Over the 10 different years that I’ve taught Kindergarten — with three different program documents — one discussion point constantly resurfaces: are we preparing kids for Grade 1? I’ve usually responded in a similar way to this question, always commenting on “providing the best possible program for students this year” and mentioning that “maybe the environment needs to change in response to the students that are coming up to it.” The question lingers on if we’re doing a disservice to students by not preparing them to sit in desks, complete worksheets, sit and listen on the carpet, and adapt to a program that is far more “academically-focused” than Kindergarten. There always seems to be this underlying belief that “play is not enough.” This was the very discussion that I was having with someone yesterday on a drive into Toronto. During the conversation though, I realized that my answer to the “preparation question” could really be different than how I’ve answered in the past. In retrospect, my answer is yes.

• Yes, we are preparing students on how to think and problem solve simple and more complex problems on their own. We’re helping them see the value in perseverance. We’re showing them that we believe in them and what they’re able to do on their own and with support from their classmates.
• Yes, we are preparing students on how to socialize with each other: how to listen to what others have to say, respect different opinions, take turns during conversations, and solve some social problems on their own. We’re showing them the value in building positive relationships.
• Yes, we are preparing students on how to self-regulate. We are helping them become more aware of when they’re too up-regulated or down-regulated, and what works for them to get to “calm.” We’re being supportive of diverse self-regulation strategies, and watching students move from co-regulation (with our support) to self-regulation (and the ability to independently recognize and choose what works for them).
• Yes, we are preparing students on how to develop their literacy skills. We’re providing numerous opportunities for them to speak, listen, read, and write in meaningful contexts, and recognize letters and sounds in ways that work for them. We’re watching students develop along a continuum and providing mini-lessons that target their specific needs when they need them. 
• Yes, we are preparing students in developing their mathematical skills. Students are recognizing numerals and counting through various play opportunities (e.g., talking about the number that they’re dialing on the telephone in dramatic play or counting the number of blocks in both piles to ensure that they’ve split them equally with their friend). They are developing their spatial skills and measurement abilities as they create mini-worlds in our shelves and reorganize the blocks to fit within the desired area. They are learning about shapes as they create Picasso-inspired art pieces, build structures with different blocks (and explore the properties of the 3-D figures), and create different art work with playdough and plasticine (discussing how their 3-D figures compare to the 2-D shapes). We are helping them label these math skills and start to bring math talk into their play.
• Yes, we are preparing students on how to work with us and with others in small groups, for it’s in these smaller groups that we can really target instruction the most to meet individual needs. 

This is all of the background knowledge and skills that students need to be successful in Grade 1, and as a teaching team, my partner and I make these areas our priority. We are not preparing students to sit at a desk, complete worksheets, or engage in long carpet times, as these are not curriculum expectations and ultimately do not meet the developmental needs of our children. We’re not alone in this, and in fact, our finalized Kindergarten Program Document instructs us to use a play-based and inquiry-based approach that limits full-class instruction. So then what happens to students when they move past Kindergarten? Will they be ready for their future education? It’s then that I look at the blog posts from an educator such as Rhonda Urfey: a Grade 3 teacher in our Board. Have a look at what her students have done thanks to a growing interest in “water bottles” and the “environment,” and see what play-based and inquiry-based learning looks like past Kindergarten.

Rhonda is not the only educator beyond a Kindergarten one that’s embracing this type of learning environment, and just like us in Kindergarten, she’s preparing her students for what they need in the next grade. Maybe we need to question more, what is it that students need? What are we preparing them for? This is an uncomfortable conversation that I think needs to continue to happen if we want to see a real change in education. What do you think?

Aviva

Recently, Donna Miller Fry shared a link to this blog post that I wrote many years ago about my aha moment.

Donna’s tweet made me look back on this post, but also think again about what I wrote. I wonder if my post simplified something that I’ve come to learn is far more complex. Learning these days so often seems to be associated with “meeting benchmarks,” but what about “demonstrating growth?” I’m not saying that benchmarks are bad: they help us measure success against a given standard. Since I wrote this initial post though, I’ve had various experiences that have caused me to pause and think.

• I’ve taught in classrooms where many students come to me already meeting or exceeding year-end benchmarks.
• I’ve taught in classrooms where many students come to me years below the developmental starting point of the curriculum expectations. 

In the first case, meeting benchmarks requires very little work on my part. Large percentages of success always look good, but who’s responsible for that success? Did I really help children learn? In the second case, it’s more challenging to meet benchmarks. If students start two or three years below grade level, how do I close the gap in a single year? If I don’t close the gap, does that mean that I’ve been unsuccessful? In both of these cases, I think that the true measure of success comes in focusing on “growth.”

Benchmarks are always about numbers. We tell our students to not focus on “the grade,” but then as educators, we stay focused on the percentage. What if we used a different measurement tool? If we want to see if every child is learning, why not use a portfolio to do so? Then we can see a starting point and we can see the growth. We can look at each child as an individual.

• We can see the child that started by drawing pictures to communicate her thoughts that then moved to scribbles with no meaning, scribbles with meaning, random letters with meaning, and now some familiar words. That’s growth.
• We can see the child that started by writing a single word or a short sentence that now writes multiple lines of text. That’s growth.
• We can see the child (through video footage) that told us that she “can’t write,” that is now picking up a pencil, sounding out words, making connections to the letter-sounds, and writing down most of the initial and final sounds. That’s growth.
• We can see the child (through video footage) that had no 1:1 correspondence skills that can now count groups of up to 10 objects and make the connection between the number of items counted and the numeral. That’s growth.

Yes, benchmarks help us gauge that child’s success against predetermined standards, but “growth” matters to me even more. I want to know that all of our children are learning, and I want to be able to prove it. For if not, I want to know what else we need to do to make that happen. Years ago, it was a group of amazing people — my parents and various educators — that did this for me, and now I’m in the position to do the same. What about you? Think of those children you know that may be struggling. How can we change their trajectory? What might our support mean to them? Every child needs a champion. I’ve had many over the years. Now I want to be that champion for others.

I often feel as though I see our classroom/school experience through my iPad. I’m constantly trying to document student learning, and when I put down the iPad, I’m always afraid that I’m going to miss something “great.” This afternoon, I took my iPad with me to the forest, and while we were there, a student came up to me and asked if he could record what was happening in the trees. I really struggled with letting go of the iPad. 

• Should he be exploring nature instead of recording a video?
• What experiences might I miss if I don’t have the iPad with me to capture them?

This is when I thought back to a tweet that I read this morning from my good friend, Jo-Ann. Jo-Ann retweeted a message yesterday from Dr. Justin Tarte. 

At this moment, I realized that when it comes to relinquishing control of my iPad, I call into question if anyone is trustworthy enough. But what message would I be sending to this child if I said, “No?” So, as hard as it was to do so, I gave this child my device.

While my actions might have conveyed “trust,” I feel guilty to say that I questioned how much useful footage I would get from a child’s recording. Would he jump around too much? Would he really listen to the conversation? Would he remember to press, “Record?” Tonight though, I shrieked in delight when I watched what he recorded … and I apologize profusely for doubting that this would work.

While there may be a few shaky moments, the same is true when I record, but this child did a few things that I rarely manage to do.

• He knew how to stay quiet. A few times, he started to contribute ideas, but when the other children in the group continued with their play discussion, he stopped talking, and listened.
• He didn’t interfere when small problems occurred. As adults, we tend to want to solve problems, and sometimes, I wonder if we get involved too quickly. The students had a few disagreements, but they worked things out among themselves.
• He captured way more than me. Children know when adults get in their spaces, and while many students are happy to answer my questions or continue their discussions, they often don’t share everything when an adult is there. This child is a peer, and others saw him that way. This led to a very authentic conversation that gave me a great understanding of what the students know and what they think. 

As hard as it was to hand over the iPad, I’m glad that I did. This experience today makes me wonder about other “student documenting” opportunities. Thanks Justin and Jo-Ann for unknowingly inspiring me to give up some control and watch a student shine. Have others done this before? What are your experiences with doing so? As our Kindergarten Program Document reminds us, children really are “competent and capable.” Now our challenge is to always remember to believe in them. 

Aviva

Have you ever read an article that you can’t get out of your head? This is what happened to me earlier this week when someone shared with me this article about the “illusion of inclusion.” This blog post is not going to provide a solution to the problem mentioned in the article, nor is it going to provide a one-sided viewpoint, but it is going to highlight a few different perspectives that have come to light since I read Blanch’s article. 

When I first read Time To Stop Hiding Behind The Illusion Of Inclusion In Classrooms, I felt angry. I think my own experiences of being identified with a learning disability have made me very vocal about the importance of programming for all students. I believe strongly that “every child can learn,” and when we provide the opportunities and environment for this learning to happen, we see student growth. Over my 15 years teaching for the school board, I’ve supported three students in attending special classes. These decisions were never easy. I wanted to believe that a regular class placement would meet their needs, but smaller numbers, more intensive support, and more individualized programs made special classes — in these cases — the better option. But is a special class the right option for all students with special needs? Would we see more growth in students if the number of needs did not exceed the amount of adult support?

I am very conflicted on the answer to this last question. Over my time teaching in the Board, I’ve been in situations where I’ve wondered about this.

• I’ve questioned if the learning environment is best for everyone.
• I’ve wondered if more E.A. (Educational Assistant) support would make a difference or if too many adults in the room is only counterproductive.
• I’ve questioned how to meet academic benchmarks when the learning needs go beyond academic areas.

I’ve brought problems home with me, and I’ve felt the strain on my own mental health and well-being. And one day, in one of these situations, I made a decision that was incredibly hard for me (as someone who believes strongly in the value of curriculum expectations and wants to meet and/or exceed Board benchmarks): I walked into an administrator’s office and said, “My students may not meet the reading goals because developing self-regulation and problem solving skills, need to come first.” This principal understood. He supported me in my decision, and I think, slowly saw the growth in the students over the course of the year. 

I wonder if part of the problem is that we tend to define “learning” with only academic parameters, but what about the learning skills? At the Bring I.T. Together Conference the other day, I had a great conversation in the afternoon with three different educators: two from our Board and one from another Board. We spoke about the line that many of us have probably uttered before and many of us believe: “we teach children first.” I used to think that I supported this belief, but I’m now wondering if I really looked at the child first or just looked at the child under a curriculum-focused umbrella. I’m not saying that curriculum doesn’t matter. It absolutely does. But what if the children are not ready for the expectations of that grade? What if their other learning needs mean that we need to focus on something before academics? I wonder if we all need to give ourselves permission to do so, and in a mark-driven, data-driven system, is it a struggle to do just that?

As I wonder about this, I also think about the blog post that I read by Joanne Babalis this morning. In it, she talks about the hundred languages of children. This is something that I’ve heard a lot about as a Kindergarten teacher — especially one inspired by the Reggio approach — but rarely as a teacher of other grades. I can’t help but wonder if the hundred languages might help us out in these more complex classroom situations. Is part of the problem that we’re too limited in how students share their thinking? I wonder if more options might allow all students to show just how much they know, for if the view of the child in the finalized Kindergarten Program document is of “children as competent and capable of complex thinking,” would this (or should this) not hold true for all other grades?

Blanch shares some very interesting thinking in her article, and over the years, when student needs seem to have exceeded available supports, I’ve wondered about some classroom makeups. I also know though that these most challenging teaching situations have made me better able to deal with some smaller challenges that I face today.

• They forced me to learn more about self-regulation: both for myself and for students.
• They led me to see the value in modelling behaviour and making learning skills a priority. 
• They helped me figure out what “differentiated instruction” really means: not just as a term, but as a way of life in the classroom.
• They helped me realize the value in teaching empathy, and how much empathy students can show for each other.
• They helped me realize that there are other ways to explain thinking beyond writing, and that we need to explore these other ways and allow children to do the same.
• They helped me realize that we are not — and never need to be — working in isolation, and that by teaming with people online and in our buildings, we can better meet the needs of all students.
• They gave me a new perspective that helped me redefine some future challenges as a little less challenging than I initially thought. 

Are these reasons enough to reconsider our current approach to inclusion (which I think aligns with much shared in this article)? I’m not sure … but this article definitely has me continuing to wonder about our current model, how we measure student growth and success, and how we can better support all students. What do you think? I think it’s time to pop the top off this inclusion can of worms.

Aviva