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This time of year is always bitter sweet. I must separate from the students and families with whom I have built relationships for the past ten months, and yet those students leave me with a social and academic foundation that will facilitate their success in the future.
Those mixed feelings are particularly pronounced this year, as I’ve decided to leave the classroom and take a leadership position with Teach For America. Rather than preparing to receive a new class of four year olds this fall, I will be working to bring cohorts of new teachers to pre-k classrooms across the country as the Director of Growth and Development for TFA’s Early Childhood Education initiative. Placement sites range from Camden, New Jersey and New York City to Houston, Texas and South Dakota. Teach For America’s focus on early childhood supports our overall mission to close the achievement gap. As we select, train, and support teachers committed to laying a strong academic and social foundation during a crucial stage in their students’ development, we hope to expand those students’ opportunities for success in school and beyond.
I will certainly miss directly impacting my students with a supportive classroom culture, individualized instruction, and a print-rich classroom environment. But my success in room 114 has taught me both the incredible prospects of high quality pre-k and the need to bring more intensely driven, passionate teachers to pre-k classrooms. The TFA position affords the opportunity for me to do just that, and will expand my impact and take my passion for early childhood education to the next level.
In the end, my work is about kids and their ability to be successful in school and the larger society. I taught my class both basic skills and the ability to think and problem solve. I also instilled in them the confidence needed to take risks and, in turn, grow as learners in the future. Now, I can be part of a larger effort to ensure that life circumstances at birth do not define and limit the life prospects of children in low-income areas.
This blog has been an invaluable outlet for my own reflections and a source of growth for me as a teacher. Though I’ll no longer be writing for this blog, I look forward to reading and commenting on the experiences of the next person with that privilege. Perhaps that will be you or someone you know? As policymakers and the public continue to consider and evaluate high-quality pre-k for all, the voices of teachers are never more needed in this discourse.
As my children prepare for pre-k graduation and the move to kindergarten, I cannot help but wonder about their futures. Will Karen become a doctor? Will Awana have the chance to choose between being a ballerina or a doctor? Will Aniyah’s behavior regress and threaten her academic progress?
I have worked to introduce school to my class as an exciting and fun place where they can make friends, learn, and be successful. Anecdotal evidence and various forms of assessments suggest that my students have already started to realize their potential and are on the path toward high achievement in school and beyond. Parents’ strong attendance at our class events and interest in enriching their child’s learning over the summer also bode well for my students’ academic prospects.
Yet my students still have many years during which their attitudes toward school, themselves, and their peers could change for the worse. Most of them will continue to live in unsafe neighborhoods and struggling school districts. The research showing that students in inner city schools who have had high-quality pre-k do better than those who have not gives me hope. I know that my instruction in the classroom and the active support of family members during this critical stage in children’s development will have life-long benefits. I also believe innovative changes are occurring in the K-12 system, many of them spearheaded by my fellow Teach For America alums. But, on an individual level, it is still hard to predict how high each child in my class will build on the pre-k foundation he or she gained this year.
My time in the classroom has been, above all, about providing the kinds of opportunities for my students that they deserve. The playing field is not level, even for three and four year olds. High-quality pre-k teachers alone cannot ensure that a child won’t face educational and societal inequities down the road, but the vibrant and challenging learning environments we provide are the first step toward giving all children an equal chance at success.
Tax season can be, well, taxing. But at least educators can rest assured that the federal government will honor their professional commitment by offering a deduction for some of their own financial investments in their classrooms. That is, unless you teach pre-k. As I found out this year, only K-12 educators are eligible for such a deduction
Pre-k teachers, like our counterparts in K-12, often use money from our own pockets to purchase classroom materials that benefit the children we teach. Here is one simple thing federal policymakers could do to make early childhood educators feel as valued as other teachers: amend the tax code to make us eligible for the educator expense deduction. Happy Tax Day!
After reading the reports about the link between childcare and negative behavior problems later on, I thought it might be helpful to hear a parent’s take on the effect of pre-k on her son’s development. I decided to interview Ravon’s mother (“RM” for the remainder of the interview). Ms. Pappas: Why did you decide to enroll Ravon in pre-k?
RM: I didn’t want a lot of play for Ravon. My younger brother was in your class the previous year, and I always liked the way you involved the parents in the homework assignments. I like the interaction with me and Ravon because I know what he is learning and we can work on further developing his listening and language skills together. Also, you still let them play in your classroom, but they learn through the play. Daycare was just play, play, color, color, all day long, but not enough learning.
Ms. Pappas: What do you think about recent studies that link childcare programs with negative behavior later on?
RM: Well, I used to work in daycare, so I agree. They tend to baby the kids instead of giving them ways to solve problems when they misbehave. They don’t explain things as much. The regular elementary school pre-k is different. You explain to the child why they are wrong and how they can correct themselves.
Ms. Pappas: How much education do you think a pre-k teacher needs in order to benefit children?
RM: I think experience goes a long way, often more than education. Some people with experience over education can deal with children better. My grandmother had no education and kept eight children in line.
Ms. Pappas: What are the benefits of pre-k?
RM: I have seen so much growth with Ravon. He’s expressing himself better. He’s more disciplined, and he wants to come to school. He doesn’t want to miss a day. My husband and I are so happy.
Ms. Pappas: What are your hopes for Ravon?
RM: Ravon can write, express himself more, interpret things better, read at least on his level.
Ms. Pappas: What about in the long run?
RM: I want my son to go to college. I want him to have a very decent job. I want him to enjoy what he does. It's not as much about the money. I really want him to be happy.
I was concerned last week when a recent report linking child care to later behavioral problems in children grabbed headlines. I can only imagine the guilt that parents who have children in such programs felt upon hearing this news. But the reality is far from the “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” picture painted in the media.
High quality pre-k offers the chance for young children to learn how to express themselves appropriately in a wide range of social interactions, how to solve conflicts with peers, and how to function productively in a structured school environment.
The first thing my children learn is how to follow set routines. Many come in without any previous childcare experience. Their first week behaviors have included children leaving the class to run down the hallway laughing and screaming and others simply wandering the classroom unresponsive to my efforts to give directions. I consistently implement classroom procedures and routines designed to make the students capable of working on their own and with others.
By the end of September they could do everything from sitting on the rug to disposing their lunch tray. They also knew what would happen if they did or did not follow our classroom rules, why it was important to follow the rules, and how to “use their words” to solve conflicts. Their awareness of what to expect, desire to receive positive praise, and investment in our “we are all friends” classroom culture curbed negative behavior. Moreover, our emphasis on the rationale behind wise choices such as peaceful conflict resolution made our teaching more lasting.
Parents can certainly also teach their children about solving problems and behaving appropriately. Yet pre-k offers the opportunity for young children to practice these strategies with a large and diverse group of their peers on a daily basis. Kevin, aka “the anti-sharer,” who frequently threw temper tantrums when he did not get a turn at something, frequently exhibited similar behavior at home. Pre-k gave Kevin the chance to practice working out problems with other children, a skill that will help him in school and at home. Moreover, we used our knowledge of his learning style based on our extensive anecdotes to develop an outlet for his negative energy and an opportunity for him to take ownership of the solution within the context of our daily routines.
High-quality pre-k offers high-quality teachers focused on analyzing student behavioral problems and implementing enduring solutions. Without such attention, I could see the problems getting worse and producing the kind of results captured by this latest research. For me, this study and my experiences are a call for educators, parents, and policymakers to support efforts to make all early care and education programs high quality.
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...
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.
The U.S. Department of Ed is currently seeking nominations for a prestigious teaching award: American Stars of Teaching. The major criteria include educators “with a track record of improving student achievement, using innovative instructional strategies, and making a difference in the lives of their students."
I encourage you to nominate a pre-k teacher you know with these qualifications. Efforts to showcase such qualities in pre-k classrooms would underscore the high level of professionalism needed to maintain high quality early childhood programs.
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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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