Play Empowers : early childhood education

Showing posts with label early childhood education. Show all posts

Friday, February 22, 2019

Times are a Changin

Gone are the days when all the kids in the neighbourhood ran home, dropped their bags after school and went outside to play with all the other kids. Between after school childcare, structured lessons, sports and video games most kids are too busy to join in neighbourhood play.

One thing that was a skill naturally picked up was adaptability. Adapting to change, adapting to environment, adapting to other kids wishes and requests during play is bessential in the outdoors classroom. Unstructured, unsupervised play was only possible if the kids were able to adapt and change their play according to the conditions that day.

How was this learned in free play?

Peter Gray in his book, Free To Learn talks about true play being the ability to leave play. It used to be you had complete freedom to leave, you could go home or go to another friend’s house or yard. While being in child care means you can withdraw from the play happening, most centres have a list of rules that for safety or convenience have to be followed. Children have to stay within the play yard or the house/centre building. Children have to share, have to participate in group time or activities together without the freedom to withdraw. Kids before, in unsupervised and unstructured play, had to work harder and be adaptable to other kids needs and wants to keep the participants there. They learned if they were inflexible they were often left alone.

When playing outside with friends there were constant obstacles- the ball was not inflated- the fort wouldn’t stay up - falling into the creek meant a soaker. Without parents or adults standing around making suggestions of how to get to the ball to inflate, what was wrong with the fort or how to make a wet boot more comfortable or come to the rescue with an extra pair, kids were left to come up with solutions and adapt themselves or their play materials to continue having fun. Adults are really good problem solvers and sometimes are regulated into having to help (health and safety issue - to walk in a wet boot as my childhood blistered feet could tell you). Other times it is just an adult’s desire to “do something” as Zoe Arnold talked about in “What’s your role?” On our first podcast.

Learning for adults is different than learning for kids. When children are outside they learn many valuable things and have the possibility to learn in any direction without having to worry about adult approval. They can learn without adults knowledge of the correct information or adults often misguided understanding of where the learning is going or that it was even desired to be going somewhere.

To be able to watch a butterfly emerge from a cocoon without having to learn names or stages. To be able to figure out why your fort is leaking without having to learn about waterproofing or best engineering principles. It is the magic of learning . When you come across the information later, either through interest or planned play you have wisdom with you from experience to understand instead of applying learned knowledge to tasks . This only increases your ability to do a task by following instructions.

In today’s time it is hard to capture the magic of play unstructured and unsupervised but check our Facebook page at www.facebook.com/Childonground to get links to my podcast. We will chat this February on the podcast, blogs and newsletter so you can find out how you can create similar situations to increase adaptability for your kids or your home daycare / daycare center.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

This Is Why We Are Here...

Years ago, I was given Jon Muth's beautiful book, The Three Questions, as a graduation gift. It was a gift from my then-boyfriend's parents (who are now my in-laws).

This beautifully illustrated picture book, based on Leo Tolstoy's story of the same name, is a meditation on the meaning of life.

The little boy in the story ponders three questions, "When is the best time to do things? Who is the most important one? What is the right thing to do?"

His friends offer many possible answers, all tailored to their own particular interests and habits, until he is led to the answer through a series of experiences with Leo, the old tortoise, a mother panda, and her baby (it's a truly beautiful story and one that can be appreciated on multiple levels - I urge you to pick up a copy and read it if you have not).

He is led to these truths, which I try to meditate on daily:

The best time to do things is now.

The most important one is the one you are with.

The right thing to do, is to do right by the one who is by your side.

I can't say I'm always successful.

Children are simply better at this, at being here in this moment, with whatever it offers.

There is a lot of angst and worry and anger in the world right now. We, as adults, are walking around with a lot of weight on our shoulders. We think a lot about what's wrong, and we wonder how to fix the things we don't like, and we feel overwhelmed.

A dear friend asked me if I'd be interested in writing a guest post on her blog and made a point to ask that it be "positive and non-political." This sounded like a piece of cake but I am ashamed to say that I have yet to complete this task.

I realized that I found this request to be far more of a challenge than I'd expected. I could never get very far into a post without connecting to something "bigger," and those "bigger" themes were always heavy. They were dark, they were angry, and I was frozen with my inability to work my way around this, to write the "right" things.

Now, look, there is a time and a place for anger, and I have many dear friends who are dedicated activists and their strong emotions are warranted and purposeful. Worry and fear serve their own valid purposes, too.

But not properly harnessed and channeled, these emotions muddy our better judgments and intentions. They're distractions. This is not why we are here.

If you know me, and you talk to me often, you know that my stance has always been that the most valuable thing we can do to change the world is to help shape thoughtful, empathetic citizens. People who are kind and giving; who help their community and think critically and independently and find their niche - the thing that makes them truly happy and allows them to give back to the community.

This has ALWAYS been my passion. I really believe this.

But to do it, I need to show up, be present, do the ~~hard~~ joyful work.

Kids know this; they live in the moment.

In The Dude and the Zen Master, Jeff Bridges and Bernie Glassman meditate on this idea that "people get stuck a lot because they're afraid to act...We need help just to move on, only life doesn't wait."

The solution?

"[Y]ou want to row, row, row your boat -- gently. Don't make a whole to-do about it. Don't get down on yourself because you're not an expert rower; don't start reading too many books in order to do it right. Just row, row, row your boat gently down the stream."

When I ground myself in that moment, when I push aside my adult agenda, when I row gently down the stream, the joy comes rushing back in.

It's not hard work, living and being present, once you allow that weight to lift from your shoulders.

It's joyful. And it's meaningful. And it's a very effective way to get some very important work done.

"Remember then that there is only one important time, and that time is now. The most important one is always the one you are with. And the most important thing is to do good for the one who is standing at your side. For these, my dear boy, are the answers to what is most important in this world.

This is why we are here."

Originally posted at Sylvan Taylor's Sprouts Playschool Blog.

Friday, August 26, 2016

Part of the Solution

I live in Baton Rouge.

I love this city.

I work here as an early childhood educator and an advocate for play-based learning.

I advocate on behalf of my own two children and of all this city's children.

My work is play and I believe strongly that it is the most important work I'll ever do.

Photo Credit: Maggie Clarke

Three years ago, my little family embarked on a grand adventure.

We packed up our belongings and moved nearly 800 miles from Winston-Salem, North Carolina to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, a city where we knew no one and which we had only visited once in a whirlwind trip to find a home and visit a few schools.

I was immediately taken with this city, with its majestic live oaks stretching across the streets, beads glittering from their branches. I reveled in its culture of celebration, constant festivals and parades and football tailgates. We moved in July - I brought the kids down a month ahead of my husband to give them a chance to feel at home and make friends before school, and everyday life, began in earnest. The heat and humidity were oppressive and the mosquitoes were numerous, but I quickly fell in love with my new city. We made friends, we made our house a home, I got a job and life seemed good.

School started in August. My four year old son wore a uniform for the first time, as do all public school students in East Baton Rouge parish. He chose a backpack and lunchbox emblazoned with his favorite super heroes and struggled to keep his burgundy polo shirt tucked into the tiny elasticized waistband of his navy blue shorts. He and his classmates ate their free school breakfast in silence daily. He learned to walk quietly, in straight lines. He adored his preschool teacher, though the parents of many of the other students complained that she let the three and four year olds in his class play too much and she did not give them enough homework.

He wondered out loud about the differences from block to block in town - from the quaint, well-kept homes on our street to the "shotgun" style row houses closer to his school which were clearly in poorer repair, some with broken windows or holes in the roofs. He worried that his classmates lived in these homes, wondered what happened when it rained. He asked why no one cared more about those people and those neighborhoods. I didn't have an answer.

I made my own adjustment. I was transitioning from an extremely progressive magnet school in North Carolina, one that embraced students as people and gave them ownership of their learning, that gave teachers autonomy in the classroom with the expectation that they would reach those kids. I was now expected to test my students weekly in every subject and graph their test results for weekly data meetings. Students were expected to be re-tested until they "passed," with the data taking precedence over actual knowledge retention. We were encouraged to plot student progress on wall charts for all to see. Recess was fifteen minutes daily. Lunch was silent. Children who struggled with emotional regulation were to be sent to the time out monitor, not a counselor. There was required paperwork to track their referrals, and I was told this information was needed for when they "entered the system" later.

We were not preparing children to be leaders, to be citizens, to be thinkers, to be voters.

We were preparing them to be prisoners.

The students in Baton Rouge's public schools are predominantly black, predominantly poor. The schools here didn't even begin desegregation until 1981, and that effort has been largely declared a failure.

These children are being denied their childhoods, their opportunities to play and strengthen social skills and emotional regulation. abilities. These young children, largely underprivileged children of color in a historically segregated city, are being prepared not for college, not for careers, but for prison.

I had many seasoned teachers and administrators tell me that things HAD to be this way because Baton Rouge has such high poverty levels. "You must not have had poverty problems where you come from" was the common refrain, and I was never believed when I insisted that, yes, we did. Winston Salem has very high levels of poverty, and my school there was a fairly accurate representation of the city's demographics (we were a "lottery" magnet, meaning selection was purely random, based on lottery). We had some of the highest test scores in the state. We let children play. We gave them ownership of their learning. We gave teachers the autonomy to teach in ways that were authentic to them and their students.

We believed in our students. We envisioned them as college graduates. As successes. As people.

I keep in touch with former colleagues and students and am constantly impressed with the work they are doing (see linked articles above to read about two phenomenal young women I had the opportunity to teach at this very special school, representative of the accomplishments of the majority of that school's graduates). We also had fantastic family involvement that, yes, spoke to the kinds of families who were attracted to our school, but also spoke to the kind of atmosphere we created - one that embraced all students, all people. One that meshed with the surrounding community. This was very intentional. It was not luck or happy coincidence. It was our mission.

We prepared students to be future leaders because we not only allowed them to think and to question, we encouraged them to do so. We not only allowed them to "goof off" and be kids from time to time, but we encouraged them to do so.

We embraced and nurtured their humanity.

The mistake of policy makers in East Baton Rouge schools is that they continue to do more of the same thing they've been doing for years and expect different results.

They continue to emphasize conformity and control over connection and humanity.

They continue to expect failure from these kids rather than searching for their greatness, striving to control and manage them until they can pass them on, rather than nurturing them to their highest potential as human beings.

They continue to take away recess, to take away teacher autonomy, to shame rather than uplift, to direct rather than collaborate, to declare rather than listen. Our children are suffering.

This quote is lovely and makes the rounds often. I'd argue, however, that all students come to school to be loved. And that we need to spend far more time listening to their needs and less time testing their recall of facts. Alfie Kohn writes about this here and here.

I didn't feel like I was part of the solution.

I felt like part of the problem.

I traded in my public school job for running my own tiny in-home playschool. My work has grown from a small group of kids in my own backyard to outreach programs throughout the city.

I'm sure there are some that wonder, in light of the systemic issues I describe, why building with cardboard boxes and climbing trees have become my focus rather than something larger and more visible.

I found myself wondering this, too, as my city erupted in anger and panic over these past weeks as the long-simmering tensions boiled over. I wanted to help in healing this place I call home, and worried that I could not possibly do enough.

But the truth is, we all have to do our own small part. No person can do it all, and we all have to share whatever gifts we have. That's how we make an impact. That's how we make a change.

My city is hurting right now. We are in the news for recent tragic events but the pain is not new. People are angry, and rightly so. We are painted as being very much divided, but from where I sit, people on both "sides" want a lot of the same things.

They want to feel safe.

They want a better life for their families, for their children.

They want to feel that their voices are heard.

This is where we can be part of the solution.

In the days following a string of tragedies both in my city and in other parts of the nation, from the shootings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile to the shooting of the Dallas policemen and the protests and unrest that grew out of those events, I held a pop-up play day for Baton Rouge kids.

We played.

Photo Credit: Sylvan Taylor

We built.

Photo Credit: Sylvan Taylor

It rained.

Photo Credit: Sylvan Taylor

And rained.

Photo Credit: Sylvan Taylor

And then we played and built some more.

Photo Credit: Sylvan Taylor

These kids worked together, helping one another to build forts and scale trees and fight off "bad guys."

Photo Credit: Sylvan Taylor

Things like age and race and gender didn't matter ~~much.~~ at all.

Heat didn't stop us. Thunderstorms didn't stop us.

Our city was hurting and afraid, and these kids reminded us that there could still be joy.

The next day brought more unrest and anger as peaceful protests turned agitated, as fearful police were directed to respond with force against citizens trying to be heard. As the voices of a few drowned out the reason of many.

Out of the pain and anger grew a call for unity. Local churches gave me an opportunity to hold a children's event alongside their worship service.

Again, it rained, and our outdoor service was moved into an oyster bar across the street with generous owners.

The rain stopped, and again, we played.

We chalked the walks with words of love and peace for all to see.

Photo Credit: Sylvan Taylor

We blew bubbles and made a banner and played some more.

Photo Credit: Casey Meyer

And it was all so beautiful.

You might still wonder why this is my response to all the hurting, the violence, the divisiveness all around me.

Why am I standing there blowing bubbles?

Why am I still hauling cardboard and chalk out through rainstorms and cheering on kids climbing trees and wielding duct-taped "swords?"

There are so many reasons.

Imaginative play is one of the best ways for children to process their emotions during times of crisis and tragedy. The news right now in my corner of the world is scary indeed, and children need outlets to process their fear and grief.

“The inherent desire to create – whether on paper or in scenarios with toys – is universal to us all. For this reason, play is an invaluable tool for communication.Children learn how to process complicated feelings through a playful filter and explore tough questions in a language that is easier for them to understand... And while the world and the threats it poses may change, children everywhere continue to try to solve its problems through imaginative games." ("How Children Use Play to Make Sense of Terrorism," Lizzie Enfield)

In play we are at peace. We are in a state of calm alertness; we are aware of all around us and awake, but not agitated, not stressed. We feel joy. We feel a sense of belonging.

That is healing no matter who you are. I challenge you to watch children at play and not smile at the very least, if not feel the urge to join in.

We build connections through events such as these. People gather and talk. They laugh. They feel together, not divided. We learn to truly SEE one another.

This heals.

The greatest reason, however, is that play is an investment in our children.

True free, authentic play is how children develop a sense of empathy. This is something that cannot be taught, especially not in traditional schools. This is something that is only developed through play.

Empathetic children grow up to be empathetic adults.

They grow up to be people who can see things from another's perspective, who can bridge differences and solve problems with words. They grow up to be the helpers, the police officers who embrace protesters, the protesters who use words instead of violence, the teachers and social workers and ministers who speak out for making a difference. The citizens who help out their neighbors.

These are leaders. These are peacemakers. These are the GOOD we wish to see in the world.

Opportunities for child-led play are also the solution for raising children who can regulate their emotions, especially fear and anger.

This is the "emotion regulation theory of play—the theory that one of play’s major functions is to teach young mammals how to regulate fear and anger.[4] In risky play, youngsters dose themselves with manageable quantities of fear and practice keeping their heads and behaving adaptively while experiencing that fear. They learn that they can manage their fear, overcome it, and come out alive. In rough and tumble play they may also experience anger, as one player may accidentally hurt another. But to continue playing, to continue the fun, they must overcome that anger. If they lash out, the play is over. Thus, according to the emotion regulation theory, play is, among other things, the way that young mammals learn to control their fear and anger so they can encounter real-life dangers, and interact in close quarters with others, without succumbing to negative emotions." (from "Risky Play: Why Children Love It and Need It" by Peter Gray).

Children given the opportunities for free play become adults who can control their fear and anger. Again, they become problem solvers, effective collaborators and leaders. They become peacemakers.

They become the solution.

My part may not be loud or flashy.

But it brings me tremendous joy and it IS the solution for our nation's future.

A friend shared this with me as I was writing this post, and I want to close on this idea:

“The future of our country is being built on our work in early childhood development. We all must play a role in helping every child succeed. We are overdue, my friends. Nearly 120 years ago, The New York Times wrote an editorial with these words: ‘Given one generation of children properly born and wisely trained, and what a vast proportion of human ills would disappear from the face of the earth.’” ("Investing Early: The Best Sort of Nation Building" by David Lawrence)

This is my solution.