This time of year can be bittersweet, with many students demonstrating remarkable growth and others still struggling with some basic skills. Awana, uniquely, can do both, depending on the day or even the hour.
I recognized her needs early on and have been working intensely with her one-on-one in addition to our small and large group lessons. Awana started making connections in December when she wrote her friends’ names in the Writing Area. She recalled the formation and order of the letters for most of her friends and had developed the fine motor skills needed to write those names. She could not, however, identify the letters or the sounds in their names. That “wow” moment taught me the importance of Awana’s friends as a reference point for her further growth in literacy along with the need to build on that foundation with instruction that helped her make connections between words, letters, and letter sounds. If Awana chose to draw and write about dogs, we thought about the sound in dog. Awana thought about the dog, listened for the /d/ sound, said, “like in David’s name,” and then wrote the letter D.
As I worked with Awana with this plan in mind, I noticed that her friends’ names weren’t the only useful resource. Our transition chants involving letters, which we sing every day, also helped her make connections during choice time and small group. For example, we move from the daily schedule routine to a letter exploration activity by chanting, “Big ‘L’! Little ‘l’! What begins with ‘L’? Lunch, lunch, /l//l/ Lunch.” Recently, the class wrote a letter to the mayor about the littering problem in Newark as part of our study of the environment. To help us get writing, I thought out loud for the children, saying, “Hmm…litter, what do you hear in litter.” Before I could “struggle” with the difficult challenge, Awana’s hand shot up. She responded, “/l/, Big ‘L’! Little ‘l’! What begins with ‘L’? Lunch, lunch, /l//l/ Lunch.” She then proudly came up to the board to add the letter “L.”
And yet Awana does not always retain the information. Many times during the day she responds by shrugging her shoulders and remaining silent or just calling out random letters (or sometimes numbers). I realize some of the inconsistency may be developmental, but I have never seen such dramatic differences in the same child within the same day.
There is also the issue of her mother. Awana receives the least amount of support from home out of all of my students. I hope to send my class off in June with a toolkit filled with games their families can play over the summer to help them retain the skills they have gained. Awana will need this support the most, but given the difficulty her mother has had in keeping appointments with me this year, I fear that Awana won’t get it and these hard-won skills may fade.
Effective Praise is a crucial element of a strong pre-k classroom. As any early childhood educator or parent will tell you, young learners constantly seek validation from adults. In response, I try to provide constant support for my students’ achievement in order to instill in them the self-confidence needed to take risks as learners and to remain highly motivated. Yet “being positive” in any way does not necessarily benefit young learners.
Consider how we, as adults, become better at something professionally. If a boss or colleague simply says, “Good work,” we cannot be sure what was good and how we can continue improving in the future. If the coworker is specific and genuine, however, we feel not only confident in our abilities but empowered to produce “good work” later on.
The principle holds when working with young children. A child might approach me with a piece of artwork, for example, and I may feel inclined to comment on how beautiful it is. The child, however, walks away from that exchange with no understanding of the strengths he exhibited or areas he could work on. So, while it takes more thought and effort, I aim to engage each child in a dialogue with comments and questions like, “Interesting, I like the way you used three different colors on the top part of your design. Why did you use three colors on top, but only one color on the bottom? Tell me about the design. What could you add to the horse?” Through dialogue, I can focus the child on specific aspects of the work and invite her to reflect.
And it’s amazing when you can actually see and hear that reflection taking place. I often hear my students think out loud and address the points we brought up in earlier discussions. For example, Ravon recently noted, “Oh, the cow has eyes to see just like me,” before he added eyes to his drawing, and Tyrone now engages in a dialogue with himself as he writes independently. While labeling his cat mask during small group recently, he asked himself, “How do you spell cat?” and then responded, “You need to stretch it out, c-aaaaaaaaaaaa—ttt” as he pulled his hands apart the way we had discussed in a one-to-one guided writing session.
In a given day, between small group and whole group lessons, anecdote note-taking and snack time, providing specific and authentic praise that invites further reflection seems difficult. But praise with a purpose is so effective and rewarding that I encourage everyone around young children, in or out of the classroom, to do it. I’ve summed up these principles in a document for easy adult reflection.
Recent debate over Head Start’s National Reporting System got me thinking about the challenges of assessing what three and four year olds know and what they have learned from their pre-k teachers. Early Stories sums up the NRS debate with some great examples.
Not being a Head Start teacher myself, I have never administered the NRS. I am required, however, to use the Brigance screening in the beginning of each school year to identify developmental delays. While some of the sections are helpful (e.g., following two and three step directions; fine motor and gross motor evaluations), many of the questions seem to measure a child’s exposure to certain words and objects rather than development. For example, in one section Brigance asks the child to identify a picture of a tractor. I personally fail to see how the inability of a four year old from the inner city to identify a tractor indicates any sort of delay in her development. The test also requires children to identify several body parts including the jaw and ankle, a stretch for any four year old in my opinion.
I think my ideal pre-k assessment tool would breakdown the four areas of child development (i.e., social/emotional; physical; cognitive; and language) and be able to measure each of those components regardless of a child’s background. Unlike the Brigance screening, such an assessment may have to be partially or entirely performance-based since a child may not reveal the full extent of his problem-solving or language skills in a single one-to-one interaction at the start of the year. A teacher can, however, observe a child within the context of play with materials and areas the child has chosen.
Creative Curriculum’s assessment system is entirely performance-based, uses the “developmental continuum” to assess all four areas of development, and is both the most comprehensive and least biased assessment I have seen. While it can be quite helpful in providing information about your students, it is not necessarily the most accessible data for kindergarten teachers to use the following year, so I do think the more traditional assessments (e.g., letter identification, book handling checklist) have a role to play.
Curricula decisions in pre-k affect everything from what students learn to how they learn it. While many early childhood curricula promote developmentally appropriate practices, I believe some, particularly the scripted programs, fail to capitalize on the “teachable moments” that occur every day in the classroom. As one blog reader recently commented, a scripted program "doesn't really get to high level thinking questions, doesn't address the needs of kids in individual classrooms.".
To be sure, a highly passionate and organized teacher can make the most of any curriculum. But the ability of teachers to adjust specific curricula often depends on a school’s or center’s relationships with the district, company, or other organization it reports to and teachers’ relationships with their direct supervisors.
I recognized the strengths and limitations of the previous curriculum my district used, Curiosity Corner, and engaged my students in meaningful dialogue that came out of our own discussions, regardless of the exact questions the curriculum manual prescribed. This worked largely because my supervisors did not micromanage my classroom, not a benefit every teacher has.
When it came to handling a curriculum switch, my district notified the pre-k teachers of the new curriculum during a summer workshop about a month and a half before school started. Prior to the announcement, we knew only that district officials in the Office of Early Childhood had been vacillating between a few curricula. We were never informed of possible opportunities to voice our opinions based on classroom experiences. Clearly, teacher input and evaluation time were not top priorities.
I think my experience with curriculum decisions is hardly unique and begs important questions, like “What role, if any, should teachers play in choosing a curriculum?”
Any teachers, administrators, or curricula authors who want to take a crack at answering that one? I’m sure we can improve matters if we put our heads together.
Noticeable growth in pre-k is all about making meaningful connections. The connections happen when a child links decisions about sharing to consequences, a letter she sees on a label to a friend’s name, or a discussion about hibernation to the cave she built with blocks. Children’s ability to link pieces of information reveals their progress in a wide range of social and academic skills.
The approach and underlying principles of a pre-k curriculum can significantly influence a child’s ability to form such connections and, in turn, the quality of pre-k programs. While many pre-k curricula seem similar because of a common emphasis on “learning through play,” the structure and focus of those activities can dramatically differ.
During my first year teaching pre-k, my school used Curiosity Corner, a highly scripted program with weekly themes and daily activities laid out in extensive detail. Everything from theme-related art activities to the specific questions to ask children during story time was handed to me on Day One.
How closely was I supposed to follow the script? I distinctly remember an instance when my resource teacher from the Office of Early Childhood first applauded my open-ended and higher-level thinking questions used in a whole group discussion and then instructed me to keep the manual in front of me to make sure I was following along. Well, I wasn’t following along, but that’s because the direction of my students’ comments diverged from the script, which was written without a true understanding of their interests and backgrounds. Imagine that!
It turns out my resource teacher was often just as torn as I was about “following suit” and meeting the needs of actual children. She would say when that door closes, its your classroom, but at the same time ensure I fulfilled all of the curricula’s criteria when supervisors from Curiosity Corner came in.
We now use Creative Curriculum, an unscripted program focusing on building meaningful relationships between students, teachers, teaching assistants, and family members. We focus on developing student interest driven activities and a structured but flexible classroom environment responsive to the diverse needs of children. I, of course, have to plan more, but my ideas come from observations and reflections of my students’ skill deficits, strengths, learning styles, and interests. Their connections to the material and teaching strategies produce that noticeable growth I mentioned.
For example, this week Kevin and I were in the Dramatic Play area when I showed him an airplane ticket he could use during our topic study on transportation:
Kevin: Wait a second, Ms. Pappas…the airplane can’t go straight up. It first needs to roll on the ground really fast and then fly up, like the geese in the book. He had to run real fast and then fly up too!
Ms. Pappas: Great connection to the book about birds. We read that book a long time ago. Give yourself a connection kiss.
The movements we first used to compliment our initial discussions about geese and airplanes were clearly evident in the hand gestures Kevin used as he made his point. And his interest in both areas helped invest him in the thought process needed to build on prior knowledge to generate new ideas.
I am curious to hear from other teachers, administrators, and parents about the successes and challenges of various curricula.
No matter how many times I tell my kids, “We cannot always do everything we planned, sometimes we have to be flexible,” the sudden need to pick up and leave in the middle of a lesson still frustrates me.
This time it was Friday afternoon and we were just getting into a comparative discussion of Anne Rockwell’s Big Wheels and Cars, when some unexpected visitors arrived: a repair team to fix a leak in our radiator. To be honest, when I discovered the leak on Monday, I briefly vacillated between reporting it or just hoping it would go away…no, not because I want to teach my students about the wonders of flooding or a potential gas explosion, though experiential learning would be developmentally appropriate. In fact, I dreaded the prospect of abruptly relocating materials and my students to the auditorium when it came time to fixing it.
Well, it happened. And despite an inner desire to scream out of frustration, as their leader I, of course, had to redirect my children calmly and quickly. We grabbed some toys, a bin of books, and some map floor mats for continuing our exploration of transportation. We then lined up and headed to the auditorium. The students became so focused on our new mission that we even received a compliment from a fourth grade teacher who remarked that it would be difficult to get her students that quiet. We finished the literary discussion and then set up informal centers. We also took full advantage of the stage to practice public speaking and rehearse for our future American Idol auditions or Grammy night performances. Step aside Beyonce and Justin…
What happened with the leak? Well, as of now it’s still not fixed, and we may have to move somewhere else for a few days or the whole week. The uncertainty means the need for more flexibility. There, I said it again. And, yes, regardless of my frustration with the situation, I will have to flexible since I cannot control the leak or the pacing of its repair, but I can still maximize constructive learning time with my students.
Update: I came into my class early Monday morning only to find the furniture still relocated and to learn that nothing was done over the weekend. I organized various center and whole group materials that my students, Ms. Morrison, and I could transport easily into the library. The final call that we needed to move came in the middle of Morning Meeting. Despite my frustration at having to leave during our attendance routine, I remembered the need to be flexible and quickly pulled out a rubber band to guide my students. We discussed the need to stretch a little--essentially to "be the rubber band." It turns out my students are incredibly elastic, maybe beyond "rubber band elastic," even "bungee cord elastic." They adapted quickly, made creative and print rich Valentines for family and friends, explored patterns with shapes, sorted "shiny" and "not shiny" coins, and created a backdrop of train tracks for our Dramatic Play area, just to name a few of the options available.
And the radiator? Unfortunately, they did not finish fixing it. In fact, for whatever reason, they seemed to stop working on it shortly after they arrived. It is now Thursday evening, and we are still unsure when the radiator will be fixed. The saga continues...
Like any good professional educator, I spend hours and hours designing lesson plans. In pre-k, it is especially important that lessons excite and center on the children’s four-year-old interests. Yet my planning is not complete until I also determine how to transition my children from one lesson activity to the next.
Why are transitions so important in pre-k? Well, take an example from my first year of pre-k teaching. On a typical morning, my students read independently after breakfast, and when that less structured activity was over I struggled to motivate the class to clean up and get focused for the more structured whole-group circle time that followed. I noticed that I spent, on average, 10-15 minutes transitioning the children between the two activities - precious minutes that could have been instructional time.
I reflected on how to minimize time lost to off-task behavior and learned that simple songs and rewards kept the children engaged and attentive as they put away their books or play materials and prepared for the next lesson. Among the little ditties we now sing are:
• “Read, read, read a book, we are getting smart” (to the tune of “Row, Row, Row, Your Boat”) • “Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere, clean up, clean up, everybody do your share.” • “Clap, clap, clap, snap, snap, snap, now it’s time to take a nap.”
I also began providing incentives like short “dance parties,” a parent visitor, or a fruit we hadn’t yet tried in return for the class consistently getting ready and focused before I could count down from 10 to zero.
Before long, my class was able to clean up and be ready for our morning meeting in less than one minute. Reclaiming those ten minutes each day for the entire year adds up to 1,800 minutes of instructional time. Think of what you could teach in 1,800 minutes?! And that’s just one transition time among eight or nine in a given day.
But time saved is just one benefit of an effective transition. When four year olds are standing around while their teacher scrambles to move to the next part of the day, they are apt to fill that vacuum with undesirable behavior. By laying out behavioral expectations at all times, including transitions, and designing transitions that meet students’ developmental needs for plenty of movement and singing, transitions help curb those undesirable behaviors. For instance, Ravon, who swung his arms and legs aggressively in the beginning of the year, is far less likely to engage in such behavior now because he knows what is expected at all times.
Transitions can also reinforce the concepts and skills we learn throughout the day. As in the examples above, we use counting skills to get ready for circle time and rhyming skills to get ready for nap and to clean up. Instead of just saying “line up,” we line up in a pattern. Individually, the songs and counting just seem like normal pre-k classroom sounds, but, together, they ensure that the children and I get the most out of each day.
From high attendance at special events to an open and inviting dialogue at one-on-one conferences, my relationships with students’ families this year have been both positive and strong. That is until last Thursday.
As I welcomed one of my students and his grandmother with my usual energetic greeting, bright and early during the before school program, the grandmother abruptly cut me off with sharp and heated criticism of the homework assignments I have sent home. She wanted to know when I would be sending home “letter work,” like she has seen in “all the daycare centers.” She has become weary of the open-ended assignments, which often include searching for letters around the house on food containers and in magazines or having the child tell a story with pictures and then dictate the story to an adult.
Her bottom line was this: She wants dittos. There, I said it, the “d” word, dreaded among early childhood experts. Like them, I advocate a different “d” approach, one that is perhaps the anti-thesis of the malignant ditto: “Developmentally Appropriate Practices.” She then went on to critique my teaching of her grandson during the day, arguing that I wasn’t “teaching him his letters” and that she would instead have “to buy some workbooks for him to use at home.”
As a pre-k teacher striving to meet my class's developmental needs, I provide my students with plenty of opportunities to learn through hands on experiences that are meaningful to them. If the sand table particularly interests her grandson, he will find plenty of letter tools to explore the alphabet in the sand. If he chooses to pretend he is a doctor in the Dramatic Play Area, we will surely learn about letters and, perhaps equally as important, why we use them, as he writes down his patient’s diagnosis and prescription. I also supplement this experiential learning with various letter songs and games.
I, therefore, started to wonder how pages of letter matching and tracing activities would help lay a strong foundation in early literacy for her grandson. To top it off, her grandson actually knows all of his letters and the letter sounds. We are currently working on sounding out and writing words. When I tried to explain my strategies and her grandson’s progress, she just replied, “I don’t want to hear it. I know all about it, learning through play. I don’t want to hear it.” She then proceeded to storm out, leaving me feeling puzzled, powerless, and, quite frankly, nauseous.
It is now January. I have had one formal one-on-one conference with her and several informal conversations at our special events. She has never once mentioned any concern about our work. I am not sure what exactly prompted the negative exchange, but I do know that our relationship has been damaged. I suppose I could treat her comments as an irrational rant, and just keep doing what I am doing. But as a teacher, I serve my students and their families. If there is a conflict, it is my responsibility as the classroom leader to think objectively about how best to handle the situation.
I have decided to provide her and the rest of my students’ family members with a list
of ways we teach letters and letter sounds in the classroom. I look forward to hearing her response.
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