On Subsequent Inspection...

I ha ve trouble articulating what exactly it is that I do all day- let alone what I should be doing. It's easy enough to brush off my activities as wiping noses and putting away toys. But- it's Sunday evening, I've had a few moments to reflect, and I've settled on a metaphor, The job of the adult in this setting is to be a trampoline; support the child and move them to greater heights than they could achieve on their own, while maintaining a reliable safety net. As each child “touches down” or checks in with me, whether to tell me about their plans or to ask a question, I try to expand their thought process, add vocabulary or materials that will propel them higher in their thinking.  This is a journey for me as well as for the kids, and we're all learning along the way. The day I stop questioning and redesigning and tweaking is the day that I need to find something else to keep me out of trouble during the day.

Just so that's in your head. For what it's worth, when applied to most of life, I hate that song. I am ambitious. If I don't like something, I change it. If I can't be "with the one I love", then damnit, I'm not going to be with anyone. I don't have that choice with my students. Despite the occasional fantasy of a child who is constantly on task, follows all directions to the letter, and never yells for a butt wipe (this is preschool, after all), I couldn't just take on those kids, even if they existed. Better writers than I have hammered home that children are too often held to higher expectations than adults. People who are worse equipped to handle sleep deprivation, hunger, thirst, and other discomfort and also expected to eat on a strict schedule, nap at nap time, play but not too rough or for too long or too loudly... you get the idea. So when one comes into my home, all booger nosed and ornery, we talk. As the adult, it's my j