Sandcastles: Part Two (Lengthier)

Last Thursday was my last day teaching K.  Last day of the year. Maybe last day forever.  I was looking forward to a lesson I always taught the last week of school, and I surprised myself at the outcome.  I was determined to give the students the type of experience I wish they could've had every day during their Kindergarten year.  But Kindergarten doesn't live up to it's name any longer.  In reality, Kindergarten today is what first (or even second) grade used to be.  Which is why I'm switching to a brand new grade in August: TK (see my last post). In any case,  I arrived at school and invited the gaggle of girls who always showed up before the bell asking if I needed any help to pass out large sheets of pale blue and sand colored construction paper to each desk.  When the students arrived, they selected books to read on the carpet independently as I took a comfortable spot myself.  After a few minutes, they put their books away and focused their attention on me as I read Robert Munsch's "The Sandcastle Contest", in which a young boy builds a house (and all its contents) entirely out of sand in an effort to win a bathtub full of ice cream.

After the story, I announced that we were going to have our own sandcastle contest and invited the students to use the paper on the desk and only their hands to create their own.  And then I joined them.

I asked one of my girls with an empty seat next to her if I could work beside her, and then I proceeded to model appropriate language and strategies for completing the task as I worked.  Knowing that so many students are reluctant to even attempt torn paper art, I began with comments like, "Now that is not the shape I was trying to make. I wonder how I could use it a different way?" and (talking aloud to myself) "Oh, no. I am trying to _______, but it's not working. What could I do?".  I also model asking to share glue and using superb manners, what to do when pieces of torn paper get mixed up between me and my desk partner, and sharing general techniques such as rolling strips of paper on a pencil or my finger or folding it accordion style for different effects.  We discussed how ripping the paper into different shapes and then putting the shapes together could help us reach our goal.  Ten or fifteen minutes in, a student asks, "Is this a competition?"  "Yes it is, " I answer, "but not in the way that you think."  Then five or ten minutes after that I comment "Does everyone's sandcastle look exactly the same?" The general concensus was no.  Many students were thoroughly engaged after 30-35 minutes.  Two or three of my more active (and normally uninspired) boys were busily creating sand mailboxes (complete with pieces of sand "mail" and sand "guys" opening the mailboxes.  Only one student continued to stare at me surrounded by pieces of ripped paper and no idea where to begin designing what I had asked of him. 

"Recess time," I said, "we'll finish later today." 

A few students remained in their seats working incessantly on their beachy creations.  Eventually I coaxed them out.  My own sandcastle was coming along nicely, a sand "ladder" allowed visitors to my coastal palace access to two separate towers connected by a sand "rope bridge".  A spiral of rolled paper seemed to dance at the apex of the second tower, beckoning outsiders.  How could I become more of a participant and facilitator on a daily basis in my students' learning? What would it take?

When the students returned from their break, they settled onto the carpet spots. "Earlier I mentioned that designing our torn paper sandcastles was a contest, but not the kind you'd think," I started, hooking my nearly first graders' attention and then reeling it in bit by bit.  Eventually the students deducted that what I meant was they were competing against themselves.  That what others created was their own competition and of no matter when they judged their own work.   After all, none of them were exactly alike and we can only ever try to do better than our last try, right? Natch. The kids were in. Then one piped up. "But what's the prize?" Aha. The prize. The carrot. The draw. Just out of reach, but so enticing. What would it be this time? A pencil? A sticker? Extra computer time? I smiled softly and said, "We will talk about the prize later on."  

And so the kids continued, one girl adding an opening drawbridge and secret windows and clouds that folded down to reveal princesses and dragons; another creating the outline of a pole house reminiscent of an island getaway.  One boy showed me how to fold a large triangle into a square but folding two smaller triangles in from the edges. As the kids began to finish, I offered a choice.  Students could read, work on a quiet desk activity, or get more blue and tan paper to make another creation.  An interesting thing happened. One girl came up to me with a geometric design on her page.  At the top of the page a handwritten sentence read: "Find the chryangl in the sercle." Geometric riddles? How many common core standards was I actually addressing here? Without even trying? Just by providing what educators in the progressive movement call a "provocation". Putting out materials and allowing learners to guide themselves.  Student-centered learning. How novel.  And the geometric riddles caught on like wildfire throughout the classroom.  And I sat next to my table partner and watched it all play out. 

Sandcastles: Part One (lengthy)

Thursday morning I arrived for my last instructional day of the school year.  It would be the end of my 18th year of teaching; my 9th straight year of teaching Kindergarten in California.  It would be my last day teaching Kindergarten, and my last day before having a Kindergartner at school with me! In the Fall (late Summer) I will be teaching a new grade level.  Not just a new grade level to me; but an entirely new grade level in the state of California.  Known as Transitional Kindergarten, or "TK", it is meant to be a bridge between preschool and Kindergarten, the initial year of a two-year Kindergarten program. A hybrid of Pre-K and Early or Young K, students in TK will have birthdays between Sept. 2 and Dec. 1, 2009.   That's right, folks.  EVERY child in my class next year will celebrate their 5th birthday in either September, October, or November. Hmmm.

Now, in my personal philosophy of education birthdates would not be determinants of learning levels.
Even so, I remember my shock and dismay in August, 2005 when I learned that my youngest student would be turning 5 on December 1st of that year; I would be teaching (a) 4 year old(s) for literally FOUR months into the school year! Unheard of! What was California thinking? So, a few years later, they passed an initiative and a timeline was put into place to change the K entrance eligibility date from Dec. 1 to Sept. 1 over a three year period, scaling back one month at at time.  Sounds logical, right?

This past year, then, the deadline was Oct. 1.  Students born between Sept. 1 and Oct. 1 could select to be in TK or K; students born Oct. 2- Dec. 1 would be placed in K.  My youngest student's birthday this year? Oct. 1.

Now I have been a proponent or a two year K program for years. Why not give our youngest the gift of time instead of calling it "retention"? The Kindergarten retention form at my school is even called "Kindergarten Continuance Form". Why the social stigma? I have advocated multi-age early childhood classrooms where children move on when THEY are ready, not when numbers on a piece of paper demand.

Some of my future architects and engineers at work.

Understandably many Californians do not have a clear understanding of TK.  The lines are blurred; the curriculum fuzzy at best.  Next Monday and Tuesday I will meet with the TK teachers in my district; we have ten schools, and each school has one TK classroom (in some cases two from what I understand).  We will work on block plans and lessons for next Fall, the first full implementation of Transitional Kindergarten in the state.  Many friends with TK age children are opting to keep them in preschool one more year when they can comfortably afford it.  Others are enrolling in public TKs with faith and hope.  Some are concerned that it will not challenge their Kindergarten-ready students. 

The questions are many.  

Can students with no preschool background and/or low level skills and August (or summer?)  birthdays  also be enrolled? (According to the CDE website apparently this is a local decision.)

Can students with readiness skills in place (all letters and sounds etc.) who are not age-eligible for K be moved into K? (Sounds like this is not preferable, not clear if it is possible.)

It is my hope that I can create a developmental, constructivist, nature-based, inquiry based program with plenty of kinesthetic pre-writing activities (painting, lacing, clay, gardening etc.) There will be a few obstacles to surmount:

At this time the ratio is 24:1. 

At this time I am indicated as a split level TK/K with 19 TK students and 5 K students.

At this time I will have a curriculum specialist for approximately 45-60 minutes or my 3 1/2 hour day with the students. 

I look forward with both bubbling anticipation and trepidation as I take on this new phase of my career. 

I am excited by the possibilities to return to the movement based, exploration and discovery based sense of early childhood development as a foundation for academic concepts in all academic areas (most especially literacy, number sense and the arts/sciences).  I am cautious because there will be a sense of isolation with only one TK per site and limited opportunities for communication and collaboration with grade level colleagues. (I am used to daily exchange of materials, ideas, and resources with my K team. I will still be located physically with them and we will continue to support each other in our practice, but our days will be less aligned than before.)

All in all, I am considering this 19th year in education as pivotal in my career; as I navigate both a new grade level and our second year of Common Core, along with my first year as a parent of a public school student, I will either flow along easily with the current or be caught in the undertow. 

A turning point

Friday marked both a beginning and an end, though luckily without that sense of finality most endings tend to include.  It was the last day of preschool for Owen and Delaney at A Little Patch of Earth. It ended Laney's first year of preschool, and Owen's last.

The "Patch" as it is known, is a true haven, a sanctuary for children and childhood and those who consider play to be the truest manner of education.  Opened two years ago by local mother and educator Sally Swiatek, A Little Patch of Earth provides an environment rich with natural, child-centered experiences surrounded by grass, trees, sand, mud, rocks, gardens, laying hens and a 60 year old tortoise named Benny (who adores watermelon).  It opened last year, and has been a multi-age (2 1/2-5 years old) 2, 3, or 5 day preschool (9 am-1 pm) or full day program with seven teachers and a few staff.  I had the pleasure of serving as the yoga/bodywork facilitator biweekly on Thursday afternoons and Friday mornings.

This past Friday evening, at 5 o'clock, dozens of Patch families congregated on picnic blankets scattered across the two acre yard peppered with climbing oaks.  Severals rounds were topped with bright green table coverings and burlap wrapped mason jars filled with happy sunflowers and tied off with a satiny red ribbon.  The sun was bright and the afternoon heat saturated our clothes and skin. Smiles passed from face to face, floating briefly in the charged atmosphere before landing softly on grown-ups and littles alike.

A family run business had been contracted to make tacos and quesadillas to serve as the entree, along with salads, fruits and tortilla chips brought by families.  The propane tank took a while to start, so the evening's agenda was flipped and families were invited to cross the parking lot to a large Multi-Purpose Room in the neighboring church, where artifacts of the children's learning had been hung and arranged for all to enjoy.  After ten or fifteen minutes, families were invited to sit and hear about the group of children heading off to Kindergarten.  The students leaving the Patch were called to sit on a row of large, soft pillows along the front of the room, arranged around a jigsawed standing tree fitted with golden hooks.  Teacher Sally called out each name, and a slideshow was projected on the front wall while all sang together "Tonight you belong to me".  Then the four and five year olds were called up to hang a framed family portrait on the wooden tree.

The dinner hour was full of families simultaneously frolicking, playing, eating, chatting, and milling about for a good hour or more.  We split up with grandparents hanging out at the tables, daddy in the taco line (deliciousness!) and momma picking up beverages and sides while the kids hung out with their friends on the blankets.  Later a spirited storyteller performed, and at the end of the evening, families packed up and retrieved treasures, photos, and artwork from the display before heading home.

Luckily it was not goodbye, since both kids will attend three weeks in June and Laney will return in September for the next term.  There will be some major changes as the Patch grows, however.  Two new classrooms for toddler and 2-3's, expanding staff and many new families (80 in total) round out the growth for 2014-2015.