an educator.  

But this year was for me.  That is my lesson, my take-away. My little just-for-me epiphany. I stepped up off the curb, stretched, shook some sillies out, and got on my learning curve.  Not for my students, but for me. And it changed their worlds because it changed mine. 

Thank you for being there, dusting me off, and pushing me on my way. 

The World of Play. Literally.

As a kindergarten teacher, I am on a constant quest to find authentic, engaging avenues for Play to bring to my current group of kinders.   I am a little crazy about it, truth be told. I have exhausted the patience of the colleagues I work with, facing glassy eyed “She is talking Play again” looks. So imagine my excitement when I discovered the world of Twitter,  and a Personal Learning Network (PLN) that is as intensely taken with the importance of Play as I am?  

Enter #Kinderchat, my 27/7 PLN.   

There are endless ways to Play,  and that is at the heart of the  #Kinderchat PlayProjects.  Connecting young children to a world of play has never been easier.  Twitter, Family Facebook, GoogleEarth, Voicethread, GoogleDoc Storytelling, SkypePlay - the world is at your fingertips, inviting you to connect in a way that is just right for the children in your care.

I currently find myself the curator of a Play Project that is just right for me -  SkypePlay.

If you are new to Skype, it is an online, visual telephone call. Teachers use it to connect their children to experts, authors, and to other classes.  In Kindergarten, I found that the large group gathering was nice every now and then,  but that children just wanted to come on up and have a face to face chat, connecting through conversation, and exploring a curiosity about who that other kid is,  and what are they doing where they are.  

In a nutshell, Skypeplay gives children a peer to peer audience for their play that provides immediate interaction, collaboration, and conversation.  

And so, a network of Kindergarten classes are connecting, building relationships, exploring geography, and discovering that while everyone might have their own place in the world,  we all love to play. 

Why on earth (no pun intended) would you need to play with children via a screen when you have kids right there in your room to play with?  

Well, why not?  That is my short answer.  But I get it. We need to ensure that the world of Social Media is not just a gimmicky thing we throw at kids because we think it is cool.  

So.  Here is a story from my room.  Three boys started building a 3D structure.  As it grew, and design ideas were tried, discarded and refined, their excitement grew.  Other kids in the class came over, said “cool” but got back to their own play as fast as they could.  Then our Skype Phone rang,  and a brand-new-to-us class wanted to play.  When our new friends came online, they were overwhelmed with excitement - “WOOOOOOAH!!    What is THAT!!!”  My boys beamed, and strutted with pride, and then spent their time explaining the structure, the components, the time frame (“We have been building for two days, but expect it to take 90” ) while the other kids questioned, listened, and planned for themselves.  How many curriculum outcomes do you see there? 

Teachers in the project have facilitated discussions about tornados, snow and no snow, gardens, worms, mountains, oceans, islands. We have giggled over “Giant Face Boy!!”  and wondered if we are in the future because it is after lunch here, and before lunch there. I have seen a boy make eye contact with a child a world away when he has struggled to do that with the child beside him.  We have talked Skype manners and internet safety. We have classes plotted on a flat map, on a globe, and we have soared over towns and cities via Google Earth.  We have been  Alice in Wonderland, stepping through the Looking Glass.  

And it has opened up a world of play.  Literally. 

Paper Chains. Connecting Kids.

I am a kinder teacher that thinks glitter is evil.  In a playful, not for me kinda way.  I am also a kindergarten teacher who thinks the same of Paper Chains.  You know them. Strips of paper mucked together with too much or too little tape, staples, or the dreaded glue sticks that are dollar store designed to come unstuck after a time lapse of anywhere from 2 hours to 2 days.  

I am thrilled this year to have two amazing K teachers to share my school with. One of whom managed to have her kinders build gorgeous, stayed stuck, patterned paper chains to celebrate 24 days till Christmas.  Hmmm.  Maybe we could muster 10?  

Then a couple of my  weeds attach theirs together. And of course, more join in.  “AHHHHH It is SOOOOO big.  It it TOOOOOO heavy!!” as they drag it around the room.  

“I wonder,” says I.  “Could it reach . . .  the office?”  And we smile.  

Over two days, teams build. Individuals set up work crews. Fine motor fingers pinch and glue. Bossy, Bold and ToldYouSo figure it out. Songs of triumph and pride are sung. Dances are danced around the growing pile. 

We hang the first chain in the Primary hallway. Hmmm - only half way there. . .

Some bigkids are looking.  

“How many?”  a grade 3er asks.   

“Well.  If this is ten, how many do you think?”  
I leave some stickies on the hall wall for guesses.  

Meanwhile, a kinder wonders, “It is  A LOT of chains.  Like maybe ahunfrendthree a thousand?” So we build and count  and make 10s and build 100.  And hang it and OHHHHHH look,  we make it!
And we smile. 

Bigkids are MORE curious.  So we make signs.  We set up a guess board. We make cookies for the kid that guesses the closest.  We say, “If this is 100, how many do you think?”  

And they do. Think. Estimate. Plan. Argue. Prove. Rethink. Record.


And the kinders look at the bigkids, who are looking at them. "Cool chain," says a bigkid. "You guys rock."  And we smile. 

I guess now I like paper chains.  But never glitter : )   

Finger Knitting to Self Regulation to Cultural Chaos

We are going to start finger knitting in Kindergarten soon.  I thought it was a great way to practice fine motor skills. Tactile, beautiful, creative as well.    I was wrong.  It is apparently a commentary on all that is wrong with our Culture : ) Bear with me. 

Finger knitting is also an opportunity for me to help children self regulate, apparently something great learners need. Brain guys say that self regulation comes from repeated, rhythmic, soothing actions like chanting, drumming, rocking, knitting, weaving.  Engaging the brain stem and all that stuff.  

Sounds like your house any given day right?  Sounds like the kind of stuff we do all the time in our Culture. Peaceful, rhythmic, repeated, time consuming stuff.   

We get into these trends of what is important for kids to be globally successful. To be successful 21st century learners.   What if what is stopping us is our own Culture? What is it to be Culturally successful?  Gross overstatement alert here, but many world Cultures are self regulated and sustainable. Why in our Culture do we have to “teach” self regulation instead of it being embedded?

So. Finger knitting : )   Your brain cannot find the path to quiet reflection, to self regulation,  without having been there first, on its own terms.   We ask kids to be quiet and listen. We tell kids to reflect now, please.  Have you ever seen a group of people knitting? Quilting?  Conversation, reflection, a lull in conversation that is golden.   Or someone working at a loom, a puzzle, weaving, or kneading bread.  What we lightly refer to as hobbies, or schedule into a busy day as Me Time, or dismiss in another Culture as backward,  are an essential chunk of what helps children to cope with a Culture that might be stripping us of that. 

Technology allows us to visit other Cultures, to explore and reflect and compare. It allows us to share our Culture through stories and images and voices. It even creates some of that Culture. 

As long as we value and explore the rhythmic, repetitive chant that is a Culture at its quietist. At its most reflective.  At its most powerful. 

The undone classroom

Lots of buzz out there about the undone classroom. Bare walls.  Clean slate.  Children will fill the walls with authentic learning.  Tossing the desk.  I agree, to a degree. I certainly have not had a desk since my first class set a beaver tail and feet on it over 20 years ago.  Had a piano for a while and loved it.   Played the weeds in, set stuff on it.  

Still no desk, but a Kinder room is different.   Ask any #kinderchat teacher. The environment is the third teacher.  Contemplating the set-up, ebb and flow, potential for play, discovery, learning consumes me like no day-planner ever has.  I gut my room over and over through-out the year. Re-imagine it.  Fellow teachers are often confused and unsure as to why I would do that. On purpose. 

My classroom is 

          a mirror, 

a portal, 

a reflection 

a diving board. 

It is haven and harbour.  

It provides calm and chaos. 

It hides treasures and hollers “Look at me!” 

So.  My day-planner remains empty.  That is for my weeds to fill, once I get to know them. 

But my room? A new weed yelped at me in the grocery store the other day. “HEY!!! You get to be in my classroom!!!”  I have to agree.  I get to be.  It had better be ready for her. While her classroom does not boast fancy bulletin boards and borders,  it will be ready.  Waiting, expecting, and as curious about her as she is about it.  Because when a weed walks through my door, it is not me who first holds her attention. It is the room.  Her room. His room. Our room. 

Blog Challenge 5

Tell us about your greatest classroom disaster. The biggest mess, the lamest lesson, the most snooze-worthy circle time. Hopefully, even if you couldn't laugh about it at the time, you can laugh about it now.

Ok,  back to fun font for this one.  I know I asked for some levity,  but this one is a little tough!  I certainly have had my share of lame, ill conceived lessons whose sheer boredom factor could have me up for child abuse,  but all kind of hazy in detail.  As I have mentioned,  I do tend to misremember things, always for the better.  

While I have mellowed over time,  my early years of teaching were marked with flashes of brilliance, coupled with a complete disregard for consequences.  As a child,  I could always count on an older family member to bail me out, so really I thought that anything was possible,  and at the very least, should be attempted.   

Add to that I am the queen of connected tangents,  and you have my recipe for disaster.  A lesson that was brilliant and engaging. I could not fathom why no one had done it before. If twitter existed,  I probably would have been #lookatme!! all over it.  

I was teaching in a modular school, separate from the main school by the playground, and a million miles.  There were 4 of us out there - kind of our own club.  I was teaching a grade 2/3 combined class, and loving it.  We were looking at Air, Flight, and 3D solids.  We were focused on cause and effect,  and diagramming was (is) a huge part of my world .  And of course I was (and am)  all about kids having first hand experiences.  

Demonstrations? PPHAA!  

Videos??   Naaaaaa

Taking turns?  Rubbish.  

This idea was built for partners.  Built for collaboration, observation, consultation.  

So: Air. Flight. Geometric solids. Cause and effect.  

What if 28 seven and eight year olds determined which geometric solid was most aerodynamic?  What if, with a partner, one blew through a straw, on the face of a solid,  and the other determined where the air was directed? What if we diagrammed the air flow we felt?  

What if the main indicator of success was blowing out the candle flame so carefully positioned on the other side of the solid.  Yes, fellow traveller’s - the lit candle.  Not one candle managed in a class demonstration. Not a video clip of a candle.   14 groups, 14 candles stuck in 14 places with plasticine,  being lit (over and over) by your’s truly.   On purpose.  

We recently wrote a blog challenge about our school parents finding our blog. I hoped that mine would. If they are reading this,  I want you to know that I am older and wiser.  That while I still have flashes of brilliance,  it is rarely accompanied by actual flames.  That this lesson went with out a hitch. That kids were focused and careful, connected and safe the whole time. That I miss, sometimes,  the complete freedom that comes with youth, enthusiasm, and the conviction that anything is possible,  and at the very least, should be attempted.