November 21: the first full week
I continue to struggle with “the cuteness thing.” I talked to Lillawas about it. Children try out identities – as an educator, how do I choose to respond? Am I able to put aside my personal difficult feelings around certain identities in order to respond as an educator? How would an educator even respond?
This week, Lillawas had the morning shift. She’s told me that she would like to see me form closer relationships with the children. Obviously, this is a good goal to have; however, I am of two minds. I feel that Lillawas is responding to my time observing children, rather than playing with them (on one occasion, Lillawas gave me positive feedback after playing catch with some children). But maybe she has a point? Should I spend less time observing and more time acting? Should I be more active rather than passive in my observing?
I know that both of these queries direct me back to my pedagogical commitments. I’ve resisted putting my commitments into words, because I struggle with the idea that a single sentence could define my purpose in my work, but also because I do not think in words, so translating my idea into something I can tell others is difficult. And yet, how useful can it be if I cannot tell others? How useful is it if I cannot turn to it in uncertain circumstances?
Something else I’m contending with is comparison, particularly around drawing. “How would Teresa use drawing in this instance?” I ask myself. But, I am not Teresa, and it matters that I am here with the children and not Teresa. “Am I drawing enough?” “Is it okay that the children do not draw about my invitation/provocation?” I worry that these doubts take me away from the time I have with the children.
On a more positive note: This week, Christine and I repaired the play house in the back yard. We made a paper pattern last week (it only occurred to me later that Christine was likely using a technique from sewing), then measured the board and used a saw to cut it to size. We explained to the children what we were doing, and took them back and forth between the play house and the garage, where the saw was. We explained that it’s very important to be cautious with the saw, and Christine demonstrated how she kept her hands far from the blade. Then, we drilled screws into the board to keep it in place on the roof. The children gathered solemnly around the play house at first, but soon grew disinterested. Afterward, we hammered in some nails that were sticking out inside the play house and on the wooden train. D was very interested in the hammering. We were cautious as he is new to the program and can be unpredictable. I knelt beside him, arms lightly around him, to explain what we were doing, and that it was important to give Christine space while she hammered. We watched her together.
After the mending was finished and the tools were put away, I thought it might be a good idea to think about what had just happened using drawing. M often likes to draw with me, however, she will usually ignore my prompt and draw bunnies. I drew the motion of the saw, the screws, and the hammer. The children were interested to watch me draw this way. I hope that as time goes on and I use this kind of drawing, the children will join me in thinking with drawing. So far, the children largely ignore my prompt if they choose to draw with me at all. I hope that creating a ritual that takes place daily will engage them over time.
I brought a big book about oceanography this week. The children ask for it during reading moments. I’d originally marked some pages about topics we were discussing (sharks, whales, dolphins, jellyfish), but today we went “off-script” and looked through many of the pages one by one. The strange creatures are interesting to look at, and we have some interesting conversation around them. I am happy that I chose not to bring a book aimed for children; it has beautiful, full-page photographs, and I tell the children that the book is very special (from the library!) and to please be gentle. They acquiesce.
I am very interested in the structures the children build and play around. I took some interesting photographs where the building is clear but there is blurry movement around it. How is it that the children build this central structure without much verbal communication, and it stands as the center of their play?
I’m also very interested in the chalk drawings the children draw on buildings and other structures outside. What compels them to do so? What is it about being outside that draws this creative impulse from them? Chalk begs to be used, to make marks. What might happen if we bring chalk indoors?
November 14th: the first half-week
I am finding myself much more comfortable at Little Jewels than my previous practicum placement. Is it just the program, or have I changed? I think I have grown a lot since the spring.
This time around, I feel much more confident around “being the bad guy” and “enforcing.” Where I struggle, though, is around actually connecting with the children when I’m enforcing. So I feel more like a cop than an educator. I often find that the moment slips away before I’m able to connect with a child. Is this something that will improve as relationships are strengthened?
Another thing I’m struggling with is … well, it’s hard to find a name for the pattern. It feels like the children will put on a front for me, the adult, like I can’t see through it to themselves. This is something my autistic brain doesn’t understand. I don’t know how to deal with it in the moment. What I’ve noticed is that, in girls, it will present like cutesy-ness or acting dumb. This makes me sad, to say the least. It reminds me of that quote about the male gaze: “Women watch themselves being looked at.” (I know now this is a quote by John Berger, from his book Ways of Seeing). Children are part of society, and yet it feels strange to apply sociology ideas to them. One boy puts on a stereotypical machismo persona. How do I respond as an educator? Is there even something to respond to?