What does it mean to be powerful?

The following post is based off of two journal entries I wrote several years ago when working with a group of preschoolers.  I still find them to be relevant, and thought I should share them.

"What does it mean to be powerful?" This is a question I see arising daily in my classroom.  Today a mother asked me about the ratio of boys to girls in our class. "There are nine boys, and three girls" I told her. "Oh... [nodding her head] I thought so.  Your room just seems to have that boy energy."  While I tend not to put much stock in gender based categorizations, as my understanding of gender is that it is a non-binary social construct, what she said echoed assumptions that I have heard over and over.  And it  got me thinking. I'm assuming based on the behaviors that exist in my class at this moment that what this mother (and many other people I have talked to in the past) called 'boy energy' was most likely rambunctious and sometimes violent. This got me to thinking about the role of violent play in my classroom.

Over the past few days there have been many interactions that end with (both boys and girls saying) "well, then I'm going to shoot you!"  When I hear children making statements such as this I don't go to a place of fear or anger but to a place of sadness.  I wonder, "how powerless must someone feel to think that the only way they can get power in a situation is to threaten the use of violence toward the person with whom they have a conflict?" (granted most children don't have a firsthand knowledge of the real impact of shooting someone, which is why other threats like, "then you're not coming to my birthday party!" or, "fine! then you're not my friend!" to me have the same impact). 


If this is the talk and energy that is being associated with boys, doesn't that tell us that our boys are feeling powerless?  If so, I think we should be asking ourselves about the ways we can empower them.  I feel that the traditional model of education and even the traditional response to the threat of shooting someone (which is usually in essence "threats aren't allowed, so you can't say that") does exactly the opposite*. By ignoring the underlying need to find power we doing children a disservice, and perpetuating their feeling of powerlessness.  I'm wondering what opportunities, strategies, and examples we can offer of non-destructive ways for all children (because seeking power is not limited to one gender) to find the power they seek. 


The research question in our classroom right now has to do with the power of friendship.  I believe that there is power and bravery in kindness and in caring.  I have found that often there is  more strength in being a friend and in working with those with whom you disagree, than in overpowering someone physically or emotionally.  When threatening and destructive statements run rampant (as they seem to be in my class right now) it seems to lead everyone to operate from a place of fear and defense.  I have been asking myself,  how can I help children make the shift between these two drastically different understandings of power?  How do we as people grow into an understanding of the power of caring/being connected with someone else?  How can I foster that within my classroom?

A glimpse into the classroom:

Three children (Sam, Joe, and Bill) are in the large motor space.  Sam picks up a block, aims it at Joe and Bill and starts yelling "bam, bam, bam!" They start yelling for him to stop.  Since they seem to be getting upset.  I decide to intervene, telling Sam that guns aren't allowed at school(*as noted above I have mixed feelings about this response and as I say it I am in the process of thinking through other options) to which he replies,"It's not a gun. It's spraying gumballs." 

I think for a minute... Realizing that my concern with "shooting" games is twofold.  My first issue is that (in my experience) children use the "shooter" to overpower other children, which happens regardless of what is being "shot" (besides gumballs, I have heard of shooting fire, goo, candy, water, soap etc.) In my mind the intention of this game is to make someone else feel less powerful (or yourself feel more powerful) by using a weapon of some kind. My second concern with this game is the assaulting volume of  "psh psh psh" or "bam bam bam!" sounds coming from the weapons.  I also realize that if these concerns were not present, I actually wouldn't have a problem with stuff being shot, or children using guns.  

"Okay Sam..." I say, "...but if you want to shoot Joe and Bill with gumballs you have to ask them first." He turns to Joe. "You want me shoot you with gumballs?" Joe thinks for a minute then responds, "Yeah!"  Sam shoots him, and they both collapse on the floor laughing. Sam turns to me and asks, "can I shoot you?" I say, "sure." then when he shoots me I pretend to catch a gumball and eat it.  Sam continues shooting and Joe and Bill begin pretending to collect gumballs.  

It seems that when the shooter asks for permission (and respects the answer) the game changes from one of domination to one of invitation, joint understanding, and shared enjoyment.  The other thing that changes is that when a child gives another child permission to say "no" they are actually giving them power rather than taking it away, and they discover that acceptance of a good idea can feel powerful as well. 


So what:
It seems to me that if at a young age we empower children to find ways of feeling powerful in their own right, through use of real materials (see post soon to come on materials) and sharing power rather than through the use of threats, violence, coercion, and power-over others as adults they might feel more powerful and a stronger sense of connection with one another.

Food for thought: what is really meant by "food curriculum"?

Over the past few weeks I have been thinking a lot about my place of work, and how much I value what we offer children. 


One of the biggest points of pride for me is our culture around food.  Our children come from a variety of food environments.  Some come from families with lots of access to nutritious food, and information about what is required for children to be healthy.  Others come from families with little access to this information, or to the quality or quantity of food needed to adequately meet the nutritional needs of their children.  Our program is lucky enough to get funding from the state, reimbursing us for the meals that our cook (Erinn) expertly and lovingly prepares for the children each day. (check out her blog at: www.bcslunchlady.blogspot.com)  I am grateful for this funding, and appreciate the fact that Vermont is trying to make nutrition a priority for young children.


With all of that said, I also find it off-putting how narrowly (and in my opinion falsely) the state defines curriculum.  I am concerned by the promotion of activities rather than experiences and relationships as being the primary way that children learn. And I am frustrated with the lack of recognition of what happens at our center as a valid form of  curriculum.  


A glimpse into our environment:
As you walk into the toddler kitchen (where 18 1-2 year olds gather to eat snack and lunch each day) you see multiple 11x14 photos of the children, taken during a variety of food experiences (at our weekly summer trips to the farmers market, in the lunch room, cutting fruit, spreading jam on toast, eating, setting the table etc.)  


One of the walls in the kitchen is painted with chalkboard paint giving children the chance to write/draw what we will be eating for snack and lunch on a given day.  On part of this wall are black and white photos of the children at mealtime. In these photos they are talking, eating, and laughing.  


On one of the shelves is a laminated sheet with questions generated by the children that they can ask each other at mealtimes (i.e. what is your favorite part of this meal? What was your favorite part of the morning? What book are you going to read at rest time?). 


The rest of the shelves are filled with natural materials for children to use in building centerpieces for the table when it is time to help set the table and prepare for meals. 

From the window in the kitchen you can see outside onto the playground where there is documentation of the garden that the children planted the year before.  There are photos of them hauling the compost from the big pile in the parking lot and spreading it into the dirt on the playground.  There are  images of them watering the garden, picking, looking at, cutting up, and tasting the cucumbers that the garden produced.  


Also visible from the window is the window box full of basil and other herbs that the children grew and tasted (along with tomatoes that they bought at the store during an outing, and cut up themselves).


In the classroom there is a kitchen area with varying food related items (wooden fruit, cupcakes with removable frosting that can be decorated, bread dough made by the children, many containers, rolling pins, and lots of other tools including plates, tea-cups and napkins to help facilitate dramatic play related to food).  


On the shelf there are more photos of children cooking, using dough, and participating in dramatic play "parties" and "dinners".  There are also observations posted on the walls with the conversations the children have had during mealtimes.  


A glimpse into a mealtime conversation:


4.3.12    


Five children are sitting together with a teacher in the kitchen.  The table is set, and there are bowls of purple cabbage, rice, oranges, and chicken.


Child 1: I love cabbage!
Child 2: I love cabbage too!
Child 3: I don't.
Child 4 [to the teacher]: This is my favorite kind of rice.  Did you know you can make curry rice too?
[Child 5 (an ELL student) takes a bite of the cabbage]: It's crunchy!
Child 4: I tasted it, and I thought it was sweet.
[Child 1 has eaten 6 slices of orange.  She looks over at the table of younger toddlers who are having grapes, and says to the teacher]: They are having grapes for their fruit.  So we can have lots of oranges! [she looks over to another table of older toddlers] Hey, does anyone at your table want oranges?
Child 6 [who is sitting at the other table]: I don't.  


What I see:
In this conversation there are many things that stand out for me.  The first of which is how much of the conversation is being driven by the children.  When given a choice children (and I think adults too) will talk about what they are interested in, and it is clear from this conversation that they are interested in food.  They love to describe the taste, and the texture of the food they are eating. 


It is also an opportunity for them to learn about themselves, and others. They have the capacity to decide what they like and what they don't like, to try new things, and to stick with their own preferences.  They are learning that it's okay to disagree.  


One child makes the connection between food he eats at home (curry rice) and the food they are eating now.  Another child uses this time as a way to take care of others, making sure that everyone has a chance to have some oranges (even though, or perhaps because they are her favorite).  


There is so much more to this mealtime experience than classification of food, and ability to repeat the names of fruits or vegetables (which you may have also noticed happened as well.  Without teacher prompting). 


A glimpse into a professional development training offered by the state:
The woman who supervises our food program arrives, and after walking through the spaces just described settles into the preschool kitchen (an environment also rich in reminders of children's experiences with food) to talk to us about "food curriculum".  She tells us she is going to teach us some ways of getting children to learn about food (I wonder if she has taken the time to look around at all).  She then proceeds to pass out papers with the outlined shape of a squash drawn on them, along with some squash seeds.  She tells us that we can practice doing this "fun" activity and then offer it as a way for the children in our classrooms to learn about squash. Then she instructs us to glue the squash seeds inside the outlined shape of the squash on the paper. (I am dubious that paper and glue have anything to do with eating squash... and find it hard to participate in this "fun" activity.)  


Several teachers make patterns within the outline using multiple types of seeds to create visually appealing versions of the squash.  When we have finished she looks around at the variety of squashes and then tells us that we should encourage children to fill in the squash entirely, using the seeds from only the one particular type of squash, to help them understand that this is the type of squash that it grows. (I am still at a loss for the connection she is seeing between this piece of paper with a shape on it, and the experience of eating a buttery well prepared piece of summer squash... or the process of growth for that matter.  The materials I associate with the growth of vegetables are earth, water, sunshine, and the outdoors...)    


At the end of the two hour training (after we "learn" several more activities, including some "new" songs about how things grow) she again walks through our classrooms, and past our documentation, and as she is about to leave she says, "We really do recommend that every program we give funding to try to implement some kind of food curriculum."


So what...
Over the course of this training I went from being frustrated, to being offended by the the complete and utter lack of recognition of the opportunities we provide and the relationship that our children have with food as a valid form of "curriculum".  


As teachers we work hard to make all of our environments not only educational, but meaningful and nourishing to children, and I feel that our food environment is one of the strongest ones at our entire center.  We understand that children learn from experience, and I am concerned that the people who are charged with "educating" teachers about nutrition don't seem to understand that children benefit more from the opportunity to stick their hands in soil, plant seeds in a garden, pick the squash when it finally comes up, cut it open and find the seeds inside, help prepare it, and enjoy tasting it in the company of friends, than they do from sitting still in a chair and being told how to glue seeds to a piece of paper.  


The frustration that I experienced from that training has driven me to create a book (that will hopefully be for sale soon) that shows the culture of food that exists at our center, and frames environment, relationship, and experience as an integral part of what I/we define as curriculum.  


I believe that through our food program our children have developed a deep and meaningful knowledge of food.  Listening to our children talk during meals, watching them taste (and often finish) all the food on their plates, seeing their deep interest in the growing process, their curiosity about ingredients of food, their sheer joy at sitting down to eat together, and their constant desire to share the experience of eating with others, to me, is the most important evidence of not just learning, but a life well lived, which is for me the top priority.

What is my real work?

As I mention at the beginning of this blog, one of the reasons I have started to write about my work is to call into question the assumptions about the work that I do, and to advocate for it's value.  I often feel an incongruence between my understanding of what is happening in my room, and what others might see from looking in.  For example, when I tell people that my concentration was (in part) Women's Studies I am often met with confusion. "You're going to teach toddlers about feminism?" 


This question is the underpinning of what I believe to be a set of assumptions about education that have led us astray.  The assumption that teaching means passing down pieces of information, not working together to understand the world around us.  That "feminism" (or anti-racism, or peace and concepts of justice) is somehow taught and not lived, and that what we do in the classroom is limited to that particular space.  I think that people also often assume that what looks like play is just that, play.  But I ask you to consider what is really happening in a "simple" play scenario. 

A glimpse into the classroom:

Several children have gathered around a sensory table filled with magnetic wands and several metal pieces.  Two of the children are holding the wands, and watching as they attract the pieces of metal.  One of the children looks up and says, "wow this sticks to everything."

A glimpse into my mind:
This child has just formed a "schema" or an idea about how something works.  Magnetic wands stick to "everything" because "everything" in the bin is metal.  What will happen if I introduce another non-magnetic material?


The next day...
I have added some wooden pieces into the bin along with the metal pieces from the day before.  When the children arrive the same child goes over to the sensory table.  She picks up the wand and starts attracting the metal pieces.  When she gets to one of the wooden pieces and it doesn't stick I point it out. "Hey!  I remember yesterday, you said that that wand stuck to everything.  What happened?  Why isn't it sticking?" The child considers this for a moment and then begins to walk around the room trying to stick the wand to other things she finds.  


So what:
The reason that this is interesting to me is not so much for the answer to the question "why isn't it sticking?" or even of the eventual discovery of the fact that metal sticks to magnets and wood doesn't.  What is important to me here is the internal conflict between what happened yesterday (when the wand stuck to "everything") and the experience that has just occurred (it only sticks to some things).  What I am interested in is how this child makes sense of new information, how she processes what she experiences given what she thinks she knows (or her previous understanding of the world based on her prior experiences).  Does she choose to embrace this new information, or reject it as incorrect or inconceivable? 


In one of my sociology courses (also part of my concentration) we learned about how prejudice forms.  Someone has an experience with a person, and it leads them to have an idea about that type of person (someone with glasses, someone in a wheelchair, someone with AIDS, a white person, a person of color, someone of a particular religion etc.) This seems clear.  What was interesting to me (and relevant to my work) is the way the brain then responds when someone with the same characteristics acts in a different way.  We learned that there are two general ways for the brain to respond to this new information.  The first is to recreate your schema (this wand sticks to everything...) and accept that you may have only had a partial understanding of that person (oh no, wait, it only sticks to some things... i must not have had a complete picture of how this wand works, or all of it's properties) which may lead you to a desire to find out more about them (what else will this wand stick to?) and gain a more complete understanding of the world (ah! It sticks to metal, but not wood...) Alternatively, some people's brains are more predisposed to create what are called "outliers" to help explain this inconsistency.  When this happens they continue to hold their original belief about the person, believing that the new behavior is an exception rather than an indicator that they have an incomplete knowledge, and they are not led to try to learn anything else.


As I indicated in the parentheses, I believe that there is a direct correlation between challenging children to re-think their schemas, and developing the type of brain that is not only okay with inconsistency, but utilizes it as an opportunity to gain a more complete understanding of the world, and the people in it.  I believe that my work doesn't just help children understand the properties of materials and how they interact with one another, or that one plus one is two, but that my real work is to help children develop brains that are not beholden to binary systems (which I believe are so frequently not the reality) and to become people who use internal conflict to become better citizens in the world by seeking to understand, not shut out what they don't yet know.