The Sun Stands Still

I've been awaking to darkness for the last few weeks. I’d have to say that the short winter days are one of the most challenging aspects of life in the northern tier, but things are turning around. The Winter Solstice occurred on the west coast of the US on Tuesday at 10:59 a.m., marking the end of our ever-longer nights and the return of light.

Not to lessen the significance of Christmas, Hanukkah or any of the other festivals of lights, but this astrological event is the original reason for the season. The Earth is tilted on its axis at, on average, a 23.5-degree angle and Tuesday was when the North Pole was farthest from the sun, causing it to appear to rise and set in the same place. We call it the first day of winter, and while the days will now grow longer by increments until the Summer Solstice in June, the average temperature of the “top” part of the globe will continue to drop as the oceans slowly lose the heat they still store from the warm summer months.

Humans can hardly think without resorting to metaphor and there is none more profound than this. It’s not an accident that this is a time for reflection as well as celebrating new beginnings. It’s not an accident that we seek out the people who mean the most to us, family and friends, those we love and without whom we live in perpetual winter. It’s not an accident that Christians retell the story of the birth of a child, the son of God, the light of hope in a darkened world. It’s not an accident that we give one another gifts and wish each other merriness, happiness and cheer – the darkness is passing, buck up, light is returning, have hope.

Winter is often used as a metaphor for death, but the comparison is superficial. The trees may not have leaves, the forests may have been temporarily emptied by hibernation and migration, there may be fewer children on the play grounds and at the beaches, and it may stay that way for some months to come, but we shouldn't mistake stillness for death.

The word “Solstice” comes from the Latin phrase for “sun stands still.” We spend the rest of the year in motion, moving forward, making progress. But if we can hold still long enough to listen, we hear winter whispering to slow down, take stock, cut back, rest, tend to the core of what makes life worthy of its name. All is calm. All is bright.

Even the sun stands still.

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"Teacher Tom, our caped hero of all things righteous in the early childhood world, inspires us to be heroic in our own work with young children, and reminds us that it is the children who are the heroes of the story as they embark on adventures of discovery, wonder, democracy, and play." ~Rusty Keeler

If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

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And That's BS

Our daughter is a 25-year-old who found her passion by the time she was an eight-year-old and who now pursues that passion in New York City, a place about which Sinatra sings, "If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere." And from where I sit, it seems she is making it: acting, earning money, and finding plenty of time to play with her cool friends. As I recently shared a story about her, someone interrupted to ask if she had been "gifted" as a child. 

I think she is gifted, of course, but not in the sense that is meant by the term. By most measures I'd say she has always presented as a fairly typical kid, good at some things (usually the things she enjoyed) and not so good at others (usually the things she didn't enjoy) which is more or less the way I'd describe myself.

We tried not to pressure her about school. We let her quit extracurricular activities when she wanted to quit. Finding something "boring" was more than good enough for me. And with few exceptions we didn't make her do things she didn't want to do. Of course, people warned that we were setting her up, saying things like, "How will she ever learn about perseverance?" They would caution that success only comes from putting our noses to grindstone, while young, doing the things we don't want to do, every day as a matter of course, painting a portrait of life as relentless, competitive, and exceedingly difficult, at least if the goal was to "make it." It was easy for me to ignore them because I'd already figured out, even 20 years ago, that what they were saying was pretty much pure BS, the kind of BS that is spread by tightly wound people who take life way, way, way to seriously.

There is entirely too much of this kind of BS out there and its impact is compounded by the fact that it passes for wisdom in too many circles. Most of the time it's just BS, but it can also be toxic, like when parents worry that their five-year-old is "falling behind," a fear that too often drives a well-meaning adults to expect junior to strive to be a champion at everything, just in case. And that's BS.

I've never had an instinct to lead children. My driving interest is to play with them, to listen to them, to make jokes, make art, make math, make engineering, to just make things, together. There's no "behind" because it's about learning in the wild, about the world, ourselves, and what it means to be ourselves in that world. That's the fundamental question we live to answer. Everything beyond that is BS.

There was a time when I would entertain myself with the cocktail party game of asking people if there was anything their parents forced them to do that they still do today. Most people couldn't think of anything and those that did always, always, cited piano lessons. Not violin lessons, not regularly attending church, not making their bed, not putting their nose to the grindstone. Indeed, it seemed that for most people, the moment their parents stopped compelling them, they ran like the wind. Yes, I'm sure that everyone can come up with exceptions to this rule, but you have to admit, it's largely true.

Putting one's nose to a grindstone is a waste of youth. Even thinking about the grindstone is an abuse. If there are grindstones in their future, and my own life is a testament that it is not inevitable, then they will learn how to deal with them soon enough, tragically. No, if there is a best time for making mistakes, for chasing dreams, for indulging one's passions, for just goofing around, it's in our youth.

As I watch the children I teach play, I see them making mistakes, chasing dreams, indulging their passions and goofing around. I don't wish wealth or fame or power or "success" on any of them. No, my hope is that they get to keep playing, throughout their lives, every day, doing those things that bring them peace and joy and love. Of course, there's crap they'll have to get through, but don't you think kids already know that? Everything they do is accompanied by pain and disappointment and conflict and fear. That's life. But when children play, when no one is harping on them about "success," but rather leaving them free to pursue their passions, it never becomes a slog. There are no grindstones. From where I sit, the only losers in life are the ones who waste it at the grindstone.

As Kurt Vonnegut wrote, "We are here on this earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different." Kids already know this. They show us that no one works harder, or perseveres more, than those who are farting around. And they also know to call BS when they see it. That is the secret to making it there or anywhere.

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"Teacher Tom, our caped hero of all things righteous in the early childhood world, inspires us to be heroic in our own work with young children, and reminds us that it is the children who are the heroes of the story as they embark on adventures of discovery, wonder, democracy, and play." ~Rusty Keeler

If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

This Really Hard, Messy, Emotional Work

We don't have a huge set of big wooden blocks, which is okay because we don't really have enough space for more and besides, if the kids are going to play with them, they generally need to find a way to play with them together, which is what our school is all about.

The kids in our 4's class had been playing a lot of "super heroes." It was mostly boys, but they hadn't been particularly exclusionary, with several of the girls regularly joining them, often making up their own hero names like "Super Cat" due to the lack of female characters of the type in our popular culture. This in turn inspired some of the boys to make up their own hero names like "Super Dog" and "Falcon," along with their own super powers. And although there had been a few instances of someone declaring, "We already have enough super heroes," in an attempt to close the door behind them, most of the time, the prerequisite for joining the play was to simply declare yourself a super hero, pick a super hero name, and then hang around with them boasting about your great might, creating hideouts, and bickering over nuance.

At one point, however, a break-away group began playing, alternatively, Paw Patrol and Pokemon, which looked to me like essentially the same game with new characters. One day, some boys playing Paw Patrol used all of the big wooden blocks to create their "house," complete with beds and blankets. A girl who was often right in the middle of the super hero play wanted to join them, but when they asked, "Who are you?" she objected to being a Paw Patrol character at all. Indeed, she wanted to play with them and with the blocks they were using, but the rub was that she didn't want to play their game.

After some back and forth during which the Paw Patrol kids tried to find a way for her to be included, they offered her a few of their blocks to play with on her own, then went back to the game.

She arranged her blocks, then sat on them, glaring at the boys. They ignored her. I was sitting nearby watching as her face slowly dissolved from one of anger to tears. An adult tried to console her, but was more or less told to back off. I waited a few minutes, then sat on the floor beside her, saying, "You're crying."

She answered, "I need more blocks." I nodded. She added, "They have all the blocks."

I replied, "They are using most of the blocks and you have a few of the blocks."

"They won't give me any more blocks."

I asked, "Have you asked them for more blocks?"

Wiping at her tears she shook her head, "No."

"They probably don't know you want more blocks."

She called out, "Can I have some more blocks?"

The boys stopped playing briefly, one of them saying, "We're using them!" then another added, "You can have them when we're done," which is our classroom mantra around "sharing."

She went back to crying, looking at me as if to say, See?

I said, "They said you can use them when they're done . . . Earlier I heard them say you could play Paw Patrol with them."

"I don't want to play Paw Patrol. I just want to build."

I sat with her as the boys leapt and laughed and lurched. I pointed out that there was a small building set that wasn't being used in another part of the room, but she rejected that, saying, "I want to build with these blocks."

I nodded, saying, "I guess we'll just have to wait until they're done." That made her cry some more.

This is hard stuff we're working on here in preschool. And, for the most part, that's pretty much all we do at Woodland Park: figure out how to get along with the other people. Most days aren't so hard, but there are moments in every day when things don't go the way we want or expect them to and then, on top of getting along with the other people, there are our own emotions with which we must deal. Academic types call it something like "social-emotional functioning," but I think of it as the work of creating a community.

It's a tragedy that policymakers are pushing more and more "academics" into the early years because it's getting in the way of this very real, very important work the children need to do if they are going to lead satisfying, successful lives. In our ignorant fearfulness about Johnny "falling behind" we are increasingly neglecting what the research tells us about early learning. From a CNN.com story about a study conducted by researchers from Penn State and Duke Universities:

Teachers evaluated the kids based on factors such as whether they listened to others, shared materials, resolved problems with their peers and were helpful. Each student was then given an overall score to rate their positive skills and behavior, with zero representing the lowest level and four for students who demonstrated the highest level of social skill and behavior . . . Researchers then analyzed what happened to the children in young adulthood, taking a look at whether they completed high school and college and held a full-time job, and whether they had any criminal justice, substance abuse or mental problems . . . For every one-point increase in a child's social competency score in kindergarten, they were twice as likely to obtain a college degree and 46% more likely to have a full-time job by age 25 . . . For every one-point decrease in a child's social skill score in kindergarten, he or she had a 67% higher chance of having been arrested in early adulthood, a 52% higher rate of binge drinking and an 82% higher chance of being in or on a waiting list for public housing.

Here is a link to the actual study. And this is far from the only research that has produced these and similar results.

If our goal is well-adjusted, "successful" citizens, we know what we need to do. In the early years, it isn't about reading or math. It's not about learning to sit in desks or filling out work sheets or queuing up for this or that. If we are really committed to our children, we will recognize that their futures are not dependent upon any of that stuff, but rather this really hard, messy, emotional work we do every day as we play with our fellow citizens.

******

 

If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

"Few people are better qualified to support people working in the field of early childhood education than Teacher Tom. This is a book you will want to keep close to your soul." ~Daniel Hodgins, author of Boys: Changing the Classroom, Not the Child, and Get Over It! Relearning Guidance Practices

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

I Found A Wallet

Not long ago, I found a wallet in the street. It contained a little cash, a couple receipts for minor purchases, and cards of various types, including a Washington State driver's license bearing an address that wasn't too far away. I swear I didn't snoop, but I couldn't help but see the man's photo. He looked young and appeared well-groomed. He looked earnest to me, maybe even sweet, a man you would trust. 

I imagined this young man discovering that his wallet was missing. Would he miss the cash? It wasn't very much, but maybe it was all he had. It didn't feel right to sort through the various cards, but I figured at least one of them was a debit or credit card. I wondered if I could get the wallet back to him before he went through the hassle of replacing it.

This story I was telling myself about the wallet's owner, whether true or not, motivated me to want to get the wallet back to him. The address was about two miles away.

In 2009, a psychologist by the name of Richard Wiseman of the University of Hertfordshire performed an experiment in which he "lost" 240 wallets around the city of Edinburgh to learn how many were returned. In all, 42 percent were returned to their "rightful" owners. If the wallets contained a family portrait or the photo of a puppy the odds of being returned increased somewhat, but if they contained the photo of a baby a whopping 88 percent found their way back.

A later, larger study that involved 17,000 lost wallets in 40 different countries found national variations in the overall return rate, but also, contrary to the predictions of academic economists, that the presence of cash in the wallet increased the odds of it being returned. Not only that, but the more cash in the wallet, the more likely it was to be returned.

I didn't know any of this when I decided to return the wallet I'd found, but in looking back, that identification photo personalized it for me and the cash made me feel like not returning the wallet would be the moral equivalent of stealing.

The man who answered the apartment door associated with the address was not the man from the photo, so I asked for the man by name. He shrugged, so I told him why I was there. He asked to see the photo and we stood together looking in the face of my earnest young man. No, he told me, the guy didn't look familiar. Then he suggested I try finding him on Facebook. Back home, I indeed found his Facebook page. I learned from it that he was an immigrant from Mexico, that he was from a small village, and that most of his "friends" were from that village as well. I sent him a message.

After a few days without an answer, I took the wallet to school and told the kids the story. This led to a general discussion about things being lost and found. In fact, one boy had found a glass doorknob on the way to school that morning, which he had been showing around, but, he insisted with an edge of defensiveness in his voice, "I don't know who lost it." 

A classmate chimed in, "That means you can keep it. If you find something on the ground and you look around and there is no body there, then that means it's yours."

For the most part the kids agreed. They had all found things. Most of them could name things in their bedrooms at home that they had found. At one point, however, one of the kids, referring to the glass doorknob asked, "What if that's a real diamond?" There was a moment of silence before the boy who had found it replied a bit glumly, "Then I can't keep it," his reason being that it would then be "too valuable." I asked, showing them the money, "Is this wallet too valuable?" Yes, they all agreed, it was too valuable to keep, with one boy adding, "And it has his picture in it." Plus, he added, "He'll be sad if he doesn't get it back."

At the time, I knew nothing of the wallet studies mentioned above, although I did know that academic economists tend to purvey a grim, mercenary view of human nature, one that rarely jibes with the view I get from hanging out with young children. These kids had it figured out: if you can return it to its rightful owner, then you return it; if you can't find the rightful owner, you get to keep it; if it's particularly valuable, you make an extra effort to return it. 

As I made my way home from school that day, I wondered if this wallet was valuable enough to go to extra efforts. The amount of money meant little to me, but it might mean a lot to its rightful owner. I considered taking to the local police station, which might have been the right thing to do, but I really couldn't imagine that it would result in a reunion. I finally decided that I had no choice but to hang on to the wallet and hope the guy finally checked his Facebook page.

Several days passed without a response. His wallet tormented me. What would I do if I didn't hear from him? How long should I wait? I figured I would eventually cut up the cards and donate the cash to charity, because the kids were right, I couldn't keep it.

Then finally the young man reached out. He worked in my neighborhood so we agreed he would swing by my building. He was, as the kids predicted, happy to get it back. He didn't ask me where I'd found it, nor did he check on the contents in my presence. I have no idea what the wallet meant to him, but I hope it caused him to feel better about humankind.

******

 

If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

"Few people are better qualified to support people working in the field of early childhood education than Teacher Tom. This is a book you will want to keep close to your soul." ~Daniel Hodgins, author of Boys: Changing the Classroom, Not the Child, and Get Over It! Relearning Guidance Practices

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

It Will Begin With Compassion

Not long ago, I had a few hours to kill before catching my flight back to Seattle and was kindly invited for lunch and conversation at the home of a new friend. In the car on the way there, she told me that her sons would be there, one of whom had recently been diagnosed with schizophrenia. She said that the house was a "real mess" because of his occasionally destructive tendencies and that he may or may not choose to speak with me.

I've spent more time than I ever expected with people who are schizophrenic. These have mostly been people living on the streets, people who are generally considered to be nuisances, even dangers to the neighborhood. I'm thinking in particular of a couple of young men who often turn up around the preschool, both of whom I've gotten to know over the years, during their more lucid moments. When they are responding to the voices in their heads I've kept my distance.

It's a tragic and brutal thing to be schizophrenic in our modern world. The young men I know, and they are all young men, are tormented by auditory hallucinations, voices that are more real to them than actual voices. It causes them to behave in anti-social and self-destructive ways. Occasionally, the guys I know will go "on their meds." I can tell because then they move like zombies, shuffling gray-ly along looking neither left nor right, trapped in a fog that must feel like depression. When they're medicated they tell me the voices go away, but so does pretty much everything else. It makes them less of a nuisance to the rest of us, but does nothing to make their own lives better. Many of them self-medicate with street drugs which tend to have the effect of making them feel better in the short run while exacerbating the underlying problem.

I once spoke with the head of the neighborhood business association who was at his wits end over the acts of vandalism committed by one of guys I know. The business owner wasn't without compassion, but the broken windows and overturned trash cans were materially hurting business. "I've had customers tell me they're afraid."

When we arrived at my new friend's home, the inside was beyond "a mess." There were holes in the drywall, broken spindles on the stairway railing, gashes in the furniture upholstery, even evidence of a small fire. As we chatted in the living room, her schizophrenic son paced upstairs, occasionally showing himself on the stairway, then retreating. Finally, he joined us, sitting in a chair as far as possible from me. He seemed restless. He was smoking constantly. He guzzled from an energy drink. After a time, he began to interject comments into our conversation, although he always directed his words to his mother as if I wasn't there.

Then suddenly he came to stand in front of me. He said, "I'm schizophrenic. That means I hear people talking that no one else can hear. I know they're real because they say things that I could never make up. Taylor Swift talks to me and she says things I could never make up. The guys from Metallica talk to me and they say things I could never make up. I know they're real . . ." He paused to look at his mother. Then continued, speaking clearly and slowly as if making sure I understood, "But my mom and dad tell me they're not real and I have to believe them."

What a fine line. The diagnosis was very fresh and the entire family was lovingly adjusting to their new life as caretakers of a schizophrenic loved one. 

I thought of the schizophrenics I know in Seattle. One of them has family in the San Francisco area that sends him money and medication in the hope he will take it, but who refuse to allow him to come home. The other, the one who breaks the windows, grew up in a middle class family not far from my school. Were he a little younger, he might have once been one of my students. I've heard his family keeps a room for him, but they can't make him stay there. As I looked around the shambles of this once nice home, as I considered this young man's mother, as I listened to how the schizophrenia medications made him feel "dead," I was overwhelmed with a sense that I must do something.

But what can I do? I'm not a doctor. I have no training. And besides, it's too late for me to dedicate my life to finding a cure. I understand why someone wouldn't want to go through life feeling dead. I understand why we can't just allow broken windows. I understand why families might have to finally "give up" even as they continue to love their child. I understand why people are afraid of the schizophrenic behaviors they witness. It is frustrating and heartbreaking all the way around.

I read about how other cultures, especially ancient cultures treated schizophrenia as holiness. These were the special people who communicated with spirits or the gods. But we don't live in an ancient culture and it would take nothing less than a revolution to re-shape our society to suit the 2.6 million Americans afflicted with this disabling neurological brain disorder. Other than that pie-in-the-sky notion, I find little hope in the reading I've done.

Yet still I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop wanting to solve this insolvable problem, even as I have no particular skills or knowledge. I must do something and the only thing I can think of is to write about it to a small, dedicated audience of early childhood educators and parents.

I don't expect anyone who reads this to do anything, but I know you will feel compassion because that's what we do. And I know that if we are to ever solve this insolvable thing it will begin with compassion. 

******

 

If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

"Few people are better qualified to support people working in the field of early childhood education than Teacher Tom. This is a book you will want to keep close to your soul." ~Daniel Hodgins, author of Boys: Changing the Classroom, Not the Child, and Get Over It! Relearning Guidance Practices

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

It's Them, Not Us, Who Are The Genius Humans

British comedian Russell Howard said that he writes lots of jokes, but they don't become jokes until he speaks them aloud in front of an audience. In fact, he says, often they don't become jokes until he's spoken them aloud dozens of times, tweaking them repeatedly until they elicit laughter, which is when they finally become jokes.

One of the most frequent non-early childhood questions I get from readers, especially readers who have their own blogs or podcasts, is something along the lines of, "How do you come up with so much to write about?" It's a good question. I've been writing 4-5 new posts a week since 2009, and while I've certainly spent my share of time staring at a blank page, I generally know what to write about by listening to the jingle and jangle of my internal dialog. There's always something going on in there.

Writing instructors, especially those I encountered in school, tell you to start with some sort of thesis or big idea, draft an outline, do research, and then begin constructing your piece with the building blocks of sentences and paragraphs. For me, that has always been the recipe for writer's block. My process is more like the one described by Russell Howard. Just as he speaks his jokes into existence, I tend to write my ideas into existence.

Usually I start with a sentence or two about whatever it is that is currently troubling, inspiring, or confusing me, or maybe with a quote from someone or a passage from a book I'm reading. Often, that first sentence is something a child has said or the beginning of a story about something that has happened around the classroom. Whatever that is, I work and rework that sentence or two until the next sentence presents itself, then do that again and again until I get to the end.

That's what I'm doing as I write this.

I'm guided by a line from the poet W.H. Auden who once asked, "How can I know what I think till I see what I say?" In other words, in the original spirit of blogging as a kind of online journal, writing for me is a process for thinking and, sometimes, understanding. The fact that people, no matter how many or few, will be reading and reacting to it, motivates me to be as clear as possible, which makes my thinking clearer, and that, I hope, makes my writing clearer. 

There are limitations and pitfalls in the process. I've left any number of posts unpublished because the process revealed fallacies or contradictions in my thinking, or, more commonly, led to trite conclusions. 

Writing instructors will also advise their students to imagine an audience. I rarely do that. What you read here is for me, again, in the spirit of journaling. That isn't to say I don't appreciate you or any sincere feedback you might want to offer me, but the reality of my process is that I'm sitting here very early each morning, in my bathrobe, in a darkened room, trying to figure out what that jingle and jangle of internal dialog is all about.

I don't know if any of this navel gazing helps anyone, but I'm coming to the place where some sort of conclusion belongs. As I re-read what I've written here, I have options. Sometimes there will be a big "ah ha!" at around this point, but more often, I'm still left with questions. At least they are different questions than the ones with which I started. 

Right now, the big question before me is how this process of waiting to see what I've written before I know what I think limits me, both as a writer and a human being. Here I am, locking myself into a box of 26 letters and a few dozen punctuation marks. Certainly the human capacity for thinking and understanding is bigger than that. I wonder if we, if I, rely too much on the tools of literacy. 

Indeed, most of the geniuses with whom I've spent time have been pre-literate children, humans who don't limit themselves to writing or speaking their learning into existence. They run it into existence. They jump, shout, cry, listen, swing, feel, cuddle, sing, taste, and see their way toward understanding. They are the ones thinking and learning at full capacity. What hubris to suggest that they must, too soon, put that all away in favor of the tools of literacy, or even language, for that matter. After all, it's them, not us, who are the genius humans. 

******

 

If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

"Few people are better qualified to support people working in the field of early childhood education than Teacher Tom. This is a book you will want to keep close to your soul." ~Daniel Hodgins, author of Boys: Changing the Classroom, Not the Child, and Get Over It! Relearning Guidance Practices

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!

"The Opposite Of Love Is Not Hate, But Power"

 

"You need power only when you want to do something harmful, otherwise love is enough to get everything done." ~Charlie Chaplin

As a younger teacher, I spent a lot of time reading about the education of young children. That's how I came to learn about such child-centered models as Reggio Emilia, Montessori, Waldorf (Steiner), and democratic free schools. It's how I came to know the foundational ideas of Dewey, Piaget, and Vygotsky, and more contemporary thinkers like like Bev Bos, John Holt, and Mister Rogers. But to get to those ideas I had to reject most of what of passes in our profession as "best practices."

"The opposite of Love is not hate, but power." ~C.S. Lewis

What I've come to reject is the idea of adult-centered learning. What I've rejected is the idea that adults must somehow control children in order for them to learn. What I've rejected are approaches that place adult power over children at the center instead of love for children. 

"They fear love because it creates a world they can't control." ~George Orwell

Any model that starts with a curriculum devised by adults "for their own good" is about power over children, not love.

Any model that values tidiness and order under the rubric of "classroom management" is about power instead of love.

Any model that assumes that children will learn little of importance without "teaching" is about power.

"In order to get power and retain it, it is necessary to love power; but love of power is not connected with goodness, but with qualities which are the opposite of goodness, such as pride, cunning, and cruelty." ~Leo Tolstoy

You know you are reading about power when the sentences begin with "Have the children (do this or that) . . ." or "Get the children to . . ." or "Tell the children . . ." These are statements of command, the hallmark of every method that relies upon power.

"When love rules power disappears. When power rules love disappears." ~Paulo Coelho

Methods based upon power can be identified by their rigid schedules, both daily and developmental, in which everyone must constantly worry about "falling behind."

Power predominates in places where adults seek to prepare children for some future life rather than allowing them to live the life they are living.

"Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other." ~Carl Jung

Love does not dictate; love does not manage; love does not need tricks and tips for manipulating children. Love is about connection. It is about relationships. It is about listening. It is about acceptance. It is about this unique and beautiful person. As Mister Rogers wrote, "To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now." That is where child-centered learning begins. Love does not prepare children for life because to love someone is to know that they are already, right here and now, living.

"Love is the opposite of power. That's why we fear it so much." ~Gregory David Roberts

When we place children at the center of their own learning, listening to them, understanding them, and loving them, we are creating a bulwark against power. Through a curriculum based upon love we set children free to think, which is, in the end, the only place real learning happens and where, frankly, the spark of revolution is possible. In a world that values power over love, that can be a frightening thing.

"When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace." ~Jimi Hendrix

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If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

"Few people are better qualified to support people working in the field of early childhood education than Teacher Tom. This is a book you will want to keep close to your soul." ~Daniel Hodgins, author of Boys: Changing the Classroom, Not the Child, and Get Over It! Relearning Guidance Practices

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Too Many Choices

Back in the 90's my wife and I moved to Germany. On my first trip to the supermarket, I was struck by the fact that while the footprint of the store itself was significantly smaller than the ones I was used to in the States, it contained pretty much everything for which I was looking. It was the snack foods aisle that unlocked the secret of how this could happen. Whereas back home, a typical grocer might offer several dozen brands of potato chips, here I found the selection reduced to two brands. That was it. They offered all the things a modern shopper might need, just with fewer options.

I experienced this discovery with a sense of relief. Everything about moving to a foreign country had been stressful, but standing there in front of this limited offering was like an island of peace. In Germany, I had fewer choices when it came to most consumer products. Indeed, there was even a law that forbad one retailer from undercutting another on price. This meant that the daily chore of shopping was less fraught with decisions: you just went to the nearest store where most of the choices were already made for you.

I understand that things have changed in Germany and I also understand that many American readers are not necessarily going to see the beauty of being denied their favorite brand of specialty snack foods, but it was the first time that I had recognized that part of the stress of the world comes from having too many decisions to make.

Stress is inevitable and necessary, of course, but I don't need to tell anyone that it can also be toxic, especially these days. There is nothing we can do about some sources of stress. For instance, the stress that comes with sadness, which is typically triggered by a loss of some kind. Loss is built into existence, we can do nothing to avoid it and little to equip ourselves for it. All we can really do is experience it, to grieve, fully and completely, hopefully with the support of loved ones.

The stress that results from fear is more problematic. Our ability to experience fear is a key part of how our species has survived. Without it, we would tend to be fool hardy, to not take adequate precautions, to not protect ourselves from obvious dangers, yet too much of it and we can become crippled by anxieties. Each of us, in our way, seeks to manage our fears with varying degrees of success. And again, one of the keys to that is the support of loved ones.

But what I'm thinking about this morning is the stress that comes from decision-making. That's the real price we humans pay for having choices. The more choices we have, the more decisions we have to make, and decision-making can be stressful.

As adults, we've learned ways to pre-make many of our daily decisions. For example, we tend to stick with brands of products that we've already determined to be our favorites. We put items like keys, glasses, and wallets in the same place every time. We turn much of our decision-making over to schedules or bosses or moral codes. Having recently moved, I've even been aware of the extra low-level stress I've been experiencing as I've figured out the new routines and habits that I will come to replace day-to-day decision-making around the house. 

Young children, however, have not yet learned these strategies and too many choices, too many decisions, can overwhelm them. Too many toys, for instance, can cause a child to not play with any of them at all. Some children will freeze up when confronted with decisions, refusing to make even the simplest ones like whether they want their juice in a red or blue cup. Others melt down over decisions, while others throw tantrums rather than decide. A parent once told me that her son had been refusing to brush his teeth because, he insisted, his toothbrush was red, so she bought a blue one to give him another choice. When he began to refuse that, she purchased a yellow, then a green, then a sparkly one. By the time she spoke with me, their toothbrushing routine had devolved into a half hour of emotional decision-making. 

As we make dozens of decisions a day, it's easy for us to forget young children have not had our years of experience with decision-making. It frustrates us as they twist themselves into knots trying to decide what pair of socks to wear, but for many children, even simple day-to-day decisions can ignite the kind of stress we might experience over purchasing a home, considering a new job, or contemplating a divorce. Just as we cannot avoid the stress that comes from sadness or fear, we cannot avoid the stress of decision-making. Our young children are just emerging from infancy during which decisions were made for them. This is new and fraught terrain for them. 

Experts will often tell us that a child's refusal to make decisions is about wanting to feel in control, and sometimes it is, but just as often, I think, it's about the stress of decision-making. Our instinct, like with the mother buying more toothbrushes, might be to offer them more choices when fewer is really what they are asking for. Sometimes the best thing we can do is pack 90 percent of their toys into boxes. And often, we need to simply be there with them as we do when they are sad and afraid, to hold them and listen to them as they process the stress they are feeling.

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If you liked reading this post, you might also enjoy one of my books. To find out more, Click here! 

"Few people are better qualified to support people working in the field of early childhood education than Teacher Tom. This is a book you will want to keep close to your soul." ~Daniel Hodgins, author of Boys: Changing the Classroom, Not the Child, and Get Over It! Relearning Guidance Practices

I put a lot of time and effort into this blog. If you'd like to support me please consider a small contribution to the cause. Thank you!