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She did it! After three weeks on her individualized behavior contract, Aniyah finally earned enough points to present a special cheering show in front of the whole class.
As she stepped into the spotlight, Aniyah was surprisingly shy, unlike her attitude when giving frequent, disruptive cheers at inappropriate times. This “command performance” cheer was a bit more subdued. Yet as her friends cheered her on, her face brightened, and you could hear a sense of pride reverberating through her voice. She cheered while clapping out each letter, “A-N-I-Y-A-H, A-N-I-Y-A-H, Aniyah, Aniyah, I am Aniyah! Aniyah, Aniyah, Aniyah!”
When I shared news of Aniyah’s show with her brother and mother the following day, the pride became contagious. Her family members smiled widely and seemed relieved that Aniyah was showing progress.
Aniyah’s road to victory was not quick and easy. She initially responded to the point system just as she had to our whole class color card behavior system, asking me angrily why I gave her a one or a two or a yellow or blue card instead of connecting her behavior to the negative consequence.
As we had one-on-one conversations each day, focused on her specific behaviors and the number of points that corresponded with them, she began to grasp the relationship between her choices and the consequences. Towards the second week, I would ask her how many points she thought she earned for the day, and she could usually guess correctly based on her own assessment of her behavior.
What does Aniyah’s behavior look like on the rug now? She usually listens to her friends and me attentively and rarely creates a disturbance by calling out. We, of course, still have our cheering moments, but these have become exceptions.
Perhaps best of all, Aniyah’s behavioral improvements have facilitated intellectual growth. She engages more actively in discussion during stories, making predictions and thinking critically about how to solve the characters’ problems. Just last week, she posed the “water car” solution to the problem in Leo Lionni’s classic, Swimmy. After losing his school of fish to one deep sea predator, Swimmy found another school of small fish so petrified of big tuna fish that they would not swim around the ocean. Aniyah’s solution required the small fish to drive a water car out of the ocean away from the big tuna fish. Aniyah was so focused that she not only suggested the idea but also wrote “wtr car” on our solutions list without guidance from me.
Her behavioral and academic progress have gone hand in hand, and I look forward to more improvements in the months ahead. This is one contract that both sides of the table are happy with.
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?
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.
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...
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…
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.
Ahh, the weekend…after exploring fantastical literary worlds for five days with old ladies swallowing flies, purple crayon drawn hot air balloons, and wild things at every corner, I get to delve into my weekly collection of non-fiction, “adult” content at a local café.
As I briefly step away from my pre-k teacher mentality to reflect on the latest 2008 presidential contender or the Ethiopian presence in Somalia, I consider one unifying theme in each of the articles: problems. Regardless of your political affiliation, job sector, or daily blogger of choice, it is clear that current and future generations face a wide range of political, economic, social, and technological problems. So what are we doing in Pre-k 114 to provide our society with proactive problem solvers?
One, we are creating a problem-solving culture in the classroom. Whether the problem is spilled milk, a friend crying, or someone saying they “can’t” do something, we respond with efforts to fix the problem. Initially, the children said, “ooooooh” and pointed instead. We then showed puppets in similar situations, brainstormed with the children about how to fix problems, and adopted the phrase, “We don’t say ‘oooh,’ we fix the problem.”
We also don’t give up. We learned from the Little Engine to keep chugging while saying, “I think I can” and asking for help from our peers. We receive positive recognition for going out of our way to help others fix problems. Students who got to purple last week included David and Tanasia for helping each other fold up their blankets after naptime, Awana for assisting Tyrone with his spilled juice, and Kevin for comforting Karen when she was upset.
A second step is to foster critical thinking skills. Like my favorite adult publications, children’s literature is filled with characters that have problems. We use these scenarios as a starting point for thinking about ways to solve problems. Here is an excerpt from a problem solving discussion we had last Friday over breakfast, as we looked at a picture of Jack (of “Jack Be Nimble” fame) jumping over the candlestick. Ms. Pappas: What’s the problem?
Sierra: His pants could catch on fire.
Ms. Pappas: So what should he do?
Sierra: Call 911 to put the fire out.
Ms. Pappas: Great idea. What if he doesn’t have a phone?
Tyrique: I could put his foot in the sink.
Ms. Pappas: Excellent idea. What if the sink in his house doesn’t work?
Tyrone: I could take him to your house and put his foot in the toilet.
Ms. Pappas: How will you get to my house?
Tyrone: I will take a cab.
Ms. Pappas: What if I’m not home?
Ravon: He could take Jack to the supermarket for some water.
Awana: No, he not going to be on fire. He jumped over the candle. He was quick.
Continue reading "The Making of Problem Solvers" »
“Girls can’t be line managers, only boys.”
“Ms. Pappas, he called me a girl!”
“Ms. Pappas, can my mommy be mayor too?”
“I don’t watch Batman. That’s for boys.”
A few times per week I hear my students make comments or ask questions related to gender. They are aware that some of us are girls, some of us are boys, and, depending on lessons taught at home and through the media, they bring certain preconceived notions about gender differences to the classroom.
While he could not clearly articulate the rationale behind his feelings, the boy who angrily approached me after being called a girl clearly felt insulted. And the boy who declared that girls could not be line managers used a matter of fact tone that alarmed me.
As I reflected on these beginning sessions of Gender 101, I was, coincidentally, watching the unprecedented introduction of President Bush to “Madame” Speaker Pelosi at this week’s State of the Union address. I kept wondering, did a four year old Nancy ever have to struggle to gain a voice in heated debates over who would control the sandbox on the playground? What role, if any, did her teachers play in convincing her that she has just as much a right as young George, Dennis, or Harry to participate actively in decision making processes?
I consider it my responsibility to treat every child with dignity and respect and to teach my students to treat each other the same way. That teaching requires engaging students in a dialogue that fosters a deep and rational understanding of why discrimination of any kind does not make sense and is harmful. I consequently seek to challenge my students with responses that make them think about their developing views on gender.
In the case of the “he called me a girl” comment, I used a neutral tone and said something like, “Okay, are you a girl? No? So just let him know that and move on.” In terms of the Batman remark, I said, “Well, I’m a girl and I love Batman. I love how he uses a rope to jump off of tall buildings and save people. Is that okay? What would you do if you were a superhero?” The mayor comment came up during last year’s mayoral elections when the students were able to “write-in” someone they thought would do a great job leading the city. None of the official candidates were women, and many of the students nominated their dads or uncles. We responded to the “mommy nomination” with a conversation about what it takes to be a good mayor and why mommies, daddies, uncles, aunts, grandmothers, or grandfathers could get the job done.
What happens when a teacher’s views on gender clash with those of families? I have seen plenty of family members scold their children for choosing items from our “Treasure Chest” that they claim aren’t “suitable” for either boys or girls. I have not confronted the families about my own views nor have any family members asked that I limit the choices available to their children. I am curious to know more about your thoughts on the role of pre-k teachers in addressing gender and other issues relating to diversity. Should there, for instance, be explicit conversations with family members even if family members have not openly confronted you?
“Hello, my name is Tanasia Britch from Pre-k 114. We will now sing Dr. King,”
Tanasia exclaimed loud and clear for everyone, grades pre-k through two, to hear.
She did it! After a tough transition in the beginning of the year, Tanasia slowly began to participate in classroom activities without much encouragement from me or her peers. Moreover, rather than repeatedly crying and inquiring about the time of her mother’s return, she now focuses on a wide range of subjects including bears and cars. The more she shares with us in terms of her thoughts and interests, the better able I am to chart her academic growth. Her gradual progress culminated in her widely acclaimed introduction of our class performance during the school assembly commemorating the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Her other accomplishments during the past two weeks include:
- Counting each of her friends for snack time in a clear and loud voice without skipping anyone;
- Identifying and chanting out the letters in the word "like" in our modeled morning message for the first time; and
- Choosing to read books to and with her friends rather than reading alone. Tanasia even encouraged her friend to read with her when she saw her friend crying.
As I reflect on her growth, I consider two major reasons for Ms. Morrison’s and my success with Tanasia:
- Student-Driven Instruction: We took the time to understand Tanasia's interests and provided opportunities for her to talk about and make things for her family. Our discussions at the rug, during lunch, and at choice time included plenty of open-ended questions which allowed Tanasia to speak openly about what was on her mind: her sisters, mother, father, and auntie. If the mouse ate cookies and asked for some milk, we learned about how happy Tanasia feels when she eats cookies and drinks milk with her sister at home. In addition, while Tanasia first hesitated to join her friends during choice time, she began to gravitate towards the Art and Writing areas once she learned that she could take home her finished products. Tanasia may have been physically separated from her family, but since she had the chance to talk about and make things for her siblings and parents, she still felt connected to them while in school; and
- Classroom Culture of High Expectations: We consistently responded to Tanasia’s crying with the expectation that she would eventually become more of an active and enthusiastic member of our classroom community. Rather than excuse her from class activities or call her family to pick her up, we taught her all of the routines and rules like the rest of the children. If she needed to cry when she first came in, she could, but she still needed to unpack, put her Math Homelink journal in the bin, wash her hands, and get her own breakfast.
“And chances are if the mouse asks for a glass of milk, he’s going to want a cookie to go with it.”
Ahh, the end of story time, right after lunch and before nap-time…a time when most of the children are relaxing, flirting with the decision to crash prematurely on the rug before retiring to the comfort of their individual mats, or contemplating the complexities highlighted in the literary masterpiece just presented to them, in this case the enigmatic cyclical nature of Laura Numeroff’s classic, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
Yet, for Kevin, this point in the day used to be filled will anxiety, frustration, and sometimes pure anger if he was not chosen to help me pass out the mats. Not anymore.
Unlike the other children, our key phrase –“Oh well, I’ll get picked next time.” –did not work for Kevin. Ms. Morrison and I decided to individualize our approach to Kevin’s struggle with taking turns and build on his visual learning style and interest in taking on greater responsibility. Each day, after we complete our post-story discussion, Kevin walks over to Ms. Morrison’s table and figures out who should have a turn to distribute the mats by reviewing a list of his classmates who have helped over the course of the past two weeks. He then announces the person picked for the day to the entire class. Since we have developed the system Kevin has not cried or thrown a tantrum once during this transition time.
We still have some difficulties in other parts of the day; for instance, if he doesn’t get picked during a discussion or game on the rug. Yet the intensity of his responses has subsided, and he is better able to manage his anger without much direct attention from me. He will sometimes turn his back to the group to weep silently or just breathe deeply. He either comes back to the group on his own in a few minutes or responds to me praising others or engaging him with an interesting activity. He even occasionally uses our “Oh well” message.
We have certainly made progress in working with Kevin and understanding how to continue improving his behavior in the future. His ability to stay focused and calm even when he is not chosen or he does not get what he wants will undoubtedly help him grow both academically as a learner and socially as a member of our classroom community.
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My name is Sophia Pappas, and I teach pre-kindergarten at an inner-city public school in New Jersey. By sharing my classroom and my thoughts, I hope to give you more insight into the benefits of high-quality pre-k and how we can all play a role in creating and improving these vital programs. And I want to know what you think, too, so please don’t be shy about leaving comments and using this blog as an outlet for ideas, reflection, and debate.
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Pre-K Now is a public
education and advocacy organization that advances high-quality, voluntary
pre-kindergarten for all three and four year olds.
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