Welcome,

About a month ago I stepped into the classroom; a powerful three year old was very upset. I asked another child, “what happened?”

The mad, sad child was screaming and crying in a very stressed way that made it so I couldn’t get my work done.

This is rare because as you know, most of my work is is done amidst tears, hugs, laughter, boogers, potty talk, play dough, outer space, dress up, and dance parties.

The boy answered, “he spilled.” I said, “Oh, that’s ok we all spill sometimes, right?” He said, “No, I never ever, ever spill.”

I watched as the teachers helped him sponge up his juice, and dry up his tears. He pulled himself together making us all feel a little better. His breathing did that sighing, crying, sighing, crying, sigh, sigh, sigh thing, and then he went back to chewing fruit snacks and outer space super hero conversation.

Surprisingly, I got a little nervous then. I am a spiller. I spill milk, juice, water, wine…

I have always been a little awkward and klutzy, and when I am the one to walk into yellow paint in a blue dress at Maple Street, I usually feel it is ok, that I don’t have much dry cleaning, that it is humorous, conversational, even color mixing curriculum.

I am a spiller.

When I open my seltzer, no matter how gentle I am, it explodes, and I surrender to watching the geysers and cleaning up the spills.

I continued on the with the spilling conversations, trying to make myself feel better. I asked a little girl, “Do you spill?” She shook her head stated clearly in a teacher voice, “No way, no way.” She then added, but “My brother is.”

I then thought of my morning at home and how I knocked over the coffee beans somehow when I pulled out the restaurant sized bag, and they scattered everywhere. It smelled wonderful. I said a bad word and swept them up.

I am a spiller. There is no denial, though I try to look forward, be aware, and pay attention to gravity. My spilling has gotten worse this year as I have had some inner ear issues. At this point I was nervous; the kind where you imagine everything not good happening, spilling everywhere all over and everyone pointing at you. I smiled looked over at Barbara, our art teacher-storyteller-matriarch, to try to feel better. I said Barbara, “Everyone spills right? You do?”

She looked at me with empathy-eyes and answered, “No, I can’t remember the last time I spilled anything.”

At some point after Barbara’s no spilling/spilling love, I started my research.

I began to observe and interview everyone, becoming an anthropologist on spilling from the toddlers who intentionally dump to the most professional parents who never ever even have any evidence of spills, stains, or messy children in their lives.

I swayed back and forth with this new identity, noticing my extra care with beverages, and my imperfections.

I asked more children about spilling:

“Never not ever ever” one child said.

“No. Then you have to clean it up,” another child insisted.

“It’s ok if you pour stuff outside,“ a third child proclaimed.

At this point, I really, really wanted someone to be like me, to agree with me, even to spill with me.

Then I asked Julia our afterschool director. I could tell she isn’t a spiller like me; she is graceful, an actor, in a band. Her answer made me feel a little better. She said, “Yeah spilling is great, it looks cool on the table, and we get to clean it up in a big group.”

I sighed, feeling loved, knowing she isn’t a spiller, and knowing spilling is not that great for teachers. I am not that naive.

Then finally, yesterday a little boy – the same one who pours stuff outside – spilled, or poured, his milk out four times at lunch. I went over and cleaned it with him, and cleaned it with him, and cleaned it with him, and cleaned it with him.

I had found another spiller. I watched him all day; the way he engaged the world with words, noticed the complicated shapes on the ceiling, and loved his friends so hard that they fell over.

I fell in love then, three times.

Once with the boy who was a spiller, because that was part of his beauty, his special needs and his specialness.

Once with my spiller self, and I admit at that moment I was tempted to pour; to pour something out just give in to the “glug glug swosh”, the shapes on the floor, and the sopping up.

And once, the most for Maple Street because I know it is a place where spillers, and hard huggers, and criers, and stompers, and spinners thrive.

We are not standardized here at Maple Street, we are humans here; children and grown ups with flaws, differences, and strengths, trying not spill and finding the beauty in it.

Maybe you are a spiller, a hard hugger, a crier, a stomper, a spinner or something else? Whatever you are we will support you, love you, and find beauty in your awkwardness here because that’s our philosophy, and it’s what our teachers do best.

I still worry about being a spiller. I hold my cup tightly and look in front of me, and at the stairs, and I know like Julia said, we are great, we get to clean it up as a big group.

We get to take care of each other.

The threads of Diversity at Maple Street School:

Dynamic, Nurturing, Safe, and Playful

When you take a tour of Maple Street School and look around, you will see a lot of Brooklyn there, and a lot of the world. Some of this is shining evidently in the classrooms, or is in the children’s faces and the teachers’ voices as we sing about feelings or family. Some is reflected in our teachers’ daily commitments from the food they make at cafe, to the the books they read, to the conversations they have that let each child and adult in the classroom know they are safe and that they matter. Some of this is in the commitment of our board and cooperative to provide financial aid and to invest, through time and money, in our school so more children from families with low incomes can attend. And some of this is in small and large gestures, threads of learning and practice, that teach us new ways to see and be our children, families, teachers, staff, community and the world.

So when I am giving a tour of our school, I am often asked how do you define diversity? I do provide some of the deeply important, changing, and always-missing-someone list of lesbian gay bisexual, and transgender families, gender-fluid children, single parent families, race, income level, access to resources, culture, language, religion, ethnicity, family makeup, adoptive families, families with special needs and more.

The “more” is the expansive part, and is key because that is where it feels like we are now and that’s what we are beginning to do now: develop a collective and dynamic definition of diversity that serves our children and their families on a daily basis through learning and practice.

This definition of diversity is formed and reformed through:

1. Observing and learning about children’s, teacher’s, staff’s and family’s needs and visions
2. Listening to families and prospective families
3. Learning through ongoing education, training and feedback
4. Building collective and reflective leadership
5. Navigating different opinions in a respectful, kind way, in service to the physical and emotional safety and well being of children and all of their grown-ups
6. Assessing policies, procedures, and a responsibilities through a lens of diversity and inclusion
7. Paying attention and having intention around the moments in the day, and our attitudes toward them, and our practices in them to value diversity, inclusion and community
8. Understanding we all make mistakes, and through accountability and growth we further develop our community

Maple Street’s definition of diversity is dynamic. I remember five or so years ago there was pain and conflict over the celebration of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. A single parent family was concerned about celebrating Father’s Day as her daughter had no father. I agreed to not celebrate these days and then was met with a lot of resistance from the cooperative and families, and did not know what to do. I could not hold up my agreement, and apologized to this family knowing I backed out of my promise. What I learned from this is that my voice is a strong voice in this cooperative. But it is not the only voice. After listening and learning for two more years, Maple Street replaced Mother’s Day and Father’s Day with Family Day, celebrating all of our families in their mommy mama daddy papa grandma auntie friend ways. I know in the future this could change again and again with more learning for all of us. Additionally perhaps there are practices, holidays, language that I or we have not noticed yet that can become more inclusive and reflective of our school.

Maple Street’s definition of diversity includes nurturing: thoughtfully and compassionately caring for every child and grown-up for who they are. This does not mean allowing all kinds of behavior, but having the capacity to love and care for all the children and families that come to and through our school. It means reflecting on our own upbringing and sometimes surrendering to a different kind of behavior, teaching, style or more. When I first came to Maple Street, and I heard Ann Marie speak, it often did not sound like textbook early childhood. Then I watched as families and children fell in love with her idioms, culture and style, and I fell deeply in love too. When we hear something we are not used to, we must ask ourselves does this child or grown up feel good and loved, and not just whether teachers and children are acting like we expect them too. Today when a young girl spoke about her mother giving birth, a teacher asked her, “are you going to take care of the baby? She replied, “We all are, my family is a team.” We all are here at Maple Street too, everyone matters, everyone is part of the team. We all are nurturing each other.

Maple Street’s definition of diversity also includes safety, both physical and emotional. When someone in our community feels unsafe, it is our job to help them. This can be a child feeling teased or unincluded, a parent feeling like their issue is minimized, a teacher feeling vulnerable, or an administrator feeling isolated. The work of early childhood has risk in it and caring for each other through policy, practice, communication, and compassion is necessary to thrive.

Finally Maple Street’s definition of diversity is playful. I announce on tours that children at Maple Street School can be whoever they would like to be, as different as they want to be. They can wear dresses, or superhero clothes, or change their name to Thor, or Supergirl or Princess Awesome. Adults also get to imagine and become their roles at Maple Street through conversations, volunteer/coop work, and having fun. Adults can dress up too, and I have seen astronauts, clowns, superheroes and more over the years.

About two weeks ago, a parent returned to Maple Street after many years. Her children are eleven, nine, and a new two. We were discussing our families; hers African/Caribbean/American and mine Multiracial, African American, Irish and Jewish. She explained to me that her daughter has been invited to her first Bat Mitzvah. I replied, “amazing,” and we discussed the Bar/Bat Mitzvah age. Then I explained that we were not going to Barmitzvah our children because we were not religious and it did not resonate as did travel and other special things. She replied, “You have to, you have to Barmitzvah your children.” And while I did not have to, I adored this moment as one thread of many that makes our community so dynamic, nurturing, safe, playful and diverse

This is a lot of words, and I am a diversity and inclusion learner like you. I am a white Jewish woman growing older, slowly tripping and falling often here at Maple Street, and getting up each time knowing that my accountability and vision, along with yours, can shift Maple Street into what we imagine together.

Welcome Families,

It is wonderful to have all of us here together tonight.

First I wanted to thank each of you for choosing Maple Street School for your child and family.  I also want to thank you for committing to our cooperative model, and the labor of love we participate in to create and support a diverse and creative learning and playing school for our children.

I had started a speech on reflection, and then read a quote by Loris Malaguzzi, an early childhood hero from the Reggio Emilio philosophy. He said,

Stand aside for a while and leave room for learning, observe carefully what children do, and then, if you have understood well, perhaps teaching will be different from before.

So I listened for thirty seconds, and I heard Mae in the threes class say to the children, at her table, “Why do mommies and daddies go away?”

This was it; standing back, and making space, and leaving room for learning and conversation.  I walked out with my notebook, and listened to this important question and the answers that were important, deeply interesting, wonderful and humorous.

The answers are a unique lens into what children see and feel. I will share them with you, and then of course in the coop spirit, I am going to ask for help turning this subject into a short film for orientation next year. So parents and children can hear about separation directly from those who have experience it.

So the question, Mae’s question, was “Why do mommies, and mamas, and daddies, and papas, and caregivers go away?”

The answer:

Well first, Ben went huh hmm, and cleared his throat, and explained, “They have to buy things like comic books and superhero toys.”

Henry W. said confidently, “They go to work!”

Well then Nadia looked at Ben and said, “Well, they have to pull things apart.”

And so I asked, “What do they have to pull apart? And Ben added, “Computers,” and Nadia agreed, “Yes, their computers.

And then Zoe quietly whispered, “Money, she has to pay money.”

And then I traveled to the next lunch table to hear more answers, and Uma responded, “Mommies and daddies leave to get new money.”

And Varick chimed in, “They do paperwork and buy new stuff; toys, and you don’t know which one it will be.”

Osa then explained, “they type, type, type, and then they make a game for you.”

So it’s good to know what some of the Waves parents do after drop-off.  I continued down to the Roots, and most of them were napping, though a few had something to say.

Henry W. expressed that “mommies and daddies write books and make movies” when he is at school, and then added, “like my daddy.”

Eva then explained that her mom is teaching children and that her dad is in Manhattan and she does not know what he is doing. Then she asked me several times to write “love Eva, babysitter”. So I am adding that for her.

Nicholas then said, “They have to work and take a nap, well don’t say take a nap, well she has to get clothes from the Gap? Did you know that? Do you know how to spell Gap, let me get my shoe, here it is Gap. I can spell mom and Gap.”

Leo and Theo then had a discussion about where their moms were, and decided that they were working and writing notes.

Finally, I made it over to the Stars, and only Lincoln and Molly were awake.

I asked Molly where Mommies and Daddies go and she said, “He went home on the train. Daddy went on the train. He is on the seat.”

Then I asked Lincoln, and he said, “They went bye.” I asked if he went on the train and he said, “No, Not yet. Not yet.”

So how is teaching different from before with this knowledge of what children do and say, besides knowing that all of you are working and shopping? It is different in that when we reflect on how children experience the world with them, we grow deeper into our learning both as individuals and as a school.

We can separate children better. Make a video, engage in meaningful conversations.  We know what they need from us; to explain where mommies and mamas and dads go. We can add to their experience. Find out about what families do and where they go that is the same and different such as the train, shopping etc.

We can add to curriculum and have fun with it. Skype with parents during the day, create a work or office in our classroom, pull things apart like a computer. We can build our organization by reflecting on the thoughts of all of our learners in it, from our very youngest to all of you.

As I reflect for one last time on what it was about “reflect”, and then not, and then about “reflection”, that final piece is your thoughts and conversations with your children.

If your child has separated fully, have a conversation about what you do all day when you leave, and then perhaps turn it around and wonder what they do all day, and you may find out when you leave, we are shopping, pulling things a part, making games, and writing books and making movies too.

Thank-you again for being on this early childhood learning journey with us!

Sometimes in pre-school and in life, we choose themes to study such as, self, autumn, fairytales, the human body or Jazz. Other times in pre-school, and life, themes seem choose us.

Perhaps some of the themes that have chosen you and your 2-5 year old are express-subway trains, or green vegetables, or sandy beaches, or 80′s rock music, or Mexican food, or folding laundry, or avoiding parking tickets, or silly dancing.

This summer, the theme that has been choosing me has been rhythm. I remember when it first chose me. I was at the Orchard School in New Hampshire for Sankofa drum and dance camp and the drum teacher Saleem, was beating the drum as he compared it to the maternal heart beat we all heard even before we were born.

The pom pom pom then expanded and I began listening to the rhythms around me, and observing the daily rhythms of the children and grown-ups at the Orchard School, Maple Street, Brooklyn and beyond.

The theme of rhythm brought be back to when I first began teaching at the Maple Street school. I was introduced to a circle of children singing, and two wise women Barbara and Jackie.

As we chanted greetings to the morning and each other, often a child would wander off, cuddle up, hum, tickle a friend, or stay absolutely still. I would look over for guidance at my wise women, and they would say or nod in unison he or she has their own special rhythm.

I would watch and listen to the rhythms at Maple Street, the boy (who is now sixteen and six feet tall) lining up small jungle animals carefully, the little one who was two who knocked down blocks and fell asleep in the corner, and the older girl who was giving advanced lectures on paleontology. Each had their own rhythm.

I noticed rhythm then, but did not realize how much rhythm matters. This summer I began to notice how when we follow a child’s rhythm and support them, like a drum beat, they grow, create, stretch, and thrive. Sometimes we are speeding up or slowing down, meeting them where they are at, and adding energy, or relaxing breath.

Sometimes our rhythms don’t match our children or our surroundings at all. We arrive at restaurant and look forward to a cool drink, an appetizer, and a grown up conversation as our kids play a horrific game of hide and seek almost knocking over the table and the waiter. Our evening turns into dissonant flop of spilt food, halted conversations, whining tantrums, and a better plan for a picnic. If we really missed the beat, we might say I am never taking these children out to a restaurant again ever or until they are grown! We might threaten to sign them up for manners school, which at that point we need more than they need.
Often even after a night of chaos, our rhythms do find a way back together, and steady. This happens we breathe in, spend some time alone, take a bath, or read a story. We are slowing down, and finding a similar tempo.

Sometimes we can’t even find the right rhythm in our own bodies, and we can’t speed up or slow down, and find that drum beat dance in our lives. Children, and especially children with special or sensory needs have a hard time finding a keeping a comfortable steady beat to the world. When this happens I look to intuitive parenting and teaching as well as special needs teachers, occupational therapists and children’s yoga and mindfulness teachers for tools such as a long train ride, soothing music, a bath, a run in the playground, and more therapeutic tools like massage, compressions, swinging, brushing and spinning and more…

This year, it is my hope to observe more children and family rhythms than ever before, to follow their beats, and to honor them. I watched my mentor Eleanor and her teachers doing that this summer, often slowing down to greet a child with autism, or to watch bees creating a new hive, or to give a mama bird space, or speeding up on bikes and trampolines (a trampoline is kind of a giant drum for a human).

Also, in studying rhythm, I hope to slow down my beat a little through meditation and mindfulness, and begin practicing with my own internal drum. So far, I have rediscovered horseback riding and a long sunset boat ride.

At the Orchard School, ironically one of the drummers (Saleem’s first born) name is Rhythm. He is 14 and we would go to the pond each day after camp. The other children would quickly dive into the pond and swim to the dock. He would say, “I don’t know why I can’t do it I am just cold. We would laugh, and I would say, “You’ll get in, we all have our own rhythm,” and of course he did.

After thought —
Finally, my hope is to be able to share theories and practice on the themes that choose us. Please share the rhythm of your family or teaching practice, and together we can join in a drum circle of life.