Curiosity and Emergent Curriculum

I recently read this article written in the Scientific American about how curiosity is linked with the storage of long-term memory.  I also read a response to the article, directed at teachers, which concluded that we need to strive to "make children curious about our subject matter." While this interpretation makes sense in the context of a widespread understanding of education and the way the current system is designed in our country, I found myself at odds with that conclusion.  What I thought when I read the response was No way! We as teachers need to strive to look at what children are already curious about, and give them more opportunities to explore that.  I have in the past few years felt a deep frustration with the schools where I have taught because it has felt as if we are creating extra work for ourselves by trying to induce a state of curiosity in students rather than engaging in (what I feel) an approach that requires some reframing, but which in the long run, I believe leads to less frustration (both for students and teachers), and a higher degree of engagement (again for both students and teachers).  The philosophy of education that I studied and that I feel committed to, is called emergent curriculum, and I would like to take a few minutes to share about this philosophy, and  what I believe is possible if we rethink our current practices.   
Because it involves the teacher observing to find out what the children are already curious about, emergent curriculum flips on it’s head some of what we hold to be evident about how to run and to "manage" a classroom.  In this post I will write about two classroom scenarios, the first is from a real classroom that I have (sadly) worked in, and is based on a more traditional (albeit “play-based” classroom). The second is more in line with an emergent curriculum approach, and is how I believe a classroom could look, if we were willing to alter our approach, and to let go of a small amount of control. 

The case for Sam and his love of blocks:

Sam (a real child who I worked with but whose name I have changed) is 4 years old.  Sam loves blocks.  If he could have his way all he would do all the time is play with blocks.  He loves to stack them, to knock them, to line them up, and when there are other children around you can hear him inviting them into his play by saying, Hey! Want to build a transformer bad guy with me? There are two more things about Sam that the teachers have seen. One is that he is a very sensory seeking child.  He is constantly touching everything, falls out of his chair on a regular basis, and insists on taking off his shoes multiple times a day.  Sam also seems afraid of getting things “wrong” and often cries to the point of shutting down completely when he senses pressure from adults.  Whenever he perceives that an adult is upset with him he asks, Am I being a good boy? And Can I give you a hug?

Sam in classroom scenario number 1 (Note: this scenario actually happened in the classroom where I worked for a year.  It was a school which proclaimed to value "play-based"education and "student voice"):

Sam comes in in the morning, eats his breakfast goes through the routine of morning meeting. He makes it to “crew time” a chance for a group (predetermined by the teacher) to work together in different areas.  Sam’s crew is assigned to blocks as their first center.  Sam says, YES! and quickly begins building, and working with other children. 

Thirteen minutes go by and the teacher announces, “two more minutes to play”, indicating that there will be a transition soon, and that the children will need to clean up and switch to a new (determined by the teacher) area.  In the block area, the teacher reminds them, this means they need to “stop now” because the mess is so big, and begin to clean up so the area will be ready for the next children.  Sam begins to cry.  The teacher comes over and says, Sam you need to learn to say “no big deal” go use a tool to calm down. Sam goes over and squeezes the thera-putty (which has been set up for children who are learning self-soothing techniques) for a few minutes and when he is calm he comes back to the carpet where the children are sitting to find out where they will be sent next. 

The teacher rotates the crews and Sam’s crew ends up at the still life drawing table.  Again Sam begins to cry, and starts to scream.  When he tries to explain to the teacher how he feels, by telling her I’m sad, because I want to use blocks. The teacher responds, Here at school, you are part of a group, and you need to go where your crew is. Sam screams louder, and the teacher says, Stop crying.  You are not in charge.  If you don’t stop taking over the whole class with your screaming you will have to leave the room.

Sam (through tears, and knowing that if he doesn’t listen he will get an X on a behavior modification chart designed to "help" him by taking away his lego play, (his favorite thing to do at home) when he "misbehaves" a certain number of times) says, okay… I'm sorry I'm being a bad boy and takes a deep breath.  With his shoulders hunched forward, his head down, and shuffling his feet, he goes over to the still life area to join his crew.  When he sits down, he picks up a pencil (very loosely and with his hand shaking) and makes some marks on the paper.  He then begins to cry again.  The other teacher comes over and says, what’s the matter Sam? He crumples up his paper, throws it on the floor and says (again through tears) I can’t do it! The second teacher works with him step by step to choose a new paper, select a colored pencil, and breaks it down piece by piece for him to be able to get started on using these tools in order to complete the “assignment”.

The goals in this area are for the children to draw what they see, including shape, color, and texture (without touching it), and putting their names on it.  Sam quietly cries the entire time he is at the still life area, and the second teacher spends the whole time one on one with him in this area (afraid that if she leaves he will disassemble the still life the other children are working on because he wants to touch the soft things in the box, wander away, or just sit there crying).  As she is working one on one, she is unavailable to the rest of the class to help solve conflicts, to observe what children are doing, or to help set up the next part of the day.  After 15 minutes the children are told it’s time to clean up, and Sam (tearfully) puts the pencils back in the jar, and then asks, Now can I go back to blocks? To which the teacher must (because of the way the system has been designed) respond, No. You have to wait until your crew goes there again (another day).

Sam in classroom scenario 2 (made possible through the use of an emergent curriculum model):

Sam arrives and eats breakfast.  He goes through the morning meeting routine until “project time” where children select which of the on-going projects they want to work on for the next hour (the teachers have worked with students and used their observations of how children have used the space to set up each area based off of what the children are interested in, and what they have seen them learning so far).  Sam chooses to continue building a giant transformer out of blocks. 

Once all the children have selected their area, a teacher comes over and sits with the children in the block area.  The teacher notices Wow, your transformer has a lot of parts!  Can you tell me which shapes you used for his arms? Sam responds by pointing to the different blocks, and naming some shapes.  The teacher writes down what he says on a clipboard (incorporating literacy as an important practice in the classroom) which is hanging in the area to help document the learning that has happened in this area over time. She then asks wait… how many triangles did you use? And Sam works to count them (she is checking his one to one correspondence skills, so she can make sure he is meeting the state standards for children his age, and to be sure there are no concerns that need to be raised about his development in this domain of learning). 

Since the children’s work is on-going, the teacher has noticed that Sam has come to block area every day this week, and that he doesn’t often choose to join projects that require writing implements.  She brings over a jar of pencils and a clipboard with a piece of paper.  She says to Sam, Sam, did you know that designers use these tools to help them remember the work they have done, and to work on creating a plan?  I can see how hard you are working to design your transformer.  Before you continue your work will you draw a picture of your transformer? (this invitation is designed to meet the same goal as replicating the shapes you see in classroom scenario number 1) Sam takes the pencil (loosely) and makes marks on the paper.  He begins to cry, I can’t do it! he says.  The teacher says, I have an idea. Why don’t you take a block and trace the shape, to help you practice getting it the way you want it to be? Sam decides that is a good idea and chooses the blocks he wants to trace. The teacher looks at his work and says,  Oh! And don't forget to write your name on it, so we know who made that transformer. 

While he is working the teacher has her eyes and ears open for other areas where children might be having a conflict, and while Sam is working independently on tracing the block she walks away for a few moments to check on other children, ask them questions, and document what they are doing.  She returns a few minutes later to take photos of the transformer (which she will have on hand to discuss with her co-teacher, to print hang in the block area as an invitation to the children to reflect on, and use as a reference.  She will also save the drawings and photos to help children make decisions about how to move forward with their project.  Depending on what area of learning she has observed, she may ask a variety of questions regarding next steps.  Some ideas are whether they want to change the size or materials of the transformer, or if they want to begin to build other things to go along with it).

There are several other children working in the block area as well, and they periodically ask Sam questions about his work.  At one point Sam tries to take a rectangle block from the structure of another child, and the other child gets upset and yells at him.  The teacher comes over and asks what happened.  When they tell her she says to Sam, Remember Sam, here at school you are part of a group.  I can tell that you were hoping to use a rectangle in your work.  Did you ask Anna if she was done with that block? Sam says, No. Then the teacher asks, Where else do you think you could get a rectangle? To which Anna replies, You could get one from the shelf! The teacher says, Did you hear that Sam? Thanks for that suggestion Anna. Sam gives the rectangle block back to Anna, and gets another one from the shelf.  After 45 minutes the children are given a five minute warning until it is time to clean up, and a reminder that they will be able to continue their work later if they don’t feel that it is done.

In both scenarios it is expected that Sam try to draw what he sees.  In both scenarios Sam finds using a writing implement difficult, and in both scenarios Sam is provided with scaffolding to support him in doing the work.  The main difference in these scenarios to me is how the environment feels, both to Sam and to the teacher.

In the first scenario Sam spends a great deal of time in transition (every fifteen minutes), feeling like he is missing out on what he would rather be doing (playing with blocks), experiencing limits on his desires (not touching the still life), feeling like he can’t do what is being asked of him (draw what he sees) without explicit adult support, and probably getting the message that the teacher isn’t there to help him, but to force him to comply.  He is also getting the message that in order to “be part of group” he has to give up his own interests and desires, and that expressing how he feels makes him "bad"and that expressing his feelings leads to punishment (having his favorite activity taken away at home).

In the second scenario, Sam spends a great deal of time (45 minutes) working in the area that interests him.  He is offered support that allows him to figure out how to do what is asked of him (drawing what he sees by being able to touch and trace the blocks) and he is getting the message that the teacher wants to work with him to expand his ideas, and that there is more to building than just putting blocks together (math, literacy, and fine motor skills are all part of this work). He is getting the message that “being part of a group” means that everybody’s work is important, that the teacher cares about his work and wants to help him get what he needs, but that it is his responsibility to speak with other people about his idea in order to get what he wants, rather than just taking it.  

I feel a deep sadness about my participation in the first classroom scenario, and how frequently children experience this type of environment.  When I am in this type of classroom I find myself spending all my time redirecting, hovering, saying no and enforcing rules, and there is no space for me to experience my own curiosity about what it is that Sam knows, or to try to engage in figuring out how to best support him in showing it.  

The article about curiosity was a reminder to me about my own learning, and growth as a teacher, and has helped me remember why I am so committed to the emergent curriculum philosophy, model and practice.  I hope soon to be able to return to the joyful and exciting part of what it can mean to be a teacher, and I hope that other teachers can find the places in their own work for curiosity and growth.




Side note: I am currently looking for work.  If this post resonates with you, and you work at an infant/toddler or preschool center (in the Boston area) where this approach is happening and you are hiring (or looking for someone to come in and consult/ offer feedback on your teaching based off of observations) please contact me.