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

gradual departure

Over the years I've seen a lot of kids dropped off at preschool, and a lot of kids picked up from preschool.  These may seem like basic everyday events, but they are huge. 

Most parents quickly get drop-off nailed.  At our school we have a built-in part of the day we call "Gradual Arrival."  It's the first hour of the day and we invite parents to come in with children, read a book, play a game, hang out a little bit while kids get settled in, have a quick check-in with a teacher about any information relevant to the day, etc.  It's gentle, it's relaxed, it's cozy.  Many children are ready to separate with a quick hug and sometimes forget to say goodbye.  Others need a specific routine before they can say goodbye: one book, five hugs and kisses at the door, and Mommy does a silly dance outside the window.  The routine varies for each child, of course, and the silly dance is not always required!

More difficult to navigate sometimes is pick-up time.  Your child had a hard time saying goodbye in the morning, so you think they'll be glad to go home at the end of the day, but they have just as hard a time leaving school as they had leaving you.  Or, you had a long day at work and you still have to pick up baby brother and get some groceries before you can go home to make dinner.  It's time to go and you're ready now.  Why is your child not ready to leave?

At our school, kids go home at all different times from 1:00 to 6:00, so there's no way to put "Gradual Departure" into the schedule, but I've come to the realization that it's just as important, and something that parents should consider putting into their daily routine.

Imagine that your spouse is going to pick you up from work.  You don't know exactly when, you just have a general idea that it will be late afternoon.  Just as you get on a roll in a project you've been struggling with, your spouse arrives and wants to leave immediately.  It would be a little unsettling.  Wouldn't you want to share the breakthrough in your work and let them know that you need a few minutes to wrap up what you're doing?

Alternatively, what if your spouse came to pick you up in the middle of a recreational activity with your friends, and demanded to leave right away?  Since play is children's work, both of these scenarios are true for them.  Just as they need time to adjust into school, they need time to adjust out.

Some parents come and hang out, chatting with each other or the teachers, while the kids finish playing and then get ready to go.  This is good community building time, but it could be even better.

The idea of "Gradual Departure" came to me from a parent whose child told her he didn't like it when she came to pick him up and didn't play with him.  He was up in the clubhouse (kind of a treeless treehouse in the backyard, which is too small for adults to stand upright in), and she went right up there and got into his game.  This child, who often resists every step of the way toward going home, packed up and left without any fuss after his mom played with him for a little while.

Another time I was involved in a dramatic play game of "The Three Bears" with two other children in the backyard.  We were just discussing how we needed someone to come out and be Goldilocks when one of their moms arrived to pick up, and without even thinking I said, "Oh good, you're just in time to be Goldilocks." She graciously took it in stride!

Kids love it when adults pretend play with them.  They delight in it.  So jumping into their game is a great way to respect the work they've been doing all day, to show them that you see them, appreciate their process, and value their ideas. 

Then, when it's time to go, just as you reassure them in the morning that you'll be back to pick them up later, you can reassure them that the school and the teachers and the friends and the materials they're using will still be here tomorrow, or next week, and they can play this game again next time.  Some kids even like to save a favorite school material in a special place where they can find it again tomorrow. 

Change is hard, and going home at the end of the day is change.  It takes time to think about it, time to reconnect with parents, and transition out of a hardworking day at school.  Giving your child time and attention at pick-up can set you up for a whole evening of positive interactions. 

look what i can do

look!
look at me!
look what i can do!
watch this!

did you see me jump so far?
did you see me climb so high?

see, i wrote my name.
i can write it backwards, watch.
i'll show you how i did it.

look what i made!
i made it myself.
i put it together and then it broke, but i tried again and it broke again
but then i tried a different way and this is what i made, see?
watch what it can do.
this part turns around and this part shoots lasers.
this is how it flies, watch this!

come and see what we made -
we did it together.  
i built the house and my friend made the garage.
this is where the animals live, and this is where they go potty.
if you want to come and visit, you have to knock on the door.

come and see what we are doing -
we are putting on a show.
you are the audience, you sit over there.
watch us dance, see what we can do.

this is what we're learning
this is what we're building
this is how we're growing
watch us and see

don't go away yet,
take a second look
take a closer look, lean it and examine
ask me some questions about how it works
ask me why i put that piece over there.

don't ask me what it is, because it's obvious to me -
ask me to tell you everything about it.
ask me to tell you what i was thinking about
ask me to explain the parts you don't understand

let me tell you all i have to tell
listen to my thinking, my reasoning
don't say "that's nice," and don't say "i love it,"
unless you want me to learn to only work for your approval.
tell me it looks like i worked very hard
tell me you think i must be proud of myself
tell me you notice how i kept at it, even when it was difficult,
and i figured out a way to make it work
i practiced and practiced until i learned how to do it
tell me, "remember when you didn't know how to do that?"
i will smile and say, "when i was little."
tell me you wonder what i'll learn to do next
tell me you can't wait to see

i'm making my learning visible every day
all you have to do is open your eyes
and look,
look at me.

useful

when you are 4
anything is possible
everything is beautiful
disappointments are the worst thing ever
a knocked-over block castle is a disaster
a little blood on your finger makes you wonder
if you are going to die.

when you are 4
everything is original
naptime is unthinkable
under the table is your hiding place
and time is a snail

when you are 4
your stories get longer
your fingers get stronger
you laugh with abandon
when someone says "underwear"

when you are 4
a stick is a sword
     a violin
     a magic wand
     a mixing spoon
     a hairbrush
     a conductor's baton

when you are 4
everything is for climbing on
everything is for painting on
everything is for gluing on
everything is for banging on
everything is useful
if you use your imagination

when you are 4

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

One of the teachers got a new mixer for her birthday and brought the box and styrofoam packaging to school for the kids to use.

N. was leaving school with her mom just as I was returning from a parent-teacher conference.  She walked toward the front door with a big smile on her face and a large... something... in her hands, and announced, "Useful."

I looked at it more closely.  She had transformed the mixer's styrofoam packaging into a caddy of sorts, inserting things into its various nooks, crannies, and holes; mostly her artwork made of paper, but also wilted flowers (a.k.a. bells), a hair band, and an extra chunk of styrofoam that she'd colored on with pastels.

Then she noticed that her useful thing still had some vacant space.  There was a round hole on one side, about two inches in diameter.  She looked around and thought about it for mere seconds before she had the solution: on the table next to the fish tank was a small paper cup containing water and some half-wilted flowers that we'd been using in the art room.  She had relocated the flowers to this paper vase herself a day or two earlier, rescuing them from a certain glue-related fate, and decided at this moment that they were going home with her.  She gently and easily fitted the cup into the circular hole in the styrofoam, and giggled with glee.

"Useful," I said, to acknowledge her delight in her creation.

"Useful," she agreed, and off she went with her mom, easily carrying all of her useful things.

back to yesterday

'I could tell you my adventures - beginning from this morning,' said Alice a little timidly: 'but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.'

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

yesterday
i was a dancer
i was an artist
i was a farmer
i was a scientist
i was a baker
i was an acrobat
i was a homemaker
i was a horseback rider
i was a hula girl
i was an explorer 
i was an architect

yesterday
i was a whale
i was a jack-in-the-box
i was an engineer
i was a baby swan
i was a passenger
i was a carpenter
i was a witch
i was a reader
i was a plumber
i was a storyteller
i was a paper airplane pilot

yesterday
i was a magician king
i was a jedi padawan
i was a firefighter
i was a tree spirit
i was a princess
i was a pirate
i was a train conductor
i was a blue crayon
i was a potion maker
i was a photographer

yesterday
i was a builder
i was a painter
i was a clown
i was a ladybug
i was a florist
i was a cartographer
i was a pianist
i was a ballerina
i was a judge
i was a model
i was a traveler






then my parents ask me, "what did you do at school today?"
it is hard work to remember.
i shrug my shoulders and say,

"i played."