Talking About Tough Topics with Kids

The conversation about conversation continues today as I reflect on the powerful and important role this plays not only in early childhood, but down the line as well. Yesterday, I took you into a space in my former classroom known as The Conversation Corner. While most frequently this space was occupied by two children at a time, once in a while I would notice just one child sitting. It became an unspoken signal to everyone else that a conversation needed to take place. Sometimes it was a child looking for a friend to play with. Sometimes, it was a child needing to talk with me. In the photo on the left, I have just finished a conversation with a little girl who visited her pediatrician for a check up and vaccines. When I saw her seated there, she was giving a stuffed animal from our classroom a check up. He was about to get a shot and was feeling scared. I didn't immediately sit down, but when I was invited into the conversation, I joined the scene.
"Morah Michal, do you get scared of shots?"
"Not so much anymore because I've had a lot of practice with them. I had a lot of allergies when I was growing up and when I was a teenager, I had to get six shots every week. After a while, I figured out some tricks that helped me feel less scared, like looking the other way and blowing out really hard when a shot was coming, like this [blow]. But when I was a little girl, I did feel afraid of shots and still, even now, there are things at the doctor that I feel afraid of--like throat cultures!"
"Did you used to cry?"
"Yes, I did. My mommy or my daddy would hold my hand or let me sit on their lap. That helped me a lot."
"I sat on my Mommy's lap. Then I got a sticker and a prize."
And the conversation turned to talking about her new stick-on tattoo.

This conversation was a common one I had in classrooms, an experience most all of my students would share in at some point during the school year. Other conversations in my classrooms over the years were quite a bit more unique and involved some tougher topics to talk about. Like a father who was deployed. A parent in jail. Gun violence and domestic violence. Sexual abuse. A pet or a loved one passing away. A parent losing their job. A sibling in the hospital. Divorce. Moving. A new baby and where babies come from. A new "uncle" coming over the night before and staying in Mommy's room. The same new "uncle" leaving and another new "uncle" coming. Alcoholism, meth addiction, homelessness, loss of utility service due to unpaid bills, car accidents, cancer, disabilities, a house fire. And there are probably many other topics I can't remember off the top of my head.

The truth about conversation in early childhood is that you don't actually need a special corner for it to happen. It happens regardless. A child needing to talk about something will do so in one way or another. It may be through speaking, but it may also come up in play. Or behavior. Or emotions (some that "match" the topic and others that seemingly do not). We want our children to grow into teens and young adults who will open up and talk to us about "tough topics." We are, however, quite uncomfortable with these topics emerging in early childhood. This is a stage of "innocence" in which we don't want our children exposed to certain things. And yet, a child's experience is a direct reflection of their environment--an aspect we cannot always control. We tend to offer "fixes" in the form of what I would call conversation end-ers. Whether through stifling a topic, redirecting, projecting/reflecting our own adult understandings and experiences of a topic onto the child or even through directly trying to force conversation when it is not authentic, we give a very clear message without saying a word at all: there are some things in life you just don't talk about.

This does not necessarily even change as we get older. An acquaintance of mine recently posted something on Facebook about how unhelpful it is when someone is drowning to offer a list of things they should be grateful for. I remembered immediately one of the very best bits of advice I ever received from my father. Most of the time when I was growing up, like any other father (even one who is a psychologist), he wanted to fix things when I showed up broken in one way or another. But one time when I was in college, I called him on a weekend totally overwhelmed and hysterical. And that day he offered me exactly the lifeline I needed. "Let yourself be miserable. Let it be enough to just get through the day today and try again tomorrow." If I was drowning in that moment, I didn't want to swim. I was tired, I was sinking; it needed to be enough to just tread water for a bit and try again tomorrow. Someone drowning in a pond doesn't need to hear "well, at least it's not an ocean!" So why is it that our gut reaction to conversations about big feelings is to minimize them? Maybe it's an attempt to shrink the monster in the closet. Or maybe seeing someone in a vulnerable state reminds us that we, too, can be vulnerable.

And I wonder if some of that same feeling is what forces our guards up when children bring up tough topics. First off, there's no filter for when and where it happens. To the young child, it's all equal playing field. Votes for who has Veggie Straws at the lunch table can quickly give way to who threw up last Thursday to grandpa who went to the hospital and never came home. We [the adults] hold Veggie Straws on a very different level than Grandpa who passed away; not necessarily is that so for the children. But what is the teacher/adult's role in this? Do we intervene? When? Do we steer the conversation or just come along for the ride? Are we going to be a conversation end-er or a conversation starter?

When I was a little girl, I was terrified of thunder storms. No cute explanation of God bowling in Heaven was helpful, neither were offers of ice cream or even Benadryl. Nothing at all was helpful until Mr. Rogers explained through conversation what actually happens during a thunder storm. Fred Rogers is one of my greatest heroes. He is what I would call a conversation starter. He took all topics--tough topics, natural topics, fun topics, curious topics--and started conversations. That's all. Nothing fancy. Nothing particularly unique or obscure. He simply started the conversation and kept it going. He talked to children like he'd talk to anyone else. He held their thoughts and curiosities about the world on the same level as his own. It did not matter at all whether he happened to be taller and several decades older. To this very day, if you asked me who I would choose to sit on a bench with for an hour if I could do so with anyone in the world, past, present or future, I'd choose Fred Rogers.

I think that our desire to protect and to comfort and even to control all comes from a place of good intention. It is both selfless and also selfish. We just as much desire to protect, to comfort and to control ourselves. We also feel that as "the adult" we need to keep our own emotions in check (re: hidden) so we can't therefore talk about x, y or z... There's not an easy answer or a best practice here. It's touch and go. But my biggest rules of thumb are as follows:

Let it be authentic: Sometimes we think we need to "set up" these discussions in the same way we set up a craft project. Let it be authentic. Let it come up if it needs to when it needs to where it needs to. It may not be in our "adult" time frame. Children process and experience things at their own rate and in their own way.

Let the child be the pilot of their own plot: We want to control, to navigate, to avoid detours or potential hazards, but we need to let the child be the pilot. You don't need to "grown up"-splain things unless a child specifically asks a question. Give adequate answers, wait and see if further questions arise. Over-explaining and under-explaining are equally challenging ends of the spectrum to avoid. Let it be OK if the conversation needs to go further than planned or predicted; also let it be OK if the conversation seems to stop sooner than planned or predicted. It's alright to return to it later if it comes up, it's also OK if it doesn't come up again at all. Sometimes naming something is enough. Sometimes it just needs to be said. Other times, it needs to be revisited and explored again and again. Either way, leave that door unlocked--but let the child choose when to open it and when to close it.

Let yourself be genuine: We think, as the adults, that we need to put on a certain face for the children and let me tell you something--they are more perceptive than they seem. We certainly do need to maintain healthy and appropriate boundaries and handle our own adult feelings with other adult support systems. However, I do think it is OK--and even helpful--for children to see adults name and work through big feelings, talk about tough topics that come up in a way that is truthful and real and not to feel responsible at the same time for eliminating these woes of the world. You and the child as well have only one responsibility: to experience and get through the moment. You don't need to fix it, you don't need to erase it or negate it or deny it. Keep it on scale. Your experience of a topic is a different stature than a child's experience of it--but nonetheless, you can have a conversation on the same plane (even if you are taller and a few decades older). Children can know that adults also feel sad or worried or scared or mad or excited or nervous or embarrassed; they can even find comfort in this. And if something doesn't go quite as you'd hoped or you happen to think of something later you want to add--that's the beauty of conversation. It can continue...

Pass the Baton: This is such an important but oft forgotten bit of advice. If something feels out of your league, pass the baton. It's OK to say "I don't know" or "I'm happy to talk about this but I want to talk with someone who knows even more." If you're not sure--pass the baton. If you are sure and still you wonder if it's enough--pass the baton. And for yourself--pass the baton. Have your own continuing conversations about those conversations. It's important for you. And for your fellow conversationalists. And for the children. Pass the baton.

There will come a time when children learn that some topics are taboo in some environments. They will eventually reach a point where they don't ask "When is Tatty going to die?" in the middle of the bread aisle at Walmart on a Sunday afternoon. But I'd still rather be asked that question on the bread aisle at Walmart on a Sunday afternoon than not at all. It's OK that the question makes me uncomfortable. It's OK that the question didn't make the one who asked it uncomfortable. It's OK that my answer was "I don't know." And it's OK that less than 30 seconds later we talked about corn tortillas. And that 3 weeks later the topic came up again at the Shabbos table. Conversation is an art. It's not something to be perfected; it's something to be practiced. So keep conversing, and, as always...

Happy Playing!

The Power of Conversation in Classrooms: A Lost and Dying Art

Language is power. We know from the moment a child is born and even before then, while still in the womb, that spoken language is immensely important for physical, cognitive and emotional development. Very few milestones are as exciting for parents of infants as those very first words. And language is a tool we value throughout life--as children grow from communicating through representative sounds and then words eventually toward reading and writing. We care so deeply about language that we devote entire areas of education toward teaching what words mean, how to spell them, how to say them, to perform them, to collect them in prose and poetry and even in arithmetic and science. But if we value language so very much for even our youngest of children, why is there very little room--if any at all--for the lost and dying art of conversation in our classrooms?

I have a friend who is currently studying language development, a topic I love to learn about and discuss. As we were talking yesterday, we were discussing language nuances that children pick up and repeat. Some of these are cute and some are quirky and sometimes, you hear yourself in a whole new light--a light that is not always flattering. I recalled a time in my earlier teaching days when a mother relayed a story she found cute about how her 4 year old son was playing with his blueberries at the breakfast table. There were several student blueberries and one teacher blueberry (that would be me in a bluish shade) and as they ran through the songs and rhymes of the morning routine, Teacher Blueberry stopped to say "and we don't interrupt!" Color me a little more red at this point.

One of the most frequent questions I am asked by fellow educators in regard to classroom management is how to handle "interruptions." It's several versions of the same story. "I'm reading a book to the children and I'll stop to ask a question about it but then the conversation goes on and on and on and no one is listening to the story." "I'm running my circle time and little Johnny raises his hand to tell me about a boo boo he got playing basketball last night after dinner and I lose the whole group. Now they're all talking about getting boo boos and going to the doctor and I still have to finish Calendar Time." "Little Mindy and Rochelle love to sit together at Morning Meeting but they talk nonstop! I end up having to move their seats away." And then, Teacher Blueberry who Used to Instruct that We Don't Interrupt asks the tough question: who's interrupting whom?

We value language. We value literacy. We value learning. But only when it comes from us (the adults). We want the children to listen to the story without interrupting, but every other page, we're interrupting the story to ask "what do you think will happen next?" or "did you notice what Hedgie is doing over in the corner of this page?" We have to sing about the days of the week so the children will learn about the concept of time and the difference between yesterday, today and tomorrow but we have no time to discuss something that happened yesterday. And does Tuesday mean anything to a 4 year old? Not necessarily and it may be totally out of their frame of reference. But playing basketball after dinner and getting a boo boo is totally within their frame of reference and experience. It may have even happened on a Tuesday. We want the children to "use their words" and share with each other so they develop pro-social behaviors, but just not at Morning Meeting.

And even after Teacher Blueberry here stopped interrupting the children to tell them to not interrupt, I still thought I was being incredibly benevolent when I would "honor" the child interrupting a gathering time to share a personal anecdote by saying "I want to hear what you have to say. Hold it in your head and tell me about it at lunch/snack/outside on the playground." Yes, I made the time and stuck to my word to share in that conversation later, but it had no place and no value at my Morning Meeting or Circle Time. After all, I had scoured Pinterest boards for this activity and by golly, we were going to do it!

But once in a while, in fact, quite by accident usually, I'd get it right. Like the one time in my days of teaching in an inclusive preschool program when the special education program was off for a day and the general education students were still in school. I had my teacher crate of Calendar Time activities and a Pinterest Plan for afterward. We had a small group, so I felt I could move at a slower pace. My Attendance Helper was up and we were sorting name tags into piles of Here and Not Here. When we got to one name, he said "Not here. And I'm glad he's not here because he hits me!" Another student chimed in, "and he stepped on my foot!" And another, "yesterday So and So pushed me and I was so mad!" And I stopped the rote monotony of Calendar Time that day because our time was better spent talking about keeping our bodies safe and how to ask for help. It was a tough lesson to swallow for me as a teacher knowing full well that this classroom was a place where some of the children (and even some of the teachers) often felt unsafe. But it was a lesson I swallowed along with my pride, nonetheless. And I will tell you with full confidence that my classroom completely changed that day. Not just because the number 17 never got put on the calendar...

Conversation, many say, is a lost and dying art. We live in an era where I can talk to someone I've never met in a country halfway around the world in real time, but do I know how to carry on a meaningful discussion with my neighbor? Actually, I've never even made eye contact with one of my neighbors... I tell my children how important it is that they use their words with me so I can help them but then I'm busy responding to a message on my phone, they need to wait...

I am an educator like many others who valued the theory of child-led emergent curriculum so long as I dictated how and when and where it emerged. And as I began to reach the early stages of understanding my own hypocrisy, I realized I needed to make a place and a space in my classroom for conversations to happen if this art were to be learned at all. It just so happened that when we would teach letters in my previous place of employment, per their curriculum, the hard pronunciation of the letter C came first in the school year. I decided I would introduce the word "conversation" and I also decided that in order to make a place and space for this in my room, we needed a physical place and space. And thus, the Conversation Corner was born. Two rocking chairs and a table. It began with an object set in the middle that I would choose, a conversation starter, so to speak. I introduced it to each student individually, with me, sharing the new, big word: conversation. I explained as an exchange between two people where one is the talker and one is the listener, but those roles switch again and again and again. You share ideas, you might share objects, you learn and you wonder. You ask questions and give answers. And out of conversation would come another long and beautiful Hard Letter C Word: Connection.
It began as something I "directed" per the curriculum, but it ended being the place where the curriculum emerged. It transitioned and transformed along with the children. The conversation starter in the middle of the table would sometimes be an item brought from home or something carried over from another area. At times, children asked to bring additional chairs. Sometimes the Conversation Corner was a place for practicing a knock knock joke or playing a game. It was a place where children talked about losing a first tooth or going to kindergarten registration or a beloved pet dying. There were giggles and whispers and cackles and fart noises. There were arguments and feelings that were hurt and tears. There were memories shared and memories created. One day, there was a jar of stick puppets and two girls sat down together. They began to use the puppets to act out quarrels between friends--the classic (and then current) playground politics of "you're not my friend anymore!" These puppets stayed at the table for weeks as children took turns sitting in pairs--not always the same pairs--and role playing these scenes again and again and again.
I've seen most of these children continue to grow over the last several years and they are still some of the most close knit and caring friends to one another I've ever known. A great deal of that is the role their parents play and their teachers and the community connection at large. But I like to think a small part of that is due to the power of conversation.

So what if we made a place and a space for that conversation? What if we genuinely honored and respected the children in our classrooms enough to see that conversation happening is not an interruption to the lesson: it is the lesson. From the time it is in the womb, a fetus can begin to recognize familiar voices. Those first words are pivotal and even the first time they say "no" is positively adorable. Until we want them to sit down and shut up. We argued over which they would say first, "Mommy" or "Daddy," and then we wish they'd just for once call the other parent over and over and over again. We love their curiosity until around the age of 4 or 5 when they incessantly ask "but why?" And for all the time we spent waiting and wishing and hoping for them to talk, we begin to "shh" them and finish their sentences for them and eventually restrict them from blog length to Facebook post to 140 characters or less on Twitter to maybe a hashtag if we're not too busy to hear it. Better yet, just pose for a photo and we'll add a caption later...

It's an area I would still say I am growing in. I taught my students the art of a conversation, but I still struggle personally with the Listener Role and sometimes--a lot of the time-- I do interrupt. I want to fill my classrooms and my home and my hours with the best most important and valuable things in the world--when I could let go of those Pinterest plans altogether and simply grab two rocking chairs and a table instead. The power of conversation in our classrooms, in our homes, in the car, on the bus, at the table, in the woods, on the subway, in the library, at the park, in the grocery store--is connection. It is the tiniest of exchanges between me and a Walmart cashier that makes me feel human again when I leave the house without kids for the first time after giving birth. It is the simplest offering of "I think you're doing a great job!" that gives that cashier the strength to stand the final hour of her shift after being berated by an irate customer ahead of you. It is the anger still being held from an unfinished argument in the morning with his girlfriend who just wasn't listening that made the customer irate in the first place.

Conversation is connection. We live in a world of technology that strives to keep us connected 24/7 wherever we go. Can you hear me now? But the feeling of disconnect and discontent is wider than ever. With more and more information at our fingertips, we know and feel sure of less and less. Two rocking chairs and a table. Set aside the smart phone and the laptop and the educational apps and the tablets. Two rocking chairs and a table and the art of conversation as something shared by two people who take turns being talkers and listeners again and again and again.

Happy Playing!

The Third Time I Lost My Patience

There are some days in Parenting Land when you get everything right. And then there was yesterday. And a young boy who is a lot like me. He is very big and he is also very little. His world travels around the sun at lightening speed and his light-up shoes can barely keep up with it. If most of us are 100%, he's 150%. He can pronounce "wingardium leviosa!" He cannot pronounce "WalMart." (It's LoMowt if you're wondering...)

Tuesdays are kind of chill days here. We had a slow morning. He wanted to paint, so we worked together as he carefully organized so many steps of choosing his colors of paint from the atelier, moving one bottle from the front to reach the one behind it, carrying it to a stool, placing it down, handing me the paint tray to hold up as he pressed the pump one-two times to fill one section with green. Eight colors later, he selected his brush and a piece of white glossy paper and took it to the easel. He asked for a smock; I helped him put it on. He pointed out that it's different than putting on a coat because it goes over the front and closes in the back. He finished his first masterpiece. C was hungry for third breakfast, so my hands were full, but I nursed-and-walked to help him carry his painting to a spot on the table where it could dry. He then got his own second sheet of paper, hung it on the easel and painted some more. He selected prime locations to hang his dry-enough paintings. Then it was on to the next thing... And later off to playgroup. And then lunch. And a nap. And then to pick up his brother from school. And then home, where we had a special Rosh Chodesh Adar snack-time tradition--making (and eating) peanut butter playdough Hamentaschen. Then S asked for a banana. So did Y. S ate his banana. Y abandoned his. To be completely honest, I had a feeling that would happen... 

And then he wanted to paint again. He wanted to use the large pallets of tempera cakes. S decided to join in as well. Cue the gathering of materials from the atelier, the filling of two glass jars with water, the selection of a brush and an art mat and a piece of paper. Both boys busily painted away at the table. C was ready for 4th lunch. S moved on from painting to building with some gears on the rug. And then some Peter Rabbit figurines we had out. So, of course, this immediately became an item of interest and hot demand for Y. There are 12 figurines, but he needed the one that was in his brother's hand, naturally. Cue the fighting and first time I lost my patience. "Why do you need to have the one toy that's in his hand and not the other 11?"  S relented and gave the toy to Y who, of course, immediately lost interest in it and returned to his artwork.

And then I heard it. The sound of the jar of water falling and spilling behind me. So I went to the table, where sure enough a puddle was making its way in every direction, covering masterpieces that had been left to dry (the irony is not lost on me) and somewhat more irked, I helped him grab some rags and begin to dry the spill. "At least it's only water," I remarked, but my voice was nowhere near as accepting in tone as my choice of words may indicate. And that is when Y proceeded to lean over the table toward S's spot and knock over his jar of water, spilling it everywhere we had just dried plus a few feet further and on the cushion of the chair. And this time my voice was nowhere near a pleasant tone. I sent Y away from the table. He, feeling quite insulted and probably also somewhat startled, started his oral defense. He barked, I barked back. I barked, he barked louder. I sent him upstairs for us to take a break while I cleaned up Niagara Falls. From the top of the stairs, he gave his epic monologue:

"I'm not going to stay upstaiws! I'm going to come downstaiws! I didn't spill the watew, Mommy spilled watew! And you're not going to have any treats or Shabbos Party!"

Oh dear.

Once the table and the floor and three surrounding states had dried, it was time to dry Y's tears. I invited him to come back down if he felt ready. 

"I do feel ready. Sowwy Mommy, I'm done being wude." he said, and got a large laminated paper play mat out to go with the Peter Rabbit figurines. He played with it for about a New York Minute and decided to pick up the mat and started crumpling it up. And I, in not so fine a moment, went ballistic. "What are you doing? Why are you being so rough with the toys? I'm so sad!"

And his face became about 17 feet long. His mouth turned all upside down. His little lower lip began to quiver. He looked down and in a quiet, trembling voice said "Mommy, I'm so sad, too."

Oh dear.

And I picked up that boy and his 17 foot long face. And I gave him the biggest longest most needed by both of us hug I could. His world travels around the sun at lightening speed and not only can his light-up shoes not keep up, we don't even know where they are right now. In fact, to be quite honest, my world was also spinning well above my speed limit. But what was the big rush? Tuesdays are kind of chill days. Back it up to the morning where I was thinking to myself that I am really acing this parenting thing today, letting him paint first thing in the morning. We're not in a hurry; we have all the time in the world. And it took him 20 minutes to prepare for an activity he stayed with for only 2 minutes after.

That is play. That is the life of the child. Think about it: what do you hear on the preschool playground? "Pretend you are a cat. And there are 3 kittens. And they have to go to bed, but they are scared of the dark. And the mother cat tucks them in but they keep getting out of their beds and then the mother cat is gone. And they don't know where she is. The mother cat is going to get food, but they won't know she was getting food until she gets back." Meanwhile, one kid goes over to the gravel pit and grabs some rocks that will be props for food. Another is making the beds for the little kittens in the grass and still one more is over by the water table gathering buckets for dishes. The entire time is spent setting up the stage and narration for a show that never actually takes place. And this goes on through the entirety of a year. 

When is this story going to begin? you start to wonder... When will they start playing? I mean, walking a classroom of 12 kids to the playground, you already have a line of 4 fully embodied cats, one dog, a dragon, 3 mice, 2 Batmans and one kid licking the wall. They are already in character, they are already looking behind them, bumping into the dragon ahead of them, talking about how they are going to play when they get outside. But the play never happens. Or does it?

Setting the stage at this stage is the show. It is the coming attractions. It is the performance. It is the final act. It is the bloopers at the end as the credits roll. It's a pace and a space we adults have lost touch with. And perhaps the nostalgia leaves us with a feeling of wistfulness or even jealousy. But it comes out as frustration. Pent up, boiling over frustration. Because they can't just talk about the cat and move on. They have to be the cat in every sense of the word, until they are rubbing against your leg, purring and clawing the couch. And then they are not the cat. Now they are a dog. Or a dragon. Batman. Or a mouse. Or licking the damn wall. 

Life in early childhood is a full body experience in every sense of the word. And water is going to spill. Everywhere. You're lucky if that's all that spills everywhere. But water can be picked up. A lip hanging so low it falls off the map cannot always be picked up as easily. I mean, you can try reeling that thing in, rolling it up like a scroll and then it hits you: he wasn't crumpling the stupid play mat, he was trying to roll it up. Like a scroll. But I was still stuck on the two jars of water and the Peter Rabbit Wars and maybe a little annoyed by the Top of the Stairs Epic Monologue and also a little hangry and tired... 

And that is the difference between Y and me. We are a lot alike. But he still lives his world in every moment. And in that, when he came back down and said he was "sowwy for being wude," he forgot and forgave completely. I was still carrying two spilling jars of water, a tiny rabbit in a dusty brown jacket and clogs, and a laminated poster of several garden scenes. And now also a little bit of guilt. So when my husband got home, I sent myself upstairs, with a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with overpriced maple syrup from a tiny tin can and I didn't come down until I was done being wude.

So what if today I am a little bit more like Y? What if I put a lot of thought and intention into setting the stage as carefully as I can? And what if I immerse in the experience completely but only for a second? And what if I happen to spill a jar or two of water? No biggie, it's only water. Even I can remember that day I spilled a coffee yogurt I took independently from the refrigerator without asking and my mom lost her &S^#. It wasn't the yogurt, it was the 9,468,207 things I'd already done before that and also probably she was hangry and tired and needed a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with overpriced maple syrup from a tiny tin can. But I remember it because I genuinely didn't know I wasn't supposed to be taking that yogurt from the fridge so the reaction felt out of place and severe. It was the day I realized you can spill one to many things in one day. It is also probably the day I internalized that once you reach that point of saturation, there's no point in even trying. Maybe tomorrow...

But not my Y. He is the epitome of trying again. And in that, he is my teacher. My kids have taught me more about being my authentic self than anyone or anything in the world. I may have lost my patience three times, but it can be recovered. Maybe I just need some light up shoes to be able to find it...

Happy Playing!

Infant Play & Discovery Baskets in the Sitting Stage

The world of infant play is so full of wonder, curiosity and discovery. Sometimes, when we think of "playing" we instantly visualize older children and this incredible and important stage of play development can be kind of left in the dust. When S was an infant, we honestly had very few actual "toys." I was still teaching and away from home for half the day, I didn't yet drive, and we were a young family on a tight budget. Much of what he played with were household objects or toys I made and stashed in discovery baskets for him to explore.

When Y came along, the playroom had expanded in more ways than one. Interestingly, I was so focused in those early months on S and his play needs, that many times, I almost forgot about little Y and his play needs. Discovery baskets often came to the rescue again! Y, however, had the benefit of not only seeing what the adults around the house did all day, but also seeing what his older brother did all day. He was eager to explore every bit of it.

C is totally enthralled with her brothers. She has always been happiest when they are around and is still most pleased if she is playing alongside them. With multiple children of multiple ages, it can feel like a struggle to set up play spaces that meet everyone's interests and needs. In addition, safety is also something to consider with children who are in the early stages of mobility or mouthing toys or exploring the schema of trajectory... How do you make it work?

In those very early months, before infants are even sitting up, they spend a good amount of time on their backs and tummies, visually exploring objects and tracking them, perhaps entering the earlier stages of grasping things. Open spaces and opportunities are vital and really encourage those next steps of gross and fine motor development while also stimulating the brain for cognitive growth. The sitting stage for all three of my little ones has been later than their typically developing peers. Most infants begin to be able to support themselves in a seated position around the age of 6 months, give or take. With three children now who have low muscle tone, that has been the first point at which they display a delay and we are very grateful for the assistance of our favorite physical therapist through our county's Early Intervention program. And even though the road to mobility is a slightly longer and more challenging one for my kids, the point at which they can sit independently is always a point at which I let out a sigh of relief! They are so much happier and more engaged once they reach this milestone. C in particular is so very eager to join in with her brothers at play and being able to sit and explore has also brought on a plethora of other developmental milestones including language, passing toys from hand to hand, picking things up with a pincer grasp, clanking objects together or against a surface, crossing the mid-line and so much more.

One of her very favorite things is searching through her discovery baskets. I always keep at least one bowl or basket of items more specifically geared toward her. It's OK for the boys to play with these things as well (and they do). I also keep things for her to safely explore and play with along with their toys and play setups. In this sitting stage, play for babies is a full body experience. They are mouthing things, watching things, touching things, listening to things, smelling things... I like for the items I put in discovery baskets to appeal to as many of the senses as possible, including texture, color, sound, scent, different shapes and sizes, different materials and things that are both nature and man made. I am not a rigid person when it comes to what constitutes a "toy." I am more interested in what is done with it. So sometimes my children play with "traditional toys" and sometimes they play with authentic objects.

C is very interested these days in "cooking." She is learning to love eating different foods. She is thrilled if she is playing with pots, pans, spoons and bowls. She sees her brothers play in their kitchen set and her parents in the actual kitchen and she wants to join in! In this discovery basket, I set her up with some authentic silver toned bowls, metal spoons in different sizes, tea set dishes, wooden coasters, wooden bowls in different sizes, a honey dipper, a painted wooden tea cup and saucer, some wooden mixing utensils, a couple of spice jars with flower petals and cinnamon sticks for scent and sound when shaken*, and a cloth napkin for a softer texture.
*You may have noticed that the spice jars here are glass. They are a very hard and sturdy glass, however, if your little one is in the stage of exploring trajectory or banging objects together with great force, it may not be a good time to use these. You may prefer to use a plastic version instead! 

I think every baby needs a GIANT bowl. I
especially love the mirror quality of this
metal bowl C is using to explore flour and
kitchen tools and utensils.

When I am setting up discovery baskets, I keep in mind that sometimes the basket itself is just as interesting! I try to offer a variety of sizes and styles of container. Baskets that are wide, some that are tall and narrow, bowls made from wood, some made from metal, containers with and without handles, and so forth. I've found that so many adults have a tendency to take the "basket" away when children begin to play with it because "that's not the thing they're supposed to be playing with," but I actually really like to remember that this is a child-led experience and if they are playing with it, that is what they are supposed to be playing with.

There are some things I do keep in mind when setting up a discovery basket:

• Safety first: The mouthing stage often coincides with the sitting stage. To make sure that nothing within baby's reach is a choking hazard, you may want to purchase a choke-tube or test objects in question through a toilet paper tube. If the object fits through, it is too small.

  

  For those times we can join in and even for those
  times we cannot, pots and pans are always a big hit!

• I also think it is important to join in when baby is first meeting the objects in a new discovery basket. You'll want to see how she plays, identify anything that may be a safety risk, and get to know what interests her and how. This will also help you to navigate what to add in, swap out and build dialogue around the experience for language development. I would suggest making sure you introduce a new discovery basket or play set up when you have the time to get down on the floor and play together. 

  

  On this afternoon, the boys and I were at the table
  making yarn bowls. C is a bit young for the glue end of
  the activity, but she is enjoying exploring the textures
  and colors of the yarn as we worked alongside her.

• On the other end of that spectrum, for those times you don't have an opportunity to join in, like when you're getting household tasks done, there are some go-to options that are quick, easy and safe to help you along. In the kitchen, pots and pans and metal spoons are great for baby play. In the laundry room, some clean rags or towels can be fun to explore. And even many times when you are doing activities with older children, there are parts of the activity that can be explored by the youngest set of hands.
• When possible, allow for play to happen in unenclosed open spaces. There are for sure times that baby needs to be in a high chair or a stroller or worn/carried, a car seat, etc. And these times do not have to be devoid of all play. Nonetheless, those opportunities for open space are so wonderful even before the mobile stage. Within open spaces, baby has room to move and roll and eventually begin getting himself from place to place. This is also possible outdoors! Remember--babies are also washable. They can go in the grass and in the dirt and in the sand. You can also bring out a blanket or mat. Mouthing things happens outside just as it does inside, so be prepared for baby to explore grass and dirt and sand and make sure you are there for support and supervision as needed.

Outdoor play with a modified "mud kitchen"

Exploring the sandbox at our botanical garden center...

• Sometimes we automatically go to a place in our heads that babies play with different things than older children, that they need separate spaces, separate toys and separate experiences. Sometimes that is true and other times, they can share the same spaces, some of the same toys and modified experiences. 

  

  C's brothers are playing at the sensory table with flour and kitchen tools. She is playing alongside them with a giant bowl of flour and some kitchen tools of her own. Later, her brothers each take turns joining her with the giant bowl!
  

C loves babies! Here she is washing one of
our baby dolls with soapy, warm water. She has
a little wash cloth to work with and a cozy blanket
to wrap baby in alongside for when bath time
is done and baby is ready to dry off.

• We know how important sensory and messy play is for children, however we often leave our littlest explorers out of this. It's true that messy play and sensory exploration is different with infants and very young toddlers. We need to consider the potential for mouthing and tasting materials. We also need to accommodate for the fact that at this stage they are not yet tall enough if they are standing to reach many sensory tables. We tend to compensate by offering sealed versions of the real deal--like sensory bottles and squish bags, and these are great as well. There are ways for the littlest players to still dig in and get messy for sensory play! Of course, you'll need adequate support and supervision. You can place a sensory bin or large bowl on the ground with sitters for them to explore water play, dried oats, pasta, beans, flour, and more. Again, know your little one and the play schemas being explored. That makes a huge difference when it comes to what is safe and practical to put in the bin!
• Besides space, consider pace. As a huge advocate for open-ended, child led play experiences, I often say that the most important thing you can provide in a play space is time. Resist the urge to rush baby's play and to direct it. Resist the urge (even if just for a short moment) to narrate the experience from your end:(i.e.: Let's wash the baby? This is a spoon, let's mix!") Perhaps try narrating it from their end: (That makes such an interesting sound when you tap it on the table, do you hear that?) If baby wants to spend ten minutes exploring one wooden peg doll, great! If baby wants to pick up and put down 20 different objects in ten minutes, also great! Adequate time and observation will also tell you how much and what to put in discovery baskets or play setups.
• Parallel play opportunities are the earliest forms of socialization for infants. I really struggled with this when Y was an infant and S was busy at play. It was so easy to just focus on my mobile player and just hold or carry or wear my yet-to-be-mobile player. In fact, the yet-to-be-mobile parallel play stage is honestly the easiest one you will have. Grasp it. Cling to it. Savor it. Soon, baby will be on the go, toppling towers, disturbing dinosaurs and causing chaos.

A beautiful playscape of parallel play! Same space,
same materials, three unique play experiences.

• Shared space and shared materials can pose a challenge for multi-aged players, particularly if siblings are involved. One thing I have navigated with both of the younger two is how to respond when an older sibling wants the exact object the baby is holding. So here's the deal: there's no right answer. Early on, there's rarely a reaction from the baby when a toy is taken away and in that sense, it can be easier to allow for it and avoid the reaction from the very vocal toddler at hand. I am, however, going to remind you that at some point, the baby will develop an opinion and vocalize it in one way or another. To help everyone prepare for this next social stage, I often provide the language around the exchange for both parties involved and to the toddler, I often ask to pick something that can be given to the baby to play with. Know that this is normal. Know that it is an assertion of control and ownership and a desire for connection on the older child's part as much as it is a desire for a particular toy and sometimes even more than a desire for a particular toy (like when C has only one magnatile in her hand out of 978 of them and Y just neeeds to have it).
• Equity versus equality is always something I keep in mind. Play looks different at every age and stage and for every child within that age and stage. Equality means that everyone gets the same thing regardless of what he/she needs. Equity occurs when everyone gets the same opportunity to have their individualized needs met. Be on the lookout for play! See it when it is happening, even if it looks different than what you imagine it should. Play serves a purpose. I try to find a way to get to yes when I can--the day is already so full of "no's." In these early stages of infant play, I feel that I learn as much about play from C as she does from engaging in it! Play is different for her than it is for Y or S, but infancy does not need to be a stage of only watching the rest of the world at play. She can--and does--join in the fun!

Happy Playing!

Get Outside ANYWAY: It's Pouring, It's Raining and We're Not Complaining!

In the three years I have run my outdoor playgroup, I have preached the importance of getting outside ANYWAY. There's no bad weather, the old Scandinavian proverb boasts--there's only inappropriate clothing. And for my own little brood, we are pretty all-weather players. We go out in warm, in cold, in sun, in rain, in wind, dark, you name it, we've played in it (barring dangerously inclement conditions). Puddle jumping is not an activity reserved for "special occasions;" a puddle is already call for a special occasion! Children, like their clothing, can be washed and dried. But when it comes to my outdoor events, I've always cancelled, postponed or relocated indoors for rainy weather because--gasp--what if nobody comes?!

S named this our "Rain Forest"

But yesterday was Tu B'Shevat, the Jewish celebration of the "new year" of the trees. And it was raining. Not even just a little. A lot. No one says, celebrate the trees only if it's sunny! In fact, in the dead of winter here, very rarely is it going to be a "beautiful day in the neighborhood" on Tu B'Shevat. And do you want to know what was happening in Jerusalem yesterday on Tu B'Shevat? SNOW! I had some great activities planned for my playgroup and it would have been very easy to just postpone or cancel--but yesterday I decided to walk my talk. Yesterday I decided the show must go on! And instead of changing the date, I changed the activity and decided that if nobody else came, at least I could stop being afraid of nobody else coming. Spoiler alert: people still came! And we had the whole park to ourselves...well, us and the trees and a lone squirrel.

I have written a slew of articles here on rainy day activities to do indoors, but today I am starting the first in what I hope will be a slew of articles on playing outdoors in the rain. Rain play is so incredibly fun. Instantly, your space is filled with two of children's very favorite loose parts: mud and water! As adults, we can have a lot of rainy day baggage. My best advice on rain play is to travel light, so let's unpack some of those bags today and get you on your way outside ANYWAY.

Fiction: Playing in the rain will make you sick.
Fact: Playing outdoors in the rain or cold will not, in fact make a person sick. Adequate clothing and protection is necessary for comfort. Keeping an eye on younger children who may not be able to communicate if they are cold or uncomfortable as well is important. But children and clothing dry. Healthy habits indoors and outside are the best way to stay healthy. With some planning and preparation, everyone (even you) can be comfortable and have fun--even while you're wet!

New favorite location to read Tap The Magic Tree by Christie Matheson--so great to see older siblings reading to the younger ones and this book is fabulous for that!

Fiction: The children will not like playing in the rain.
Fact: It might be time that I gently hold up a mirror. A mirror to you and a mirror to me. Children often respond to what the adult reflects. What are your feelings about the rain? Now I want you to think of a time you liked the rain. If you are like me and many others, that time was in your youth! If you were berated for jumping in a puddle or getting muddy, your feelings likely changed. If you were around other people who complained about getting wet or rainy days, your feelings likely changed. If you continuously heard and associated rain with "bad weather" or "not a good day to go outside," your feelings likely changed. What if you reflected a different attitude toward rain play? I will honestly say that for me this involved some "faking it till making it" on my part, because like so many others, I have some rainy day baggage. It is true that some children will have hesitance and/or discomfort in rain play for a variety of reasons--physical, sensory, intuited from others, etc.--and with planning, patience, sensitivity and creativity, these can be overcome! (So can yours.)

testing the trajectory of a stick dropped in a puddle

definitely a fan of rain play

Fiction: The parents of the children in my care will not want them to play outside in the rain.
Fact: Some parents may have hesitance and concerns about this. It is important to know your why and to be ready to defend it! For sure, you want to adhere to best practices and also be respectful of the families you work with if you are in a care-giving or teaching role. Engaging parents in preparing for all-weather outdoor play so that the children are set up with everything they need and explaining how your program will work in regard to outdoor play goes a long way in supporting the effort to get outside ANYWAY.

Here are some tips for that planning and preparation, whether it is for your own family or other children in your care:

• Have a dry change of clothes ready in your car, home or classroom. In a classroom, I'd suggest 2 or more. Include yourself here!
• Have dry towels and blankets available in your car, home or classroom.
• Waterproof rain gear can really aid in everyone's comfort. I'd suggest some or all of the following: rain boots/shoes, waterproof pants or suits, raincoats, ponchos, rain hats and/or umbrellas. If you are running a program or working in a school/daycare, it can be helpful to have parents bring/send these in ahead of time to remain on site. In my mobile program, I come with some child sized and adult sized "disposable" rain ponchos just in case. Plastic bags go a long way in a pinch--honestly, some recycled grocery bags over your shoes and a trash bag with a hole cut for a head to go through really will keep someone dry! It's not a fashion contest, folks.
• Areas of "shelter" can be helpful in the rain. Your shelter can be permanent (like a covered deck) or temporary (like a pop up tent or tunnel) or even mobile (like umbrellas or a rain fort!). Trees are great shelter from the elements, so think like an animal, bird or bug, and seek your shelter there!
• Travel light and travel waterproof. If you are mobile like I am or even just headed out to the yard or playground with stuff in tow, for once, plastic is your friend. I use a collapsible wagon to haul my load. For my activities and materials, 2 gallon ziplock bags are great. The activities done outdoors in the rain are also going to be different than usual, as they, too, will need to be waterproof. Paper activities and resources can be laminated. Books or other weather sensitive materials that will be used under covered areas can be stored and carried in plastic bins or bags that seal.

Fiction: There's nothing to do outside in the rain!
Fact: There's a LOT you can do outside in the rain. In fact, if it's your first time exploring rain play, I encourage you not to plan too much. Get to know your environment. Let the children get to know it. This is a whole new world of play and wonder!

For our event yesterday, I wanted to keep the theme tree related. Trees are such amazing sources of shelter in the rain that I decided building and using shelters would be a great take-along. I brought a pop-up tunnel and play tent. I also brought a few dollar store plastic shower curtains, bungee cords and clothes pins. We built a makeshift rain fort using these materials and some very helpful trees. The children helped as well. Older ones liked the designing aspect and connecting materials with bungee cords and clothespins. Younger ones enjoyed handing off supplies as needed. And everyone enjoyed playing, hiding and reading inside!

Y is determined to find everything in our scavenger hunt game...

We also had a fun Parts of a Tree Scavenger Hunt Game I made and brought. To make the game fun and accessible for all ages (pre-readers included) i used photos of leaves, bark, seeds/cones/pods/nuts, twigs and branches, animals and birds who live in/near trees, fruits/berries that grow on trees and roots. I laminated the photos and punched a hole in the corner of each one to store it on a metal ring. The kids ranging in age from 2-tween all had a great time searching for and finding just about everything! We didn't see any fruits or berries at our park and it took a while before S discovered our lone squirrel running for shelter under a tree.

I honestly did not know how my own kids would do in the rain. The boys are almost always game to jump in a puddle, but intentionally going outside and staying outside in the rain is somewhat novel and especially so in the cooler months of the year (although yesterday was quite mild here). I was sure to keep my own attitude and outlook positive. I took it slow and took my time. There was no need to rush and no need to push. And you know what? The only whining was when it was time to leave! (Well, except a few extra whines from Y about sharing the tunnel, wanting help to climb up a bouncy toy on the playground and umbrella frustrations...) And C? She was a pig in mud! Literally at some points!

I'll have more rain play activities for you soon. In the meantime, here's a great resource from The Empowered Educator on encouraging outdoor rain play.  I travel light in the rain, but I definitely still made room for a copy of the free e-book and my laminated poster! Got rain? Get outside ANYWAY! And as always...

An amazing view of roots. Can you spot a stick in Y's favorite letter?

Happy Playing!

"Please See Me:" A Heartfelt Letter From Your "Favorite" Student

Dear Teacher,

Please see me.

See that I am here to learn, not because I already know.

See that I am not my behaviors or my labels or my struggles

And that any and all of these are just me trying to tell you something important that I may not have the words for yet

See that it is not that I don't know how to do this or even that I can't

But that maybe I was just given the wrong tools for the job

(Show me one person who could change a tire with a disposable spoon and I have a sandbox to sell you in Florida...)

See that I am not what I did last year

Or even what I did last Tuesday

See that I am not my sibling or my friend or that kid in your class six years ago that I remind you of

See that I am not the sum of many parts with some still missing,

I am whole, I am complete, even if I am just three feet tall

See that I am worthy of second chances

Third chances

Seven hundred and ninety-fourth chances

See that I wish I could just erase all of my mistakes

But that an eraser that size would never fit inside my pencil case

See that my parents aren't clueless (although if you are a parent, you know they all are)

It's not that they don't see this, it's that they do. Magnified at 400 percent.

See that although I also drive them crazy (and trust me, it's a short trip)

That they would go to the ends of the Earth for me

So please just go to the end of the school year

Or even just to the end of the day

See that I am not the thrown toy or the meltdown or the disruption to your class

See that when the tantrum happened, that I didn't choose it, in fact it's the last thing in the world I would choose

It doesn't feel any better to me than it does for you

See that I just want to do the Right Thing and be the Big Kid

But right now I am still small

And this little body was not designed for sitting still and being quiet, for being seen but not heard

See that I walk in here every day holding a clean slate for you

And do the same for me

Because you are already The Teacher

You are already Who You Are

And I am still Becoming

In all my wiggles and giggles and mischief and strife

I am still Becoming

And I want to be so many things

Sometimes all at the same time

Sometimes I even want to be you

So please see me

Not as what I did

Or who I was

But as what I am

And who I will Become.

Love,

Your "Favorite" Student

A Peek Inside Our Playroom: Trees & Loose Parts

Something about the dead of winter makes me itch to get outside and play! And it is only fitting that it is typically in the dead of winter that Tu B'Shevat, the Jewish "new year of the trees" is celebrated, honoring the new season for fruit trees in Israel. Here in the mid-Atlantic US, our fruit trees are still pretty dormant. It will be a couple of months yet before we see buds and blossoms and the return of their leaves. But trees of all kinds are something to be celebrated (and played about) in any season! And one of my very favorite ways to play is with loose parts.


Over the past few weeks, I've gradually stocked and shifted materials on our shelves that have something to do with trees--whether it's that they are made from wood, come from a tree, are about trees or some of the wildlife that live in them...

Our Nature Table is set up for some Tree-riffic Small World Play...

Whether it's building and designing with loose parts on our rug, sculpting with salt dough, small world play or constructing, deconstructing and reconstructing foam trees with loose parts, there's something for everyone here--even little C!

I began by stocking our play shelves with various wooden loose parts and blocks, tree blocks, cinnamon sticks, wooden peg people, seasonal accents and decorations having to do with trees and even a collection of wooden teething toys in various shapes.

Sometimes the kids will play with a set up of loose parts for weeks and other times, I can tell when it starts to get a bit stale... In this case, rather than do a huge overhaul, I add something in, maybe swap a few things. Who says trees can't also be a celebration of color? So I added in some burlap ribbon, and later our wooden Grimms rainbow stacker and peg people set, some felt squares and rainbow scarves...

And just like that, it's as if it were brand spankin' new!

A small world setup by S

How far can you go...

Meanwhile, at the atelier...

The boys worked on sculptures with salt dough and a variety of loose parts including feathers, sticks, pussy willow branches, peg clothespins, cinnamon sticks, wooden craft sticks, golf tees, and other small wooden loose parts. I set out some clay/dough tools as well. This could certainly also be done with clay or playdough. I chose salt dough for it's ability to air dry in case the boys would create something they wanted to preserve.





When the salt dough was past its prime, I swapped in some craft foam "trees," and golf tees, feathers, sticks and pussy willow branches, artificial flowers, leaves, snowflakes, apples and even some random cabinet knobs I once purchased for a project that didn't work out...

I was amazed at how into this the boys got. The sculptures emerged, shifted, morphed, changed and even came with stories...

A creation by Y

A creation by S

Another one of Y's masterpieces...

S's "Robotic Tree. He has arms, a face and holes that caterpillars munched in him..."

"...he even has feet!"

Trees are such a versatile and wonderful play theme no matter the season or the reason!

Want to do more?

• Read here for more about trees
• Read here for more about Tu b'Shevat, to be celebrated this year on Monday, February 10, 2020 (beginning sundown the night before)

Well, I've got to make like a tree and leave! We'll be back soon and until then...

Happy Playing!