Dear Families,
I have found much to appreciate and delight in both with our children and with adults in our community. Here are a few such appreciations.
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE MOTHER OF A STUTTERING CHILD
I had a really fruitful conversation with the mother of an applicant about how much to correct the speech of a very young child. This put me in mind of one of my favorite articles from teacher training, the "open letter to the mother of a stuttering child" (I have attached it to this email; I have pinned a copy to the Golden Forest bulletin board for those who prefer to read in print). It reminds me so much of the value in seeing the best in children, in knowing that they are developing, that there is a wisdom to there development, that I need not rush them, that I can help by giving my attention to that which will be helpful rather than showing concern about temporary conditions. I love the recommendations about courtesy at the end of the article: they are gems in reminding me of how polite I can be to my sons. I find this article is about much more than speech development and stuttering; it is about all aspects of development. If we have faith in our ability to see others in all their glory and potential, we keep them free to develop to that glory and potential.
PIRATE GAMES CAN GO REALLY WELL; AND HOW FAR I HAVE EVOLVED
I have witnessed great pirate games these recent weeks, games that involve every child in the class in a cooperative and deliciously rowdy way. I choose to welcome any play scenario that is an avenue toward joy and freedom. Much as with the topic above, if I push against this or that imaginative scenario, I attract more of the negative energy I was hoping to free the class from. The following images from the sunny meadow evoke great delight in my memory. After a number of boys chased (very ostensibly willing) girls as scurvy pirates chasing another ship, the play shifted to the point in which the formerly gruff and rough pirates now became squeaky boy mice running away from female cats. So many smiles and laughs filled the meadow.
I have written about reframing our image of pirates before, probably to many of you. As I read over this essay from years past, I note how much I have changed as a teacher. Back then, even as I was welcoming freedom and possibility, I was also judging and pushing against many things; ever the scholar, I needed historical or literary or scientific evidence to back up my freedom. Now I feel and know that with anything, if I can seek that which is liberating and helpful and developmental and in tune in any activity the children come up with, I find myself at the place most able to help the children toward a productive experience. If you wish to read a glimpse of my former philosophy, you can read the essay at the end of this email.
WALKS IN ALL SORTS OF WEATHER
I love the book Your Self-Confident Child by Dorothy Corkille Briggs. I always remember her chapter on jealousy. Jealousy can really help children grow and develop, can help them ask for and find more; help them expand their horizons. She also notes that if a child becomes too jealous, she or he shuts down, and development becomes frozen.
I have felt similarly in the variety of climates in which we have walked in recent weeks and months. Some weeks it seems Monday and Tuesday mornings have the nicest weather of the week; we receive the gift of feeling in tune with the woods around us. We've also walked through cold weather, very wet weather, and days (like today) which felt warm at first and then became colder and colder. I love to show children there a variety of ways to find relief and soothe themselves if the weather and conditions become unpleasant; sometimes more walking is what is needed; sometimes running; sometimes yoga postures; sometimes longer walks; sometimes cutting a walk short and going inside. I love allowing children to discover that we need not give up and go inside as the only solution; that we have options; many options; many ways of finding enjoyment in conditions some might deem unenjoyable. Today, we walked briskly; it began to rain and became cold; I knew the right thing to do: we walked farther into the woods and beyond the institute than we have ever done (than I have ever done with a class before). We ate snack at the institute. We warmed ourselves while I told the fairy tale of the Golden Goose in the Sanctuary at the Whidbey Institute (a beautiful open and sacred space any family could visit). Children walked back toward Granny's house with such energy and alacrity that we had ample time to play at Fairy House Grove before returning to watch the middle school circus rehearsal and say our own farewell.
I look forward to the possibilities the coming weeks will allow us.
With warmth and light,
William Dolde
(read the following only if interested)
Falling Cradles, Pirates, and Sewing up the Wolf's Belly
Beginning but Not Necessarily Polite Thoughts on Different Ways of Taking Metaphor
Rock-a-bye baby in the treetop.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.
Over the years, some parents have expressed concern/distaste with the above lullaby. Who wants to sing about babies falling from trees? While as a teacher, I can recommend reading Rahima Baldwin or others to receive a more spiritual interpretation of the song (it describes our descent from the spiritual world to the earthly world. It comforts us with the notion that some of our spiritual trappings--cradle and all--come down to earth with us to accompany us in life. The enduring popularity of this otherwise tragic lullaby testifies to the beyond-realistic power of it), if the song still bothers you as a parent, don't sing it to your child. At the same time, I ask that parents hold open the possibility that the lullaby can be nurturing in a classroom setting if the teacher's image or metaphor behind is one of healing and nurturing.
For years, it bothered me when children pretended to be pirates. Sometimes it was because their play was so media-driven (this still bothers me, as it should bother you), but also because it felt to me that children were learning to pretend to be pirates before pretending to be sailors, a bit like children learning "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells, Robin Laid an Egg" before learning the more traditional lyrics to the song (this still bothers me and I plan to lecture/write about this more next year in a talk entitled "A Black Fly in Your Chardonnay: The Importance of Being Earnest With Young Children"). "Why can't children find satisfaction in being sailors?" I thought. Recently I attended an exhibit on "Real Pirates" at the Field museum in Chicago which changed my thinking a lot. There I learned (and I am not an expert) of how atrocious the owners of ships and their captains were to the common sailor--who were poorly treated and often unpaid at the end. The "good" official ships of European countries were heavily involved in the slave trade. These ships also had unclear rules dictated from above with harsh punishments. Racism prevailed. On pirate ships, in contrast, democracies and a clear code of conduct emerged. Pirates voted in their ruling members of the ship. They drew up codes of conduct together. The captain of a pirate ship received only twice as much pay as the lowest paid member of the ship (just about everybody got paid the same). Pirates freed slaves and welcomed freed slaves into their ranks. Their crews came from many countries and spoke many languages. While it seems like my goal here is to apologize for piracy (not my intent; I know real pirates still exist and threaten lives at sea; one could, of course, begin the difficult conversation of asking if current governments have changed from sufficiently from the Imperialist slave traders of the past, but again, this is another conversation), my realization is far less profound and more personal. This experience has subtly but powerfully altered the way I might respond to pirate play by children, ways I might extend the play with simple phrases, ways I might foster social inclusion, ("Did you know pirates welcomed anyone on their ship who wanted to help?" "Did you know pirate captains were sure to share the treasure with everyone on the ship?"), and ways I might live comfortably and effectively with this sort of play in the classroom.
I often write and speak about the metaphor of teaching or parenting as being a confident captain. Winds, seas, and storms may delay us from our course, and we must accept this. Crews (our children) may mutiny. At the same time, we still seek our course with strength and flexibility. We want our crew to have faith in us--so we are both confident (our children know we are in charge) and observant (our children see that we see them and are trying to meet their needs even as we are in charge). In the exhibit on pirates, I learned that when pirates took over a ship (which they often did without needing to shed any blood or fire any cannons), they gathered the crew of the captured ship and asked them if their captain was a good leader or not. If the crew said their captain was a despot or bad leader, the captain was killed. If they said the captain was a confident and good leader, the pirates rewarded that captain with treasure and a ship of his own (pirates often traveled with a number of ships, so they had one to give away). Now as I teach or parent, I feel very comfortable asking the hypothetical question, if pirates took over and asked my class or my own children whether I was a good captain or not, would I be killed or rewarded with a ship of my own? I could imagine other teachers or parents would find it very unsavory to chart the course of their classroom or family life with the image that their life or death depends on it, and I would never recommend this to someone else. But it does work for me, and I take it with equanimity, not fear.
"The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids" is one of my favorite stories for older nursery or young kindergarten classes. I knew the deceitful wolf could be very disturbing to parents and some children, but I was surprised at a parent meeting to learn that the old goat's use of scissors to cut open the wolf's belly and needle and thread to sew it up again (once her kids had filled it with heavy stones) came across as very violent, even sadistic. Now I see that of course it does (or can). To me it had always seemed a symbolic and healthy balance to some children's (more often boys though not exclusively) tendency to get stuck in gun and sword play--an interest in engaging in the world offensively and only from a distance. Only guns and weapons seem to have power for children stuck in this developmental phase. Here, I thought, is a story that symbolically suggests the power in the tools we might associate with a grandmother or kindergarten teacher or brave little tailor--scissors, needle, thread. My point is not to beat swords into plowshares and then bash our enemies on the head with our plowshares, but rather to open the possibility that power--rather than something to be afraid of--can come from many aspects and archetypes and from within many aspects ourselves. My reading of this particular fairy tale is highly symbolic and very free from the tangible, and many children receive it that way. I am not demanding that parents interpret the story in the way that I do, just opening the possibility that we can see the same rhyme, song, or tale very differently and make different choices about it.
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