Accidents Happen

Let’s face it: accidents happen; and in my pre-k classroom which is just a tad too small for fourteen children, two adults, and ten interest centers, accidental bumps and hits are practically part of our daily routines.  Most of the children have learned to cope.  But for a few, these encounters can still distract them and quickly escalate into an over dramatized fit.  Aside from constantly reminding them that “accidents happen” and facilitating problem solving discussions and role plays around the issue, I am really not sure what else to do. 

I would like to open the discussion to all of you: educators, parents, administrators, or anyone who has ever averted subway rage resulting from an innocent nudge.  What are your ideas for teaching children about this inescapable part of life? 

Lessons in Diplomacy

Last week, I had another round of bilateral talks - a.k.a. parent-teacher conferences - which again revealed the importance for pre-k teachers to possess good “diplomatic skills.”

Going into the conferences, I was enthused about discussing my children’s progress.  Tanasia, who had struggled to come out of her shell, is now participating throughout the day and moving forward in basic math and literacy skills.  A look at David’s writing folder demonstrates clear and constant growth, progressing from self-portraits he labeled with the letter “D” to short sentences written with little guidance using invented spelling.

I grew concerned, though, as I considered a few remaining difficulties with two family members in particular: Kevin’s grandmother, who emphatically disapproves of our literacy program; and Tyrique’s mother, who after more than five attempts to reschedule during the last cycle of conferences still never came.

Despite my efforts to engage her, Kevin’s grandmother had barely spoken to me since our confrontation in January.  She had, however, continued to complain to Ms. Morrison during the after-school program proclaiming, “I can’t wait until this year is over.”  While this round of conferences focused more heavily on social development and an explanation of a new assessment, I decided to start off our conversation with positive comments relating to her primary concern: literacy.  I began by discussing Kevin’s ability to read short sentences with little guidance from me (for example, he can read, “I like to see the fat cat run on the mat.”).  I showed her a short, teacher-made assessment I gave to Kevin the day before and modeled how he used his knowledge of letters, letter sounds, and sight words to read.  She was so overjoyed with this positive communication that I was able to shift gears and discuss Kevin’s need for further development in other skill areas, such as taking on roles in Dramatic Play, taking turns, and using words to solve conflicts.

Given her absence from the previous conference, I did not expect Tyrique’s mother to respond to the school’s formal efforts to set up conferences for this round.  I therefore made plans to reach out to her informally about two weeks before.    In addition to mentioning something positive about Tyrique’s performance each time she came in, I would say that I couldn’t wait to talk more about it and show her his great work at the conferences.  The day of the conferences she said she couldn’t stay, but we rescheduled for the next morning.  I made a comment about celebrating Tyrique over muffins in the morning.  She laughed and at 7:45 the next morning was at my door.  We had a productive conference and even discussed some behavioral issues which she too has noticed at home. 

In both of these cases, I believe it was my ability to talk with parents about their children in a positive light that helped us get past indifference and hostility.  It goes to show that, even when parents and teachers don’t see eye to eye or see each other frequently, communication between a child’s home and school is achievable and beneficial to all.

             

Curriculum Connections

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. 

Dealing with the 'F' Word

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...

To Teach or to Assess? Is that Really the Question?

David pulled a toy car back and forth and as he released the car said, “Look Tyrique!  The car going down the road fast.  We gonna have a race.”

As I heard David refer to cars and racing, my ears perked up.  I had just completed small group and was preparing to circulate our classroom’s interest areas to collect anecdotes showing the children’s progress and to seize some great teachable moments.  We are currently exploring transportation, and David was incorporating ideas from class discussions and “read alouds” into his play.  While I often have to refer to my individualized student action plans to remember the specific target areas for each child, David has struggled to pick up on this listening skill for some time, so I knew instantly that it was a breakthrough moment.

Last year, when I first started using the performance-based assessment system, I typically spent the first couple weeks of each collection period working with children using their individual plans, rather than taking anecdotes.  As I have become more comfortable with performance-based assessments and familiar with my students’ needs, my approach has become less compartmentalized.  I can now simultaneously assess progress and work with children on other skill areas.  I responded to David with questions leading into an informal one-on-one lesson on print awareness and vocabulary.

Ms. Pappas: Great, David, how can we make it go faster?  Is there something we can use?
David: Uhh, I don’t know.
Ms. Pappas: What if we used a ramp?  Do you know where it is?
David (shrugging his shoulders): No.
Ms. Pappas: You know what, I sometimes forget where it is too.  Is there something we could put on the ramp so we know it is a ramp?
David: I don’t know.
Ms. Pappas: Well, how do you know the hats go here?
David (sweeping his finger from left to right over the label for hats): Because it says “hats.”  Hats, hats, /h/, /h/ hats.  I see the letter h!
Ms. Pappas: So what could we do for the ramp?
David (grabbing a paper and marker): We could write it.
Ms. Pappas: Great idea.  What should we write for ramp?
David (writing the letter “R”): /rr/ R!  Like Ryan!

The next day David came to me briefly after entering blocks and, with a strong sense of urgency in his tone asked, “Ms. Pappas, where’s the ramp for the cars?  I want to make them go fast.”  The other pre-k teacher unfortunately needed to borrow the ramp, but David was able to construct his own ramp using flat boards from memory.

As I prepare for parent-teacher conferences this week, I notice dozens of other instances like this one, where a more efficient and dynamic exchange between teaching and assessing has resulted in more substantial student progress.  That’s not to say that the state or district should inundate teachers with more assessments to maximize teacher quality.  There is a tipping point.  Yet the question I often hear at teacher workshops - “When am I going to have a chance to teach with all these anecdotal assessments?” - presents a false dichotomy between the two.

The Saving Grace of Effective Transitions

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.

R-E-S-P-O-N-S-I-B-I-L-I-T-Y

Certain birthdays represent meaningful thresholds in our society; times at which someone decided we are ready to take on new responsibilities.  After seeing Aniyah today on her birthday, I’m beginning to think we should add the big ZERO-FIVE to that list.

Aniyah often has difficulty concentrating on group work and respecting others when they are speaking, but today I saw improvement.  During clean-up time I noticed Aniyah reminding her friends to put their name cards back.  We all know that if we forget, we will have to wait a couple of minutes before going to choice time the next day.  As Aniyah told classmates to “put your cards back, and be responsible” with a sing-song tone, I rushed over and thanked her for being such a great cheerleader.

We decided, spur of the moment, on a new title that connects her affinity for cheering to the classroom activities: Responsibility Cheerleader.  Her face lit up, and she smiled as she repeated the cheer while heading into the bathroom to wash her hands before lunch time.  I plan on applying this role to other parts of the day and think that, if she takes ownership of the cheer and receives encouragement and appreciation from me, the new role could, in fact, make her more responsible and respectful of her friends.

Aniyah also did a great job focusing during whole-group time on the rug, usually a challenging activity for her.  When she did call out disruptively, I did not call on her.  She ended up crying, because she did not get a chance to convey her thoughts.  I consider that a breakthrough as it indicates she is caring more about participating in discussions than doing her own thing.

Now, I’m not really sure if it was a heightened sense of maturity on her birthday that led to Aniyah’s super day or her mother’s promise of a Princess Barbie birthday party in return for better behavior.  So, I’m covering my bases and have spoken with her mother about an individualized behavior contract, which I plan on creating with Aniyah tomorrow morning.  As I have learned from experience, if we can isolate those behaviors we want to change and design rewards around a child’s interests, the child, the family, and I can more effectively focus on specific problems and lasting solutions.

We shall see…

Bringing it Off

Aniyah, Aniyah, Aniyah…where do I begin?  First, I feel frustrated with shortcomings in my own efforts to develop a strong relationship with her over the past four months.  While we have some days and weeks during which she responds positively to my attempts to engage her in classroom activities, I see little constant progress in her behavioral skills.   

Second, I cannot help but feel frustrated with her.  Aniyah has done well academically, but persistent obstacles to her social development make me concerned for her overall progress in the future.   She frequently likes to “do her own thing,” as Ms. Morrison calls it.  For Aniyah, her own thing is pretending to be a dancing cheerleader, regardless of what the other children and I are doing.  We focus a great deal on respecting each other by listening to friends and the teacher during discussions.  Aniyah, however, frequently does her cheers while the other children are responding to a question or trying to focus on my lesson at the whiteboard.

In addition to using positive reinforcement to focus her on our class rules, I give Aniyah many opportunities to express herself freely, both within the context of our large group activities and on her own before the activities begin.  I integrated her interest in dancing into our morning meeting by allowing the students to dance during our greeting song.  We also frequently cheer the names of our friends (to the tune of B-I-N-G-O) and we use cheers to learn our high frequency words (e.g., “Give me a ‘T.’  Give me an ‘O.’  What does that spell?  To!).  I have also built in free movement and singing time right after naptime and before gross motor time.  I tell Aniyah she can cheer and dance all she wants for a few minutes on her own, but then she has to join the group for a quieter activity.
Still, Aniyah chooses to “bring it on” at inappropriate times, literally, with the cheers from the movie of the same name. 

For a little while, these compromises worked.  But, lately, her disruptive behavior has increased.  When I try to talk to her about choices and different activities for different times, Aniyah just keeps saying that all she wants to do is cheer and rolls her eyes.  She has even said, “I want to cheer.  I don’t want to learn.”  Positive reinforcement to keep her focused on the rug now works only sporadically.  She more often looks away or down at her shoes. 

I understand that cheering is her interest, and I really want to give her many chances to express herself.  Yet if I allow her to “do her own thing” all the time she will not only miss out on our lessons, but she will have serious difficulty adjusting to kindergarten where the teachers will most likely give her little or no time to express herself on her own.