Meeting Our Children's Needs In Uncertain Times

Perhaps the blessing in disguise of being home all day every day with my kids right now is that I am too busy to worry. But then once they go to bed, the worries resume, running like a laundry list (with unwashed laundry piling up at the bottom) for the hours between dusk and dawn. And since I can't really tackle some of the deeper and darker items on that list or the feeling of eminent, pending doom, or the looming questions of WHAT IF, WHEN, HOW LONG, SHOULD I, WILL I, HOW and WHY, I instead turn my focus to questions I can tackle or at least tolerate right now.

And really what I have is just a list of questions. Maybe some ideas. Not a lot of answers. But here's a little of what's been on my mind in thinking about how we can meet our children's developmental needs during these uncertain times.

Schools from nursery on up have gone online and are rapidly developing distance learning programs. What does this mean for our children? What about parents? What I can say is that the outpouring of ingenuity, creativity and support in the form of educators and individuals offering whatever they can in new and novel ways is astounding. I, for one, am going to be adding the following items to my resume: basket weaving, balloon animal sculpting, home IT support for distance learning, assistant architect behind one dining room Eiffel Tower made from straws, tape and Q-tips... I used the internet in some way to support all of my newfound roles and accomplishments from YouTube videos to show me how to make a balloon sword to Amazon for adding a basket-weaving kit to my birthday wish list (thank you, Mom!), to Pinterest for the ideas on building with straws and tape to Scholastic's website for providing my eldest with reading activities... But how did we go from a family who used screen time somewhat sparingly to being a family who relies on it for socialization, communication, education, and more?

I've gotta hand it to you parents out there with your color coded schedules and slots for attending this Zoom dance party and that Live Story time--I'm flying by the seat of my skirt here. It's going alright so far and I spend much of the day focused on getting from A to B rather than A to Z. A to B is manageable. And while I am worried about aspects of skill loss (similar to what happens during summer breaks), I am less concerned about the "academic" end of that with my younger children. What most concerns me as a parent of children ages 5 and under is meeting their needs for movement, social development and emotional wellness in an environment that is less conducive to any and all of these.

So as I usually do when I have a suitcase full of stuff, I'll unpack one thing at time...

Meeting Our Children's Need for Movement in Restricted Spaces: I've worked in small spaces as a teacher and lived in small spaces as a parent. This end of it is nothing new. What is novel is the fact that we can't move beyond these smaller spaces. How can my children meet their developmental needs for physical movement in the same, small environment for the foreseeable future? Yes we are so incredibly fortunate to have space outdoors to use and some tools and tricks indoors. But add to this as well that all three of my children have hypotonia and were gross-motor delayed. And that C just started physical therapy but will likely not have support or at least support in the same way right now. We can do a lot from home, but I can't recreate the experience of a playground or the woods or a game of tag played with lots of peers or a gymnastics studio...
What I can do is mix it up and get creative. We change spaces often. We build forts and use furniture to encourage heavy lifting. We get outside and run in the grass, play "keep it in the air" with a giant beach ball, ride bikes around a parking lot that is so desolate now that it's finally safe to ride. We let them jump on their mattresses. We do a bit of rough and tumble play with Tatty. We turn play, science and art activities into movement ones as well. Building a tall tower of straws and tape encourages bending and reaching, climbing and balancing, walking around and between people and materials so as not to knock it over... Art activities are done at the table but also on the floor and vertically on the wall. Smaller muscle groups are challenged and used with sensory play and cooking and gluing, cutting, beading, building... And encouraging and supporting independence in tasks that may have been more challenging is something we have plenty of time for now.

Meeting Our Children's Social Development Needs During Social Distancing: This, among all of my educational concerns, is perhaps my greatest one right now. In these earlier years, socialization is my primary focus when it comes to school. Reading will happen, writing comes along, math skills develop all at their own rate and quite naturally when children are given access to play and conversation and life experience. But how can we support pro-social behaviors in this population, not to mention children older than mine, from a stance of isolation? I cannot recreate the social environment of a schoolyard or a classroom from behind the screen of my laptop. A video playdate just isn't the same as the interaction that occurs on a school playground. Sibling rivalry offers plenty of opportunities for problem solving and conflict resolution, but it does not equal the experience of problem solving and resolving conflicts between friends and peers or even children and other adults. The experience and challenges of relationships between siblings and between children and their parents is inherently different from their relationships outside of the home. I have a son who greatly needs the experience of more playdates and opportunities to work on social skills and now he has no opportunities for this.
In getting creative and entering my problem solving mode, I've come up with some ideas. Games--especially board games, are a great tool for promoting social skills in young children and also encourage other skill development (plus, they are fun!). Through age appropriate card games, board games and even backyard games, children experience the challenges of taking turns, waiting, problem solving, abstract thinking, sharing, regulating emotions around "losing" or "winning," developing empathy toward others in these emotions, honesty (not cheating!)... Executive functioning tasks like following rules/directions, organizing multiple steps and tasks in space and time, focus and attention are also addressed. In addition to this, I am finding playful ways to "mix it up" here and expand beyond rigidity. I never like to push beyond a safe range of comfort zones and particularly in a time when all routines and the comforts of predictability are totally out the window, I am mindful not to be too aggressive with this one. But little things like having breakfast for dinner or eating lunch outside and even adjusting to all being home together every single day are opportunities for children who thrive on routine to the detriment of being able to cope with something different to really work on this skill set.

Meeting Our Children's Emotional Needs While Our Own Emotions Are On High Alert: I am a firm believer in being honest with our children and giving them adequate information for their age and level of understanding. I am a firm believer in telling our children that we are here to help them and to protect them. I am usually able to tell my children and my students not to worry because the adults in their life will keep them safe and if we're not worried, they don't need to be either. The problem here is that the adults are worried. And I think we need to be reasonably honest about that, too. "Grownups are worried right now because this is something new for us, too. When something is new, it can feel scary. But we are learning what we can and we will use everything we know to help." But there is a lot we don't know. And as much as we can, we need to shield our children from adult sized worry and panic. We also need to shield ourselves as much as we can from over-sized worry and panic. Easier said than done. Self care is vital for everyone, whether you are still out and working or at home alone or at home with kids...we don't need to "one up" each other on who has it worse right now. Isolation and fear are taking their toll on everyone in every way. We need to recognize that good enough right now is good enough. That if you have a pretty color coded schedule and it's working for you, you rock! If you're winging it, you rock! If you're posting pictures of activities you do with your kids, you rock! If you're not posting pictures of the dirty dishes, laundry pile and your arms flailing in exasperation for the umpteenth time today because your phone died after uploading the 21st photo of the only two minutes where everyone was happy and not crying, you rock!

Our emotions are on high and our energy is on low. Try as we might, we can't hide it from our kids. We can't completely protect them from our experience of this pandemic because it is new to us as well. What we can do is start over. As often and as many times as necessary. I've said it today already and I'll probably say it again--"let's start over." "Let's try that again." And let's also get creative with those resources. Self care looks very different right now when we can't go to the coffee shop or the bar or the nail salon or the movies. For those of us in the workforce, there are financial concerns and worries about career stability. For those of us on the home front, isolation is hard. With kids at home all day, there's no "but he'll be in school soon" light at the end of the tunnel. There's no end to the presence of our little mini-mes all day long and the light at the end of the tunnel is there, but it has to look different right now. It might be just getting to the next part of the day when one will be asleep and I can get outside with the other two who will be occupied enough that I can sit with a travel cup of coffee. And after hours upon hours of kid conversation, I just want to use words like "toilet" instead of "potty" and for goodness' sake, can't I just say "a$$" instead of "tushy?!" Thank G-d for social networking in periods of social isolation. I am introverted and like my time and space, but this is a lot of time and space. I miss the cashier at Walmart. I miss the receptionist at the gym. I miss the maintenance guy in my bathroom for the 892nd time fixing the same damn problem with my potty, I mean, toilet. But thank G-d I do have my kids and my husband. I can't imagine how hard this is for those who live alone with their thoughts and their worries and their inner monologue all day and night. I already want to divorce myself after 8 hours of being mostly awake in my bed at night! Or at least have a little time apart...perhaps see other people...

What Am I Not Worried About: Finally a list I can sink my teeth into! I'm not worried [too much] about my kids being "ready for" first grade/pre-K/____. We are all in this same boat just trying to stay above water. Our education system has been in crisis long before this crisis. I have talked about here at length--the over "academification" of early childhood education. We move our children too fast, beyond what is developmentally appropriate, reasonable and sustainable. And instead of producing a generation of children who love to learn and who will carry us to the peaks of innovation and education, we are producing a generation of children who lack the skills to play, who hate school by the time they are in first grade, who have all the skills in place to build a rocket but none of the skills in place to troubleshoot when systems fail. Education in our country has been forced to slow down. This is going to take time and right now, time is, G-d willing, one thing we have in abundance. If there is a silver lining to any of this, perhaps this is one. We are here at home reading to our kids, playing with our kids, problem solving with our kids, resolving conflicts with our kids, cooking with them, cleaning with them, learning with them, growing with them. We have absolutely nothing else we can do. And it's novel right now, so it's kind of fun. S even said "Mommy school is more fun than regular school because you get to play more." But I also know that novelty will wear off. We will get frustrated. We will get cabin fever. We will get bored. And from boredom comes amazing things...I can't wait to see what they will be!

So I still have way more questions than I have answers. It's easier to wonder if my kids will go back to school this year at all than it is to address many of the other questions I have on that list. I am the pendulum swinging between feeling so sure I've got this and so afraid that I don't. And when I swing to the latter side, my concerns on the former feel trivial and silly. Worrying about my kids' development and education while there are far greater concerns to worry about. But that worrying isn't helpful and what is helpful at this time is getting outside of myself and finding ways to offer what I can to others. I hope that this "space" is one where you can access ideas for play and fun and connection with your family right now. I hope that if there is anything related to play, early learning and family support that I can offer to you or anyone you know, you'll feel comfortable to reach out and ask. Please remember that play is not a privilege, it is a right. It is the right of every child and every adult! And if nothing else gets done today, play will--and when it does, know that it is enough. And in these uncertain times when we need it more than ever, I wish us safety, health, healing and, as always...

Happy Playing

Perhaps They Will Play?

Schools have shut down. Local facilities and places of worship are closed. Businesses and companies are preparing for remote working, shut downs, and implementing support for extended or unlimited sick leave. Grocery stores are packed with people and emptied of toilet paper, soap, hand sanitizer, kombucha. Kombucha? Really people? So I checked on Amazon. Nope. No toilet paper. But--fear not, I also checked several versions of OTC birth control methods and it seems that at least for the time being, those are still in stock--let's see what happens by the time we all have at least the next two weeks, if not longer, home with our kids. But in all seriousness, there are many and mixed emotions about this and none of them are wrong. But one of the questions that has come up again and again between parents, educators, schools and learning institutions is this: what will our children do?

There have been a variety of answers from around the globe but here's mine, right here from my couch: Perhaps they will play.

Yes, in the face of a novel coronavirus, I see the demise of play being only a novelty. Yes, the lines at grocery stores, drug stores and big box stores and ACMoore are out the door, but you know who gets to move to the front of the line? Play. Maybe, just maybe, if there is a silver lining to all of this it is that for the first time in a long time, or maybe even ever, people will play. Not just children, but grown ups, too! Without the hours filled by structured activity and scheduled routines, perhaps we will play.

And it may look and feel a little funny at first. We might be a little rusty. For some, this will be a whole new horizon. But somewhere, deep inside us all, is an inherent need, desire and knowledge of how to play. Yes, there is work to be done. Yes, our children need to learn. Yes, play is enough for now. So will I be setting up shop to homeschool my kids? Not quite. Will I be setting up activities to inspire my kids? Probably--but only because that is how *I* play. And will every moment be filled with plans and structure and sunshine and rainbows? Nope. Honestly, there are going to be moments here that are a total &#$* show because there always are! I just can't catch them on camera because I'm too busy flailing my arms and yelling in a loud, booming voice... But in between those less than Instagram worthy moments will be unstructured, unplanned, uninterrupted play.

And it won't look "perfect." There will be boredom and from that will come critical thinking and problem solving and creativity. There will be arguing and from that will come conflict resolution and relationship and connection. There will be messes. So many messes. And cleaning. So much cleaning. And scientific discoveries and experiments and concoctions and explosions. There will be glitter. There will be tears. There will be playdough and colors mixed beyond recognition. There will be laughter to the point of tears to the point of remembering that after 3 pregnancies, laughter to the point of tears is risky business during a toilet paper shortage. There will be trips to the park. There will be rainy days we put on our rain suits and rubber boots, grab our umbrellas and get outside anyway. We will see the best in others. We will see the worst in others. Fear does that. We will also see the best and worst in ourselves. Like I said, fear does that. There will be questions. So many questions. There will be talking. So much talking. There will be hopes and wishes and disappointments and frustrations and surprises and wonders and curiosities.

So lean into this play. Let it be the first time in a long time that you do. Let it be OK to not fill the moments or the minutes or the hours. Let it be OK to play a bit yourself. Let it be OK to fall apart like a giant block tower being knocked down. And get up again. Rebuild. Regroup. Remember. Remember what it's like to play for the sake of play. Not for "learning" or for "purpose" or for "product." Those things happen anyway, trust me! So dive into this. Lose track of time. Immerse in the deep waters of Pretend and Make Believe--whether you're revisiting an old and sacred space or entering this world for the very first time. You can dip your big toe in and then another and then your foot, your ankle, your leg. Or you can grab your legs at the knees and do a cannonball off the high dive. There's no wrong way to play. Be silly. Be dramatic. Be someone else. Be something else. Be joyful. Be authentic. Be speedy. Be still. Be gigantic. Be tiny. Be invisible. Be invincible.

I wonder what will come to mind in 20 years when we look back on this time? I wonder what will come to our children's minds in 20 years when they look back on this time? I wonder if this had happened sooner if ACMoore stores might have stayed in business with all the shoppers stocking up on emergency craft reserves? If you need ideas for play activities, you know I've got your back here. But also know that you don't need ideas for play activities. The definition of play in and of itself negates the whole "activity" end of it. Play is chosen. Play is natural and happens in its own space and time frame. Sometimes it moves with great velocity and zeal. Sometimes it looks a bit slower, more withdrawn, even sedentary. Move with it. Sit with it. Watch it and be in awe of it. This is the moment play has been waiting for. And since we're all home to stay, let them play, let them play, let them play!


Be well, be safe, just be! And as always...

Happy Playing!

What My Ridiculous Nightmare Taught Me About Children & Weapon Play

I had a ridiculous nightmare last night. The kind of ridiculous nightmare I wake up from and can't go back to sleep because I'm afraid of having another ridiculous nightmare. Maybe it was that one extra hamentasch I'd had after the Shabbos meal, right before bed. Maybe it was the game I was playing with S right before dinner. Maybe it was the topic of children and weapon-play that has been on my mind lately in general. So I woke up my husband to tell him I'd had a bad dream. And he knows the deal: no one's going back to sleep until I tell him about it. Even as I'm telling him, I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous and even I can't figure out why it was so scary to me.

I had been locked inside of a big, dark room. I managed to get out and walk through an equally dark hallway to the top of a stairwell where across the room was a light, curly-haired woman holding a gun. I held up my arm, extended my forefinger forward, thumb up in the air and three fingers pointing back at me. I proceeded to make all of the right noises "chew chew chew." but even Ridiculous Dream Me knew that my 5 year old style hand gun with "chew chew chew" noises was no match for a real weapon. And then I woke up.

And as I lay there, still shaken even half an hour later, I realized that this is the epitome of adult worry: holding up a pretend gun made out of your hand when everyone else has real weapons. Powerlessness because in spite of seeing what's coming at you, you have all the wrong tools for the job. And my adult worries, similarly to my childhood fears, still feel a size too big. Especially in the middle of the night after one too many hamentaschen.

The topic of weapon play has been at the forefront of my mind as S and several of his classmates explore it on the playground. It's an area that has peaked my curiosity long before S first came home from school in the fall with all new vocabulary and dramatization around it. I've read research, engaged in conversations with other educators and early childhood specialists, listened to podcasts and lectures and even reflected on it myself. What is it that draws in the level of curiosity and exploration our young children have with weapon play? So many are quick to say it's the internet or television or video games. And yet, long before there were PJ Masks and Ninja Turtles on the playground, there were Cowboys and Indians, Cops and Robbers. Weapon play is nothing new.

Our adult ears are so sensitive to those "chew chew chew" sounds. We cringe at hearing a five year old child use words like "kill" and "shoot" and "smash their head in." We either redirect, disallow, ignore or a combination of all three. And our children intuit one way or the other that, for some reason, this is something we do not play... We would not "play-shame" a child for pretending to be a teacher or a wizard or a turtle...but for pretending to be a soldier or a ninja or, heaven forbid, a "bad guy?" We are justified in this because bad guys are, well, bad. And when we say "we don't play..." it becomes essentially that red button on the playground that says "Don't Push Me." Or, they get more creative than that and begin to play in private. Either way, that play happens. It has to. It's almost compulsive. They may mask that gun as a fire hose or a squirt toy, but it's still shooting.

"Ask a child what they are shooting and they will almost never say a bullet." said one educator in a group discussion on this topic. So I tried it. I asked S on numerous different occasions in the Fall when he came home with an interest in weapon play what he was shooting. Sure enough, every time it was something different. Fire. Poison. Ice cream. Bubbles. Never bullets. I fought the urge in those months to redirect, sometimes less successfully than others, but most of the time I realized this play had to run its course. And it did, at home, at least. More recently it's crept its way into his classroom and school playground with many peers. And the issue has been of concern to many parents. I feel slightly less concerned having the "evidence based knowledge" that this is normal and developmentally typical. I do, however, still have a discomfort with it.

S and I were playing together on Friday night after the Shabbos meal. The game morphed into S using a toy bottle as a "poison shooter." I grabbed the closest thing to me, a Mitzvah Machine (which looks curiously like a toy Keurig coffee maker). Every time his poison shooter shot poison at one thing or another, the Mitzvah Machine shot bubbles of good deeds or slime of kind acts or even glitter powder of helpfulness. Eventually, the Poison Shooter relented and decided to enter the Mitzvah Machine and repent for his unkind acts with plenty of more altruistic ones. But this didn't happen until Saturday afternoon! So maybe that ridiculous nightmare was also triggered (pun intended) by the game being yet unresolved when we went to bed...

And here I was, in that dark balcony of a place I've never been staring at this woman I've never seen, holding up my pretend gun shouting "chew, chew, chew," but I can't remember how to play. And that's when it hits me:

We can't remember how to play. For our youngest children, much of their lives are beyond their grasp--whether literally or cognitively. So much is out of their control, but when they play, they can control everything. They can be anything, become anything, overcome anything. And we can't remember. We can't remember what it's like to have all of the power to change in your hands and none of the hopelessness of defeat. And we've forgotten how to change; we've met defeat so many times it's often easier just to stay the same. To still be holding up that pretend gun made out of your hand even though The Enemy has real weapons. But what is this elusive enemy? With her slight figure and light curly hair? Across a balcony in a dark room in a place we've never been? It's worry.

Worry that our children will become what they play. But let me tell you something about children and play. Children embody their play. Completely. Get a group of five year olds with cats on their mind and you're going to have meowing, purring, licking, clawing--the full feline experience. There's no just talking about a cat--they must be the cat and completely commit to the cat until that cat is done. And let me tell you something else. I have known children who have pretended to be cats since I was a child pretending to be a cat and not one of them, not one has become a cat. Some still talk about cats. Some even have cats. One actually had a separate Facebook profile for her cat, but I digress...

Play is the experience of a child. It is the ability to hold the whole world in your hands when 85% of it still requires a step stool to reach. Play is for fun. It is for learning. It is for release. It is for control. It is for power. It is for conflict and resolution. It is for experimenting and trying on for size. Play is for wonder and for curiosity and for questions and for answers. Play is a lot of things and I firmly believe it has to happen. It has to run its course. It has a purpose and when the purpose is fulfilled, the play changes. The cat gives way to a dog that gives way to a dragon that gives way to a wizard that gives way to a Bad Guy that gives way to Batman...

When the hand is a magic wand, we don't worry. Even if that magic wand can obliterate the world in one fell swoop, it's whimsical, mystical and pretend. But when the same is a gun, it hits too close to home. It epitomizes to us that world that for adults is 85% still out of our reach and there is no step stool. The difference between the child and the adult, however, is that their hand being a gun is not equivalent to the loss of innocence. That we can't remember this--that is the loss of innocence. The fact that at one point we learned the difference between a magic wand and a gun--that's when innocence was lost. And likely, it was a realization that came from an adult. And it's important in life to know the difference between a magic wand and a gun, but does it have to be on the playground when you're five years old shouting "chew chew chew" and an adult comes to tell you "we don't play..."

We don't play. We don't remember how and even when we try, it's tailored by an adult mind that can't recall the playground anymore. I have to have this Mitzvah Machine because what else do I do when someone is shooting poison at me? The only thing I know how. I toss out the only tools I have, good deeds, kindness and helpfulness. And maybe that's exactly what I need. Maybe those are the right tools. Maybe Ridiculous Dream Me had nothing but a pretend gun made out of my own hand because play is enough.

Happy Playing!

Troubleshooting Tuesday: HELP! The kids aren't playing!

I've heard it from teachers. From parents. From my own lips. "Help! The kids aren't playing!" What do we do when we've "set up shop," we have all the "right things," but the children don't seem engaged? Today I'm going to take you through some of my own favorite troubleshooting steps--and you might find some of them a bit surprising...

But before I begin, I want to unpack this term "play." What is play? I like the work of Dr. Peter Gray when it comes to defining and exploring the concept of play both for children and adults. Here is a brief synopsis of 5 points he uses to define play and you can read more on that here:

1. Play is self-chosen and self-directed.
2. Play is activity in which means are more valued than ends.
3. Play has structure, or rules, which are not dictated by physical necessity but emanate from the minds of the players.
4. Play is imaginative, non-literal, mentally removed in some way from “real” or “serious” life.
5. Play involves an active, alert, but non-stressed frame of mind.

So when I get that nagging feeling in my gut that my kids or my students are not playing--I begin with that first point and this first step:

Finish the sentence. "The kids are not playing____" and? When I challenge myself to finish the sentence, it helps me to direct my attention toward a solution (if needed) or toward a better understanding of what is really going on. In particular, sometimes I have found that my perception of the children not playing is tainted by my perception of what their playing should look like. 

More and more, our early childhood venues are recognizing and reclaiming the importance of play in childhood. However, driven both by the external pressures of the "schoolification" of early childhood and the self-imposed pressures of Pinterest perfect play scenes, we sometimes miss the mark when it comes to truly nurturing and fostering an environment for play. 

If play is "self-chosen" and "self-directed," we need to recognize that even "playful activities" inspired for learning through play are still adult-directed. We also need to recognize that in our daycare and classroom settings--and even in our homes--parameters around play such as time limits, space limits, occupancy limits, limits on how materials are used, where they are used, when they are used, etc., are all externally chosen and directed. That said, this is not necessarily a bad thing! There are reasons those limits are set in some instances--safety, necessity of schedule, environmental factors and so on. And other times, perhaps we could increase our own flexibility.

"Wait!" you are saying... "but I do have a classroom/home that is full of play opportunities! Even my learning centers are play based!" So, yes, we do have a lot of play based activities in our homes and classrooms. However, once we begin to filter these experiences by where they should happen (dramatic play area, block area, library, art center, sensory table) or how long children may or must remain at an activity (sometimes even with timers!) and when they must be done or finished ("hey, it's time to go outside now" or even, "you're not done yet, you haven't filled the page!")...yeah, we kind of lost the child-chosen and child-directed aspect of play. 

In finishing that sentence, "the kids are not playing____," here are some of the most frequent versions I or others have experienced:

"The kids are not playing the way I expected them to." I set up a dramatic play scene for a vet shop, but the kids want to give me a check up. I put out paint and brushes, but the children are using their fingers. I envisioned they would use these loose parts to design a tree but they are building a house. The baby dolls are for the home living area but the children are bringing them to the block area. In these instances, it is usually easy for me to recognize in finishing that sentence that I, the adult, had expectations that were different from the children in my care. And then comes the part about choice. If choice is an inherent factor in true play, can I find a way to allow for choice? And the choice is also yours. Remember that it is not the end of the world if you have to set limits and parameters at times either out of necessity or even comfort. I do challenge us all to safely and securely expand our comfort zones, however that does not mean ignoring our own needs in favor of meeting everyone else's.

"The kids are not playing, they are....[being destructive, being loud, being silly, throwing things, being disrespectful to the materials...]" This one is so challenging to me. Whether I've intentionally set up an activity, set out a material or it's just their own toys at home, to see children using things in ways that I perceive as destructive strikes a nerve with me every time. And then I break that sentence down to focus on that last part. What they are doing. I challenge myself to see the action without the judgment of it--so perhaps to see the throwing without the qualifying characteristic of that being destructive or disrespectful. Many times it is helpful to look at the intention behind the action. A child who is not displaying signs of strong emotions in the moment of throwing a toy may not be throwing a toy to be angry, hurtful or destructive. Even if big feelings are a motivator, they may not have the recognition developmentally of that being "disrespectful." The intent is huge here. No, we cannot let children use things in a way that is destructive and harmful to the materials, to themselves, to others or to their space. But can we meet the need in another way? Deconstruction is a common childhood play schema--the interest in and urge to take things apart and discover how they work. So is trajectory (throwing things) and seeing how they move within our space. When we familiarize ourselves with common childhood play schemas it can help filter our perceptions of what is typical, what we can do to meet our children's play needs and to let go of some of that frustration and pressure we impose on ourselves. You can read some more about common play schemas here.

"The kids are not playing long enough." We've all seen it. Kids darting from one activity to another before you can blink an eye. Or kids visiting a new activity for the first time only to flee after a few minutes and move on to something old and familiar. Consider a few things that may be happening here. On the one hand, if you wait and watch, you might notice a child return to an activity for a longer period of time. Sometimes it is not that they didn't spend long enough, it's that we didn't. It takes a decent chunk of time for most children to deeply engage in play. And within this period of time, you will notice shifts in energy, focus and attention, pace and flow. It is similar to how we function in a work task; play truly is the work of our children. And engagement with an activity or experience can look different between an adult and a child and between one child and another. And even with the same child from one time to another. Alternatively, perhaps your expectations of how much time a child should spend on an activity were unrealistic. Again here, the intent plays a role. If a child has met their play intention with something and chooses to move on out of feelings of completion, that is "long enough."

And the tendency for some children to frequently return to familiar play things or scenarios is not necessarily a bad thing either. The children who opt out of a new or exciting activity that is offered in favor of building a tower for Elsa out of Magnetiles for the 973rd time is still needing to build that tower. Perhaps they are working out the engineering and mechanical end of it, navigating structural challenges and magnetism. Perhaps they are working through the story line end of it as they build on the theme both literally and figuratively. But this doesn't mean you need to throw out the baby with the bathwater. Leave the novel activity out, let them return later if they choose and if not, feel free to reintroduce it again at another date. We tend to feel so much pressure as parents and educators to reinvent the wheel every day. To offer something new and different from the day before. And we need to remember for ourselves and for our children--repetition is the essence of learning and development at this point.

"The kids are not playing with _____." I hear this one a LOT. Whether it's related to a specific area, toy/material, or even all encompassing--as in the children are not playing with most or any of the toys offered in a space. Especially when I hear (or say) "the kids are not playing with anything and they have so many toys," I usually find my answer right in the statement itself. Too much of a good thing is possible here. Sometimes having too many things out and available feels like option overload to our little players. Sometimes taking a portion of that away opens up space both physically and mentally to engage more deeply with what is available.  Many people worry that "taking things away" will be hard for the children and it doesn't necessarily have to be. If a child (including my own) asks "where is ___" or "why is ____ not out anymore?" I simply explain I put it away for now and will bring it back another time. Sometimes kids won't even say anything at all about such a change and will rather just begin to engage in play with what is out and available. And while many say it's easier to add than take away and to keep things minimal, especially at first, I don't think it is an all or nothing scenario. It's OK to start off with a minimal approach like this; it's also OK if you didn't and need to backtrack a bit.

"The kids aren't playing all of a sudden and they were just playing so nicely!" OK, how do I say this in a nice way? Um, they stopped playing because I came over. I've done this so many times in my classrooms or my home. The kids are playing, everyone's happy, not a worry in the world. So I waltz on in with my adult two cents. Maybe I decide to suggest we count the blocks in that Duplo tower. Or maybe I comment about what they're drawing. Or maybe I ask which superheroes they're pretending to be. Either way, I was not invited. And does someone always need an invitation to join in? No, but if you are the adult in the room, an unannounced and unplanned "visit" may not feel so welcome to the young players. In fact, it can feel like an interruption or intrusion. Have you ever watched a child approach a group of kids already engaged in play? This is where I take my cues. Some children will just watch for a bit and feel their way into joining the game. Many will say, "can I play?" I learn from their approach that there is great value in watching without labeling or hijacking and asking for an invitation is a beautiful skill! And if, as the adult in the room, your kids or students are playing nicely and all is well, you're not being lazy or unproductive by not saying and doing anything at all. You're not missing an opportunity to teach math if you don't count the Duplos. They already have the idea of one-to-one correspondence when they match one bump to one hole. Not to mention geometry, spacial awareness, "some," "a lot," "more," and so on...

There is a big push today to include open ended materials and loose parts play opportunities in homes and classrooms. Sometimes this push is a wee bit militant. I love loose parts play and open ended materials. I also think "traditional" toys have their place and "single function" playthings are still fun for kids and meaningful in play. In fact, when it comes to what children play with, I don't care as much about that as I do with how they play. Anything can be an "open ended loose part" if a child chooses to use it in such a way. However, in terms of including loose parts play opportunities, I do have a few suggestions here as well.

Many teachers or parents who take the loose parts plunge will note that they put out a whole bunch of stuff but the children don't really play with it. Again, sometimes I revisit those statements to decipher whether they are indeed not playing or if perhaps their play looks differently than I anticipated. Many times, this type of playing is new to children who may be used to playing with more traditional toys. If it is a novel way to play for you as well, they may pick up on some of your energy around it.. We often want to provide a lot of options of materials to use all at once, and many times it can be more effective to offer a large quantity of fewer materials at a time so the children can really explore them more deeply.

So many times I will be asked when I'm setting out a particular collection of objects, "what are you going to do with that?" and my response will be, "put it here and watch." But sometimes I also forget that I said that and then I might suggest things the children could do or demonstrate things they could create and all of a sudden, I have totally hijacked their play experience. Especially in cases where a child might feel particularly sensitive to not being able to replicate an adult design or idea, this can be hindering. I am definitely not saying to never set out a provocation or invitation to play, to never partake in a project based art activity or to never leave a little love note of play by setting up a small world scene or setting out a dramatic play environment. Everything can have its place and merit in a playroom.

It can also be a very enlightening experience to fully step out and back and to watch what the children do given the opportunity of adequate time and space. I often refer to time as my favorite loose part! We tend to want to jump in, to rescue our children from moments of idleness or silence, to protect them against boredom or redundancy. To match the play experience to the Instagram picture that inspired us to provide it. I have talked in the past about seeing a rising theme in my classrooms of children who "don't know how to play," and when I delve a bit deeper into that concept, I feel it needs to be reworded. It is not that children today do not know how to play, it is that many of them have not had many opportunities to engage in deep, self-directed. Play that is completely of their own choosing and not at all adult directed or inspired.

So what is our role as parents, caregivers and educators? I think we also need to look at our own play deficits. How often do we engage in deep, self-directed "play?" Can you think of the last time you played? What did that look like? Certainly our adult expressions of play are different from those of a child, but the need is the same. The need for a space that is entirely of our own creation. A pace that is entirely of our direction. And a purpose that is of our choosing. And when it comes to our children?There is no perfect pedagogy, no perfect toy, no perfect design of a space to play in or perfect agenda with regard to what you do in that space. There are a lot of right ways to play! There are a lot of right ways to facilitate play. There are a lot of right ways to honor, respect and nurture play. And there are a lot of ways that play can manifest. Allow yourself to consider the full sentence the next time you find yourself in that tailspin of worry and until then...

Happy Playing!

Play in Motion, Part II: Making Room[s] for Movement

Yesterday we dived deep into the need for movement in play. In fact, play is such a dynamic childhood function that I would argue motion will happen in play, regardless of how much we attempt to or desire to stifle it by encouraging young children to sit still or designating particular areas for particular activities and particular materials for particular functions. The age old phrase "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em," comes to mind today as I guide you through some practical ways to support movement through play in your own home or classroom space.

When we think of movement in play we often look only at what's commonly referred to as "gross motor play," such as games and activities that encourage large muscle movement. We also tend to think about it on a horizontal trajectory. It is also important to include vertical movement (as depicted to the left where Y is drawing on a chalkboard wall) and fine motor movement in this category as well. So much development happens for young children through activities that cross the mid-line and those that encourage balance, spacial awareness, coordination of multiple movements at once, and so on.

So how can we tweak our play environments to encourage and support children's natural need for movement? Here are a few tips and tricks and I'd love to hear some more from you as you've found things that are helpful in your own environment!

Set the Stage: Think of this as a play in three acts. Scene 1 is gathering everything necessary to complete a task. Scene 2 is carrying out the task at hand. Scene 3 is restoring everything to its proper place at the completion of the task. We often set up our homes and classrooms in such a way that we, the adults, are carrying out Scenes 1 and 3 in a solo monologue. It's faster/cleaner/more efficient/easier to set up and clean up activities for our children. I know; I do it. But this is what I have observed: children have a simultaneous need for both the movement and the confidence that comes from being empowered and allowed to set up, carry through and clean up their own play activities. It would be faster, cleaner, more efficient and much easier to set out art mats, paints, brushes, smocks, a jar of water and paper on the table when we want to paint and to handle the cleanup when the kids are asleep. Instead, there are paints at child level in the atelier, stored in empty soap pump bottles. There are plastic paint trays and the boys know to begin with two pumps of a color and come back for more as needed. They can grab a vinyl placemat from beside the shelves and a smock as well if they wish. There is a jar stocked with brushes and a file sorter stocked with papers. There are empty glass vases to be filled with water in the bathroom so they can rinse a brush between colors. There is also a basket in the bathroom of washcloths to use for clean up or messy hands. On the table itself is a tray holding a spray bottle with soapy water and a washcloth for cleaning up a spill or wiping down after we finish a messy activity or meal. Does this involve a lot of prompts and reminders? Yes. Does it involve a lot of snafus along the way? Yes. Are there times that I "close" the atelier or parts of it or go back to the comforts of setting up and cleaning up activities myself? Also yes.

But here's another thing I noticed: when children in my classrooms or my home are involved in the movement of Scenes 1 and 3, Scene 2 goes a lot smoother. They remember more by learning how to do tasks through movement. A child carrying out all of the tasks to set up and clean up a painting activity retains more of the multiple steps involved than a child who never experiences the opportunity but rather is one day verbally prompted to do so somewhere down the line. And the movement of these seemingly menial tasks also addresses the need for movement and energy release that can hinder a more "sedentary" art experience. The children who got intentional movement in before and during and after an art activity were far more likely to work with care and intention than those who were invited to sit at a table and expected to paint a picture. For example, I have rarely taught a class where there is not at least one child who, although he/she can draw and write at recognizable and representational level, will always go immediately toward scribbling and scrabbling across the page. This is the artistic expression of a need for movement. Those same children produce amazing masterpieces when supplied with a "scribble sheet" alongside the art paper or a pencil sharpener and basket for shavings to work those fine motor muscles or an opportunity to walk all the way across the room to the shelf that has an empty jar and then to the bathroom to fill it with water, but only half way and then the balancing act that must occur to transport it from there, back to the table, without spilling, to rinse a murky paintbrush. This isn't a "brain break" to get up and do ten jumping jacks; it is intentional and relevant movement with the activity at hand. Brain breaks are great in their own rite and children do need opportunities to move about that are not task related, but the movement involved in carrying out their play from start to finish is invaluable on so many levels.

These tiny nuances are so easy to overlook. I do it all the time at home and in my classrooms. I zip their coats for them. I open their lunch containers. I clean up the toys when they are asleep and then get frustrated when they are awake and don't put the toys away themselves. Why would they? Would they even know how to? And then there are the three basic kinds of kids when it comes to the aforementioned lunch table that first day of school when the teacher doesn't come and open the container. Kid 1 will now learn how to open it himself. Kid 2 will ask for help. Kid 3 will sit there and look at the container and want what is inside but not know how to proceed. He probably won't starve, but it's not an ideal situation and it should be noted that I am the mother of at least one Kid 3.

So setting that stage is an investment. An investment of your time and your ingenuity and your creativity and definitely your patience. But that investment will pay off in so many ways--both immediately visible and visible down the line. Teach a man to fish, you know... And particularly in small and shared spaces, it can be tricky to set things up in a way that, to an adult, feels convenient. My adult brain cannot immediately wrap itself around the challenge of having to pick up the paint bottles and pump 2 times on a tray but not until you carry those items to a table that is all the way across the room because the atelier is in our living room space right near our couch and there's a lovely, albeit, colorful (just in case) throw run on the floor below it. And the bathroom is across from it but just about as far away from the dining room table we most frequently paint at as possible. A LOT can happen between that table and that door knob. A LOT. And yes, sometimes it does get a little messy here... But the boys have a level of confidence that yields a level of competence. Their young brains can totally wrap around all of those steps--footsteps and task steps. So instead of seeing the layout of our space as a hindrance, I see it as an opportunity for meaningful movement. Win-win.


Tools of the Trade: There are a variety of schemas in early childhood play that are significant and invaluable to the developmental process. Many of these are movement related. Children have an inherent need and curiosity to explore transportation, connection/putting things together, destruction/taking things apart, filling up, pouring out, trajectory, sorting, putting in order, lining up objects and more... Having the right tools for the trade is helpful. Baskets, trays, containers, buckets, scoops, shovels, spoons, bowls, space, time, flat surfaces, bumpy surfaces, soft spaces, cozy spaces, high up spaces and low to the ground spaces. These are all tools. I recently read an article about a teacher who recognized the inherent need children in his classroom had to pour the contents of the sand table out on the floor. So instead of fighting a never ending battle, the man bought a 5 gallon bucket. Need to dump it out? Dump it in here! Brilliance. Sheer brilliance.
My boys are currently totally obsessed with our magnetiles for building towers. They will build it as tall as it can possibly be built, sometimes with help from a taller family member as well. And their enthusiasm to building it is only second to their enthusiasm to smash it down. It's not "destruction" without a function, the act of destroying the tower is the function. It's a need for movement. It's a need to take things apart. It's the start of just about every fight S and Y have lately (because Tower A was built for knocking down but Tower B was meant to remain standing even though no one explicitly stated that before the fact)...

Loose Parts and Open Ended Materials are highly useful when it comes to encouraging movement. I am not in any way opposed to "single function" toys. I like them in conjunction with more open ended ones. Yes, a toy banana will probably remain a "banana" and maybe because of that it won't travel much further than the dramatic play area--but add an empty suitcase or an old lunchbox? And then it's time for a trip. Pack that banana and build a plane from some chairs because you might get hungry on the flight...

And then there are the even more open ended loose parts. Those items that I'm asked "what are you going to do with these?"
And my go to answer is always:
"Put them out and watch."
In these photos, S has discovered one of our STEAM Cart drawers was filled with paper straws, cotton rounds, Q-tips and a variety of glass gems and stones. He pulled the drawer out of the cart, carried it across the room to the rug and started by creating a square with 4 straws. Then he decided to stick Q-tips inside the straws. He discovered that he could bend the Q-tips in such a way that he could now connect the straws together. Then he decides to design the inside of his perimeter with cotton rounds. This, he declared, was a skating rink.
There was so much movement involved in this self-led activity. From walking across the room, to balancing that drawer full of small parts as he walked, to crouching down and manipulating the small objects to connect them and organizing his design within that space.

When you are designing and filling your play spaces, can you think of items that may encourage movement? Can you allow for something used in a "block" area to also be used in a "kitchen" area? Can materials be used on a table or on the floor? It's not realistic to expect to always be able to say "yes." I can't really bring myself to allow my children to eat all around the house or all around my classrooms. For one, it's a safety issue, but moreover, it's a cleanliness preference on my part. But I can also remember a particular scenario in one of my classrooms at a Montessori inspired school. Our "policy" was for the children to take a rug for their materials and work on that space. And since we were Montessori-inspired, we also had the privilege of flexibility--both with what we constituted as "materials" and how that "work" was carried out. One afternoon, I noticed two of the boys had pulled their rug flush up against the square ottoman I used as my teacher chair. And they were using toy cars on top of it. I had that gut reaction to remind them to work within their "work space," but this was their work space. They needed to have that higher elevation and the movement between the floor and its surface. It was functional and purposeful and in no way dangerous or disruptive.

Now consider the table scene when we set out "seated" activities. Whether it's writing, drawing, painting, playdough, eating... Someone's standing. Someone is sprawled across the floor. Someone is sitting in a chair but on her knees. Someone is falling out of a chair. Every. Single. Day. Not the same someone, but still, someone. And someone is walking around the room, a red painty brush in his hand that he doesn't seem to remember is there as he discovers someone else from another class throwing a ball to his friend in the parking lot. So, no, I don't actually allow him to keep carrying his painty brush around. He needs to put it down and then he can come back to the window. And I'm probably going to remind my kneeling friend that it is very likely she will soon be my falling out of her chair friend, but I might also offer her to sit on a higher surface. She may need that elevation for greater upper body control. And the kid who is standing might also be seeking that strength and control as he pounds a ball of clay into playdough. And the kid sprawled across the floor may do quite well with a clipboard and paper to work with from his tummy rather than a chair at a table. Can you have options in your space for doing "seated" activities in a different position? Vertical work spaces? Floor spaces? Tables at standing height and those at standard child height?

Containers are GOOD. Containment is BAD. Ok, it's not exactly so simplistic, but while I do encourage the provision of ample types of container to transport, store and use with play materials, I do not encourage the consistent use of containment devices with very young children. Even little babies who are not yet mobile need space and opportunity to develop mobility. I have and use strollers, bucket seats, electric swings, Bumbo chairs, high chairs, baby carriers, etc. I also am on my third child who likely has low muscle tone, so sitting independently happens later around here. The devices above are all tools of convenience. We use them out of necessity and even preference at certain times. In all likelihood, most of the early photos of my children involve them depicted in one of these devices because, um, I needed my hands to take the picture. But these times are supplemented with time on their tummies, backs and eventually bottoms with access to space in which to move. In classrooms with very young children, it's common to see tables with high chairs and children secured inside. It's a necessity both practically speaking and in terms of safety when there are multiple infants in one space. I encourage parents and aspiring teachers, however, to also look within centers for opportunities and spaces where infants and very young children can move around in open space. In both my homes and classrooms, I prefer not to see children buckled in and contained for the purpose of watching a screen or during "free" play times. As a parent, I am not going to pretend that I don't make use of these types of devices for my own convenience. Rather than making it a (very unrealistic) goal to eliminate them altogether, I work toward supplementing more opportunities with access to open space and movement.

Think small: As I mentioned above, we tend to thing of movement on a grand scale. Small movement is also quite necessary and valuable. Little hands need to hold, carry and manipulate little things. Even many adults require items to fidget with during times of focus or relaxation. Small world setups can encourage creative play and storytelling. They also encourage fine motor movement as children manipulate the little toys and props. Little things are just the right size for little hands and there is something so full of wonder in tiny versions of real life things.

 The Sensory Component: Sensory play has become a mainstream philosophy both in the home and on the market. Materials that lend to exploration using the 5 senses encourage development and learning in young children. In addition to the 5 senses commonly cited, I look at how these opportunities also encourage and nurture movement in play. From the tiny and carefully executed movements of using a pipette to suck up colored water and dropping one drop at a time into an upside down bathtub grip, to the significantly larger muscle movements necessary to dig yourself into and then out of a hole in the sand on the beach, sensory play is a type of play that begs for motion.

Elements of Motion that Inspire Movement: In addition to moving themselves, children need opportunities to observe elements of motion. From the way light moves reflections and shadows of a magnetile building onto the walls and ceiling to the way that oil and water move together in a plastic basin, observing movement encourages movement. 

Our children have their whole lives ahead of them to sit still and stay put. They develop these skills through movement in these earlier years. I'd love to overhaul the education system that is dictating a child in kindergarten should be able to sit at a desk doing worksheets from 9-2:30. I'd love to overhaul the societal pressure that is dictating that a child in preschool needs to be able to sit for 20-30 minutes singing songs about the weather and the days of the week and pointing to numbers on a calendar on the wall. I'd love to go back to the basics. To the days when play was enough and movement was an inherent part of that process. It's an uphill battle, but even I must keep moving. And for now, that is best achieved by putting intention and attention into how I set up and execute my home and classroom experiences.

Happy Playing!

In Motion: Meeting Children's Kinesthetic Needs through Play

One of the most frequent comments I get from friends and strangers who view my photos of play-space setups is that my home resembles a children's museum. I post a lot of "before" photos, but I don't often share the ones that I truly think are museum pieces: the aftermath. The play residue. Bless this mess! I have written on the Cleanup Conundrum before and in both my classrooms and my home, it is always a recurring theme to be navigated. We've all been there--reminding [sometimes over and over again] our children to "clean up one thing before they move to the next," or that "toys from the 'block area' stay in the 'block area.'" Or "you need to use the paintbrush and not your hands," or "keep the beans in the sensory bin." And yet, it's still happening. Over and over again, the children are moving about, carrying little (or big) objects in their hands. They are fleeing from one space to the next. Their play doesn't look at all like your plan.

Anyone with my photography skills who has every tried to capture young kids on camera can tell you one thing: they are always in motion. And I talk a lot here about play as a noun, but today I am talking about play as a verb. Because play is movement. It is seldom sedentary and even when it is, the movement is still there on a finer, more subtle level. Play meets a variety of developmental, cognitive, social emotional and physical needs. Children learn through play and play is constantly in motion. Kinesthetic learning is what is achieved through activity that relates to a person's awareness of their body's position and movement. Meeting children's kinesthetic needs is vital to development and it is also one of the areas most greatly hindered by our constant drive to have children "sit still" and "stay put."

I am guilty of it quite often. Before I can even process a way to "get to yes," the words "no, you can't..." have already fled my lips. And I can't condone activities in the home or classroom that are dangerous or even ones that simply don't work for everyone in the shared environment. But what I can encourage in myself as well as my peers, is a space. A brief moment to stop and ask yourself: "what play need is being expressed?" before those words of "no, you can't..." make a run for it.

I remember a few years ago taking S and then, baby Y, to an indoor play space. S was playing in a room set up like a kitchen when he grabbed a pretend bottle of soap and proceeded to walk out with it and toward another area. Another adult, also a parent and early childhood educator, stopped him and said "you need to put that back. It stays in the kitchen." I, however, wanted to wait and watch. And sure enough, S, ever on the mission to his next "appointment" was too busy to hear and continued on, soap in hand, to the veterinarian center where he proceeded to give a plush dog a bath. He needed soap to wash the dog. And meanwhile, the adult conversation continued.

"Children need order," said the other adult. "They need to know that everything has a place and that is where it belongs."

"Yes," I agreed. "But sometimes, their play has purpose and function. Sometimes when I have stepped back and waited, I can see their plan being carried out and not just a toy being carried about." On this occasion, there had been a purpose and a plan. S was "functionally" playing with the soap in another area. There are also plenty of times when that purpose is less obvious. When one of the children does flee the scene and it looks like a disaster zone. The purpose is harder to envision here, and sometimes, still, a purpose is there--even if it is merely the need to keep moving.

I will be completely honest: messes make me anxious. I have had to let go of a lot in order to function as a teacher, a wife and a mother. Especially in small spaces. Especially in shared spaces. Sometimes I think half of my enjoyment in constantly remodeling my playroom is that it is one way in which I can control the aesthetics of one space in my home. My actual kitchen is a disaster. So I did a Pinterest search, found an article titled "How to Make a Toy Kitchen Set out of a $10 Piece of Furniture," and headed to the thrift store, wearing C, on a mission. I, of course, found a piece of furniture for $10. It was on wheels. It should be easy to move. So I bought it. I buckled C into her car seat and wheeled that thing on out to my van where I quickly discovered it weighs more than an elephant. A nice man came out to help me wedge it into my minivan. By this time, C is screaming her head off at the aforementioned Nice Man. We make the drive around the corner just fine with no visibility in the back of me where I discover, lo and behold, that now I cannot get this hunk of $10 Pinterest Purchase out of my van and I need to before it's time to pick up the boys from school. So, my very patient and loving husband comes by on his lunch break to rescue me and now there is a refurbished kitchen in my living room.

So along with this crazy need to control a cluttered environment, I have also learned not only to tolerate the chaos (ok, maybe I'm still working on learning that one), I have also grown to see the "play residue" as an aspect of true beauty. Evidence of play, to me, is a sign of my success. I have not made the most nutritious dinner. I have not finished (or even started) the laundry. I have not clipped my kids' nails in...well, let's not even go there... But I have met the play needs of my children. And there is evidence of that all over my house, because play is motion.

If you look a little closer at the photo above, you will see that there is pasta all over the table and even some on the floor. There is a collection of tumbled stones mixed in. Here is the amazing thing that happened:

We had a playdate with some wonderful friends who have three kids all close in age to my own three kids. Our sensory bin in the kitchen is filled with dried pasta and some wooden containers and some Chinese soup spoons. There was a glass jar of tumbled stones in the kitchen set. The children wanted to make a party. They gathered everything they'd need. They walked back and forth between the actual kitchen where our sensory bin is and the toy kitchen, carrying pasta in containers and bowls to bring to the table for the party. The rocks became "bubble gum" and the party expanded to include catering service.

Y brought me the most delicious bowl of soup. The soup d'jour was one of tree cross sections and cinnamon sticks. This game involved a great deal of transporting, filling, pouring, dumping, picking up, gathering, moving, carrying...

I could have said that what was in the sensory bin must stay in the sensory bin. But why? Why couldn't it be carried somewhere else? I could have said that the dishes in the kitchen set were not for use in the sensory bin, but why not? They are just as useful for scooping, pouring, filling and transporting as the ones already in there.


And meanwhile, on the carpet...

Those magnetiles were definitely part of our building area and not our kitchen set, but Y discovered that the tray from our kitchen set was magnetic and it was quite a lot of fun to build both flat across it and in three dimensional form. And yes, the spoons and ladle and even the challah and "yogurt" have been evicted from the tray and seemingly abandoned, but discovery waits for no man.

This is play in motion. I am a huge advocate for loose parts play, and yet, I am not among the Pedagogy Police who stress the importance of loose parts being "open ended" or "all natural" or "not a single function toy." Because anyone who has studied the work of Simon Nicholson, the man behind the theory, will see that a loose part is anything that can be moved and manipulated in a variety of ways. And anyone who has observed children deeply engaged in play will note that everything can be moved and manipulated in a variety of ways.

 In another vignette, the boys are eagerly working with a small jar of chalk they carried from the atelier to our chalkboard wall (contact paper on a closet door). Y begins to make lines up and down, jumping as high as he can, crouching all the way to the bottom. S joins in. The movement is enormous and fast and loud. S certainly is capable of the fine motor control of a piece of chalk. He is capable of writing letters and words and drawing pictures that resemble what he is drawing about. But he is jumping and scribbling just like Y. And then he begins to use his hands to smudge and blend the colors. I am envisioning colorful hand prints all over the walls and surfaces of our home. I am tired because it is 5:00 and while every day has, in theory, 24 hours, it seems that 23 of them fall between 5 and 6 when my husband gets home from work. I want to say "no," but I stop myself. What play need is being expressed? Why is a child who a), is capable of 'functional' chalk use and b) somewhat sensory averse to getting his hands dirty scribbling wildly across the length of a closet door covered in chalkboard paper and smearing his hands through it with vigor and vim?!
Because he needs that movement. He needed to jump high and crouch low. He needed to feel the air beneath his feet. He needed to stretch his arms and bend his needs. He needed to see what would happen when the colors mixed. And what that would look like on the chalkboard. And what color it would turn his skin. And the chalk dust, he said, felt like flour, and reminded him of baking. Baking is something we do together and it makes him feel nurtured and loved.

So instead of saying no, I found a way to get to yes. It did not really work for me to have wild chalk prints all around my home, but this is what did work:

I asked S to take a break to wash his hands. Y, by this time, had already moved on to building a "tower for Elsa" out of magnetiles. When his hands were restored to S-color and not a murky green (which is, in fact, the color that results from smearing your hands across a chalkboard covered in rainbow chalk), I invited him to take a piece of black cardstock from the atelier shelf and an art mat and bring it to the table. He chose chalk pastels this time instead of regular chalk--more colors, more opportunities.
And to be clear, this was not a neat and tidy activity, either, but it was a bit more contained. He applied layer upon layer of chalk to the paper, smearing, smudging, spreading, mixing. The movements were smaller and more finite, but he was very much still in motion. There was chalk dust on the table and he asked how he could clean it up. I had him get a rag from the kitchen and he wet it in the bathroom sink and washed the area around his work space. It was not perfect. In fact, I should probably also mention that the orange fingerprints on my Patagonia jacket are also not perfect (and I have no idea how they got there). The green streaks on the bathroom sink were also not perfect. And the orange stains on the hand towel---not perfect. But the play experience here was perfect in every way. I asked S if he wanted another piece of black paper when he was done with the first and had hung it up on our front door. He did not. He had met his need and he was done and ready to move on. I could have said no. It would have been totally fine to do that. It would have been a lot less messy to do that. But do you know how many times I have to say no in just that 5-6PM hour alone? It gets as tiring to say it as it does to hear it. And I really learned a lot about the need behind his play when I slowed myself down to wonder why he was moving so quickly.

Like anything else, meeting children's kinesthetic needs through play in any space, especially shared ones and especially small ones, is a balancing act (sometimes literally). We cannot always say "yes," and even when we can, we still won't. And it's ok. But I still hold on quite firmly to my simultaneous agreement and disagreement with that aforementioned person at the public play space. Yes, children need order and need to know that things have a place. And they also need to be able to move. To carry little (or big) things in their little hands from space to space. To carry out a plan that maybe makes no sense to us or maybe looks like a mess. That maybe has an obvious purpose and function or maybe a less obvious one.

What happened at the end of our pasta party playdate? Well, at first, nothing. At first I honestly just planned to tackle the "play residue" once the kids were in bed. But then the two boys wanted to use playdough and there was no room at either of our tables. Dinner and snack remnants were still strewn across our dining room table and piles of pasta at the kids' table. The boys decided to clean up on their own. I helped a bit once they started, but for the most part, they did it independently--even little Y. They were just as capable of carrying all that pasta back to the sensory bin as they were at carrying it out in the first place. Things went back into their places (more or less) and I have even learned to "let go" of always needing to be in charge of where those places are. Sometimes there is even purpose, function and an element of intentional design in how they clean and set things up. Now there is a little LED lantern from our small world shelf displayed and flickering on the kitchen set counter. Now there is a heart shaped rock in the cabinet. Now there is a tin lunchbox packed with "slices of bread" inside an old suitcase that holds our dress up clothes for the next "trip" the boys will take.

Children do need order, but who is to determine what that is? When we see even very young children as capable of designing and managing a space in a way that they find aesthetically appealing and accessible, we begin not only to honor them as the tiny humans they already are, but also to expand our own breadth of what beauty and function look like. We learn a great deal about how we learn by watching that learning in action. And photos are sedentary; play is not. Play is motion.

Pretend You Are Playing...

"Mommy, what did you play when you were little?"
In the recent months, my boys have become particularly interested in hearing about what my own childhood play experiences were like. S in particular loves to hear stories of what types of toys I played with and what topics and stories I played about. Trips to our local thrift shop started to result in a growing collection of original cabbage patch kids (I am one doll away from having more cabbage patch kids than actual kids). I may or may not have begun grooming my boys to play with vintage My Little Ponies. They got the surprise of the summer when two brand new Pound Puppies arrived for adoption at our house in retro 1980s true-to-the-original packaging. And yes, I had to retro-actively order one more for myself, because I'm still jealous that my big sister had a big Pound Puppy, Cinnamon, and I only had a newborn, Fudge. I finally got my big Pound Puppy, a similarly colored breed with different ears and spots unlike the original Cinnamon, and if anyone asks, her name is Nutmeg.

And yes, I felt just a little bit foolish standing in the line to pick up my order from Walmart's Customer Service desk, holding onto my wallet and 30 plus years of little sister toy envy, but you know what? As soon as the grown man standing behind me saw what was inside my box he gleefully shouted
"Is that a Pound Puppy? In original 1980s retro packaging???"
"Yes, sir! And it still comes with the sticker sheet..."

And when I got in the line at the thrift store to buy two more original cabbage patch dolls so the boys would stop fighting over mine, the cashier had her own fond memory of being stationed overseas in Asia when cabbage patch dolls first came out and being able to purchase them at insanely inexpensive prices for the time since she was near the factory where they were manufactured. [Sorry to burst anyone's bubble who thought like I did that they were actually harvested from a garden bed...] Another woman remembered standing in line at midnight outside of the toy store when they first came out to buy one for her then two year old daughter. And when I posted a question to my Facebook page about earliest memories of play, the responses flooded in from favorite toys, games, play scenarios and more. How is it that on a good day, many adults cannot remember what we ate for dinner the night before or why we walked into the kitchen just now, but we can all remember playing as a child?

I believe this speaks volumes to the importance of play in childhood. Truly, child's play is more than just child's play. And the world's greatest pioneers of early childhood spoke to this truth. Voices like those of Fred Rogers, Maria Montessori and Vivian Paley all sang the same glorious tune, albeit in slightly different keys: play is the work of the child. It is where they discover and learn. It is where they feel and grow. It is where they grieve and overcome. It is where they worry and resolve. Play is the foundation upon which all else is built and it is truly the integrity of everything that emerges from it. If the foundation of a building is weak, the building itself will lack integrity. Play is where our children thrive, and yet, it is all but disappearing from childhood (not to mention all the years that follow).

Whereas early childhood classrooms once were a space of fantasy and storytelling, perhaps with some meaningful props offered and opportunity to reflect through various artistic, mathematical, literary, musical and scientific lenses, now there are desks and chairs and bodies made to sit still in them that are no more ready to sit still than a baby who's yet to sit at all is ready to walk. We've got so much. We've got research and data. We've got technology and industry. We've got scores to achieve and standards to maintain. What we don't have is time. There is not time for the luxury of play. What was once seen as the work of the child is now seen as an escape from that work. What once was the rule is now the exception to it.

My father is a psychologist, professor, lecturer, author and advocate. His area of expertise and interest is the world of work. His latest book, The Importance of Work in an Age of Uncertainty: The Eroding Work Experience in America talks about the massive climate change in our country's work and career force and how that has so greatly affected people across the board--from the CEO to the janitor and everyone in between. My father is truly passionate about the world of work and how it shapes who we are. So how did I end up an advocate for play? One might argue we speak from opposite ends of the spectrum, but I would argue that we are likely seeing and saying the very same things, albeit from varied stages of life.

And likely my own passion stems from the fact that two of the greatest advocates for my own childhood play were my parents. My mother also works in the field of early childhood education and greatly valued the role of children's narrative through play both in her classrooms and in our home. We did not have video games, though we did watch TV. We had plenty of toys and they spanned from those that are more open ended to those we craved and coveted as seen on TV. We did not always have someone standing over us and directing our play or dictating the story. We had times when we said "I'm bored." And we were allowed to dwell in that space and discover what could become of it.

We had two of the greatest assets any child can have when it comes to play: TIME and SPACE. We had the opportunity to engage in deep, meaningful and continued play and we had the ownership of that narrative. Certain games continued on and off for months and even years. (Don't get me started on the Barbie Sagas of the Early 1990s.) When something was worrisome or scary, we played about it. My dad played about allergy shots with me more times than I can account for. There were plenty of areas I was not particularly confident in as a child, but play was a safe haven. In play, I could be whoever I wanted to be. In play, the story could end when it stopped being fun. In play, all things were possible in a world that would gradually close in to cross at least a few of those things off the list: I would not be a ballerina, monopoly money does not work in the mall, unicorns are not, in fact real, and husbands do not really sleep in the bathtub (sorry, Ken, but on Barbie's behalf, Jerry Seinfeld said it best: sleep is separate).

This past July, the world lost a powerful voice in play advocacy and early childhood education when pioneering teacher, Vivian Gussin Paley passed away at the age of 90. In one of my favorite books of hers (and really, they are all favorites), A Child's Work: The Importance of Fantasy Play, she writes the following:
"...we discovered that play was indeed work. First there was the business of deciding who to be and who the others must be and what the environment is to look like and when it is time to change the scene. Then there was the even bigger problem of getting of getting others to listen to you and accept your point of view while keeping the integrity of the make-believe, the commitment to the other players, and perhaps the loyalty of a best friend..."

Indeed, the chasm between the cubicle and the playroom is not nearly as wide as we may perceive it to be. Playground politics and office politics are not so different. And the dialogue of play has not changed one bit in the last 100 years although the stage scenery may have. Listen in on any group of 5 year olds and you'll  hear it:
"Pretend you are the mommy and I am the baby. And pretend that the baby wants to play but it's time for bed."
"No, I want to be a puppy! We are all dogs. Pretend you are the mommy dog and I am the baby dog and the baby dog wants to play but it's time for bed."
"Yeah, and the baby dog is really mad. Pretend you run away because you don't want to go to bed."
"And pretend when you're running away you get lost in the woods and it's really scary."
"And there's a witch!"
"And she's got a house made out of candy and cookies and dog treats...."

The characters' names and the plot lines may have changed subtly and significant world events have shaped the stories as they occurred. But one thing always remains the same and it truly fills me with wonder. It always begins with the words "Pretend..."

In "Pretend..." it is safe. Don't get me wrong--it can get dangerous. There are fires and storms and villains and weapons and people get sick and people die and people also come back to life and the plot can also change and the characters can shift and the story can even start over. And in a decade of teaching and working with children and now in 5 plus years of parenthood what has changed? Pedagogues come and go. Tools and technology emerge and just as quickly are replaced by updated versions. Across the board, most children do learn their letters and numbers and will read and write, albeit in their own pace and space. There's not one foolproof method to success, but more often than not the utilization of multiple methods is most successful. What is lacking? For many, it is the ability to "Pretend..." Who knew that was a skill? More and more, the absence of that TIME and SPACE has resulted in the absence of the ability to engage in and maintain that play narrative. And what is lost when we lose the story?

Perhaps we could argue that children don't need to play about being grown up and going to work--they are practically born already doing it, or at least with the expectation that they must be ready to by kindergarten. Blowing bubbles outside has been replaced by filling in bubbles on a Scantron sheet. Children do not lack for lessons on how to do that. They do lack for lessons on how to play--so much so that "play therapy" has become a common resource offered in schools for children displaying a deficit in this area. A deficit in play? How does that even happen? How did the world of "Pretend..." become a world in which children are taught to Pretend they are playing?

And Perhaps the nostalgia we all feel at the sight of a mint condition Care Bear sitting on the thrift store shelf or the vintage toy section displaying replicas of playthings past is not about the toys themselves, but the times that they represent. The days when bedtime always came too soon and even then, the game could always continue again tomorrow--right where it left off. The days when recess was not a privilege to be earned and likewise, taken away, but a standard segment of the daily routine--as necessary as lunch time and using the bathroom. The days when play was not an escape from the task at hand but, rather, was the task at hand. It wasn't a way to pass the time, it was the purpose of the time. And what I truly wonder is this: thirty years from now, what memories will come back to our own children when their little ones ask them "what did you play when you were little?"

Happy Playing!