New Year, New Dreams!

I've always known how much thought, effort, reflection and time educators put into designing and setting up their classrooms.  It is absolutely a labour of love.  But this year, as I wait for my new classroom to be finished and dream of what will be, I've been especially inspired sitting on the "sidelines".  I've had a completely new perspective as I admire photos, ideas, and conversations about elements of classroom design through the eyes of my fabulous PLN who spark an excitement in me of what could truly be.

And I've realized that this idea is what drives us as educators who embark on a new year.  Possibilities.  We set up invitations for learning in our rooms but, instead of simply seeing the books and loose parts, we see the emerging brilliance of our children.  We envision the deep conversations around a centre, the squeals of glee as children openly explore, and the warmth that fills the room with the pitter patter of feet that enter.  Yes, we knew we had been missing something.

The carpet becomes the place where we will build relationships.  It will be the place that we gather inspiration about where our inquiries may go based on our students interests.  It is where we will
share our hopes and dreams, celebrate successes, and support each other in times of need.  Our
gathering space transforms into what we hope our children experience around the kitchen table at dinner time.

The empty spaces on the walls are filled with hope.  They are beckoning for reflections of our
children, for the language of learning, and for decisions made as a class.  They are also a message to parents:  without your children, this space is simply a space.  It is a space that, later on, parents will slow down as they pass to study the depth of their child's growth.  The bare walls send a message that our year will be a process of co-construction and one that we eagerly await to share with families.

The outdoor space that peeks in through our windows reminds us that there is a naturally constructed classroom awaiting us.  What may look novel and intimidating to our kindergarten children will quickly turn into a feeling of home.  It is the place where curiousity comes alive, where rich emergent learning occurs that could never have been planned, and where deep relationships are formed not only between children together but between educators and children and the earth around them.

The classroom door is wide open and the entrance is welcoming.  It says to parents 'This, too, is your space to be'.  It is a space for colleagues pass and then  to linger for excited sharing and reflection to take place.  It is a message to admin that we are proud of the learning that takes place in our rooms, that we are constantly growing and challenging ourselves, and that we want them to be a part of it.

So as we begin a new school year in our rooms so lovingly planned, I wonder:  what will we make possible for our students?  But perhaps, more importantly, what possibilities will our children uncover for us?

Documentation: A Love Letter

I was introduced to the idea of documentation a few years ago (which I'm realizing now was much too late!) and I immediately fell in love with the process and, now, my entire program is centred around it.  As I began to delve into the idea of documentation, I remember visiting the classroom of Joanne Babalis and watching her record what the children in her class were saying about a project.  As an observer, the power of writing down what children are saying word for word struck me.  What a love letter to a child to send the message that their ideas are so important that they were not only worth being written down but worth being discussed and reflected upon.

And this is where I begin my post - a love letter to the children.  There is nothing that warms my heart more than to see children squealing with delight over their pictures, ideas and projects being posted.  I am thrilled when I see groups of children at the board talking about what they are seeing, making connections, and often using information to inform their future learning.  I see the sense of pride as I record their ideas in the classroom often asking for clarification to make sure I've got it just right.  I see children focused in their creations and projects to ensure their best work is what is posted or on display.  By the very practise of encouraging wondering and inquiry, I hear "I wonders" and questions happening all throughout our day.  It has also made me listen in a much different way, caused me to ask different questions to delve further, and to observe very carefully before making assumptions.  To me, there is no better way to send the message to a child that their ideas are respected, that they are valued, and that we are a community who learns and grows together.

It is also a love letter to the parents of the children.  Earlier in the year, we created a personal/social documentation board that truly built the model for our classroom interactions:  we help each other, we use kind words, we share and work together.  We began sorting the pictures of the things we were doing in the classroom into these categories and this panel was on display for Open House in the fall.  Of course it was my hope that parents would make their way to the documention board but I was blown away by the time that was spent there.  Sure, there were conversations between parents about school and life but it all took place around this board which was precisely where I wanted to focus to be in my classroom.   I have learned from colleagues about amazing documentation tools to easily send and post things for parents (Pic Collage, Pages, etc.) so that they are getting a regular peek into our classroom.  We are currently working on a Madagascar Cardboard Village (see previous post!) party in our room to invite parents in to see what we've been working on.  I think what I'm most eager for on that day is to display the process behind our project and the richness of daily conversations in our classroom.  Documentation allows parents to see their child's full potential and, hopefully, even surprises them a little!

My last post was about the impact that Madagascar has made on me as a teacher and on our classroom community.  The documentation that I have been doing for this project has truly been a love letter to the project.  When I review the board, I am often amazed about where we arrived.  Documentation has fueled the project and given us trails to follow.  It allows others to see the richness of the project and the depth of the exploration.  It gives life to the coloured cardboard boxes and paints a picture about what the process has looked like, sounded like, and meant to all of us for anyone who steps foot into our classroom.  Starting out, I wanted to ensure that everything on the boards was aesthetically pleasing but I've realized the importance of the immediacy for children and for planning next steps in inquiry and this has given me the freedom to continually reflect.

While I am fascinated by the process and can't say enough about it's importance, I certainly still have a lot to still explore.  But one thing is certain: it has sparked a passion in me that has changed my entire view on teaching.

The Brilliance in Inquiry

I have been feeling the need to shout from the mountaintops for months now about my excitement around inquiry, documentation and authentic tasks in the early years.  Thank you for stopping by to listen to my gentle shoutings!  (They will be much shorter after I get this off my chest!)

I know the topic of inquiry will continue to come up in my reflections on this blog and I can't wait to learn more through sharing my journey.

After visiting the classroom of an amazing Grade 2/3 teacher at our school, the kindergartens could not stop talking about what they observed.  This class had created their own Caine's Arcade (youtube it if you haven't seen it - it's remarkable) and completely inspired the kinders.  It became evident that this was going to be an inquiry for us.  But we knew we would need an idea that would be different enough that it would inspire creativity and imagination instead of replication.

We decided we would create a cardboard village.  We began by reading The Box, brainstorming, drawing blueprints, sharing our ideas, and grouping according to similar interests around building.  We used measuring when we determined which boxes would suit which group's designs.  We incorporated science to build sturdy structures, problem solve, predict, and adapt designs.  We read and we wrote and we talked.  But, most importantly, we collaborated.  The relationship that was being built around this inquiry was palpable.  It was engaging.  It was inspiring. 

Flash forward to now - eight weeks since we began this inquiry!  In that span of time we have added a splash of colour to our village.  We generated ideas for names of our village by writing various options and we graphed the choices and Madagascar was born.  We have investiaged and added signs, addresses, security features, televisions, artwork, fridges, playgrounds, maps, and maiboxes.  I have seen more writing within these eight weeks than I ever could have hoped - and, boy, is it authentic.  We have measured, counted, and graphed.  We have had to be persistent in solving structural, creative, and interpersonal problems and these skills have spilled over into all areas in the classroom.

As a co-constructor in this project, a few things stand out to me.  The first is how often the project of Madagascar is on my mind.  I think about it while driving, during recess, and just before I fall asleep.  And I know the children are doing the same as they have made and brought in various items created at home.  The students and I are equally inspired and engaged and I feel as though I know each one of them far better than I could have imagined.

Of course, I'm also excited about how much of the curriculum we have embedded in the project - a project that they have chosen and designed.  It has been woven in so easily and I also have opened my document more regularly during this project to think about where we may be moving toward.  And after eight weeks, we are still continuing to discover new things to explore in the village!

I won't even bother to get into the richness of the documentation now - we'll save that for another post!  But there are two comments that I will forever remember.  I asked one student curiously what he liked best about Madagascar thinking he would talk about decorating, or playing but, of course, I should know by now that one can never predict the brilliance of a child.  He said "I just like all of us working together".  (I tried to compose myself so as not to scare him with tears!!)  As I stood on the second day surrounded in cardboard, balled up tape and markers missing lids, one student looked around and said breathlessly:  "Wow...our cardboard village is going to be so beautiful".  And, indeed, it is.  Magnificent, actually.  A project that has transformed my teaching, transformed our kinder family, and will be forever imprinted on my heart.