Miss Missa on the road: Final Training Day

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
~Lucius Annaeus Seneca, popularly quoted in Semisonic's Closing Time.

Today was an emotional day, filled with reflections and farewells. We did some amusing and instructive roleplaying this morning regarding interventions in conflicts between toddlers. We talked through some last questions and clarifications, and mulled over where to start and what to when we go back to our "real life" lives. We said our goodbyes (I tried not to cry my face completely off, and only partially succeeded -- I'm just like that), and went our separate ways. I am honoured and delighted to have shared so much profound and intimate learning with these fantastic ladies, and I hope we really do keep in contact with each other. I am looking forward to hearing about the adventures and endeavors of each of my classmates in the future; I am certain they all will do fantastic things. I have a feeling that exactly the right group of people came together at exactly the right time for this class, and we all had a lot to learn from each other!

It was bittersweet to walk up the hill one last time (even though I was wearing useless girl shoes and gave myself blisters on the balls of my feet -- stupid shoes that look nice but fail at protecting feet properly!). I've got my bags rearranged (hopefully with enough weight distributed into my carryon to not have a problem at the airport with my checked bag this time!), and will enjoy one last night at the hostel.

In the morning, I'll be off to LAX to catch my flight to Vancouver, and I look forward to reuniting with my family there; it's been too long since I saw them last.

"I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass
And it's one more day up in the canyon
And it's one more night in Hollywood..."
~Counting Crows, A Long December

Miss Missa on the road: Training Day 9

Today was another long (but good) day. The post-migraine "hangover" from yesterday has mostly cleared, my Venice Beach blister has healed, and my leg muscles now forgive me for walking up the hill repeatedly. It was already 15 degrees (C, of course) when I left to walk down to the RIE Center, so my jacket stayed strapped to the backpack today! I stopped for breakfast along the way (for a break form bagels and cream cheese!) but that proved to be a mistake because the place lost my order or gave it away to the drive thru customers and what should have been a three-minute stop took almost 15, but I was only a couple of minutes late for my class. Ho hum.

We chatted through some terms, and spent a large portion of the day talking through (and watching videos of) conflicts that arise between infants or between infants and their caregivers, and how to handle them sensitively so that the children on both sides of it can learn from the experience without coming away feeling shamed or victimised. It's a tricky thing, knowing when and how to intervene in conflicts between children (especially siblings!), and the wrong type or level of intervention can cause things to escalate, or can rob the children of a sense of resolution so that they have to keep coming back to recreate that conflict over again.

It has been such a gift getting to know these passionate and caring ladies during the past couple of weeks, and it will be hard to say goodbye tomorrow when it's time for us to go our separate ways.

After chatting with most of the class over a beer (wine, coffee, tea...), and ranting together about the plight of the North American public school student with a couple of people, I finally made it to In N Out Burger, and can confirm that the fries are inferior to New York Fries, but superior to KFC. I have two new roommates who apparently like to go to bed early (or are exhausted from travelling). I sure hope they will forgive me for rummaging around in the morning to get myself ready to go, since I didn't have a chance to turn the lights on and do it tonight!

Miss Missa on the road: Training Days 7 and 8

Hello! Yesterday was another observation day, and I had the pleasure of observing a parent-infant guidance class with another instructor. The children in this class were older toddlers, as in the previous class I observed. It was held in a different space, and the children were not as invested in physical conflict with each other as the children from Monday's group. That's not to say that there was no limit-testing; the facilitator had plenty of opportunities to demonstrate respectful child guidance techniques!

A good chunk of today's class was spent discussing what we observed in the parent-infant guidance classes. We had seen a total of 6 different classes between the 8 of us, so there sure was a lot to talk about! We then started digging in to infant-infant interactions. Hooray, peer interactions and peer learning! I wonder why we as a society are afraid to allow infants and young children to freely interact with each other? Could it be that we are terrified that one baby or the other might cry? Why are we so afraid of crying babies?

As far as my California adventure in general is concerned, I managed to get to the 99-cent store yesterday and stocked up on kool-aid packets (those have been discontinued in Canada, and are useful in many ways!) and matching socks (because I love my sister-in-law enough to avoid making her bonkers with mismatches when she's being kind enough to host me at her house...). I tried to go to In N Out Burger for my late lunch/early supper, but it was literally packed; I couldn't even get in the doors. So I walked over to Chic-Fil-A instead, and was amused by the multiple walk-up ordering windows and the complete lack of indoor customer space (it was like a walk-through, a drive-through, and a patio with plenty of seating).

It's hard to believe that I'm just two days away from the end of this class. On the one hand, I know that we will pack a lot of useful information into those days. On the other hand, I still have a whole lot of typing to do before the end of Friday! On that note, it's time for me to switch gears and get some homework finished before I sleep!

Miss Missa on the road: Training Day 5, a weekend, and Training Day 6

After Friday's class, I enjoyed going out for a couple of drinks with a couple of classmates (we were later joined by our instructor and intern) and dinner with a classmate, before I walked back up to the hostel for a short amount of quiet time before my brother picked me up, so I opted to postpone that day's post and roll it all in to this one!

Friday's class felt really intense, but seemed to go by very quickly. We talked a bit about potential next steps in the training process, then did an exercise where we were paired up with partners, given wet washcloths, and instructed to wash each other's hands -- first disrespectfully, then respectfully. It was challenging to do the disrespectful handwashing on either side of the equation; when my partner washed my hands, I wanted to cooperate but couldn't. Her movements were too fast and random for me to do anything at all helpful to the process. When I washed my partner's hands, I had to consciously go against my own inclinations. The respectful handwashing was much easier and more comfortable. We watched some videos from the Pikler Institute in Budapest, and one of the things that jumped out at me was the sudden disconnect when a child's caregiver was particularly task-oriented rather than relationship-oriented during a diaper changing/bathing/dressing routine. It stood out rather sharply in contrast to the other caregivers in the video, all of whom made a point of spending those important routine times in concert with their charges, talking them through the routines, inviting them to participate (but not insisting on it), playing along with the silly little games a bit, enjoying each other's company, and setting firm but gentle boundaries when it was time to get down to business. It makes me wonder how often I have caused discord in my relationships with the children in my care in my haste to just get through those routine tasks with them.

As I mentioned, my brother picked me up Friday night and we checked in to his hotel in Thousand Oaks, where I enjoyed sleeping in a queen-sized bed, sleeping in, and lingering in a private shower with a private dry area to dress in afterwards! The hostel is really great for a hostel, but I really do appreciate non-communal showers. Saturday we went to a nice sandwich-type shop where they make their bread on site, and had sandwiches and salads for "brunch" before taking a scenic drive through the hills to get to the Santa Monica pier. It was really interesting to see how many people were rod-fishing off the beach into the ocean, and off the pier as well. There were street performers and artists everywhere, and we walked down the path along the beach all the way to Venice Beach and back again. Some of the "street vendors" were very amusing and creative in their offerings -- ranging from live music (including a performance from a lady who appears to have bought a baby grand piano instead of a house) to actual physical artwork (of varying qualities and talents) to a booth that offered "Questionable Advice from a Homeless Satanist (It's Not Free)" and a guy skateboarding around with a sign promising "Jokes: 25 cents". There was a separate bike path that was in constant use, and bike rentals were available, including tandem bikes. It was sunny and warm, but not oppressively so. We walked a total of 16km (according to the not-so-accurate activity tracking app on my phone), and I managed to get a blister just above the callous on my big toe (right where the sock seam rubs). Thankfully it hasn't actually burst yet.

We went out for Mexican food for supper, and then went to a luxury theatre to watch the Star Wars movie (it seems very much like what I imagine the Cineplex VIP theatre to be, based on the advertising). It was sure nice to put my feet up after all that walking! I stayed at the hotel with my brother on Saturday night again, and again slept in and luxuriated in the private shower. We went to a Peruvian sandwich shop for brunch, and enjoyed sitting outside to eat, though the ants seemed to enjoy our presence as well. I discovered that the red squirrels down here are MASSIVE compared to the ones in the Edmonton area (but not as huge as the grey squirrels in the Vancouver area). We drove an interesting route through the hills, got lost (ending up in Beverly Hills at one point, stuck behind those "celebrity home tours" vans that kept stopping in the middle of the road to point out some famous person's house) and unlost, and found our way to Griffin Park (which was insanely busy -- no surprise on a long weekend, I suppose). We drove near the Hollywood sign, but didn't care enough about the photo op to try to find parking and fight through the crowds there. We did luck out and find parking at the Griffin Observatory, where we discovered that it's really smoggy in LA (you can see where there are the shadows of the city skyline, but it's mostly obscured by all the smog) and that apparently the observatory is a popular place to go on a weekend with little kids who are too young and disinterested to really enjoy the experience, much to the dismay of the adults who brought them and wish to control their behaviour. There are a couple of chunks of the Bruderheim Meteorite in their meteorite display, by the way. We had planned to go out for sushi for dinner that night, and the place that my brother found sounded cool -- and turned out to be super fancy! It was at the top of a hill, and valet parking only. The sushi was delicious (though the waitress thought we ought to order other things that they're "known for" because "you can get sushi anywhere, really"), and the eggnog bread pudding with rum and raisin ice cream was also delicious. The restaurant had a great view of the city, though there were a lot of distant floating lights whose buildings were completely obscured by the smog. After dinner, it was back to the hostel for me, and early to bed (though not early to sleep; my roommates went out at about midnight, and came back sometime after 2am).

This morning, I got to walk up the hill to Franklin (instead of down to Melrose) to meet up with my classmates and the intern who gave us a ride to Sherman Oaks, where we observed a parent-infant guidance class consisting of five extremely busy toddlers (all right around their second birthdays) and their parents. It was really interesting to see some of the theory in action there, though today seemed to be sort of an off day for the group, with a lot of limit-testing, peer "aggression", and general keeping the adults on their toes! We walked over to Trader Joe's to pick up some lunch while the other half of our class observed a class of younger infants (9 to 11 months), and then we took turns setting up the room for different age groups. The room setup was really fun, and took a lot of careful consideration. I especially enjoyed the older toddler setup, as I was thinking of the children in the infant/toddler room at work the whole time! Tomorrow, we will observe another parent-infant guidance class with a different facilitator, and have time to type up our observations from both days.

It's hard to believe that in just 5 days my United States adventure will come to an end! I'm looking forward to the rest of this week, but I also want to savour it, lest it pass too quickly. And with that, it's time for me to get some sleep!

Miss Missa on the road: Training, Day 4

Another beautiful morning in Hollywood! I once again stopped to shed my jacket on the walk down the hill this morning.

Today's class material covered many of the things that we have worked to incorporate into the philosophy and practises at the childcare centre where I work. We touched briefly on the concept of emergent curriculum, and it was nice to hear it talked about appropriately for infants and toddlers; so often, when early childhood educators try to implement emergent curriculum for infants and toddlers, they scan the toys the children are playing with for a theme, and then build some theme-based programming around that. That's not emergent curriculum, it's theme-based programming. More appropriate for that age group would be to notice what they are working on developmentally, and provide objects and experiences that lend themselves to the appropriate uses. There doesn't have to be a "theme" or "topic", especially with that age group. It was hard for me to articulate before, but I am looking forward to bringing back some ideas for planning in the Toddler Room! We also talked about involving children in things like diaper changes, dressing, and bathing routines, as well as developmentally appropriate ways of feeding. It was a familiar sight when, in the feeding video with older toddlers, the children sat around the table, taking turns serving themselves from a communal bowl, and chattering socially together over their meal.

Today, we drove to Erewhon (which is a market, and apparently famous people often shop there... I wonder if that makes me a famous person!) for lunch, where I discovered some very tasty fresh produce that would be horribly out of season at home. The strawberries were particularly delicious, and had crunchier seeds than I am used to encountering!

It's been a long week, and I am feeling rather exhausted, so I will wrap this up and head for bed.

Miss Missa on the road: Training Day 3!

This morning started out pretty routine; I got up, got myself ready to go, forgot again that eating orange sections means needing to floss, and headed off to the RIE Center. I left a little bit later today, and didn't get caught in the high school rush; instead I got to hear the announcements over the loudspeaker as I walked by! The weather was a bit overcast this morning, so the jacket stayed on the whole way.

We started off the class by practising how to pick up and lay down a young infant (it's more complicated than you think, if you want to do it in a way that isn't too startling or disruptive to the baby). We talked a bit about slowing our pace in the presence of babies to avoid overwhelming its new and sensitive nervous system. It felt surprisingly comfortable to lift and replace the doll we were using with such grace and care; it was a far cry from the swooping and plucking I'm sure many of us are accustomed to performing! All the while, I was internally chuckling at a little voice in my head that cheerfully says "Chop-chop!"

As we talked about things like free play, intrinsic motivation, the progression of fine motor skill acquisition, and providing an appropriate environment in which infants can freely explore and naturally develop and hone their skills, we chatted about many things that many of us feel passionate about, like developmentally appropriate practise in public schools, academic pushdown, and so on. It is nice to be in a pocket of like-minded people, I must say!

I walked with a couple of other course participants down to Chipotle for lunch (there you go, American friends, I tried Chipotle) and found it to be a difficult place to order with a cilantro allergy, though I did find enough safe options to fill my belly. I'm not likely to go back, though.

In the afternoon, we wove together more threads in the free play/motor development/environment-as-third teacher (Reggio Emilia's words, not RIE's) tapestry. Running through that tapestry are core ideas like an infant's right to autonomy, choice, and freedom -- particularly freedom of movement. How often do we, as adults, unwittingly tell children that what they are doing has no value to us? How often do we railroad their play because we know how to use a toy the "right" way and want to show them? How often do we assume that the child wants what we think they want, without considering their individual preferences or giving them the chance to make a choice?

The day felt long to me, and when I was offered a ride (thanks again, Michelle!), I gladly accepted. My poor prairie-atrophied B.C. muscles were glad for the break from walking up the hill today! I braved the sketchy communal showers early in the evening, when they weren't too busy, and then tucked myself into my bunk with my laptop instead of hanging out in the common room like I had previous nights; I am feeling the need to have some alone time this evening. I did finally meet my third roommate while both of us were awake, though! I seem to be on basically friendly terms with all three of them, so that's good.

For those of you who are curious, no I did NOT buy the winning powerball ticket that was apparently sold in California. I did not buy a lotto ticket in the USA at all, anywhere. But thanks for daydreaming on my behalf!

P.S. if you'd like a postcard, email me your mailing address. I can't make any promises about followthrough here, but I'll do my best.

Miss MIssa on the road: Training, Day 2

I woke up this morning feeling a bit stiff from having engaged my neglected "walking up hills" muscles yesterday. I met up with one of my new friends in the hallway and had a chance to say goodbye to her over breakfast as she left for Hawaii today. Someone had mishandled the coffeepot last night and broke off the handle for the spigot. This morning the lid was off and there was a mug on a plate in front of it for dipping. Tonight, the coffeepot is absent. I hope it comes back soon.

It was a gorgeous walk down Highlands this morning, though I got caught up in the rush of students headed for Hollywood High. I arrived quite early again, despite having slept half an hour later than I did yesterday. I suppose the time I spent in my room last night while the lights were on to organize myself for morning paid off!

We kicked off the day with a bit of a disclaimer; the instructor talked about how repairing the relationship builds it up, and that reconciliation not only helps mend the rifts caused by our mistakes, it also allows us to model for our children how to maintain a respectful relationship and how to handle conflicts with grace. This was part of the conversation about how it's impossible to be perfect and do everything right; "the perfection is in self-reflection and repair".

We talked about how trust, respect, and careful observation are interrelated, and dug into some actual observation practise of our own. There was also a real emphasis on the quality of time spent with the child over the quantity of time (better to spend five or ten minutes giving the child your complete, undivided, unhurried, agendaless attention than to spend all day paying half-attention).

We went to a nearby chicken grill place (whose name I have already forgotten) to get some tasty wraps for lunch.

The afternoon focussed on gross motor development, the importance of transitional postures and skills (each of which lays the foundation for the next major milestone), and fostering natural motor development through freedom of motion. It was really beautiful to watch the videos of children whose motor skills had developed naturally and without adult interference; they moved with grace and confidence, and showed good judgement about whether it was safe to climb a particular piece of equipment or move in a particular way -- they were very sure of their own abilities.

Today's class was jam-packed with information, and I was pretty tired after walking up the hill to the hostel again. I managed to talk to my new roommate (from South Korea) but there is a fairly serious language barrier there. I have yet to have a conversation with Roommate #2, as at least one of us always seems to be asleep whenever the other is in the room. Now, time for some light fine-motor-related reading before bed!

P.S: HOORAY, A STAFFER JUST WALKED IN WITH A NEW COFFEE MAKER!

Miss Missa on the road: Training Day 1!

Today was... very interesting and filled with an unusual amount of socialization for an introvert like me! I got up in time to grab some breakfast at the hostel (blueberry muffin, bagel with cream cheese, orange sections that I picked out of my teeth for the next three hours) before heading out. It's about a 30-minute casual stroll to the RIE centre, downhill the whole way. I arrived nice and early, and met Kate from Peaceful Parents, Confident Kids (you should read her blog, it's fantastic!) right away, along with some other fabulous people. I'm not the only one who came from afar; there were two ladies from Australia and one from India in my class. We did introductions, went over some introductory materials, and talked about things like taking time and/or waiting for a response from an infant before doing the thing you said you were about to do, and like authenticity and getting to know the small person in your care while allowing that person to get to know you.

I walked with a couple of my classmates to a coffee shop nearby and got an insanely delicious sandwich for my lunch. It is still annoying that I have to actually READ the paper money to determine its value, and I automatically put my wallet away when the change is going to be less than $5, and have to pull it back out for the $1 bills.

After lunch, we talked about specific times we felt respected and disrespected, and it was interesting how much more difficult it was to think of things on the respect side of the equation. My thought was that most of the times where I've felt respected I tend to either write it off as people respecting my skills or something, or it kind of blends in with the level of common courtesy that people automatically give each other most of the time in our society.

After watching an interesting video (which is apparently for people who were once infants, or whose friends or family members were once infants) and doing some discussion and reflection, it was time to go! I spotted the Hollywood sign on my way up the hill, and stopped at Walgreens for some supplies (did you know they can still sell cigarettes in drug stores here?), and made it to my room somewhat tired but feeling accomplished. One of my roommates was asleep, so I dropped off my stuff in my locker and came down to the common room with my laptop and books, where I met some interesting people, one of whom shared his tasty spaghetti with me. And with that run-on sentence, it's time for me to get through my homework for the night and get to bed!

Miss Missa on the road: I always knew I'd make it to Hollywood one day!

Hello from Hollywood and Highland!

Today was another long travelling day -- I was at the Spokane airport before 7am. After hastily stuffing some jeans from my suitcase into my carryon (I was 6 lbs over on my checked bag!) I was off! It's been a long time since I rode in a propeller plane, and I forgot how loud the engines are on those things. I had enough time to grab an orzo pasta salad and a bottle of water in Portland before boarding my second flight to LA.

It was interesting approaching LA and seeing all the palm trees, the huge warehouses, and the multitude of backyard swimming pools. The airport was surprisingly quiet when I arrived (as in it was nearly not so busy as to make my head explode), as remarked by someone who apparently actually lives here. I foolishly followed Google's advice and lugged myself and my luggage all the way from Terminal 6 to Terminal 1, missing the flyaway bus to Hollywood by about five minutes. After using a washroom and regrouping a bit, I learned that the bus does indeed stop at all the other terminals. Sigh. Now I know where to go to get my bus back to the airport in two weeks, though! It's just off Hollywood and Vine (at which intersection I was too busy figuring out where to go that I forgot to stop and take a selfie). The first star I noticed on the walk of fame was the one that says Frank Sinatra; my family will think that's hilarious even if no one else does.

I opted to pay the $1.75 bus fare to ride up Hollywood to Highlands, rather than attempt to make the 15-minute walk whilst lugging my 49.9-pound suitcase. The entrance to the hostel is secured, and you have to ring the doorbell and wait for the desk attendant to buzz you in -- then you have to climb a full flight of stairs! My room is on the second floor, making me appreciate having packed "light" for 2 and a half weeks away (I will take advantage of my sister-in-law's non-coin-operated laundry facilities when I visit there "on the way home" in a couple of weeks).

To get a feel for where I'm staying, here's the hostel's website: http://walkoffamehostel.com/

Tonight is "games night" which this time means beer pong with free beer (as long as you're playing). The common area also has a number of board games and such. There's a kitchen, and free breakfast. I plan to use the free hostel breakfast to make myself immune to the fact that McDonald's is literally down the road. I spent my evening with my 4-person dorm room to myself unpacking a bit into my locker, reorganizing my bags, and exploring the hostel, rather than walking down to the place where my training will be, since I was an hour later than I intended to be arriving. I popped back in to get my makeshift lap desk when the common room was taken over by beer pong so that I can use my laptop on my lap, and my one roommate was in the room, apparently facetiming with her significant other based on the snipped ot conversation I overheard after we exchanged "hi"s -- hers was a little frosty, but maybe that's because she thought she had the room to herself tonight, or because I was interrupting her call. Hopefully it was just a false start! I'm trying to make a point of being in the common areas and actually talking to people (or at least being approachable), because I will NOT be participating in many (or possibly any) of the planned activities, and I hear it's bad hostel etiquette to be a complete hermit.

In the morning, I will venture out to the RIE Center for Day 1 of the Foundations course. I'm so excited!

Miss-Missa on the road: Greetings from the USA!

Well, after a long and interesting journey, I have arrived in Spokane to visit a friend for the weekend. My bus's alternator broke between Edmonton and Red Deer, causing the 10-minute stop there to turn into 2 hours so that a mechanic could come fix it. They held our transfer bus in Calgary (there were 9 of us making that transfer), so it was 30 minutes late leaving -- to the dismay of all the other passengers that had to board in Calgary. In Golden, the guy who had started chatting with me in Edmonton and proceeded to get increasingly drunk as time went on was escorted away by the police, which caused another delay, but despite all that we managed to arrive in Vancouver 30 minutes early and make the transfer to the next bus. At the boarder, the US official kept asking if where I was going in LA was "near Redfern" (even after I said it was West Hollywood) and I realised that he was actually following a script and told him I had no idea -- I only made the connection to the shootings that had been in the news a few weeks ago several hours later.

The Greyhound station in Seattle was packed, and I found myself boarding a nearly-full bus with people whose accents I'd only heard on the phone (while working in call centres for American companies) and on TV, a guy with a pitt bull who he tried to pass off as a service dog but who clearly needed more training and focus in order to handle such a stimulating and stressful experience, and a baby who did very well considering she also had to handle a stimulating and stressful experience.

I saw more snow in the passes between Seattle and Spokane than I have in a long time, with banks taller than the vehicles. It seems like the snow fell fast, wet, and heavy though, because it clumped in the crotches of the tree branches like snowy magpie nests. After the mountains was what I can only describe as badlands -- a semi-arid desert with fences up to keep the tumbleweeds off the highway and, later, out of the farm fields. It reminded me of the area around Wainwright -- and there was actually a section with signs indicating "US ARMY RANGE" which reminded me even more of the Wainwright area.

We arrived in Spokane a bit early, but I didn't have to long to wait until my friend picked me up. I got a tour of an American Walmart (they really do sell guns, ammo, and liquor) and visited McDonald's, where I determined that the fries taste different (maybe it's the oil?), the Big Mac bun is tastier, ketchup tastes different (I was not expecting that!) and Dr. Pepper is available despite the fact that it's a Coke place, not a Pepsi place.

Now I'm going to enjoy the first coffee I've had since Golden, and I'll catch you all up from L.A. tomorrow afternoon!

Miss Missa on the road: Journey's Beginning

I am currently on a Greyhound bus heading south to Calgary, the first leg of my journey to L.A.. Why, you may ask, am I going to L.A.? Well, I am very excited to tell you that I am going to participate in the winter intensive RIE Foundations class this month! I'm planning to post periodically with updates and reflections on my experience, so stay tuned! In the meantime, I've got a 37-hour + bus ride, so I think I'll do some sleeping...

Nothing could be more simple, or more difficult.

“All I am saying ... can be summed up in two words: Trust Children. Nothing could be more simple, or more difficult. Difficult because to trust children we must first learn to trust ourselves, and most of us were taught as children that we could not be trusted.” ~ John Holt

This morning, I had the great pleasure of spending time in The Small Park with the toddlers and most of the preschoolers.

At one point, one of the older toddlers called out to me:

"HEY WISSA! I'N UP HERE!"

"Oh, hi E," I replied, walking over to the platform he stood on, "You're standing on the platform here."

"Yeah! I climbded up. But... How do I get down?"

"Hmm, how do you get down?"

"I don't know, I can't go down. I need you help me."

"You're worried about getting down from there. I wonder; how did you get up?" We won't lift children onto playground equipment that they cannot climb independently, so I already knew that he knew how to climb up.

He peered over the edge, then carefully turned around, balanced on his belly on the edge, and confidently stretched one rain boot to reach a beam below the platform, followed by the other boot, and then stepped down to the ground. "There. I climbded on that part!" he said, patting the beam.

"I saw; you used the beam to climb down. You knew how to do it. You got down by yourself and didn't need my help at all. I knew you could!"

-----

This afternoon, I stepped into the preschool room, where the volume level was very high, and everyone was very busy. Some children had used the big hollow unit blocks to create a long, narrow "skating rink", complete with a very challenging "hill" consisting of the two "ramp" blocks arranged to make a V shape. The majority of the children in the room were each standing on one of the smaller unit blocks (think about the size of a 2x4 cut to about a 10-inch length) with each foot, "skating" around the track. I was informed that everything else was water, and I was floating in the chair I sat in to watch the skating show, and my clothes were now all wet. Two children "splashed" into the empty space in the middle, declared it to be a "swimmin' pool" and proceeded to read storybooks to each other.

The hill feature was rather tricky, as children skated down one side and then found it very difficult to get enough traction to get up the other side. There were some falls and bumps, but the children stood (mostly) patiently and waited for each child to make the attempt over and over and over and over until either managing to stride far enough to get to the top without falling down, or giving up and crawling or picking up their skates and walking.

At one point, conflict arose between a few of the oldest preschoolers, as one kept breaking the ice track apart and yelling at the others "GET OFF RIGHT NOW!" and then screaming furiously when the others tried to fix the track. They very nearly came to blows a couple of times, but managed to regulate themselves with verbal reminders. My role as the adult in all of this was to try and make sure both sides were heard, and then trust the children to come to a solution together (whether or not that turns out to be the solution that makes sense to me or that I would have chosen!). "E, you sound very angry. You want everyone to get off? It seems like shouting at them is not working. I wonder if they need more information to understand why you want them to get off." "J, you seem upset that E keeps breaking the track. I wonder what kind of information you could give so that E understands what is making you feel so upset." "E said the ice is breaking apart because it is getting wet and sloppy. She said she wants to fix the ice to make it safe again. She said everyone has to get off so she can fix it."

Eventually "everyone" made a tiny "ice" bridge to go around E's broken spot, and then "everyone" wandered off to do other things. E, in the meantime, fixed up the ice and then told me "The ice is fixed now, it's safe to skate again."
"Oh, you've finished fixing it?"
"Yeah."
"Did you want the others to know that it's ready?"
"Yeah. I could tell them."
"Sure, you could tell them, though they seem a bit busy now."

Sure enough, when E yelled that the skating rink was open, no one made any indication that they had even heard her. I said "It seems like the others are involved in other things right now. What if you made some kind of message so that people would know the rink is ready when they come?"
"A sign! I can write a sign!" After staring expectantly at me for a few moments, and listening to me idly wonder what we would use to make this sign, she popped over to the art card and returned with a paper, a black pencil crayon, and a clipboard.

"How do you spell 'skating rink'?"
"Well, it starts with a 'ssssss' sound... I wonder which letter that could be..."

Suddenly, a crowd of children gathered to help E puzzle out the letters to use for her sign. Exclamations of "HEY! That's MY letter!" and "I have an I in my name, TOO!" and "HEY! My mommy starts with that letter!" mixed with chatter about the difference between a NNN sound and a MMMMM sound, how easy it is to change one letter into something different by adding or removing a line here or a curve there, and descriptions of how to draw a G or a K. Keep in mind that we have never explicitly taught letter recognition, sounds, or formation in our centre. The children are motivated to learn to read and write because it interests them. E spent close to fifteen minutes producing her sign that said "SKAtinG RinK" at the bottom, and "opEn" above it. I asked if she felt like signing her name, and she did. Then she leaned the sign against the far end of the "rink" and went on with her day.

These hollow blocks made up the skating rink, though this photo is of a "stage" created by preschoolers about three years ago.

-----

These rich experiences would not have been possible without trust. It is challenging for adults to trust children. It is easier for us to just swoop in and dictate a solution when there is a problem, to impose restrictive rules when things seem even mildly risky to us, to do the writing for them, to lift them where they ask to go. But when we step back and trust children to show us what they are capable of, we get to revel in moments like these. Moments of "I knew you could do it!" and of seeing the pride, the confidence, and the triumph in the face, nay, the entire being of a child who dared to try something difficult, who stuck with a tricky task until it was figured out, who was given the time and the space to create real, meaningful words on a page. Trust children. Nothing could be more simple, or more difficult.

Peelable nail polish: DANGER! (Or: Apparently Walmart is trying to kill me.)

I'm going to post this here, because it needs to be posted, and because most of the (five?) people who read this blog have young children.

On boxing day, I found these sets of peelable nail polish at Wal-Mart. They have 18 colors, some of which are super fun. Because I have to pay attention to my actual nail colour, I tend to avoid proper nail polish, and this seemed like a fun way to have a "spa day" with some of my favorite kids. There is no expiry date on the box (just a symbol that seems to indicate the product should be used or discarded within 12 months of opening it). I bought the Disney princess set, and what the hey, they're half price, I grabbed a Sofia the First set, too. There was no indication that either box had been opened, damaged, or tampered with.

A couple of days later (this being a busy time of year and all), I opened one of the boxes, and I chose a random bottle to try. The polish had solidified to the point where the brush tip stayed in the bottle, and I was holding a cap with a stick attached. More random selections from both boxes yielded similar results. Many bottles had clear liquid around the outside, and a solid blob in the middle, and no amount of shaking would help. Others were just dried right out.

Then I opened this bottle, which required very little force.

Instead of the cap unscrewing, the bottle literally broke apart in my hand. These are glass nail polish bottles. I was holding in my hand broken glass from a product whose packaging says "not for children under 3" like basically every toy says, and whose instructions simply say "with adult instruction, apply to clean nails." It was more by good luck than good management that I didn't slice my hand open. This one was from the Disney set.

Closer inspection of the bottles on the Sofia set revealed this one, cracked quite badly. 

Please note that these products are marketed to preschoolers.

These are going back to Wal-Mart tomorrow. I want you to be warned: if you see these things, and you just HAVE to buy them, be careful. Make sure your child is not the one who opens them. These products pose a serious safety hazard. Feel free to spread the word. I would hate for a little kid to be hurt by a randomly exploding nail polish bottle.

What does YOUR heart sound like?

Earlier this week, I sat on the floor with the two oldest preschoolers casually snuggled up on either side of me. We were reading a story together (am I the only one who always thought it was weird that Nicky Bunny had to strip down to his underwear at the doctor's office as if that were just normal routine?). At one point, the story describes Nicky Bunny's heartbeat: thump-thump, thunp-thump. And then (spoiler?) Nicky gets to hear the doctor's heart go thump-thump, thump-thump. 

The two children enjoyed all the thump-thumping, and we repeated it together a few times. One said "That's the sound your heart makes!"

"Well," I replied, "my heart actually makes a different sound, because I was born with a heart that is a little bit different from most people's hearts."

I saw two heads turn sharply towards me from other parts of the classroom. One belonged to a big brother whose baby sibling had heart surgery at birth. The other head belonged to the child who underwent a procedure to repair a hole between heart chambers this past autumn. The two children sitting with me looked at me with a little bit of awe. 

"What sound does your heart make?" asked the one.

"My heart sounds more like thumpa-dump, thumpa-dump," I told her.

"Oh," she said, "My heart goes thump-thump, thump-thump."

"Yes," I agreed, "Most people's hearts go thump-thump, thump-thump."

"Not mine!" proclaimed my other story-reading companion.

"Oh. What sound does your heart make?"

He thought for a moment, then made a wiggly gesture with his fingers. "My heart goes squiggy-squiggy!" 

We had a giggle together over how silly it would be if hearts actually went squiggy-squiggy, and returned to our story.

________________

This subject is very dear to my heart (har har); I was, indeed, born with a congenital heart defect called a bicuspid aortic valve. Thankfully, there were no complications, as it was not detected until I was an adult. Our little childcare community happens to be quite strongly affected by congenital heart defects -- there are two staff families and two enrolled families which include people born with heart defects, and we find ourselves talking about hearts quite a bit around here.

Congenital heart defects affect about 1% of the population. They may cause no trouble, or they may be immediately life-threatening. Congenital heart defects cause more children to die each year than all forms of childhood cancer combined, but cancer research receives more than five times the funding that congenital heart defect funding receives. If you would like to help improve early detection rates, treatment options, and quality of life for the 180,000+ Canadian children and adults living with congenital heart defects, please consider supporting the Canadian Congenital Heart Alliance (CCHA). Your support could save lives (and maybe find out why young Mister Preschooler's heart goes squiggy-squiggy!).

The sweet little surprises

Usually, I'm one of the last people to leave at the end of the day. Today was one of the rare days when I left before most of the children did. I suppose that's what is like for people who work the opening shift! I said goodbye to my students, then answered the flurry of questions (where are you going? What's a conference? What things are you going to learn at your conference?), and started for the door. One of the oldest children chirped "okay, bye-bye!" Then he added "have a really nice day!" I thanked him, and wished him the same. He takes part in these particular social scripts every day, as we all do. It was sweet and touching that he decided to take the lead and initiate it this time. But what he said next surprised me, and I was struck by the genuine caring behind his well-wishing: "Drive and walk safe!" Thanks, buddy. I will.

You mean... For us?!

Monday afternoon, the first day back for many of us after the holidays, I sat down in the Preschool Room to help someone put on her shoes after nap time (this is the way many children ask me to spend a few moments with them, even children who know how to put their own shoes on). As often happens, A, now the Biggest Preschooler, climbed into my lap. 

"So," she asked me, her inflection and tone sounding very adult, "how was your holidays?"

"Oh they were very nice, thank you for asking," I replied, "I got to meet my new baby niece, and I did all kinds of fun things with the rest of my family, too. How were your holidays? Did you go to Manitoba?"

From there, we shared the things about our holidays that were exciting and that were similar. She asked a lot of questions, and wanted to know "what else did you do?" and was excited to discover we had both gone to a McDonald's with a PlayPlace. It was clear that she had been practising the art of conversation for about 4.5 years and decided to try it out on me that day.

Today, I sat in the rocking chair in the Preschool Room, and A once again climbed into my lap.

"So," she asked again, "How has your day been going?"

"Oh, my day has been great, thank you for asking," I replied, "I got to visit the Preschoolers, and I got to visit the Toddlers, and I got to visit the Preschoolers again -"

"What did you do in the office, with J?" she interrupted (J is our program director. I have been spending a lot of time doing administrative stuff for the past six months, including manual writing and policy audits, among other things).

"Well," I responded, "I sent some emails to your dad and to someone's mom, and -"

"But," she interrupted, "what did you do with J?"

"With J? Well we spent some time talking about stuff and making plans to make sure everything is good for all the kids."

"You mean... for us?" Suddenly, her face was full of awe.

"Yes, of course," I assured her, "everything we do here is for you and the other children. If it weren't for all of you, we wouldn't even be here."

"Really?"

"Really. This school exists to give children a place to learn and grow and to be healthy and safe. If there weren't any kids at this school, all the teachers would be somewhere else, and there wouldn't even be a school."

"No crafts?"

"Nope. Why would we make crafts if there were no kids here to make them with us and enjoy them? I'm serious; everything we do here is because we think it will help you and your friends learn and grow and be healthy and safe."

"Woah. I did not even realise that this whole entire place is here all because of us."

That's right, kid. You're that important. I hope you never forget it!

The right to choose

Me, age eight, having caught my first fish. Some might say fishing is not a feminine pursuit, but that sure didn't stop me or make me any less excited!

About a week ago, I greeted one of the youngest preschoolers in the morning, and she responded with "I Thuperman!" (a declaration she assertively makes on a regular basis).

"Oh. Hi, Superman," I responded, and was prepared to carry on with my day, when the oldest of the preschoolers took great exception: "NO! You can't be Superman because you're a GIRL!"
"I THUPERMAN!" the girl insisted, her temper rising. I looked into the scowling face framed by platinum blond ringlets. Superman had never looked so beautiful to me.

The boy kept arguing that Superman is a boy, and you can only be Superman if you're a boy, not a girl.

"Wait a minute," I interrupted, as the argument grew more heated. It was clear that both were absolutely convinced of the truths they were speaking, and neither was going to be convinced. "I remember when you wanted to be a princess. Did anyone tell you 'NO!' because you're not a girl?" He looked embarrassed, but stopped to think for a moment. 'Princess Tommy' had made an appearance during Music Class only two days earlier, turning his sweatpants pockets inside-out and dancing with exaggerated hip-swinging motion, but has also visited in the past, decked out in a yellow princess gown, purple-and-pink tiara, and sparkly blue-sequined purse. My response to every assertion of "I'm a princess!" was "Oh. Hello, Princess Tommy."

"Nonsense! That's despicable!" protested the boy, but he let the matter rest.

Later, during a meeting, I sang a song that involves rhyming verses with the children's names. I sang "I know a girl whose name is..." and produced a clever rhyme including "Superman's" given name, and she leveled her gaze on me, and calmly said "I a boy."

"Oh," I responded, as I always do when children make statements about their own identities. "You're a boy today?"

"Yeah. I a boy."

"Oh, okay." And I let it go, although several times, she approached me throughout the day to verify that I would accept her assertion, sometimes repeating herself at increasing dynamics while I was occupied with another conversation, until I acknowledged her: "Yes, you're a boy. I hear you."
That afternoon, the children were lining up to go outside (we always leave the room lined up with partners, as the hallways are public space, and travelling in this way helps us stay together and stay safe) while I talked the last straggler through the last steps of a washroom routine, when I heard angry voices coming from the lineup. I offered my services as a mediator: "You sound angry. What's going on?'

"I a boy," came the sober explanation, followed by several shouted objections from classmates.

"You're a boy, I remember; you told me that earlier."

The other children stared at me in shock for a few moments.

The oldest girl met my eyes and spoke up, her tone plaintive. "She can't be a boy; she doesn't has a penis."

"That's okay," I said, "If she says she's a boy then she's a boy. I'm not about to argue with her about that. I'm not going to argue with her about that any more than I am going to argue with someone who tells me she's a unicorn, a princess, a fireman, or a dragon. Everybody has the right to decide that stuff for themselves." (Poor grammar, I know, but my point was made).

All of the children were silent and wide-eyed. "Superman" beamed proudly at all of her friends. And no one denied her claim "I a boy." There will be time enough to sort all of that out later. In preschool, it's the time for trying on different roles. And only the child can decide how well those roles fit.

Missa, why you're crying?

This week, we read A Poppy is to Remember by Heather Patterson (Author) and Ron Lightburn (Illustrator). I cannot read this book without crying at some point. Susan read it first, early in the week. But I picked it up and read it to the children myself later on. 

I made it through the descriptions of The Great War, and I made it through In Flanders Fields, and through statements about remembering people who died, who cared for the wounded, and who were left behind as their loved ones went far away to fight in wars. I had to pause and take a few deep breaths here and there, but I made it. And then came the part about remembering the soldiers who lived and returned home. One tear escaped from my eye, followed by another and another. 

"Missa, why you're crying?" asked one of the children.
"Because I feel sad." Crying is the natural thing to do when one feels sad, after all.
"Why?"
"I feel sad because my little brother was a soldier. He went away to a war." He served in Bosnia in 2003.
"And he died?"
"No. He didn't die. His body did not get hurt. But he saw people hurting each other. He saw people treating each other badly. He got very, very angry and very, very scared, and when he came home, he was never the same again. His body didn't get hurt; his heart got hurt."

Susan pointed out that one of our other teachers, who grew up in a refugee camp, was affected by a war, and that she had to go away from her parents when she was just a couple of years older than our students, and never saw them again. 

"War is a terrible thing. Lots of people get hurt in a war. Lots of people die."
"I don't want a war. War is not good."
"I agree. But we don't have to worry about a war here where we live, because our soldiers went far away to fight and keep us safe. They served our country so we can be free. We are allowed to go to school and to sing songs and say what we think, and play outside and be kids because of those soldiers. We don't have to be afraid. If you see a soldier in the next few days, maybe you can tell him or her 'thank you' for protecting your freedom."

Today, I sat on my best friend's couch watching the Remembrance Day ceremony in Ottawa (CBC makes a time-delayed broadcast so it airs at the proper time of day in each timezone) with her children playing in the background, marvelling at the sacrifices made by so many men and women over the years so that I might spend my days someplace safe and warm, with plenty of food to eat, and the right to speak my mind.

If I could, I would thank each and every one of them.

Wait, you mean I'm doing something unusual?

"Hey, Melissa, you wanna hear this?"
"Hey, Missa! Dess what!"
"Melissa, listen to my story!"
"Wanna know something, Melissa?"
"Dat's Missa dere!"

My days at work are filled with children who enjoy my company and want to talk to me. The ones who have a reputation for being "quiet" or the ones who only speak selectively often tell me long, complicated stories, and take the time to make sure I understand what they are trying to tell me. Almost every child seeks out a quiet moment to connect with me at some point during the day. This makes sense to me: my job involves building relationships with these kids, and I have a knack for understanding near-unintelligible speech.

The thing that surprises me is when children I rarely interact with (specifically, the ones in the toddler room) fall in love with me. They all are excited to see me in the hallway and clamour to tell me where they are going or where they just came from (usually "outside" or "the gym"), and many of them seek my attention when I stick my head into their classroom for a moment to talk to their teachers. But I don't see them all every day. And yet... I found out today that the oldest girl in the toddler room talks about coming to Daycare to see the director and... Missa. Not her classroom teachers. My mind has been boggling over this all day, and then suddenly, I realised. All those times I saw her in the boot room in the morning and greeted her by name (even though I never got any sign of a response), and all those times I said "Hello, how are you today?" when our paths crossed in the park or the playground, all those times I said "goodbye" to her at the end of the day and got a hidden, below-the-hip wave in return, all those times when she held up something for me to see, and I noticed and commented on it, I was building something with her.

For years, I've been the kind of person that small children really love. I am not boasting, and I am not perfect, but young children just really seem to like me a lot. It's been a mystery to me for a long time, but I think I'm starting to figure out some of the reasons why. I think the biggest one is this:

I communicate with them.

There's no big secret to communicating with young children, even pre-verbal ones. Which is why I didn't realise that the way I communicate with them is unusual in any way. Apparently, many other adults in the world seem to believe that small children are either incapable of comprehending or reciprocating communication, or that they're not worth communicating with (which is not to say that said adults are aware they hold these beliefs, or that they are acting upon them).

So. Maybe big people need some pointers on how to talk to small people. How to communicate with babies, toddlers, and preschoolers, Missa style:

1. Speak to them like they are people, because they are. All people deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, even the very young ones.
2. Listen attentively to what they have to say, and respond appropriately. 

 That's it. That's it? Really? Yes, yes it is.

But what does it mean?

When speaking to someone, most of us follow a number of rules that we learned and internalised when we were very tiny. We sometimes forget to follow those same rules when speaking to babies or toddlers, but they are still important. When speaking to someone, one ought to:

• Maintain appropriate eye contact. This may mean squatting, kneeling, bending down, or holding a child in one's lap.
• Pause after asking a question and wait for the other person to respond. Even when you're pretty sure you won't get an answer (like when I greet a young toddler in the morning with "Hi Jenny, how are you today?"), it's important to allow the opportunity for one to be given. Parents look at me like I'm slightly off my rocker sometimes when I do this.
• Watch the other person's reactions to know how he feels about the conversation. We naturally watch for nonverbal cues from other adults to regulate when it is time to change the subject, when the other person wants a turn to talk, whether the other person is confused or bored or even listening at all, and so on. Young children are perfectly capable of showing you those same nonverbal cues.
• Use an appropriate volume and tone of voice. Like shouting loudly at old people, using a falsely enthusiastic, loud, high-pitched voice to speak to children is condescending, and they know it. They're people, not puppies. Now I don't mean to say that the kind of soft, high voice people naturally use when speaking to tiny babies in inappropriate, but it's not necessary to speak two octaves above your normal voice every time you talk to someone smaller than yourself. Also: Talking like Dora the Explorer doesn't help you communicate effectively with a child. It's okay to be calm and quiet. Kids don't need to be shouting excitedly all day long, and neither do you.

Effective listening skills are sometimes difficult to engage. Particularly with young children, we tend to respond a lot with "YEAH? REally? Uh-huh? Cool! Oh... Okay." without having any clue what on earth the child is saying. Instead, one could try to:

• Maintain appropriate eye contact (again? still?) and indicate non-verbally that you are listening and interested in what the child has to say. This may mean displaying appropriate facial expressions, nodding at key moments, and using those verbal nods more appropriately (in a quiet, normal tone of voice).
• Confirm that the message you are receiving is the one the child is sending. This can be accomplished by asking clarifying questions ("I see you're signing 'more' but you still have lots of cheerios in front of you. Are you asking for something different?"), paraphrasing what you've heard, or (especially in the case of children with poor speech intelligibility), repeating what you think you've heard. ("I go simming!" "You went swimming?" "Yeah! I go simming Mommy Daddy! Sayd!" "You went swimming and there was a slide?" "No. Asayd." "Oh! You went swimming outside! With your mom and dad? That sounds like fun.") I know this sounds kind of tedious, but it really is worth it. First of all, you're sending the message that you really care about what the child has to say. And the more you work to understand what the child is saying, the less you'll have to rely on repeating it all to make sure you've heard correctly. I sometimes still quietly repeat things that some children say when there are less-familiar people in the room, because I know that I have learned to understand them, but others haven't necessarily had the chance to learn that a "weederwodder" is a "police-car helicopter" or that "Uhdah? oihprnefkflfmoisdc Dide?" means "Melissa? Can we go play outside?"
• Take seriously whatever it is the child is telling you. It can be hard not to giggle sometimes when a young child shares some erroneous information or tries out some big, new words. Yes, they are adorable, and sometimes hilarious, but unless the child is clearly telling a joke, it is inappropriate to laugh. If you laugh or tell a child how cute or smart he is every time he tries to talk to you, he is eventually not going to want to talk to you at all. Instead:
• Respond with compassion and respect to the child's message. "It sounds like getting a needle at the doctor's office was a little bit scary for you." is a much more appropriate response than telling the child it didn't hurt, for instance. We are so anxious to make sure our children never cry or feel scared or uncomfortable that we fail to realise that they are entitled to their emotions, and the only way they will learn to deal with them in a healthy way is if we allow them to experience and express said emotions fully and appropriately. Sometimes, I respond to a shouted "YOU'RE NOT MY FRIEND AND YOU'RE NEVER COMING TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY EVER AGAIN!" (basically the most dire threat a preschooler can think of) with "You seem to be really angry with your friend. Did you mean to tell him 'I feel angry and what you did really hurt my feelings'? You don't have to threaten him." This often leads to either a tearful tattle from the shouter or a desperate self-defense plea from the other child. But it transforms a shouting match into a dialogue without discounting anyone's legitimate emotions.
• Avoid interrrupting, and if you do interrupt, promptly appologise. This is especially important when talking to kids with impulse control difficulties (because you are, in fact modeling desired behaviour when you avoid interrupting) or with speech difficulties like stuttering (because it is important to allow the child to deliver his message, and he will feel more anxious, stuttering more, if he sees you growing impatient or interrupting). Basically, show some respect, as you would with an older speaker.

Phew! That's a long one! I firmly believe that speaking to young children is something that needs to be approached with thoughtfulness and respect, just like speaking to adults. It really is worth it, in the end. You never know what a child will be willing to tell you if she can trust you to actually listen to her message.

Lunch Table Conversation

Many people forget that one of the things we do when we sit down to have a meal together is converse. Adults will sit at the table for hours sometimes, visiting over a meal.

We believe it is important for children to experience the social aspect of sharing a meal together, so we make a point of sitting down together, waiting for everyone at our table to arrive before we begin eating, and waiting until everyone at our table has finished before leaving. Preschool table conversation can be a lot of things, but boring is rarely one of them. Sometimes, it's ridiculous (such as the time some kids pretended every single edible item in their lunch boxes were telephones) or serious (like the conversations sparked by things kids have heard about on the news) and sometimes it is educational.

Today, the PA system interrupted our lunch conversation to inform us that "There will be a disruption of the fire alarm service in the West building. In case of fire, call 66#."

"That's not for us," stated J, authoratatively.
"What did it say?"
"What was that?" -- these are both frequently asked questions after an announcement. The children know that sometimes, the announcement tells us someone is sick or hurt and needs help from a doctor right away (code blue or nursing response) and that the person no longer needs help (code blue/nursing response is all clear). The important ones (and the reason the children loudly shush each other when the annoying dinging noise preceeds the announcement) are the "Code Red" announcements: Those ones might be "fire drills". We are really good at fire drills.

I explained that the announcement was so we know that if we see a fire, and we pull the fire alarm, it won't work, so we should just call the switchboard and tell them about it instead.
"Six-six-pound! That's what you call!" one child reminded me.
"Why is the fire alarm not working?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe they need to fix it or test it or do some work to it. Maybe it is just not working right now."
"Maybe it's not working because there's some wires, and the wires that go in it are rusty and they have to get it out," offered J.
"I think so maybe a ghost got in there and it putted its hand in and got rust in the wires and broke it," was A's thought.
"Ghost-iz are not real," Z objected, sparking a brief debate over whether ghosts are real or make-believe.
"HEY WAIT A MINUTE!" yelled J, "I know what happened to the fire alarm!"
"Oh? What do you think, J?" I asked.
"They have to take it down and take out the battery and put a new one and hang it back up."
"Oh, it needs a new battery? Could be."
"I think J was right all along!" exclaimed G, "It hadded to get a new battery and get the rusty wires out."

The conversation wandered away to something completely different, but I thought it was significant that one of the "medium" kids brought some of his prior knowledge (probably he is linking the fire alarm service with the smoke detector at his house) to share with his peers, who used it to construct new knowledge. Hours later, when the announcement came that the fire alarm "is back in service", someone who had not been sitting at our table (but had obviously been listening) piped up "I guess they finally changed the battery..."