She Will Not Be Silenced: Or, the "Appropriateness" of Being Five

I've been reading a lot of really thought-provoking pieces lately about early childhood as a profession and childhood as a whole. This post from Language Castle about the "cute" debate (a topic I've tackled in this space) and this one from Happiness is Here about the misuse of the term "play based learning" have really given me pause and encouraged me to reflect on some of my own practices as an early childhood professional and the mom of a young kid.

Childhood is loud. Most children, my own included, are still discovering the world around them on a daily basis. They brim with excitement and enthusiasm when they make such discoveries. When good things happen to adults, we cheer, we high five, we get excited. So why does it always seem so socially unacceptable for kids to exhibit the same behaviors?

Recently, I was at a bookstore with my five-year-old daughter. We were in the children's section of the store and my kid was reading and discussing her book with anyone in the vicinity who would listen - and even those who wouldn't. Yes, she was reading rather boisterously. The volume of her voice continued to grow louder with her enthusiasm for the book she was reading. After a few minutes of this, I noticed a woman - presumably another mother, as she was sitting with two small children in the same section - giving my child less than friendly glances as her volume increased. After her stink eyes failed to phase my child (who honestly didn't even notice), she began to direct her stare at me. Initially, I considered reminding my own kid to lower her voice but then I didn't. Why should she be expected to be any more quiet or any less boisterous than the other children running around the children's section of this store? The whole area was loud. Why was this woman singling out my kid?

After several minutes of my pointed ignorance of the situation, the woman actually approached me and said something along the lines of, "You really need to teach her to be more quiet in public." Um...what? I am rarely at a loss for words, but I have no trouble admitting here that I was struck silent by this admonition. Seriously...what?

Shortly after this, the woman collected her children and exited the store. My own kid, blissfully unaware of what had just taken place, continued to comment excitedly on the book she was reading. I sat down with her and joined in the discussion,  never once considering asking her to lower her voice.

This incident, along with much of the reading I've been doing lately, has me considering the larger implications of what people think of as "developmentally appropriate" for young kids. Sure, there are social conventions that kids will certainly adopt as they navigate their growing understandings of the world. But the last time I read an awesome book, I excitedly squealed over it with a friend who had also recently finished it. And guess what? We were in public when the exchange took place. In my own excitement, maybe I simply missed the hairy eyeballs turned my way, if they were there at all. So why shouldn't kids be afforded the same courtesy? No one challenged the "developmental appropriateness" of my volume or actions.

I think this really circles back to child agency.  If adults can't control the actions of the children around them, the world devolves into chaos...right? Look, I get it. There are times and places where kids do need to understand that loud voices aren't the best choice. But when reading a book, in a children's bookshop? I just don't get it.

Child agency is something I think about a lot, and it's something that I wrestle with in my own practice. But I can't help but worry that instances such as this get internalized, particularly by girls. The messages girls receive, both implicit and explicit, often convey that their voices aren't as important, that their opinions are somehow less, that their thoughts don't carry as much value. So what lesson is my kid taking from a situation in which someone attempts to silence her? Thankfully, in this case, my kid was absorbed in an activity that brings her immense joy - losing herself in a book - and she didn't catch it. This time. But what about next time?

I pride myself on being pretty straightforward with my own kid, and the children I teach. I take every opportunity to reiterate the importance of critical thinking when opportunities present themselves. But still, I have to wonder: when did reading a book loudly become socially unacceptable? When did enthusiasm become something undesirable? What does the attitude of this woman toward my child imply for society at large? These are questions I can't really answer, only wrestle with and consider to inform my parenting and my teaching practice. I'm certainly inspired to continue advocating for children - all children - to own their voices and not be afraid to speak up.

Defining Masculinity as the Absence of Femininity - A Guest Post at Her Next Chapter

Recently, I had the thrill and the honor to be the guest blogger at Her Next Chapter, where I shared a story of masculinity in my preschool classroom, by way of temporary tattoos.

Hop on over there and let me know what you think!

A Sense of Ownership

How do we convey respect for children on a daily basis? It isn't always the grand gestures that are the most significant. Sometimes it is as simple as honoring their processes and saving their works in progress, helping them advocate for the hard work they are doing, honoring the choices they make and the reasons they make them.

I am often struck by how much I can learn when I really stop and listen to what the children are telling me. "Can we save this?" really means "We are working hard here. We want you to recognize and respect the work we've done and give us the opportunity to have ownership here." How can I deny them access to their process? It's not about my power in the situation, it's about theirs.

It's not my classroom; it's ours. Respecting that ownership contributes to the richness of our community. Partnerships flourish in a community of respect. Ideas come to fruition when there is time to explore and create. "Can we save this?" Of course. I want them all to know that I eagerly anticipate everything that is yet to be.

The Honor (Them) System

It is the age-old question in programs that are emergent and child-directed: What do you do when the children are interested in something that doesn't exactly mesh with your beliefs as a teacher, the culture of the classroom, your personal ideologies?

As a younger teacher (if I'm being honest, even as a more seasoned teacher), I tended to ignore these opportunities for exploration. I figured if I quietly ignored these topics, they would simply fade away. It's true that this tactic has had some measure of success, but as topics and ideas recur year after year, I've had to really ask myself what I'm really trying to do as an early childhood practitioner who is learning alongside children every day. As the years have passed, I have attempted to move farther and farther out of my comfort zone, but currently I have an inquiry emerging in my classroom that is forcing me to do some major soul searching: princesses.

I: "Look, I have on a princess dress!"

It's not that princesses have never been a hot topic in my classroom before. But it's becoming more and more evident to me that in order to really honor the children and respect their burgeoning abilities, I have to set aside my own discomfort and meet them where they are.

It's not princesses that bother me, per se, but more what princesses represent in our overly-sexualized, Disney Princess consumer culture. I am bothered by children, especially girls, striving to emulate characters that focus on outer beauty and "getting a man" as their main goals in life, and more importantly, characters that lack agency and autonomy. (For some helpful resources regarding princesses, click here, here, and here).

Recently, the topic of princesses came up in a conversation about engineers (Huh?!). When I asked the children to tell me what princesses do, there were two recurring themes: they brush their hair and they get a man. I was horrified. Later, I asked a group of girls why they want to be princesses. Perhaps unsurprisingly, they could not articulate what it is a princess "does" or why they wanted to be princesses in the first place. I find this completely fascinating. There was a pretty significant shift in my thinking about the idea of a princess inquiry in this moment - what could we do to open a dialogue about why these children are so enamored with princesses in the first place?

E: "When I sit like this, I look like a princess."

So, in an attempt to honor the children as curious, capable learners, I am moving to meet them where they are. Am I excited to spend the next days, weeks, possibly months discussing princesses? Actually, yes. I consider myself a teacher researcher and as such, I'm excited to at least try to get to the bottom of the infatuation with princesses. While I take issue with what I consider to be unhealthy about princess culture, I am excited to open up a dialogue and perhaps give children pause to think about things a little differently. The important thing is, we are on this journey together and I am doing my best to honor them as learners who have the right to be supported by their teacher. Stay tuned!

It's Okay to Breathe

The children in my class are in the beginning phases of a study of their hands and what those hands represent to them in terms of their identities. It's a very exciting time, when a new inquiry or study is beginning and the possibilities are looming large on the horizon.

I have reflected before on my own sense of urgency and although I am aware of my tendency to rush, and try to be mindful to slow down, I have been reminded this week that I am often still guilty of barreling through my own agenda and not giving the children time to think, process, and reflect on their questions and curiosities.

I think sometimes I get so excited about all of the amazing things the children are doing that I forget that children experience time very differently than I do. Children need time to think, to process, to walk away from ideas for a bit to gain some perspective. In reality, many times I feel the same way, in many different areas of my life. So here, in a moment of thoughtful reflection, I remind myself that it's okay to breathe. It's okay to take a lengthy pause in the midst of an inquiry to let ideas percolate. It's okay to walk away for a few days and just let ideas hang. If the children are truly curious about whatever it is they are investigating, they will come back to it. And I will be here waiting for them when they do.

I was jarred into this moment of reflection today, as I was wrapping up the first phase in our hand study and I was already thinking about starting the next phase tomorrow. Then A spontaneously traced her hand after finishing her journal today and engaged me in a quiet conversation as she deliberated over just which marker to choose to complete her work. 

"My hand is brown so I need to use a brown [marker]...This [marker] is light brown. I love light brown because my skin is light brown. Can you see my face is brown?"

This was such a powerful moment for me, and a strong reminder of why slowing down definitely has its merits. Sometimes, many times, the most profound statements are made spontaneously, in the spaces between my questioning. They key is learning to abandon my own agenda, quiet down, and listen for them.

Exploration of Identities - A Year Long Study

I have been thinking deeply this summer about the ways in which children form identities for themselves each day as they play, learn, and interact with the broader world. I am making a concerted effort, along with my teaching team, to bring this identity exploration to the forefront of our days together in our preschool classroom. The following is an excerpt of the statement I will be sending home to families at the beginning of the school year to inform them of our efforts. My hope is that this first statement will start a conversation with families that will lead to a contribution in the discussion of identities for the entire school year.

Exploring the construction of identities is one of many powerful facets of the Reggio Emilia philosophy. Another is the view of teacher as researcher, helping children co-construct knowledge about who they are and the world and people they encounter each day.

In [our classroom], the facilitators view themselves as teacher-researchers who conduct and participate in research in our classroom on a daily basis. This year, we will be spending a great deal of time in the exploration of the various identities of the children in our community. These identities may include but are not limited to areas of child interest, language, gender, age, culture, ethnicity, family structure, and home, among potential others. This thread will weave into everything we do throughout the entire school year. Exploring identities is a powerful way to help children gain confidence in who they are and learn to appreciate who others are as they continue to become.

 

Thank you for your support in our roles as researchers – teachers and children alike!