freedom and limits

some art materials sit out on the table,
attractively displayed.
glue, brushes, various objects for collage, some round fabric samples donated by a neighbor.
the table is inviting, asking children to come and do, come and make, come and explore.
the teacher has an idea of what the children might do,
what the materials are for.

what is freedom, at this art table?
the children are free to select their materials, glue them together as they see fit.
are they free to dump out the beads, dump out the feathers, take them away to another table,
pour the jewels into a purse and carry them away as treasure?
should the teacher dictate that "these are only for this project" and "they stay at this table?"
should everyone at the table be involved in a dialogue about the limits?
what will happen if someone takes all the jewels away?
what will happen if someone dumps out all the beads?

are they free to glue all the fabric samples together in a tall stack, leaving none for anyone else?
are they free to use as much glue as they like, even if a teacher thinks they are using too much?
a teacher can give information, or wonder:
"if you stack them all up, there won't be any for other children to use."
"i wonder if your piece will dry with all that glue on it."

here are paper, crayons, scissors, a 3-year-old.
what is freedom here?
is he free to cut his paper any way he chooses?
is he free to experiment with how to hold the scissors
even though it's clear to a teacher that he doesn't know how yet?
should a teacher take his hands and show him how, or let him struggle to find his own way?
perhaps a 4-year-old will come along, if not today, then another day.
he will see how the 4-year-old holds the scissors, and he will try it too.

is he free to cut his hair? his clothes? another child's picture?
is he free to color on the table? on the floor?
who makes these decisions, and why?

 

here are some paints, out in the backyard.

there's an easel next to the paints, but somehow the paint can't seem to stay there.

are the children free to paint the fence? the wall? the tree?

what about the places where other children step to climb up?

does freedom end where safety is concerned, and who gets to decide?

does a teacher say, "you can't paint there?"

or, "people step there when they're climbing. 

if you paint there, it could be slippery and people could fall."

what if children still want to paint there?

what if children want to paint on their own bodies?
"i'm making wonder woman bracelets, so i can be wonder woman," she said.
who's the boss of a child's own skin?
the teacher? the evening bath-giver? the skin-wearer herself?
what if she wants to paint her face, legs, and tummy too?
what if other children see her and also want to paint themselves?
is there any harm in it?

we ask ourselves these questions:
out loud in staff meetings,
and subconsciously as we make split-second decisions about how to respond in the moment.
teachers have wisdom, from their years of experience.
children need to live the experience, in order to gain the wisdom.
somewhere in the grey area between freedom and limits
lies the substance of the work we are doing:
empowering children to make educated choices,
treat others with respect and empathy,
speak up for themselves and others if they see an injustice,
and to question the authorities who sometimes say,
"no dumping out all the feathers,"
"this is the right way to hold the scissors,"
and "paint stays at the easel."

IDEC 2013 - part 4 - vision and connections

Monday's theme at IDEC 2013 (the International Democratic Education Conference) was "Vision," and Tuesday's theme was "Connections." In two days I filled 17 pages with notes. How can I coherently convey any of it to anyone?

In reality, looking back through my notes, most of what I've written down are just ideas and questions. Then, ideas that lead to more questions. The most amazing thing about being here is that everyone is here to share and learn with and from each other. Everybody wants to hear each other's stories, ask questions, find out who's got experience in the thing they're stuck on, find out who's doing something radically different and amazing. And everybody accepts everyone else at face value. There's no judging, just an understanding that we're each on our own paths, each seeking the next challenge or adventure.

In boiling down the last 48 hours, I think my takeaway so far is to go back to my school and work the way the conference is working. Ask big questions, wait for answers to come. Work collaboratively on problems. Include everyone in the conversation. Trust the kids and trust the process.

Here are some of the big questions from these first two days that I want to bring back to my school. And I'd love to hear my readers' responses as well. Everybody is invited into the conversation! The last two questions are ones that we've been exploring for the past year already.

- How do you define democratic education?

- What does community participation look like?

- How do you balance your vision for your school with the visions/needs/concerns etc. of the school community?

- How can we build connection with each other for the future of democratic education?

- What are your thoughts on the pros and cons of making decisions by consensus vs. majority voting?

- When children make the rules, what do you do about bottom-line safety concerns that the adults aren't willing to negotiate on, i.e. holding hands crossing the street, sitting up while eating, washing hands after using the bathroom?

- When you value not bossing children around or forcing them to do things that they don't want to do in school, how do kids learn responsibility for materials (taking care of them, not breaking them, cleaning up)?

I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts and ideas and as always, even more questions.

IDEC 2013 - part 3 - place and migration

Today after a short welcome, the conference participants gathered in small "homebase" groups for the first time. We'll be meeting with these same groups daily for check-in and reflection. Each group had a theme. Ours was "place and migration."

We began by reflecting on what place and migration mean to each of us, then shared with a partner and then with the whole group. The discussion ranged from gentrification and forced migrations to changing schools and geese. A young boy in our group, maybe 8 or 9, was very focused on geese. He and his mom and I were talking in the think-pair-share activity, and he didn't have much to say except "Goose." It became kind of a running gag, until our group began planning our presentation for the opening ceremony later tonight.

For "place," we made a collective human sculpture, with each group member taking a pose that represents what place means to them, each one adding their idea to the whole. Next, to represent migration, we made four small groups and each group had a sculptor who would position the rest of the group into a sculpture representing migration. I was in that young boy's group, and he was the sculptor.

At first, I caught myself thinking something vaguely along the lines of "oh no, the kid won't do it right." Then I couldn't believe I had that thought. Me, a progressive educator dedicated to child-centered learning! I mentally noted my reaction and then evicted it from my mind. Then, the boy himself blew me away. He instantly had a vision of what he would sculpt. "Goose," he said. He put us in a V formation and had us flap our arms. I asked if we could rest if our arms got tired and he said if our arms got tired we would change positions: the person at the front of the V would move to the back and someone else would take the lead. While the other groups' sculptors were working out their creations, the five of us stood there flapping slowly, and now and then changing positions while our sculptor stood back and smiled.

Later, back in the dorm room I reflected on what place and migration could mean in the context of our preschool community, and I wrote this:

Everybody in our immediate community - whoever we're working with or sharing space and time with - comes from a different place and has been on a different journey, but they are all here, together, in the present moment. The diversity inherent in these varied histories makes a community strong because each individual can build on the collective knowledge and experience of the group. Everyone has something to contribute and everyone has something to learn. No one's skills, knowledge or experiences are more important than anyone else's; they all contribute in different ways.

I'm looking forward to participating in this week's migration of thought, following different lead geese and sometimes taking the lead myself. Then I get to take part in another great migration of thought: the 2013-2014 school year, with this year's unique group of teachers, children, parents and extended community. Here we go!

IDEC 2013 - part 2 - anticipation and foms

At the music camp I go to twice a year, WoMaMu, we always have a problem with FOMS, also known as the Fear of Missing Something. This happens when there are three or four workshops scheduled at the same time and you want to go to more than one of them. 

I am having an even bigger problem with FOMS here in Boulder as I prepare for the start of the International Democratic Education Conference. Each workshop time has not three or four but TWELVE fascinating workshops to choose from, and I've spent the evening narrowing my choices DOWN to three or four. How will I possibly choose? Let me give you some examples:

Monday afternoon, I could go to:
- Innovative Learning to Build Strong Community
- Consensus and Participation of Communities in Schools
- Making Learning Visible: Documentation as Democratic Praxis

Tuesday morning, I could choose between:
- So, I want to start a school...
- Mindfulness & Movement in the Classroom
- Inquiry, Dialogue, and Really Big Pictures
- A hike in the gorgeous Flatiron mountains.

Tuesday afternoon it gets even harder:
- Cross-cultural experiential learning
- Community and School Parnerships
- Transformational Storytelling
- Music Making as Democratic Learning

...and so on.

One of the gorgeous buildings at the University of Colorado Boulder

One thing I'm really looking forward to is Monday morning's tour of The Patchwork School in nearby Louisville, CO. I feel a special kinship with The Patchwork School because I like to imagine that I kind of invented it. Here's how: I was driving home from work at the preschool one day a few years ago, thinking of how sad it was that our school didn't include elementary ages. I began to daydream about the kind of school I wanted to expand into, and started thinking of names for schools. I came up with The Patchwork School. When I got home I googled it, and found that it already existed and looked even better than my imaginary school. So, I can't wait to see it in person, in action, and to get to hear all about it from the executive director, Michele Beach.

With so much to learn and see and do, I'd better go get some sleep.

IDEC 2013 - part 1 - inspiration and intention

Inspiration

Our preschool is just finishing our first year of living by the democratic process. We were inspired by our collective years of experience teaching, learning, reading about and toying with the democratic process in classrooms, and one of our big inspirations, Teacher Tom. <---This is a link to one of his many posts about how the kids at his school make their own rules by unanimous consensus, the process on which we modeled our system this year.

Another big inspiration for me has been Summerhill School and its founder A.S. Neill. When I was teaching in London and learned about this amazing school, my mind was blown and changed forever. It's a school where kids can choose whether or not to go to class. They can play outside all day if they want to. They can make choices about their education, learning what they want, when they want. And it works. And one of the major goals behind it is for people to be happy. One of A.S. Neill's famous quotes is, "I would rather Summerhill produced a happy street sweeper than a neurotic prime minister," the idea being that when people are in control of their lives and their education, they are happier and more well-adjusted. Another major aspect of Summerhill is that the kids make the rules, practicing democratic principles in meaningful contexts for their whole childhood. What better way to raise citizens who are prepared to participate in a democracy?

We had a very successful year implementing the democratic process. There's lots of room for improvement, but isn't that always the case? We've just recently had a big meeting of all the teachers from both schools to reflect and share on our experiences and goals for the future. It's exciting. And now comes...

IDEC 2013

Our director, Kris, and I are heading to Boulder, CO tomorrow for the International Democratic Education Conference, a gathering of people from at least 28 countries who are interested in making real, meaningful change in education. It feels so big I almost don't know what to say about it. Educators, youth, kids, parents, activists, artists, "artivists," social justice workers, and many more categories of people will be there to share their experiences, build community, exchange ideas, and much more.

I've barely started reading the dozens of bios of the "coffee talkers" who are scheduled to help facilitate discussions. What do I want to learn about? How will I decide where to go?

My 7 Intentions for the Conference

1.  I want to find the other people working in the early childhood years. My impression is that most of the emphasis will be on K-12 education, with an even greater emphasis in middle and high school education. But I know we're not the only ones doing democratic education in the preschool years, so I want to find some others and pick their brains.

2.  I want to talk to people who are using democratic principles and freedom in elementary schools, where my teaching career began. I want to find out if there are people giving kids their freedom in the context of the public school system, in this country or beyond, and how they manage it.

3.  I want to meet people who have started their own schools. I love working with preschoolers, and I'm always sad when we send them off to kindergarten because I know that most schools out there are going to make them sit down, stay inside, conform, keep their clothes on, do homework, take tests, and learn what the teacher/district/state says it's time to learn. I dream of having a school that goes from infants to 8th grade (maybe even beyond, who knows?) that is one hundred percent free and democratic.

4.  I want to talk to folks from a wide variety of backgrounds. I work in a small, tuition-based private preschool, so our families tend to be more privileged than many in our city. It's relatively easy for my students' families to find them progressive schools to attend once preschool is over. My partner teaches 2nd grade in a low-income area of the Oakland Unified School District. Her students' families don't have much choice. I want to talk to people who are passionate about closing the gap, about making progressive, democratic education possible for all children regardless of their situation in life.

5.  I want to find out how to empower parents to become activists and change agents. I believe that our education system needs a REALLY BIG overhaul, and I guess organizing is the only way anything big ever happens. I've always been more of a dreamer than a doer, so I'm looking to find some doers who can give me tips to bring back to my community, to do our small part to grow the movement for democracy and freedom!

6.  As a music-maker, I also want to sing and play and learn some new songs and share some songs that I know.  I hear there will be singing every morning, so I'm excited about that.

7.  Lastly, I intend to post every day with the details of what I've learned and explored and wondered about.

So, that's it, not much really!!
Colorado, here we come!!

transformers and math in a commercial-free preschool

Commercially licensed characters. Are. Everywhere. Kids these days are inundated with them from birth. Even adults these days grew up inundated by them, so much that it's hard not to think of some of our favorites as "classics" and make them an exception to the rule. 

What's the rule? Around here, it's "No commercially licensed characters at school." We like our school to be a haven where the bombardment of images from TV and movies stops for a few hours and children are free (or forced) to use their imaginations (and memory) to guide their dramatic play. That means T-shirts, lunch boxes, books, classroom materials, backpacks, costumes, shoes, hats, blankets - everything - must be free of commercially licensed characters.

The kids don't forget about their favorites when they walk through the door, of course. There is still plenty of talk and pretend play from Star Wars to Disney princesses and everything in between. The difference is that the "stuff" isn't there to define the game for the children. They have to rely on their mental recall and language skills to reenact favorite stories. If they want light sabers or crowns, they figure out how to make them from the materials available in the art room, using their creativity and problem solving in the process.

This week I got a glimpse of another great outcome of having the commercial character ban in place. Some of the kids have become interested in Transformers, and spent much of their time outdoors playing Autobots and Decepticons, explaining the characters and game to their friends along the way.  Indoors, they invented a new use for the ever-popular Magna-Tiles: they built a variety of 3-D shapes, named them after their favorite Transformer characters, and then had them transform into flat shapes.

"Watch how it transforms," they told me. "You put the arms up, then the head..." and demonstrated until the flat shape had returned to its original 3-D glory. This reminded me of 4th-6th grade math lessons in which children learn to visualize 3-D shapes from a flat drawing that can be folded up into a shape. These kids will be champs at that, and they don't even know they're learning it. And they might not have had the chance to learn it if store-bought Transformers had been allowed at school. 

For more on the commercial-free movement, go here:
Campaign for a Commercial Free Childhood

the most important song

As a singer/songwriter, I often sing with children in preschool, and sometimes we make up songs together, or change lyrics to songs to include all the different ideas the children suggest.

Sometimes when we're singing at circle time, kids get silly and crazy and make weird noises instead of singing or listening.  Over time I've learned to focus that creative energy into making up new verses, or singing the whole tune only on the word "Meow."  More kids tend to sing along when it's time to sing "Meow" or "Blah" instead of the words.  

But there's one exception.

A long time ago I heard a song called "My Mommy Comes Back" by Hap Palmer.  The chorus stuck in my head:

"My mommy comes back, she always comes back

She always comes back to get me

My mommy comes back, she always comes back

She never would forget me."

I had forgotten that there were verses to the song until I looked it up to link it to this post.  When I started teaching preschool I began singing the chorus to kids who were missing their mommies. Then I started personalizing the song with the child and parent's names.  So for a child named Andrew whose mommy was Jennifer, for example, I would sing:

"Jennifer comes back, she always comes back

She always comes back to get Andrew

Jennifer comes back, she always comes back

She never would forget Andrew."

Always, when singing this song, there is no silliness.  There are no "Blah" or "Moo" sounds.  The child I'm singing to stares into my eyes, and the other children nearby fall absolutely silent, listening.  As soon as the song is over, the chatter begins:  "Now do MY mommy!  My mommy's name is Claire."  "Sing my dad now."  "My daddy's name is Mark."  "Now my Nana."  "Now my Grandpa."  Then everyone listens quietly again as the song is sung, over and over, each child contemplating that most important piece of knowledge in their lives: that a loving adult will always come back to get them. 

Sometimes I sing songs to lighten the mood, to practice phonemic awareness, to play a game, to get to know each other's names, to wait for our friends, to learn a concept, or just for fun.  But "My Mommy Comes Back" is the most important song I've ever sung to kids, and it's an honor every time I do it.

----------------------------------------------

Here's the link to Hap Palmer's video:

My Mommy Comes Back

----------------------------------------------