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

Bullying, Racism, Death, Germs, and Other Uplifting Topics That Are Hard to Talk About With Children

Is this a space suit or a hazmat suit?

We are in the midst of the coronavirus epidemic and schools here have officially closed down. My husband did not read his emails this morning, but he did misread the clock and got everyone up an hour early! But, thank G-d, he's also home and has all 3 kids outside for some fresh air and play. Adults right now are all very worried and in some ways this worry is helpful when it comes to taking preventative measures and precautions. In other ways, the mass hysteria and misleading information out there can be hindering. And as much as we are aiming to protect our families and communities right now, our children are aware of our heightened concern--whether overtly so or not. And this makes me reflect on talking to young children about tough topics like this. We waver between wanting to protect and wanting to inform. S has already come home from school talking about washing his hands extra carefully every time before he eats to "protect from the Virus." What does he know about Covid19? What does he wonder? Is he worried or afraid? When it comes to talking about tough topics like illness, death, race/racism, bullying, sex, etc., where do we start? And where should we stop?

There is not, unfortunately, a simple and foolproof answer here. There is a delicate balance between giving too much information and not enough and that is different from time to time and from child to child. In addition, when our children bring up topics that are tough to talk about, we can easily be caught off guard and begin to make assumptions. When this happens, we may handle the discussion in a less helpful way. I often advise others (and myself) to begin with what they know. And the easiest way to do this is to ask! Let me give you a really unique example from last night:

My husband was giving S a bath and we have a couple of baby dolls in the tub right now for washing and playing. S asked for a doll to play with and my husband handed him one. It happened to be a doll with dark skin. We have a set of 4 of these dolls in varying skin tones. S said "I don't want the one with the dark skin, I want the one with the light skin." My husband was caught off guard and even later when he began to relay the story to me, I, too, jumped to a conclusion right here. Was my 5 year old son discriminating against skin color? Surely we are raising him better than this. I was mortified and then my husband said, "wait, listen to what happened next. I remembered you told me to find out what he knows and I asked him if there was a reason he wanted the doll with the lighter skin." And sure enough there was:
"Tatty, the doll with the light skin has an open mouth and the one with the dark skin's mouth is closed. I want the one with the open mouth so I can pretend to feed him."

Amazing. If we would have started the conversation here with what we know, it would have been completely different than the one that actually took place. It probably would have also felt out of context for S, who just wanted to feed a baby doll. He once asked for a doll in a toy store that was made to resemble a baby from Asia because the doll had "real hair." The other ones had no hair. And surely, we do have conversations in context about treating differences of all kinds with kindness and sometimes those conversations will cross the barriers of race or religion or disAbility, etc.

Even in talking to our children about weapon play and games we find alarming as adults, it has been helpful to find out what they know. Sometimes this can start a conversation. Other times, the conversation may end right there, perhaps to be continued at a later date as more information is required or acquired. It is so hard for us to remember the innocence and inherent ignorance of early childhood. We want our children to be kind. We want them to feel secure. We want others to be kind to them and be safe with them.

We also need to be honest. One of the times that this can feel incredibly challenging is when the topic of death comes up, particularly if it involves a loss within the family. Whereas it was previously thought that very young children are not able to process grief at an early age, research now shows that they do in fact process grief, albeit in their own way. Many adults will gear toward the answer of "so and so went to sleep for a long time" and this can be incredibly confusing and unsettling for children. Will So-and-so wake up? Will they die if they go to sleep? Children may ask questions about death and dying. What does it feel like to die? What happens when someone dies? When will Mommy and Daddy die? When will I die? These are hard for us as adults to process and that paired with our concern about how our children will process the answers can leave us feeling overwhelmed and ill equipped. I think it is OK to say "I don't know" when you don't know. I also think it is OK to keep answers very simplistic and wait for a response to determine what (if any) information is still needed. When I was little and wondered about this, my parents explained death as when the body stops working. In all honesty, this felt like a good answer and still, to this day, does.

What about when children say things that are alarming or upsetting? Once when I was quite little, I walked up to my mother and said "shoot yourself!" She responded in a normal adult way in telling me that this wasn't a nice thing to say and then asked me what I meant. "It's what the goose said in 'Charlotte's Web!'" Ok, so the goose said "suit yourself," which I also had no understanding of but it sounded pretty cool and a little funny so I tried it. And missed a little...

But what about when tough topics involve conflict? Conflict is ever so uncomfortable for us. We may not like it ourselves as adults and we certainly don't want it for our children. And nowadays there is a strong movement toward handling bullying more strongly. In many ways, this is helpful, but I think in some ways it has gone overboard and to the other end of the spectrum where we perceive any and all conflict as bullying when, in fact, not all of it is. Particularly in regard to the preschool and below population, it is not particularly common for very young children to be "bullies." Note that I am using the word bully here to describe actions that are targeted at a particular individual or population and done with the intent to be hurtful/harmful. Most young children do not display this type of behavior, barring extreme exceptions or incidents where trauma is involved.

Most young children do display behaviors we would classify as aggressive, impulsive, hurtful/harmful. The intent may be specifically targeted at an individual, but the purpose is not to bully. Alternatively, the purpose may stem from anger and a desire to gain control or meet a need, but the target may not be specific. And conflict at this age is typical. Verbal arguments, unkind statements, even hitting/kicking/biting and other forms of physical "aggression." We understandably have a low threshold for violent acts. We can't allow children to hurt each other or be hurt. It is painful if our child is the target. Sometimes even harder when our child is the one targeting others. But we need to stop calling preschool aged children bullies. Not only is this unhelpful for children to identify what bullying really is and how to handle it, it is damaging for the child being labeled. Giving support and language and helpful tools to all parties is necessary. Understanding typical child development and recognizing if and when more support is needed is also important.

Nobody likes to hear someone tell our child "I'm not your friend anymore" or "I don't like you." But we also have an adult experience of rejection. And when we think about our own "childhood" experiences of rejection, our memories are more likely from our grade or middle school years than from our preschool years! Nonetheless, these types of statements fly across the playground on a daily basis. We jump in to "coach" with statements of "that's not nice!" or "we don't say 'you can't play,'" or "we're all friends here." But let's unpack this a bit. First of all, this business of "we're all friends here" is potentially a little unfair. Are you friends with everyone in your workplace or neighborhood? I'm not. We can all be kind and respectful, we don't all need to be friends. And even when we are friends, we don't need to always be together or be completely in sync and agreement with one another. And the statements of "that's not nice," may also be less helpful. It may not have been meant to be nice, so you may be preaching to the choir. Alternatively it may not have been the intent of the child saying something to be unkind. Take the following vignette:

A child in my class sat down at the lunch table and opened his lunchbox. The next child joined the table and one by one the spots filled up until the last of the children to wash his hands arrived with his lunchbox and one empty seat remained. "I don't want to sit next to ____" he said. I was about to go into Conflict Resolution Mode when I decided instead to ask if there was a reason. And sure enough, there was: the child sitting there had a tuna fish sandwich and the child waiting to sit down did not like the smell of tuna. I like tuna but honestly, it does smell! Another little girl said she did like the smell and offered to switch seats; problem solved.

I do not want to insinuate that in coaching and teaching our children about bullying, conflict resolution and other tough topics that we are creating the problems that do emerge as they get older. Most children at some point in their lives will experience these things in one way or another and we want them to be prepared, informed and know how to seek support. I am not the type of person that feels it is helpful or realistic to make our children blind to these ills of the world; I am the type of person that feels it is helpful to make them adequately and appropriately aware and sensitive. We've all reached that point of adulthood where we look at our kids today and ask (sometimes even out loud) "What are you thinking?!" and you know what? Tone aside, that's a good question.

Asking our children--even our very young ones--what they are thinking can be the very best place to begin a conversation that needs to follow. What do you know about ___?  What do you wonder? What questions do you have? Is there anything about ____ that worries you or that you want to know more about? Sometimes the answers won't come right away and that's OK. It's not a race, it's a marathon. But leave the door open or at least unlocked so they can return if and when need be.  And don't forget the power of play here. Some conversations are better had through play and some topics of curiosity are better noticed through play. Once in a while when S has done something he is not so proud of, he finds in helpful for Mistakey the Snakey to come out and tell me about it as opposed to him. And sometimes in those conversations, Mistakey can get quite silly. But Mommy always reminds him that even when he is a silly Snakey and makes a mistake, he can always come and talk about it and I will help him.

In fact, most of my conversations like this end with talking about help. What can help you solve this problem? Who can help you? What would be helpful now? What do you need from me right now? And the very last thing I want to remind myself and all of you: it is OK not to know. We don't like not knowing. It's uncomfortable. But not knowing can be just the right amount of fire under our feet to learn more. And if we want to raise a generation of children who desire to learn more, we need to raise a generation of children who are not uncomfortable not knowing. Model it. Embrace it. Use it for the good. And as always...

Happy Playing!

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!

When Little Kids Have Big Emotions

I recently saw the above image on a Facebook page I follow and it spoke volumes to me. As parents and educators, we often hear the phrase "self-regulation" in regard to the little ones in our care. But what does it mean? Are young children (think between the ages of 0-5) really developmentally ready to manage and express BIG emotions on their own? How about children older than that? Think about the last time you were really angry about something and your spouse told you to "just calm down." Worked like a charm, right?

When it comes to parenting and working with children in early childhood, there are a plethora of ideas and influences at our fingertips--literally. Social media, online forums and technology at large have expanded the "village" raising our children. This can be such a positive factor. It can also be overwhelming and at times, damaging. Our early childhood classrooms that were once a space for play and exploration are more and more filled with desks and chairs and expectations for children to achieve and perform. Our hours at home are no longer filled with the direction to "go out and play," but rather with extra-curricular activities and homework as early as preschool and kindergarten. And although our intentions are in the right place--we want our children to succeed--there is a price to pay and our children are footing the bill.

And they are not the only ones! Parents and educators are also paying a price. When it comes to early development, nobody tries to force a newborn infant to get up and walk. We know that first a baby must be able to support its head and then push up and then sit and in time, be able to move around and walk. There is an order of operations that are developmentally appropriate and we know that these require time and space and opportunity. We don't expect a newborn infant to verbally communicate upon arrival (wouldn't that be nice, though?) and we recognize that crying is their first language and respond accordingly. Furthermore, most folks aren't praising the quality of parenting or educating when babies do achieve developmental milestones or criticizing it when they move at a slower pace. But when you're the parent or teacher tending to a little one in the midst of a meltdown in the children's museum parking lot, you can bet someone has some unsolicited advice to give!

Let's face it: our little ones have BIG emotions. They tend to come in two sizes: large and extra large. Our emotional regulation center lies in the prefrontal cortex. This part of the brain, the one that helps us navigate big emotions, resolve conflict and control impulses, does not fully develop until the age of 25. So why do we expect young children to "self-regulate" before their bodies are ready to do so? The answer is likely multifaceted. We [adults] are often uncomfortable with big emotions. We like to "fix" things; we don't like when it looks "messy" or "out of control." We are also bombarded by images of smiling "well adjusted" children in classrooms, at home, outside, around town...not many of us post as many photos of the 4PM temper tantrum or the football hold on the toddler as you bolt out of the grocery store sans groceries...

But what if we stepped back and changed the language around "self-regulation." What if we introduced the concept as "co-regulation." Rather than setting expectations for our little ones to manage and control and express their big emotions on their own, what if we partnered with them to navigate those waves together. (And imagine also if we allowed that for ourselves as well!) It's not easy. It's hard to see our children hurt and angry and "out of control." We connect with it and whether or not our brains remember these very real moments of childhood, our bodies do. It's hard to be the teacher or parent with a child who is not conforming to that Facebook-friendly Image. We want to stop it, to fix it, to quell it, to stifle it. But if the eventual "goal" is for children to be able to regulate their large emotions, what tools are we giving them to do so?

I will wholeheartedly admit that while I did not struggle in this area so much as a teacher, it is much harder for me as a parent. With my own children, it gets personal. It's important for me to be able to slow myself down and move through my own large emotions while still tending to my children's while simultaneously separating the two! And tapping into my own tool belt includes (but is not limited) to the following:

What need is the behavior communicating? I believe all behaviors are forms of communication. That very newborn baby's first language is crying--it is, therefore, not surprising that many children resort to that first language or versions of it to communicate big emotions. If you can identify the need behind the behavior, it's easier to proceed. It can be tricky when one behavior communicates multiple needs either at different times or even at the same time.

Time and Space: Slow. Down. When emotions run high, we tend to put the pedal to the metal. Some children need time and space. While some folks are ready to swim against the wave, others need to let it flow over them and pass. Recognize that the way you navigate rough waters may be different than the way your children do and allow that to be OK. Also recognize that this might be even harder when the way you navigate those rough waters is the same. I am the type who sometimes needs that time and space, but I find it hard not to jump into problem solving mode when my children are hurting and need that time and space, not a hug and solution.

What's mention-able is manageable. Sometimes it just needs a name. Sometimes it doesn't need a solution, it doesn't need to be fixed, it just needs to be spoken. "You're really angry that your brother took your toy." "You're really disappointed that the video isn't working." Sometimes that is all that's needed to be able to move forward.

Proximity and Connection: All children need to feel connected to us and secure in that connection, especially in the moments of intense emotion. Not all children need or want physical connection or closeness in those moments. Some children do very well with a warm hug and a space on your lap. Others do best with you sitting nearby. Others do best with you sitting outside of the room. Sometimes it might be helpful to ask "would you like a hug?" Or "would you like me to sit by you?"

Laughter is the best medicine sometimes. Some children do very well with a silly distraction. Some do quite well with being redirected to another activity. Be mindful, however, if you perceive that a child needs support in sitting with and experiencing their large emotions first. Silliness and distraction can feel punitive or dismissive in these instances. On the other end of that, it's also useful to help young children navigate what to do when it is time to move on. Sometimes we can get stuck in these large emotions and we need a little help to step out of it and move forward.

Shut down and Reboot: This needs to always be an option. Our children need to know that sometimes it's OK to just give those big feelings a space and a time and let them out and then start over. They need to know that this is OK to do even multiple times in a day. We all  have days like that. We all remember that feeling of life just snowballing in front of us. We often underestimate how much our young children feel this, too. They need to know that one moment of one day does not define all of those other moments. This is how they will internalize that those big emotions do not, in fact, define them.

Play: It isn't a post on my blog if I don't mention the power of play. Playing about big emotions through modeling, role play and talking through characters is a great way for children to work through co-regulating big feelings outside of "the moment." My eldest recently got in trouble in school for something he didn't want to tell me about but he did want to tell his knit snake, "Snakey" about it and he asked if Snakey would tell Mommy. S told Snakey all about the incident and Snakey shared a similar experience with S. They talked about ways to handle it in the future; they had some giggles and Mommy was there in the background just in case they needed some support.

When to Bring in the Experts: As usual, I'm always a supporter of getting support. If you have a concern over a child's big emotions or even your own, it's helpful to get some perspective from an outside, subjective source. Sometimes it's all a matter of the tools you have. A plastic spoon is great for eating a yogurt; it is not great for changing a flat tire. The more tools you have, the more problems you can solve whether it's eating a yogurt or changing a flat tire--be prepared and arm yourself for both.

We'll be back soon and until then...

Happy Playing!

The Dark Side of the Playroom: When Children's Play Makes Us [Adults] Uncomfortable

Child's play--most of the time, it's cute, funny, intriguing... It can elicit feelings of nostalgia or even wistfulness toward a simpler time, a more carefree existence, a level of innocence that existed before inhibition took over. Children play about common themes, usually those within their direct environment or some experienced through outside exposure. They look adorable dressed up in our too-big-for-their-feet shoes and it's charming when they imitate us (sometimes even revealing). Child's play is usually something that brings us feelings of contentment and comfort. On a deeper level, we know that play is the means by which children decipher the world around them. It is how they express and work through common childhood fears and conflict. It is how they build relationships. It is how they learn to navigate their physical environment as well as their emotional environment. But what about those themes of child's play that make us--adults--uncomfortable? Children playing about death or dying, children playing doctor about body parts that we consider private, children playing about superheros, magic, fairies, dragons, unicorns, the Poop Emoji (I couldn't help myself with that one), toileting routines in general, illness, romantic relationships/marriage, weapons, guns, killing, good vs. evil, "bad guys," jail, war, conflict... For many of us, at least some of these play themes make us quite uncomfortable. .

In my years of classroom teaching, I've experienced a plethora of classroom play dynamics as well as director-implemented approaches. I've taught in a center where superhero play, gun play, family play with more than one Mommy or more than one Daddy, and dress up in clothing that was "not gender appropriate" was prohibited by the school director. I've taught in a center where I had students in my class with a parent or significant adult in jail. I've worked with children who have a parent in the military and deployed. I've worked with young children who have experienced gun violence, physical abuse, a parent struggling with addiction, a parent who is chronically and/or terminally ill, sexual abuse, custody battles, violence toward a parent (even at the hands of another parent), and exposure to adult sexual behavior. I've taught in a classroom where, in order to be culturally sensitive, I decided with my co-teacher to bring in toy deer for a child who consistently played about guns and shooting in the framework of his family's hunting trips. For this child, play was a safe haven in a world that had exposed him to a great lack of safety and security all before the age of 4. His memories of hunting trips were one of the few positive experiences he'd had with his father. I've taught in classrooms where I worked to develop curriculum around rough and tumble play within safe parameters. 

From the parenting perspective, S has very recently reached the developmental stage of gun play, good guy/bad guy play, and building jails. Some of this is likely ideas shared with other children who have had more exposure to media with these themes than he has, although some of it is likely genuine to him and his own curiosity and development. While the vocabulary around it initially started with "gun-shooters" and "blasters," he's only more recently come home with vocabulary around it like "guns," "killing" and "bad guys." In other words, his play about it used to be mostly mimicked play but now it includes more of his own directed story-line. In talking with him and, yes, even playing with him, I've come to realize which concepts he understands and which he does not. We have even used this as an opportunity to introduce very rudimentary information about gun safety--as in, if he ever finds a gun or something he thinks might be a gun, he should not touch it and get a safe adult right away. And while I felt pretty secure in most of my teaching situations (not so much in that first one), I am a little less surefooted in this parenting end of it. I find that I have far more questions than answers to those questions.

Let me tell you as a classroom teacher what happens when you make a "no gun play" rule. You get a lot of "fire hoses" and "water shooters" and "squirt toys." In other words, kids find a way to meet that play need. And when I say "play need," it is because I genuinely believe that children meet a variety of needs through play. What is the "need" behind gun play? Good question! In an attempt to crowd source, I posted a question on my Facebook page about children and gun play--yay or nay? I got a plethora of replies. Many of the responses came from the perspective of boys at play even though I never specified gender in the question. Many used words like "dominance" and "aggression." Some addressed cultural tendencies toward gun use and gun ownership. Some talked about gun safety and directing play toward "target practice" and not people/killing. Some responded that they had played in this way as children, but were less sure now as adults in our day and age if it was still appropriate. I can't claim to know the need behind every child's play experience even with a common theme, but I can consider that the needs behind gun play may include some or all of the following for many children:

• exploration of power roles
• tension release
• exploration of "good versus evil"
• gaining a sense of control over one's environment
• social connection/relationship with peers
• curiosity about guns, violence, death/dying, etc.
• fear of guns, violence, death/dying, etc.
• mimicking scenes from books, characters, television, movies, etc. in which guns and violence are often glorified
• exploring concepts of security, rescue, protection
• enjoyment in that adrenaline rush/fight or flight response (similar to riding a roller coaster or seeing a scary movie)

On a base neurological level, studies have been done that show a reduction in anxiety and a release of "feel good chemicals" in the brain through simply saying words that begin with the "f" or "sh" sound. So for anxious drivers, a nice assertive "fudge" or "ship" from behind the wheel can go a long way! I would be very curious to know what the brain experiences during gun play, in particular with regard to those fight/flight areas of the brain and those that regulate emotional response. I do believe that play provides a space for children to exert power and control in a world that so frequently keeps that out of their reach. When children engage in uninterrupted and non-directed play, they are in charge of the story line, the time frame, their space, their body's movement in that space.

And then I wonder what happens when impart a value on children's play themes. And furthermore, what happens when we introduce a concept of "shame" into play by disallowing particular themes, labeling them as "not nice" or "inappropriate," or removing particular props or topics from their environment altogether. On the one hand I can tell you that a child determined to play about weapons will find a way to play about weapons with or without a sword, gun or bow and arrow. But here is another scenario:

A preschool teacher I greatly admire for her work in the area of dramatic play no longer allows (or least no longer promotes) doctor play in her classrooms because she experienced an incident with a student and sexual abuse. Without knowing the details, I wonder what would be different if she saw this experience as the play opportunity that led to a child getting help rather than the one that would forever remove this potential refuge for a future student, if it were G-d forbid needed. The fact is, that most of the time, play is, well, just play. Children frequently play about doctors because it is something that is relevant to their world. Typically it is not indicative of more than that. And if we were to remove everything from a child's play environment that could potentially be harmful or injurious, what would be left? We'd finally stop hearing the Baby Shark Song. Doctor kits would no longer have a syringe (although I must posit, do anti-vax parents remove these in case their children might play about "vaccine injuries?") Forget about kitchen sets--an oven or stove could burn you. And firetrucks, police cars, race cars, airplanes, baby dolls, stuffed animals, toy phones, bicycles, blocks, and Legos, definitely Legos...

On the other side of the scale, when we do allow for all play themes and topics, we enter a zone in which children are exposed through play to some novel topics we may or may not be ready for them to explore. In a classroom setting, children come from a variety of backgrounds. Each child's family and community has its own views and boundaries and further within that circle, each child has his/her own threshold for understanding and processing these concepts. Within the home setting, there may be more room for exploring such play themes, but we also need to keep in mind that what happens in our home playroom likely doesn't stay only in the home playroom.

In my continuing exploration of how to approach gun play and other challenging play themes at home, I have more bullet points on my list of things I don't know than things that I do know. I feel very strongly about play being a safe outlet for all children, whether they are playing for the sake of playing or playing for the sake of problem solving, working through challenging emotions, claiming a sense of control over their environment, navigating fears and learning about the world around them. In fact, I think that children's play usually crosses over many of these fields at the same time. When we tell a child "you're not allowed to play about..." we apply a weight to a particular theme that may not initially have held such weight to a child. It might become that red button that says "don't push me." It might lead a child to feel ashamed, embarrassed or confused. It may lead to more questions (and that's not necessarily a bad thing either) or it might lead to a child becoming more secretive in this form of play (and this is something that does concern me). I also think it is important as children grow up for them to learn about socially accepted behaviors even in terms of playing and talking about particular topics in some venues/company versus others. It is important as children explore developmental play schemas for them to learn that some parts of the body are private, about the importance of consent, about who the "safe" adults are and when it's safe/appropriate for an adult to touch them. It is important for children to be able to explore and talk about death, weapons, good/evil, etc. The challenging part for us is navigating how much information to give and when and then being able to empower children to continue to feel safe in exploring these topics while still "playing it safe," -- in other words, playing about adult-deemed "appropriate" topics in the "appropriate" environments.

I can remember as a child that I had a particular playmate who tended to play about certain themes her teenaged sister was experiencing, particularly dating. We had a playroom in our basement and I played there with friends often, though the door was always open and I know that my mother peeked and listened in. After one playdate, she simply approached me in a very non-confrontational way and mentioned that she noticed we'd played about these things. She said "if you ever have any questions about that stuff, you can come and ask me." Now as an adult and mother of 3, I see such a value and beauty in this simple approach. I did not feel shamed or embarrassed or afraid. It did, however, help me to realize that this was a topic that people my age might have questions about and wonder about. It created a scenario in which that door was not only open for discussions of play, but also open for discussions of those topics when they actually came up for me years later.

So what should we do when children cross over to that dark side of the playroom? While I can't even begin to scrape the surface of the answer, here are some of the things I do think are helpful...

• Ask before you answer: Before you jump in to the deep end, step back. Ask yourself what this play is communicating? Is it simply a game of "cops and robbers" or is there more to it? And after you ask yourself what is behind their play, also ask your children. "What are you playing about?" "What do you think that means?" I've found the most effective way of doing this is to be invited into the play scene (and this is a delicate process, because if children do perceive that an adult is about to hijack their play, they may clam up and disengage altogether). If and when you are invited to play, you can talk through characters or simply as yourself to find out a bit more. 
• Find out what they already know--this is your starting point: In exploring difficult topics with children, even in play, it's helpful to know what they know! Take this as your starting point. We tend to jump right into the over-explaining mode and it's easier on both sides of the conversation to take it at the child's pace. 
• Level with them: It is important to come to your child's level, both physically (as in, sitting down with them and not hovering over or shouting from across the room) and also cognitively. Adults approach adult topics with adult brains. Children approach adult topics with children's brains. In other words, it doesn't mean to them what it means to us. It can be helpful to remove the weight of adult perception and from there focus on how you'd like to proceed. 
• When to bring in the experts: First off, I give myself permission to bring in the experts whenever the heck I want to! It doesn't have to be a "dire" circumstance to ask for advice or support from fellow parents/teachers, family members, pediatricians or child psychologists. On the other hand, if you notice a child seeming stuck in a particular play scenario or exhibiting signs of trauma or distress, it is important to get some help on board. It may be nothing at all and it may be something. It is very important to err on the side of caution and within this, to also be a safety net for the child and not shame or punish him/her for playing about a topic that is "not allowed" or "not appropriate." Redirecting play here can be fine and in certain environments will be necessary. In addition, it is really important not to try to address the concern alone. Make sure to utilize supervision (if you are in the work environment) and community supports and resources..
• Can you meet the need behind the play in another way? When it comes to play themes that are not preferred in the home or in a school/social setting, it can be helpful to redirect the play while still meeting the child's need behind it. This can involve a bit of creativity and ingenuity on your part, but the "experts" are the children themselves! 
• Open door policy: This one applies both to the literal sense and a figurative one. It is important to notice and reflect on our children's play. This is our greatest glimpse into their world--a world full of wonder, curiosity, worry, discovery, and their role within that. Welcome opportunities to be invited into their play. And in the figurative sense, gift them the opportunity to play for purpose. To be able to write the script and man the wheel. Gift them opportunity for uninterrupted, uninhibited, self-led play. And also gift them that open door--that if they have any questions, concerns or worries, they can come to you. Today. Tomorrow. In ten years. Always.

And while I most often end my posts with a wish for happy playing, play is not always happy. Play is many things for many reasons so for today, I wish you all meaningful playing however that looks for you in the moment.

Joke's On You: The Importance of Humor in Childhood

Through years of teaching pre-K and working in the field of early childhood education, parents and fellow educators have had an ongoing dialogue about what skills children need to obtain before entering kindergarten. You can do a Google search with the words "kindergarten readiness" and you will come back dizzy with all of the results. If you want my opinion [I know, you didn't ask, but for unlimited time only I'll give it to you, completely free of charge], there is one developmental milestone that most children reach between the ages of 4 and 5 that I feel represents their readiness for kindergarten more than any other: the ability to effectively tell a knock-knock joke.

Ok, hear me out on this one! There comes a day in every ECE classroom when the lunch table conversation goes from the usual silliness and insanity to a more organized and orchestrated level of silliness and insanity. You'll hear it, I promise. "Knock knock...ok, now you say 'who's there..." [copious giggles] "who's there?" [at least one kid falls off his chair laughing followed by more copious giggles] "boo..."
"I said boo"

"uh...." [copious giggles, another kid inevitably falls off her chair...]

"you're supposed to say boo who?"

"oh, oh yeah...boo who..."

"Oh, hold on, I forgot...wait, let me start over...knock knock...."

And the right of passage between preschool and kindergarten occurs in the moment that the lunch table crowd finally and effectively carries out the completion of the joke. In less than 20 minutes. With at least one child still in a chair. Ok, maybe that's setting the bar a little too high...

But there is more value within the confines of a knock knock joke than meets the eye. In fact, there are a lot of important developmental skills within participating in the exchange. Children learn early reading concepts like sequencing through their ability to carry out the joke in proper order. Children learn math skills like timing--if you've ever heard the Interrupting Cow Joke, you know that timing is everything. And counting...you need to go through at least a few bananas before you get to "orange you glad I didn't say banana?" And science: you must understand the way the world does work in order to see the humor in a joke that goes against that. And most importantly, the exchange of a joke promotes the social skills of relationship. Of taking turns, of picking up on emotional cues, of sharing and connecting through laughter that, indeed, seems contagious even before you get to "who's there" sometimes...

Humor is important. Laughter matters. When I first spoke to my now husband over the phone, before we even met, I called a close friend and mentor to report back. "He seems like a great guy, wonderful character traits, kind, hardworking, intelligent...but...he doesn't seem to have a sense of humor." I was about to call off the whole thing but my friend told to me to give it a chance and see. And what I didn't know at the time is that my husband had (and has) an impeccable ability to pass complete nonsense over as fact with a totally straight face and flat affect. It is a nuance of humor that few can pull off and he still "gets" me several times a year. Indeed, I fell for several of his best jokes in that first phone call and was none the wiser. 

If you are familiar with "The Five Love Languages," I'd like to pose a sixth: humor. This language is more subtle and nuanced. It may tag along with one of the other more dominant dialects like quality time or positive affirmations. But humor is truly a language in and of its own right. Humor is what makes us resilient; it is our ability to laugh at ourselves or laugh it off altogether. The very fact that hearing someone else laugh can bring on the same response in ourselves--even more so if you are in the same room--says that we connect through laughter on a primal level. The response is involuntary, hence the concept that laughter is "contagious." We are as unable to avoid a giggle in the air as we are a bacterium or virus. And the idea of laughing until you cry--how can two, seemingly opposite physical responses be so closely linked? Humor is an expression of empathy. The ability to respond and react to emotional stimuli in others and in the environment around us.

Young children use humor in a variety of ways. There is an old-school phrase, "class clown" that was 

used to describe the kid in the room who always had to get the last laugh. He was usually a kid who was otherwise "a little bit different." Humor was, in a sense, his shield as well as his sword. They can't laugh at you if you make them laugh with you first. Indeed, humor is utilized by children as a means of self protection. Some children resort to silliness in times of anxiety. Some children use it as a means to connect and express friendship. Some love the feeling of getting a good laugh and indeed, their humor is a means of commerce. They exchange their silliness for the reception of laughter from their consumer, the audience at large. Many children use the language of humor for more than one reason. They may be silly to avoid something challenging, or to resolve conflict, or to dispel anxiety or simply to be silly for silliness's sake. [FYI, that's usually when somebody falls out of their chair...]

Humor has a time and a place. Navigating that boundary is harder for some than for others. The "class clown" often got himself into trouble because his timing and location were off. And in preschool and kindergarten, impulse control is not necessarily a strong suit yet. One of my own little comedians has on occasion had to sit out or be redirected in school because his silliness became disruptive to the classroom environment. But I do not worry about him or about those like him: I know that he will learn to gain control over the subtle parameters of when and where he can run his stand-up routine. And I know that his ability to laugh himself right off a chair and take the audience right along with him will give him two of the most valuable tools in life: resilience and relationship. 

As for me, I am still in preschool because whenever I try to tell The Interrupting Cow Joke, I inevitably burst into uncontrollable laughter before I even get to "Moo."

Walk Tall and Carry a Big Stick: How Early Language Shapes Our Children into Becoming

If you can, remember back to when you were four years old. Describe yourself. What words come to mind? And now, if you can, try to remember where those words that painted the earliest landscapes of who you are came from. Are they your own? Chances are, they are words that significant adults used to describe you. And now, allow yourself to add the weight of judgment to those words. Were they helpful? Harmful? Empowering? Hindering? Did those earliest adjectives in the narrative of who you've become facilitate the process of shaping you into being?

Language is powerful. And language is power. At our very youngest and most vulnerable stages in life, our story is one that others tell about us. As we mature and grow toward independence, the baton is passed in the form of a brush that paints our own personal landscape, a pen that captures our own self narrative. And we grow to the tune that actions speak louder than words, that we are what we do, not what we say we do--but from those first moments outside of the womb (sometimes even beforehand), it is words that give life to those actions--the very ones that define who we are and who we will become.

As adults, as parents, as educators who work with young children, are we speaking to and about the little ones in our lives in a way that honors who they are in this moment and nurtures their earliest steps in becoming? What landscape do we illustrate with our words for the children we speak to and speak about? And with our youngest ones, it is as much the words we speak as the moments we are silent. There is a great amount of energy and potential in our communication with (and about) our tiny humans and it has a ripple effect.

The same is true for adults. I think about how my own mood might shift if, say I were working, my supervisor came into my room and pointed out something positive versus something negative. Say she loves what I've set up on the table that morning for the students. Suddenly, I feel incredible. I feel good about myself and my abilities. My performance that day will likely reflect that inflation of self confidence. Challenges will be easy to overcome. My energy for supporting my students will be abundant. And likely, that ripple effect will also extend to seeing others in a more positive light. But what if she comes and sees that my floors haven't been swept and look unkempt? Now I feel rather frustrated. Does she not value my true talents and skills, but rather only the aesthetics of the room? Now the little challenges of the day will seem more frustrating. My patience is thinner as much of my energy is consumed with self doubt. I might also see others in a less positive light and notice more of the "messes" and "less aesthetically pleasing" sights around me.

And the same is true in parenthood. At my core, I know my children. I know their strengths, their challenges, their quirks and their talents. But how others speak about them and see them can also shape my parenting. If I pick up my son from school and hear about a struggle he had in class or something that frustrated his teachers, I might feel a sensitivity toward him and compassion. And at the same time, those behaviors will be magnified for me. Suddenly his snail like pace to get in the car and up the stairs to his afternoon nap are more than I can tolerate. I'm frustrated with him; I'm frustrated for him. But then, if I happen to hear he's had a success in the classroom or demonstrated growth in an area he previously struggled with, that same exact afternoon routine looks differently to me. He dawdles on the way to the car like every day. He drops his school bag in the middle of an empty parking spot and abandons it there as he discovers a seed pod lying next to the curb. But I am so enamored with the fact that he noticed the seed pod and is curious about what's inside and where it came from. He is such a little naturalist, I think to myself. So curious and full of wonder. And I suddenly have infinite patience for that snail like pace to his car seat and up the stairs for nap time.

So if my own parenting is so greatly affected by the words spoken about my child, how much more so is my child affected by them? When I think about the words that were used to define me as I grew up, I can see how some became self-fulfilling prophecies, for better or for worse. I can see how others were abandoned, almost defiantly as I claimed a stake in my story. And I can see how, still others, became landmarks on the map of a journey I voraciously pursued. At our very youngest, so much of life is future focused. What a paradoxical universe our children exist in, when so much of early childhood is defined by living in the moment. And as tiny humans who are so in the moment, it must be so disorienting at times to live in a world that requires us to be bigger, older, stronger and wiser before we can truly amount to anything. So how can we, as adults who love and nurture children, use language (and nonverbal communication as well) to honor who are children already are in this moment?

 This is more of a rhetorical question and lifelong journey for me as an adult raising and working with children than one I can fully unpack in the space of a blog post. I can certainly share some of my own thoughts and I'd love to hear from others on the topic as well. I feel that it boils down (more simply stated than implemented) to honoring our children in who they are in this moment and seeing them--and ourselves--as humans in a perpetual state of becoming.

Honoring Processes: When we respect a child's process, we notice their experiences with judgments (positive and negative) removed. In fact, the simple act of noticing and seeing a child in his environment is perhaps the greatest gift we can give--well beyond that of our external praise and acceptance. Language that conveys to children that they are seen instills security and trust as well as confidence and feelings of competence.

Honoring Emotions: We convey respect when we provide supportive language and a safety net for large emotions--however "appropriate" or "messy" they may seem to us adults. We may not agree with someone else's emotions or reactions but we cannot dictate them either. It is challenging as an adult--particularly as an invested and attached adult--to separate from our child's strong feelings. Nonetheless, the more we can connect with our children in moments of intensity, the more that they can connect with themselves and their own emotions in moments of intensity. Phrases like "that's not scary" or "it's no big deal" or "don't cry, be brave," can be rephrased in ways that validate the emotion and empower the person feeling it. I can remember S coining a phrase I absolutely love: "I'm scared AND I'm brave of this."

Honoring the Need Behind the Behavior: This is a tough one when it comes to "unsavory" behaviors in our children. We see particular behaviors in children through very adult lenses and we can lose sight of the fact that all children are born into this world with a first language that is not verbal communication. Behaviors from the time they very first exit the womb are how they survive and get their needs met. And so, it should be no surprise, that in moments of intensity, children resort to their "first language" to communicate their deepest needs. Can you allow yourself to step back, to slow down, and to wonder (maybe even with your child) what need their behavior is communicating?

Honoring Relationships: While tiny humans lack an adult version of tact and empathy, they do not lack a human need and desire for connection and acceptance. Relationships matter. When we support our children and honor them in building, nurturing and preserving their relationships, we give them a tool that can carry them for life--a teaching a man to fish scenario, so to speak. Removal from difficult situations, whether done punitively or protectively, inhibits their opportunity to cultivate the skills necessary to maintain healthy relationships. And while everyone (adults included) sometimes needs a break or a time out or some personal space--it is important that we help children to verbalize and facilitate those moments of reunion. This includes giving language and tools to repair a damaged relationship--and a reminder even to ourselves, that a broken rope tied in a knot is stronger after the repair than it was before the damage occurred.

Honoring Pace: This is perhaps one of the ones I most greatly struggle with as an adult. Children's sense of time is so very different from our own. We, particularly in our technologically driven and advanced world, operate on such a rapid pace. Not necessarily so for the tiny humans in our lives. Allowing that pace to slow down for our children is a challenge and truly a gift. This can even include the pace of our own language and words--slowing down our speech and our tendency to jump in and provide a monologue for every experience a child is having in a classroom or at home--and replacing it with the space of silence. Observing. Seeing. Being present and available, but not needing to name it, claim it or experience it for them.

Honoring Space: And speaking of space, giving respect to a child's experience in his space and expression within that is huge. Ideas about aesthetics from the shorter members of our families and classrooms can run on a different axis than our own, but what message do we convey to our youngest artists, designers, engineers, etc, when we impose our adult visions of beauty on our children's environment to the exclusion of their own. Does your space, whether at home or in a classroom, reflect the values of all the people in it? Whether it's through artwork and meaningful objects displayed, preserving a block tower in progress rather than forcing clean up because that's what happens after playtime or honoring a request to wear those mismatched clothes to school that she picked out herself, honoring a child's space and ownership in it conveys a deep message that goes well beyond words. Children can experience and recognize beauty in their own right.

Honoring this Moment: And this one, is perhaps the greatest of all. When we honor and respect children for who they already are in this moment, when we convey the deepest message of acceptance that most adults still long to hear--you are enough--we truly pass the baton to our children and empower them to be authors and illustrators of their own self narrative. What if instead of praising a child who thinks scientifically with a statement of "perhaps you'll be a scientist when you grow up!" we offered them the language to describe themselves in this moment, already as complete and whole human beings (tiny as they are). "You showed scientific thinking when you wondered about the moon being out during the daytime!" And if we can do that in the moments of "triumph," imagine how much more so we can empower our children when the conversation around the "harder moments" shifts.

I hear again and again about how "today's children have changed." And I'd argue that today's children have not change; adults have. The pendulum may have swung from the days of children being "seen and not heard," and yet many of the more subtle adult mentalities around this phrase still exist. We waver between wanting our children to grow up and be independent advocates for their beliefs to wanting them to refrain from expressing any opinions at all until they are 40 (or at least until dinner time is over). We waver between seeing them as "only children" and expecting them to act like adults. We waver between the powerful messages of the #metoo movement, our current political climate and seeing a world of perpetuated inequality and injustice to reverting back to statements like "who's the adult here? You're the parent/teacher/caregiver..." And, at the very deepest level, we waver between the earliest memories and ideas we hold inside of us about who we are and who we were at just 4 years old and the desire for our own tiny humans to experience something different. To tell a different story. Or maybe to tell the parts of our own that we could never put into words because we were "only children," and we "shouldn't talk back" and we should "stop crying and be brave."

But today, I want you and your children to internalize only one thing. Yes, words are powerful and words are power. There will be a lifetime of opportunities for words to shape us into being and becoming. And we will have just as many opportunities to say and do the "right thing" as we will to miss the mark. It can feel like an immense burden when you look at it through that lens or you can lift that burden and feel the freedom of knowing that becoming is a verb. The story doesn't end here. In this moment, the greatest gift of words and actions that we can give to the little ones in our care is the core belief that who they are already in this moment is enough. And imagine the ripple effect of gifting that to yourself as well--because no matter how tall we eventually grow to walk, we should all be able to carry a big stick.