A timely article was published this week by Angela Hanscom in the Washington Post about the time and space we afford children during the school day. Transitions have been on my mind as I enter a new school year in a new school. The time and space we create for and with children is of the highest, highest importance.
We all need time. Time that feels authentic and uninterrupted in our day. Time to move rhythmically from one part of the day to another. Children need this, but really we all do. Consider your perfect Saturday. What does it look like? What does it feel like?
My perfect Saturday is quiet and begins with slowly enjoying coffee while playing on the floor with my son and husband. I have the freedom to move upstairs and downstairs to access different materials that support our play needs. It is calm. There are snuggles on the couch to read. A bike ride outside leads us to eat our lunch and then rest. Wake up with a little sweet snack and another cozy read...
The day is fluid. There is a rhythm to our time and a warmth of the space.
And how does it feel?
The day feels peaceful and relaxed. My cup feels full!
I mention this wondering - how does it feel - because I can feel it physically in my body when I am rushed. I feel a quickening of my heart and a tenseness in my back. I feel this with loud transitions. I feel this when I am asked to move quickly from activities.
This all leads me to consider how my preschool program feels for me and, most importantly, how might it feel for our sensitive and feeling three year old children?
My son attended a lovely Waldorf daycare during our time in The Netherlands. I learned much from his warm teachers about the rhythm of a child and their day. Learning can not be unlearned - so happily the gift of understanding the importance of these rhythms has stayed with me in my own practice as an early years teacher.
The openness of time and space runs on a continuum, from the tightly scheduled days Hanscom mentioned with 14 transitions in an early years room - to a Waldorf room with moments simply flowing into one another.
We make space for our classroom to exist somewhere on the spectrum while meeting the expectations of our own unique school cultures. It does feel prudent for us all - parents and teachers of young children - to reflect on this and consider - where does your classroom lay on this continuum?
I was reminded of Hanscom's article today as I observed a pretend play scenario unfold in the classroom this morning. It is a story that emerged from time and space...
A photo story from this morning:
Our classroom has access to a multi-sensory space, complete with wooden climbing frames and a large indoor sandpit. This morning, children used the climbing frame to jump, scale, run, and release some of their Monday morning energy. After 45 minutes, five children began to engage in pretend play. They were a family of sheep, with the girls taking care of their three baby sheep. The play was gentle, filled with language, and beautiful to watch.
I went into the pretend play space in our classroom and brought back a basket of scarves. Laying them over one of the climbing frames - one sheep noticed.
Soon, more of the children settled in under their canopied home. And I brought them a few more items as unobtrusively as I could.
The sheep slept and were gently taken care of by their caretakers.
I'm thankful for the freedom I have to give children the time they need to play for sustained periods of time. I still ring the chime and there are still 'hard' transitions in our day. I do sing songs during transitions as Hanscom mentioned in the article. I know that the soft lull of a tune can help children by adding a softness to a moment that can feel...well, not soft.
For now, it is important I consider time, space, and the rhythm of the day I craft with the children in my care. And to bring softness to the edges of our day.
Where does your day with young children lay on the time and space continuum?
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