Taking the Lid off the Sun

Food Sensitivities - Why So Prevalent?

2013-04-02T14:38:00.001-07:00

Doesn’t it seem like food sensitivities in children have skyrocketed with this generation? It’s not just the imagination of well-informed parents, either. Kids are rashier, sneezier, coughier, wheezier, more hyper and less focused than ever before. It’s true. I have to look no further than my classroom or my home. It’s not just a few kids, anymore. It’s becoming the majority of them. This is quickly growing into the new normal.

I am more and more convinced that this is related to our diet and to imbalanced gut flora in our children. You pair sensitive kids with our modern, GMO-infested, artificial food production practices and you’re asking for trouble. Wheat and dairy are the biggest culprits of all sorts of issues, from ADHD-like behavior to chronic colds, asthma-like symptoms, rashes, and more. Check out this article on wheat (Modern Wheat Really Isn’t Wheat at All) and I bet you’ll think twice about feeding it to your kids. I did, and am making some radical changes to our household diet.

But it’s not just today’s diet. I recently learned something that hit me like a ton of bricks: We moms may have caused the allergies and food sensitivities in our children. “What?!” you might ask, just as I did. “But I breastfed my child, I buy organic, I avoid processed foods, we all lead a healthy lifestyle. I’m doing all the right things. How did I cause these allergies?”

Well, we didn’t know we were doing it. Many of us mamas unwittingly passed on our own unbalanced gut issues to our little ones. This may not be as true outside the United States, but check this out: If you were born in the late 60s, 70s, or even into the 80s, breastfeeding was not popular at that time, and if it was done at all, it was very briefly. As a result, many babies of that era missed out on that immune-boosting mother's milk and therefore ended up with lots of childhood colds, allergies, sinus issues, ear infections and the like. Sound familiar? Tonsils removed? Tubes in ears? Antibiotics were the cure-all, and you were given plenty of them growing up, which obliterated much of your good gut bacteria. Add to that hit the statistic that many modern moms were on birth control pills from a relatively young age and were on it for a long period of time before becoming moms. Birth control pills also wipe out your helpful gut flora.

If you happened to have not been eating organic, non-GMO, whole foods all along, along with loads of probiotics (and let’s face it, who was?) then by the time you had children, your immune system and gut bacteria had been seriously compromised, and that, my friends, is what we passed along to our sensitive babies with our conscious choice to breastfeed.

Bummer, huh? I mean, really! Ouch!

So where does that leave us? For me, it leaves me with some experimenting to do. I want to know how much the foods Lucas eats are impacting his overall health, his immune responses, and his behavior. It’s possible that my experiments with food will lead us to some really difficult choices about how we shop, cook, and eat. They may lead to changing lifelong habits, which is always hard to do.

But what’s the cost of changing my grocery list and cooking style compared to the benefits of my son’s health, learning and well-being? These food-related issues are not going away, and they are becoming more and more of a mainstream challenge for everyone – parents, children, teachers, schools, workplaces. We can pretend it’s not an issue, or we can take the challenge and begin making the changes and see what happens.

Cheers!

Alexis

P.S.

A few more resources and info on the subject:

Can Allergies Cause Behavior Problems?

Kids with Stubborn Asthma May Have Food Allergies

"Good Bacteria" During Pregnancy may Ward off Eczema

The Story of Sparrow - A Fairy Tale

2011-10-29T22:06:00.000-07:00

I wrote this story and read it to a crowd of about 100 at our first NUA Sparrow Open House earlier this month. I thought you all might enjoy it, as well. It's one way of explaining the dissolution of Xara and how this new school miraculously came to be.

Not so long ago, a small kingdom with a big heart was falling apart at the seams. As rulers, courtiers, and villagers dispersed to the four corners of the land, a small band of individuals remained hopeful that, somehow, the struggling kingdom would survive.

When word came that the little kingdom had pulled up its drawbridge and bolted its gates, this group knew in their hearts it was not, in fact, the end. But what were they to do? “Our kingdom had its troubles, to be sure,” they cried, “but if given a chance, we will take what we learned and create a kingdom like none other; one that is wholesome and good for our children and our families.”

A brave and good knight from a neighboring kingdom heard word of their plight. Sir Halfaker traveled far and wide to the land of Nua to beseech its Duke to take in the small band as his own. Duke Bernie agreed, and there was great rejoicing…

… but only for a moment, for there was little time to celebrate when so much was to be done. The land of Nua had no castle for this tiny new kingdom, and Duke Bernie had decreed that if, and only if, the band could find enough villagers to join together with them, would he help them find their castle and support their new beginning. The small group had only seven weeks to fulfill the Duke’s wishes.

Amidst the castle hunting and courtier screening and villager recruiting, the small band worked night and day to amend and enhance their kingdom’s mission. “Our old kingdom had heart, but let’s now add head and hands, for only when the three work together in harmony will our kingdom be balanced and whole.”

By the sixth of the seven weeks, atop a small hill with a gently blowing breeze, there was found a tiny castle just perfect for their new kingdom. The band scurried and scrubbed, painted and prepared, and by the end of that one very last, very short week, they were actually ready.

On September 12th, 2011, in the Land of Nua, the kingdom of Sparrow opened its gates and welcomed its people. And the small band of individuals who had hoped it so, who had made it so … smiled.

Checking In

2011-10-25T23:13:00.000-07:00

Hello readers! I've missed you! I've been a bit busy these past few months ... starting a NEW SCHOOL! I'm so eager to fill you in, but I've only gotten as far as updating the About page, so go check that out to find out a teensy little bit. I've been writing a ton, but it's all going into our promo materials and a new website for the school, (and emails and newsletters and curriculum and and and...). I'll share the website here when it's ready.

There is so much to share ... about how this whole crazy thing happened in seven weeks flat; about how miraculous it was that we found the perfect site only one week before we were scheduled to open and how crews of parent volunteers transformed the place in nine days; about how all these parents hung in there through a summer full of slim chances to take this leap of faith together; about how 100 people packed into our open house on the one stormy October night that it rained buckets in San Diego ... there are so many stories!

I'll do my best to share them here as I carve out the time. It may take a while.

Oh, and by the way, the name of our school is National University Academy - Sparrow Program, or NUA Sparrow for short.

Love's Place in the Classroom

2011-05-08T14:15:00.000-07:00

It’s strange that the topic of love isn’t discussed much when determining what makes a classroom successful. People tend to discuss academic philosophies, classroom management, curriculum, maybe even the physical environment, but they don’t talk about love.

I say love is central, and it trumps all other aspects we could possibly consider.

When I say I love my students, I mean that I am seeing them for who they truly are, appreciating and accepting them right there in that space. My love for them isn’t dependent on their cooperation or compliance. It’s not affected by their academic performance. Some take longer to get to know than others, and so it follows that some take longer to love than others, but love comes … always.

It comes from my curiosity about how they operate in the world, what they think about life. It comes from watching their valiant efforts, day in and day out, to overcome limits and stretch their abilities. It comes from honoring the risks they take to be honest and forthcoming with one another. It comes from noticing them testing the community waters for safety, and then, finding it consistently secure, extending themselves to others in new and wonderful ways.

And as I love them, they have a model for how to love and accept others. One day, when a boy in our class announced in dismay that he’d just accidentally wet his pants, the class simply heaved a collective, sympathetic sigh. “Ohhh.” Not a single person laughed. A soft conversation began about how these things happen sometimes to probably everyone. He left the room to change, and it was never brought up again.

When the most introverted girl in our class got up in front of the group to excitedly share about her discovery working with the electricity set, her classmates honored her with rapt attention and compliments for speaking in front of the group. They recognized this important moment for her. They accepted her for who she was and were able to appreciate the great risk she was taking in that moment.

Without this love, there is no safe place to take these risks. Without taking risks, we stagnate. Even worse, we develop unhealthy coping mechanisms to protect ourselves from the pain we feel at not being able to express ourselves fully; at not being seen fully. These coping mechanisms look suspiciously like the “behavior problems” that teachers and schools spend so much effort to punish, diagnose, medicate, and remediate.

Our schools are filled with children; children separated from their families for a large chunk of the day. How can we not acknowledge the vital importance of love in their school lives? Do we really think that for those six hours of the day, love can be suspended and they won’t be affected by it?

I’m not saying all we need is love… but it truly does need to be the all-encompassing field within which we do this very important, very sacred work of caring for our world’s children.

Student-Initiated Pet Day

2011-05-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

What do bearded dragons and guinea pigs have to do with student initative? At Xara Garden School, well ... actually a lot. Here is another documentation piece, this one from early in April, highlighting the amazingness that is my first and second grade group of kiddos.

Last Monday, B was so excited about her new bearded dragon, Freddie! It was practically all she could think about. Ever the event planner, B funneled her excitement into organizing a class-wide pet day.

She and M surveyed the class to see who had which kinds of pets. They were careful to screen out any pets that were known to cause allergic reactions for our many sensitive classmates. The two discussed organizing the pets by category. For instance, mammals in the science area, reptiles on the bookshelves, amphibians in the language area, etc, and they worked out a plan that included everyone’s pets. However, when the big day arrived, the size of the travel habitat ended up having a greater bearing on where the pets were placed.

When it was finally presentation time, B drew names from the name bag, and one at a time, each person carried their pet container to the meeting space and shared some facts about their pet. The class asked questions, and then, at the owner’s discretion, pets were passed around for viewing, petting, or holding. The kids were very respectful of the sensitive ears and potential nervousness of the pets, and were very quiet and gentle while handling them.

Once again, initiative, empowerment, curiosity, and teamwork rule the day in the Rainbow Garden class.

It’s Electric!

2011-05-01T21:44:00.000-07:00

Here is another little peek into my first and second grade classroom at Xara Garden school. This documentation piece was written about a month ago. I'm catching up!

On Tuesday, E, J, and D experimented with a cool, old electrical set donated by one of our parents. The directions weren’t very kid-friendly and my electrical knowledge wasn’t going to be much help, which worked out just fine. I wanted the kids to explore the set and see what they could come up with on their own.

After some experimentation, they shared their process with the class:

E: First, we started out, and D said to do the cover. J’s idea was to do the directions. Then we tried using all the pieces and it didn’t work.

J: I followed the directions. I had the idea for the green ones touching everything so we wouldn’t have to use the little pieces.

E: Then she followed the steps after she found the pieces.

J: We wanted to make it safer, because the batteries got hot.

E: That’s why I didn’t touch it.

(At this point, others joined in to offer their thoughts.)

M: Maybe to have it not burn, you could put something on the top.

E: How the batteries got hot was that the light was on and lights are hot.

J: Maybe it burnt us because it’s a circle.

C: If it keeps going round and round in a circle and it keeps burning you, you shouldn’t do it again.

After just one hour of free exploration, the kids were closing in on some key understandings (and misunderstandings) about electricity and circuits. With more concrete exploration, their understanding of these concepts will continue to evolve, without ever receiving an abstract explanation from grown-ups.

An additional note for those of you not familiar with my class: student E was so excited about her discoveries that this typically reticent and quiet classmate was bursting to share her ideas with the entire class. It was a delight to see!

Cheers!
Alexis

What is the Purpose of School?

2011-04-04T22:04:00.000-07:00

What is the purpose of school? Can it be okay that different people have different ideas about why they send their children away to other people for most of the day for an average of fourteen years?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that our country went mad one hundred years ago when compulsory education began to gather steam, and our collective mental condition has only deteriorated since then. We seem to be suffering from the delusion that education makes us better human beings, and I just don’t see any evidence of that.

The other morning, I dropped Lucas off at his preschool. After checking in with his teacher, he followed me back out to the gate to wave goodbye. I looked back at him standing behind the fence waving to me as I drove away, and I thought how strange it was to be leaving him there, while I drove down the hill to spend the day teaching other people’s children.

How very, very strange.

Why do I do this seemingly insane thing? Why do I spend five days a week giving my all to other people’s children, while trusting, hoping that someone else is doing likewise with mine? And why do families across this country and around the world send their children away to other people?

Part of that answer is that our society doesn’t pay us to be parents. With many single-parent homes and dual wage-earning households, who is home to watch the kids? I think this is a much bigger part of the answer than most people are willing to honestly consider. It relegates education to childcare, and if we pretend otherwise, we’re fooling ourselves.

And we have – fooled ourselves, that is. We have fooled ourselves into thinking that education is about creating leaders, thinkers, and innovators for tomorrow. Hmmm. Really? Think about what you learned in school. What was innovative about it? Were you encouraged to question the teacher’s ideas or think for yourself? If you weren’t the most popular kid in class, what did you learn about leadership? No, any leadership, creative thinking or innovation has happened in spite of a system that seems hell bent on crushing it.

This is even truer today than it was twenty years ago. The effect of No Child Left Behind and the explosion of standardized testing is that students are now taught only what’s on the test. They are learning how to take tests, how to cheat, and how to game the system. Meanwhile, teen suicides and stress-related disorders in children and teens are at an all-time high. An in-depth look at this phenomenon is explored in the film, Race to Nowhere, being screened privately across the country right now. I highly recommend the film! It was eye-opening for me, and I’ve been in this field since the ‘90s.

So … what should we be doing with the country’s entire population of children in our care? Thus far, it seems most people think we should be teaching them specific things, though what those things are vary greatly depending on who you talk with. Should we teach them skills, trades, history, the classics, technology, the basics, the arts, the sciences? Political will and cultural forces have historically pushed the pendulum first one way and then another, but I think we’ve become hypnotized into thinking that our answer lies somewhere along that pendulum’s path. What if the purpose of education is … none of the above?

What if we let go of the pretense that school is a place for adults to teach children things we want them to learn? Because guess what? They aren’t learning it, anyway. They’re learning the system. They’re learning competition and scarcity. They’re learning conformity and obedience - or if not, they’re learning that they don’t belong. They’re learning to take tests, and they’re learning a whole host of dysfunctional habits and beliefs that will take them years of therapy to work through and release.

What if we stopped pretending to know what our economy will require fifteen years from now, when we don’t even know what it will take to dig ourselves out of the current financial mess created by people who were trained by this very school system to compete and consume at all costs?

~ ~ ~

What if, instead, we embraced the notion that school is, indeed, childcare – caring for children? What if academic learning was more of a side benefit; or a natural result of children’s innate curiosity and imagination when they’re not squelched by our adult concepts of reality and importance?

What would it have been like for you if school had been a place in which you felt you utterly belonged? A place in which you were deeply cared for, understood, and nurtured as the unique and special person you are? What would it have been like to have been allowed your own natural timeline for development without arbitrary benchmarks labeling you “behind” or “ahead?” What would you have said, challenged, questioned, wondered if you had felt safe to speak your truth? What would it have felt like to have been able to discover and explore your natural gifts and interests, no matter what they were?

How much of what you were taught do you use or even remember? Isn’t it possible that your time could have been much better spent?

So, so, so …

I say, instead of educating them, let’s deeply care for the children entrusted to us by their parents for this long and precious road to maturity. Let’s respect that childhood has its own timeline and its own priorities, and allow children to be children. Let’s respect that each individual has their own unique gifts to share with the world, and give everyone – not just the mathematicians and scientists – the opportunity to explore and nurture those gifts. Let’s allow children to feel the joy and confidence that come from overcoming worthy challenges that they set for themselves. Let’s give the children safe boundaries, loving guidance, and practical tools for lifelong respectful interactions with others.

We’ve been making it so very, very complicated, when what’s needed, in my not-so-humble opinion, is really quite simple. Let’s get honest with ourselves about why we do this thing called compulsory education in the 21st century.

Fairies Take Flight

2011-04-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

Our fascination with the fairies has inspired us to bring some of our own Rainbow Garden fairies to life. A couple of weeks ago, small teams of crafty fairy-lovers made their own fairies from pipe cleaners, silk flower petals, felt, and wool.

The many steps included measuring, selecting color schemes, tracing and cutting out patterns, sewing, and gluing. This task required a lot of fine motor control, and the kids were persistent, patient and focused.

As soon as the first few fairies were finished off with hair and hats, they practically sprang to life! G. announced, “My fairy’s name is Lexi!” T. joined in, “Mine is Rosie.” In no time, fairies were demurely flying around the room having conversations with one another.

J. wanted to document their lives, so she began taking pictures of them. When they asked to take the fairies outside for yard time, I suggested J. take the camera to photograph them in their natural habitat. There was much rejoicing. The beautiful outdoor photos (below) have been compiled into a storybook that they just completed this week. It seems the fairies had quite an adventure!

Fostering Initiative - A new mail system

2011-03-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

Mail between classrooms has been on the rise ever since we began to read with our kindergarten buddies. My 1st/2nd grade class, (known as the Rainbow Garden class) decided that we needed a more organized system of mail delivery. In a general class discussion in which it was discovered that J. had an extra mailbox at home that we could use, the class went wild for the idea of establishing a Xara Garden School Postal Service.

Y and A took on the task of turning the concept into an organized reality. Below, you can read their “Mail Instruction Manual,” which includes a page of “Make Sures,” which I just love! In case you can’t quite make out the second item on that list, it says, “The mail must be delivered to right class, for no confusion.” The speech bubbles and cartoons are quite clever, as well.

They came up with an address system and created posters for each class to educate them on how to correctly address their mail to friends in different classrooms. Y made a mail hat, which, before revision, carried the signage, “U.S. Male,” which seemed perfect for him. J and L painted the mailbox during a play date at J's house. A asked her mom to sew them a mail bag, and returned from the weekend with this amazing custom-made mail bag.

During its first week in operation, the Xara Garden mailbox was stuffed with letters! Our postal workers called a class meeting to work out a few start-up glitches that were discovered in the system. Suggestions were made and problems were solved.

By taking the initiative to launch this school-wide program, the children are learning that their ideas
make a difference to more than just themselves. They are gaining trust in their creativity and their ability to
solve the organizational challenges of a new system. In the meantime, communication and leadership skills
are exercised and honed. Can you get all this from a worksheet? Most certainly not.

Light Fixture or Rocket Ship?

2011-03-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

First Grade Engineers Exercise Ingenuity!

After discovering a discarded light fixture from the church renovation upstairs, J.and O. decided to repurpose it into a rocket ship. As they began formulating their plan, I realized this project would involve a lot of sophisticated math, and I wondered how much support they’d need.

First they needed to determine the circumference of the cylinder that would form the body of the rocket. To get them started, I used a piece of scrap paper to gauge the distance between the center post and the edge of one of the lampshades ... sorry, “rocket boosters.” Then they held that scrap over another piece of paper and made a mark at each end. Holding the center in one place and moving the other end of the paper a little bit, they made another mark on the outside edge of the scrap. They continued this until they had dots going in a full circle, and then connected the dots to create a circle just the right size to fit between the rocket boosters.

They decided to use salvaged cardboard to make the body of the rocket. All on their own, the two worked out that in order to make the rocket body get narrower as it went up, they’d need to make a series of cylinders out of the cardboard, with each one getting a bit smaller in circumference than the last. (See the concentric circles they drew on their plan?) They chose 6 inches as the height of each cylinder, which ended up working out really well for them, as you’ll see. At first, they decided that each cylinder would lose three inches each time, but after making two of them, O. said, “I think we shouldn’t take off three inches. We’re going to run out of inches by the time we get to our mark.”

By now, Y. and A. had joined the group. O. and A. measured the distance left to cover between their first two cylinders and the spot they’d marked off as the top of this section. They found it to be 36”, which they quickly realized equalled six more cylinders exactly. At this point, I helped them create a chart to work out what would happen if they subtracted three inches in circumference six more times. Though it was tricky subtracting three inches from 1 foot 1inch, they managed to figure it out, and discovered that by the time they got to the 6th additional cylinder, it would be too small. They guessed that subtracting two inches might work better, and after they made the calculations, it turned out to be a good solution.

While O. and A. measured and cut the cardboard for the rest of the rocket, J. and Y. formed the rectangles into cylinders, and taped and glued them into place. Once all pieces were on, they covered the whole thing with white tape to give it a cohesive, realistic look. They stamped their names on it, along with a prominent XGS for Xara Garden School, as finishing touches to the design of the rocket body.

They are now in the process of getting the electrical wiring to work so they can get the “rocket boosters” to light up.

Creativity, imagination, initiative, teamwork, problem-solving, persistence, curiosity, innovation, confidence … Isn't this precisely what our world needs?

An Unschooling School?

2011-03-16T21:42:00.000-07:00

Can we make something better than schools?

That was the question that jumped out at me on the brand new TED-ED forum when I signed on tonight. It was written by a curriculum developer named Don Duggan-Haas, and it made me very excited about this new development by the TED people, who are taking their successful model of spreading ideas that matter into the realm of education reform. Yes! If you're passionate about education, check out that link!

Anyway, I just had to respond to Don's question, and I thought you might be interested in reading it, as well. Here is what I wrote:

After teaching in the public schools for ten years, I'm now at a very alternative charter school (primary age) that doesn't look anything like the schools we all know. There is little-to-no direct instruction, and the emphasis is on the social-emotional development of the children. We are loosely designed around the Reggio-Emilia approach to early childhood education, with some Rudolf Steiner and Howard Gardner mixed in. Self-directed, constructivist, emergent curriculum, etc.

However, even here, I am wondering if we're fundamentally different enough. I still question the motives and goals for school in the first place. If we're no longer going to use school as a conformity factory, (and we still need to break out of that mode) what else can we do with it as the one institution through which we must all pass during our formative years? How could we better use it to shape the kind of community members we envision ourselves becoming? There are fantastic opportunities here, but we need to ask ourselves better questions than how to score higher than the Chinese on tests or how to get into "the best" colleges.

What would an "unschooling school" look like? I think we're close at Xara Garden School, but we still worry about how the second graders will do on the state tests. We still have some parents asking us (unsuccessfully) for homework and more direct instruction. We still wonder how much we should "push the learning" in student-initiated projects vs. just letting them explore and enjoy their own process of discovery.

The philosophy I employ in my teaching is this: If you're going to bring together any group of people (young or otherwise!) you need to have, first and foremost, an environment that provides a feeling of unequivocal safety and belonging, and creating that culture needs to be the top priority before anything else can be built. Of course, there needs to be some purpose for coming together, so then you layer on an engaging environment with many provocations for exploring, learning, discussing, creating, and imagining in a variety of modes (7 intelligences, for example). Beyond that, it needs to be responsive to the students' needs, and they need to feel ownership for the whole shebang.

In this type of environment, you can't have authoritative discipline, rewards and punishment, or it undermines the whole thing. Jane Nelsen's Positive Discipline is a great framework for creating that sense of safety and respect while still holding firm to boundaries.

That's all I have time for at the moment. I am very excited about this TED-ED initiative, and look forward to many great discussions! Thanks, Don, for offering a great topic!

That was it.

Readers, I realize this isn't a well-developed post. It just barely touches on these topics. There is so much to say, and maybe you can help me. Were there certain aspects of this post that you'd like to see me to develop further? Did this bring up questions for you that you'd like me to address? Please join in on the conversation. I'd love to hear from you!

Cheers!

Alexis

First Graders Finding the Silence

2011-03-11T20:57:00.000-08:00

During our meditation this morning, as I got to the part in which I asked the kids to become aware of the silence, the world seemed out to sabotage us. Loud trucks rumbled by, jet engines roared endlessly, and it seemed there was no break in the environmental noise.

I was certainly not finding the silence.

When we came out of the meditation, I half-jokingly asked the children if any of them were able to find the silence. Thinking no one would have found it, their answers touched me and almost brought tears to my eyes:

I found it around the bird songs because I’m by the window.
I found it in my breath.
I found silence with the jet.
I felt it in the middle.
I found the silence in the brief moments when the jet passed by.
I heard the silence between the jets.
I found it between the window and the tree outside.
I found it between my breath and the jet.
I found it in my heart.

Then one handed me a tissue and said, “In case you actually cry.”

I love these guys!

Imagination and the Neighborhood Secret

2011-03-04T21:40:00.000-08:00

A short walk from school, there is a tiny patch of hidden wildness almost completely surrounded by houses. As far as we could tell from Google Earth, there was only one entrance, so on the Friday before break, my students and I set out to find it and explore this secret space. (It’s more fun if it’s secret, don’t you think?)

Not knowing what to expect, we were delighted to find a small circle of giant old palm trees alongside a dry, winding creek bed. There was a bench inside, and a surprisingly squishy tree stump that soon transformed itself into a throne. “It almost looks like a magical fairy house,” I mused out loud. Our “fairies” immediately set to work sweeping and tending to their fairy home, making up fairy names for themselves, and creating all sorts of imaginative scenarios.

When we discovered someone’s patio furniture further up the trail, instead of letting that interfere with our fantasy fun, we decided this was the territory of some neighboring giants, and that we’d best not invade. Luckily, the guard post (a chair in a flower bed) was unattended and our presence was not noticed. We stealthily returned to our fairy home and resumed our work.

With all the imaginative play, it seemed a perfect time for some storytelling. I gathered the kids together under the palm fronds and told them a story about a beautiful garden, an uncaring king, a magical fairy, and the children who helped her. At the end of the story, one of the kids exclaimed, “Wait a minute! This was a TRUE story! You didn’t tell us this story was real!” Another chimed in, “This, right here, is the fairy’s house! Wow! Cool.” Everyone joined in on the wonderment as my assistant and I looked at one another in amusement and surprise. “Really?” said our looks to one another. “They really think it’s real?”

They remained in this imaginative space when we returned to school, asking to create some shared stories in a circle, each taking turns telling part of the story. They took their fairy personae with them to yard time, where they continued to gleefully act out ongoing fairy scenarios. Although one rather bossy fairy queen took advantage of her imaginary position of power, her minions didn't seem to mind being ordered about. They happily tended to the plants, swept, and did the queen's bidding.

What stayed with me about this day was the children’s ability to move so easily into a place of wonder and imagination, and their intense interest in fully inhabiting that space for as long as possible. This is what makes childhood so precious and unique, and is also what's largely missing from adult endeavors. To quote Einstein, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” I'm 100% behind that statement, and I'm grateful to be working in a place where I can actually walk that talk.

Ownership of Learning

2011-03-01T20:13:00.000-08:00

With no set curriculum, a large part of my job at Xara Garden School is to take a lot of notes on what kids are doing and saying, so I can help guide them further along in their thinking and interests. One of the more formal ways these notes come together is in the weekly "documentation" or reflection pages I send home to the parents. Since these are such great glimpses into specific moments in our classroom, I thought sharing them here would give you a nice "day-in-the-life" picture of what happens in our alternative school environment. To protect the children's privacy, I'll replace the names with letters, and will only include photos that don't show their faces.

Wondering About Wasps

On Monday, R was interested in painting a wasp during Open Choice time. After he
carefully painted and labeled everything he thought he knew about the red wasp, (along
with a Japanese beetle, too) he asked if he could share his knowledge with the class.
What ensued was a respectful discussion and questioning session, fueling further
exploration of the topic.

R: This is my painting that you can make, too. This is a red wasp. They are eleven times
more aggressive.This one here is a Japanese beetle. They have ten legs, antennae…
J: Are there really ten legs on a Japanese beetle? I thought they had six.
R: Oh darn.
F: Don’t be so hard on yourself.
M: What about the first bug?
R: (pointing to his labeled painting)This is the thorax, and here is where it spits out the honey.
F: Do you know if wasps make honey?
M: Do you think they are bees?
R: No, it’s not a bee. It’s an arachnid. They lay eggs, but ... maybe they don’t make honey.
F: Is there, like, a family? (meaning, what category of animal is it?)
Alexis: How might you find out answers to some of these questions?
(Assortment of suggestions of television and internet programs)
F: Or, instead of watching a TV program, you can go to the park and observe them.

The following day, R hunted down a book about insects. He was excited to learn and
share new information about wasps, even when it contradicted his earlier misconceptions.
This is a great example of constructivist learning. It doesn’t mean he discovers it all on
his own. But instead of being given a chunk of information, R had some ideas to begin
with, which raised some questions, sparking further searching, and resulting in an expansion
of understanding. That’s rich learning that he now owns.

Meditating Six-Year-Olds

2011-02-22T20:41:00.000-08:00

Each morning at school, my students and I start our day with meditation. It began at the beginning of the year as a desperate attempt to ground out the energy that was pinging around the room and shooting out of my little six- and seven-year-olds like poison darts. There was a reason I was too stressed to write once school started, and it had about 19 names. I can now look back fondly at those crazy, early days. The children have come a terrifically long way, and the nightmares have long since abated.

Little Energy Workers

Early on, I taught them energy visualizations, very similar to the ones I shared in my posts a while back in my Meditation for Moms series. I wanted to give their active minds something to focus on other than just sitting quietly, which just wasn’t going to happen at this stage. We’d begin with grounding, then we’d choose a color and run energy, and finally, skipping the chakra focus, we’d move right into protecting our energy. Though they started out squirrely, once they accepted that this was a daily event, they soon began to relax into it. Some shared that they were trying this at home before bed or when they wanted to calm themselves down. Though I didn’t have 100% full participation each day, most of the kids were on board with it most days. This was encouraging, and I believe our morning ritual contributed to how quickly we were able to transform our classroom dynamic.

Stillness in First Grade??

More recently, I’ve been revisiting some Eckhart Tolle talks, and those, coupled with a wonderful children’s book called Peaceful Piggy Meditation by Kerry Lee MacLean, inspired me to try shifting our classroom meditation practice toward stillness, presence, and silence. The results of my first attempt at this were stunning! After reminding them of proper postures and inviting them to close their eyes, I rang a little chime to begin our practice. I softly encouraged them to feel the cool air coming into their nose, and to feel the warmth as they exhaled. After a few slow breaths, I invited them to focus on the words “just” on the inhalation, and “this” on the exhalation. The energy of the room began to settle.

After a few rounds of “just … this,” I asked them to bring their awareness to the silence between the sounds for a few moments. That’s when the energy of the room shifted dramatically. I opened my eyes to check it out. All eyes were closed; the children were peaceful, relaxed and focused. It felt as if a giant magnet was under the floor of our room, and our bottoms were made of metal. All of the random energy and thoughts were like little metal shavings being sucked out of the air around us and pulled to the earth. They stayed like this for close to one minute. That’s a long time for 19 first and second graders! Some could have gone much longer if left on their own.

I hit the chime to end our practice, inviting them to listen to the sound until it had completely faded, and then they opened their eyes. The children remained in this still, alert state, and I asked them to share how they felt. They shared words like peaceful, calm, focused, joyful, relaxed, and happy. We sang our good morning song and then, as I took attendance, each child shared one word to set their intention for the kind of day they’d like to create for themselves. I love listening to what they say, “Creative, exciting, happy, joyful, easy-going, love-full, focused,” and so on. It’s beautiful.

This is our 15-minute morning meeting, and it’s how we begin each day together.

Making it Their Own

We’ve been doing this stillness meditation for the past three weeks. Last week, we decided to put a sign up outside our door that said, “Meditation in progress. Please wait here,” so that kids who arrived late wouldn’t disrupt our meditation. On the first day of the new sign, I heard a little kerfuffle of multiple voices outside the door just as we were settling into our meditation. “Darn!” I thought to myself, “I should have added ‘Please be quiet’ to the sign, too. They’re still going to distract us.” We continued our meditation, and I discovered we were not being distracted by any noise. Had they left?

When we finished, I opened the door to find five girls grinning ear to ear, eager to tell me that they’d done their own meditation outside. “We even clinked our water bottles together for the chime!”

It was gratifying to see how much they valued this practice; that meditating would supersede chit-chatting with their friends when no teacher was around. Maybe it’s just habit now, but I’d like to think it goes deeper than that; that they want that stillness and silence, that calming sensation in their bodies. But, even if it is just habit, I can’t think of a better one to be forming at this age.

How about your thoughts? Have you tried meditating with your own kids or students? How would you feel about your own children meditating at school? I’d love to hear from you in the comments!

Vulnerability and Connection

2011-02-16T11:20:00.000-08:00

This is a post in two parts. It should probably be two separate posts, but I’m on a roll. I did not optimize this for search engines and I didn’t include engaging pictures. I wrote it for you, my (former) regular readers, as a way of reconnecting with you after my extended absence. It’s kind of long. I hope you’ll hang with me, anyway, and share your thoughts in the comments.

Part 1 – Coming out of Hibernation

Part 2 – Brene’ Brown’s Inspiration

Coming out of Hibernation

I haven’t written since October. Something had to give when I returned to teaching full time, and writing was what I reluctantly chose to set aside. Unlike a four-year-old, I reasoned, writing ideas can be left untended for a few months. However, like a four-year-old, those ideas can continue to pester until they get their way, no matter how skillfully I try to redirect them.

“But I’m writing at work,” I told myself. “The two or three reflective essays I send out to parents each week should suffice for my creative outlet.”

The writing crossed its arms, shook its head, and said, “No, that’s not the same.” It kept poking at me. “Hey… hey … hey …! Write something. Write something on your blog.”

“Hush up!” I scolded. “Can’t you see I’m so, so busy?”

Though it was partly a matter of limited time, I knew it was more than that. After my span of inactivity, I didn’t really know where to begin. Being back in a classroom with vibrant, diverse youngsters had caused me to rethink the focus of this blog. I lost track of why I felt it was so important to write about this one aspect of sensitivity in some children, in the face of the larger concept of childhood, in general, and how we protect and nurture creativity, imagination, self-respect, and compassion in our small ones. My interests had returned to the broader discussion of how we socialize and educate masses of young people for better or worse in our society.

This was a much bigger topic.

It was easier to write about Lucas’ conversations with the fairies. I think this has to do mainly with my own sense of emotional safety. After all, who could argue with my own experiences with my own child? If I began writing about educational philosophy and approaches - which impact other people’s children - I was sure to encounter contradictory points of view. How would I handle that? Could I engage in debate with grace and understanding? Might I get pedantic and rigid in my assertions? Might my ego send me off on a wild goose chase? Alternately, would anyone care? Would anyone even read my posts?

Fear. Vulnerability. This is what has kept me from writing.

Which brings me to part 2 …

Brene’ Brown’s Inspiration

My dear friend, Nanci, shared this TED talk with me this week, and it hit a wake-up nerve. When you’re done reading this post, I sincerely encourage you to watch it. It’s funny, entertaining, and honest. It’s the reason I’m writing today.

Brene’ Brown is a researcher in the field of social work, and in this talk she shares insights from her six-year study of what’s behind our human experience of belonging and connection, and what gets in the way. She ultimately determined that the only difference between people who experienced belonging and connection and those who didn’t, was that those who experienced it believed they deserved it, and the others didn’t. That was it. (Wow!)

She then undertook a deep study of just those who had the belief that they deserved connection and belonging, (she called them “the wholehearted”) and found that the key thing they had in common was vulnerability – the willingness to be seen exactly as they are. This vulnerability turns out to be the key to connection and belonging. Anyway, really, you should watch this. It’s riveting, and I’m not doing it justice here.

So I sat with this and wondered why it touched me so deeply. At school, I’m not vulnerable at all. I’m responsible, of course, for my class. Being a strong, positive presence provides security and safety for the children. I’m a leader-of-sorts among our staff. We are a start-up school with a lot of room to grow, so I’ve taken it upon myself to research curriculum options and philosophies, pilot new programs, and generally help organize things that need organizing. I may have the respect of my colleagues, but connection and belonging? I’m not quite there. In light of Brown’s work, how could I be? I’m too busy keeping it all together.

At home, I’m not as vulnerable as I could be, either. There are things and people to be taken care of with what little energy I have left at the end of the day. It’s hard to slow down enough to be present, to share my true self with my husband and my son. If I fall apart, it will all fall apart. At least that’s the false belief, so I plug on.

Until I don’t.

Is it surprising that I’ve been sick for the better part of the last three months?

I know that my immune system tanks when my emotions are out of balance. It’s been a nasty cold and flu season, and it seems I’ve been susceptible to every strain coming through my class. Even between illnesses, though, when I slowed down long enough to feel, I have felt a sort of emotional sickness, a disconnection with life. I wondered if it was depression. I knew I needed to ramp up my meditation practice, but somehow lacked the motivation to actually pull it off. I knew I needed to exercise, but I kept getting sick. Good excuse.

It wasn’t until I watched Brene’ Brown’s TED talk that it occurred to me that I was creating my own little disconnected hell by not giving myself the opportunity to experience connection and belonging through vulnerability. In a follow-up email, Nanci (the one who shared the video with me) wrote that her way of practicing vulnerability and wholeheartedness was through acting, and she asked me what creative endeavor I might use to exercise my vulnerability.

It actually took me a few times re-reading her email for a thought to dawn on me. What finally settled into the cracks was that writing had been my way of being vulnerable, and through that vulnerability, I had been experiencing a form of connection and belonging which mattered tremendously, even though it was via comments and emails in the virtual world. Leaving writing out of my life wasn’t such a balanced or healthy idea after all.

So, while I’m home sick from work today, I am healing my emotional body by writing and sharing myself with whoever cares to read. It feels good. I hope to continue to make time for writing, somehow. You can expect it to be more focused on education than about Lucas and sensitive children. I hope you’ll still be interested. At some point, I’ll reorganize the blog so it fits the new focus, but for now, I just needed to write.

Cheers!

Alexis

Here's the video for you to watch!

43 years and Growing

2010-10-24T21:24:00.000-07:00

43 years of life. As of today, that’s how long I’ve had so far to get it together, discover who I want to be, explore what it means to be human, and learn how to peacefully coexist on this planet with other beings. It seems like it ought to have been ample time in which to accomplish those things; to check them off my to-do list and relax a little. And yet …

As we well know, it’s never done. Learning how to be the best person/mother/wife/friend/daughter/teacher/writer/dancer/whatever I can possibly be is never going to get done. What’s more, for all the growth I make at any given point in time, I can’t even count on it continuing in any sort of linear trajectory. Momentum builds on momentum … until it doesn’t. And sometimes when it peters out, the backwards slide picks up a little more speed than I’d like, and I find myself starting over again, climbing back out of familiar territory I thought I’d already left behind. The good news about re-navigating familiar territory is that it is, indeed, familiar. As galling as it is to retrace my steps, at least it’s easier and faster with some experience under my belt.

And that’s the name of the game, isn’t it? That’s what experience is all about – knowing that the next time a situation comes around, you have more tools (and hopefully, grace) with which to handle it. I suppose some might call that wisdom. I’m grateful to have a bit of it. I’m grateful to have many areas of my life that continue to challenge me to evolve. It isn’t always comfortable to grow, but the alternative just isn’t very interesting.

And so … here’s to 43 years on this planet as Alexis. Thank you to all of you who have touched my life in one way or another. It all matters.

Cheers!

Alexis

‘Superman’ = Super Lame, More of Same

2010-10-16T20:53:00.000-07:00

If we’re talking about how to get all kids to produce high test scores, we’re having the wrong conversation.

I don’t even know where to begin in my critique of “Waiting for Superman.” I was looking forward to seeing it, hoping it would be all that Oprah and NPR purported it to be. Instead, I found it to be a male-biased, emotionally manipulative, and uninformed regurgitation of the same old (and I mean old) ideas about educating our youth.

I’ll admit it. I cried through the last half hour in which the film painstakingly drags out the drama of these sweet children waiting on tenterhooks to hear their name or lottery number called, insuring a spot in the “high-performing” school that will save them from certain marginalization and failure. Of course I cried. It was designed to make me cry. But really, we should all be crying about the mistaken conclusions to be drawn from this maudlin movie about the hope for American schools.

In a nutshell, the film highlights this “Superman” model of education that includes longer school days, a longer school week, high expectations, and good teachers. This is contrasted with abysmally poor learning environments with slacker teachers, out of control kids, and crumbling buildings. An expose’ on those schools would be more than fair. However, these “Superman” schools, like Kipp Academy, Seed, and others, are coming up with the right answer to the wrong question.

Their proof of success is that a much higher percentage of these kids are getting higher test scores, and therefore more are heading to college. We should all be celebrating, right? Well, not exactly. These kids are learning to pass tests. The tests are measuring knowledge and skills that we needed for an economy that no longer exists. Just because they’re getting into college doesn’t mean they are going to be prepared for the workforce of tomorrow. The film even stated that most recent college graduates are ill-prepared for today’s jobs. So why, then, laud an educational program that does little else but lead to college, which is still not preparing our youth for an economy that is changing by the minute? It doesn’t make sense.

When this film wanted to show “high quality teachers” in action, do you know what it showed? Someone pointing to words or numbers on a blackboard. How is that a visual example of inspired teaching? Oh - or else it showed a teacher crouching down next to a student who was writing something, with the teacher pointing to their paper and asking them a question like, “So what is 5x5?” This is ridiculous. There was nothing inspiring about any of these showcased teachers. The only quasi-inspiring moment was when they showed a teacher singing math raps with her kids. Oh, wait. That’s right! She wasn’t a featured teacher. The featured teachers were the two young GUYS who saw her do this and decided to rip off her idea and start Kipp Academies.

Would this be a good time to mention the fact that every “success story” featured a male teacher, even though this is still a predominantly female profession? Aside from the charismatic rapper teacher mentioned above who got less than 30 seconds of play for her part in inspiring the Kipp boys, the only women educators featured in this film were the union leader and the DC superintendent, both of whom were shown in a predictably bitchy light. Can it be that the only innovators in education are men? Really? Oh, but that’s right. This wasn’t so much about innovation.

Let’s take the scene in which they show a cartoon of how education is supposed to work. There is a cartoon teacher with a milk container of “knowledge.” A conveyor belt of kids at individual desks with their open flip-top heads move past while she pours in the knowledge. I thought this was a joke. I thought they were going to reveal how the LAST 30 YEARS OF BRAIN RESEARCH AND LEARNING THEORY HAVE PROVEN THAT THAT’S NOT HOW PEOPLE LEARN. Instead, the film went on to show how this isn’t possible anymore because of bureaucracies and unions, the conclusion being that charter schools were the answer because they could pour the knowledge into the kids without too much intervention. What???!!!

There is so much to be said about what our children will need in order to be productive citizens 15-20 years from now, and most of it is guess-work. What is certain is that conformity, standardization, and outdated content knowledge will not serve in the least. If we’re talking about how to get all kids to produce high test scores, we’re having the wrong conversation.

If you want to be entertained and educated on the matter in only eleven very captivating minutes, watch this:

Adjusting to Work Life

2010-08-25T22:28:00.001-07:00

There's been a big change in the Ahrens' household over the past couple of weeks. I've gone back to work, and even though I'm only working partial days these first few weeks until after Labor Day, it has had a huge impact on our home routine. As is to be expected, Lucas has responded to this change with some stellar tantrums and knock-down, drag-out power plays.

He's home with Toby all morning while I'm at school, and I'm happy to say that father and son are having a great time together. When I get home, though, I get the cold shoulder and general snottiness, along with some whopping tantrums over things like looking at him the wrong way. Lucky me! It's kind of a catch-22. I don't much feel like spending time with him when he's like this. After all, I'm tired from processing a ton of new work details each day and trying to hold about a dozen plans-in-progress in my head. It's so much easier to let Toby take the lead with Lucas in the afternoons, too. But when that happens, Lucas feels even more isolated from me and his pushing behavior increases.

I know that power and control are two of the key issues at work here. Another one is connection. My challenge is to stay connected to him through all of this annoying behavior, while still maintaining clear limits and boundaries, all while trying to find legitimate ways for him to meet his voracious need for power. Right now, he has very little control over the changes in his home life. Our old routines have been upended, and his new preschool (along with its stability and predictability) doesn't start for another two weeks. At the same time, my attention is wrapped up in this big, exciting change and I'm not as emotionally or physically available to him as I have been up until now.

This is a crazy time for him. I get it. And I'm not doing the greatest job at helping him through it. I'm looking forward to sending him to full-time preschool, and I feel guilty about it. I can't wait to spend time with other people's children at Xara Garden School, yet it's hard to spend time with my own son right now. It just doesn't seem right.

And yet … I know enough to cut myself a break. Parenting and teaching are two very different animals, the former being infinitely more complex and emotionally taxing. Novelty has a big pull for me, and everything about the new job is enticing right now. It's okay for me to feel more excited about that than about playing Candyland for the billionth time with a three-year-old who cheats.

It's okay. We'll reconnect. We'll find a new groove. Phase one: Life at home with baby/toddler/preschooler is now over. I feel some sadness, but life evolves. We'll all adapt.

Negative Vibes and Sensitive Kids

2010-08-10T17:50:00.001-07:00

Sensitive children pick up on all kinds of things we don't notice. I was recently reminded of Lucas' perception as it pertains to the negative energy people carry around with them.

My mom volunteers with this wonderful organization called Shakti Rising, a nurturing and empowering residential program for young women in recovery from substance abuse, violence, depression and other debilitating coping mechanisms. She goes to the house once a month to cook and enjoy a gourmet meal with the girls. The girls love her dearly. On occasion, she's had some of them come over to her house for dinner, sometimes for holidays, when Lucas and I are also there.

When he was just a baby - and a happy one at that - she had a group of Shakti girls over for Christmas dinner. Lucas cried and cried the whole time they were there. He wouldn't go to sleep in his little pack-n-play, as was his habit over at Grandma's, and even when I held him, he was in a terrible fit for the entire evening. I thought it was a fluke. Maybe he had gas.

A month or so later, there was a special event at the Shakti house. Mom wanted to show off her darling grandson to all the girls there, and so we tagged along. Within a few minutes of arriving, Lucas' happy, charming, bubbly little baby self turned fitful. After he'd fully disrupted the lovely garden party with his screaming, I cut the visit short and carried my upset buddy out to the car and took him home. He didn't make the best of impressions on those Shakti girls. This time, though, I knew it was no fluke.

I already knew by that time that he was very sensitive, and I suspected he was reacting to the energy of the place and the girls. It was odd, though, because the girls were absolutely delightful, and the deep personal growth they were doing in their recovery work was nothing short of inspirational. Regardless, I believe he was still sensing the pain that was the root cause of the addiction they were currently healing.

As a baby, Lucas had no way of understanding what that pain was about, and certainly no way of discerning the growth the girls were undertaking. He just FELT something very, very uncomfortable. Just as he feels my PMS, or feels my fear, he feels people's pain if it's strong enough. These girls had pain so strong it sent them into addiction, so I'd imagine that addiction energy carries a pretty hefty charge, even if it's from long ago.

I bring this all up now because for the first time in a few years, Mom recently had another Shakti visitor over for one of our Wednesday night dinners at her house. Lucas develops crushes on pretty girls just about daily, so we thought he'd be enamored or our dinner guest. In the back of my mind, I was wondering if he'd "outgrown" his sensitivity to the "Shakti girls." Here's what happened:

He avoided her completely for the first 45 minutes or so, hiding behind me or asking to play in another room. After multiple, gentle attempts to connect with him, he finally agreed to let her look at a book with him, and though still wary, he chatted with her for a bit. During dinner, he asked that his special booster seat (with its own tray) be set apart from the table. After dinner, he wouldn't go to sleep in the spare bedroom upstairs. He kept telling me something was scaring him.

After she left, he seemed willing to settle down, though he asked if she was already at her own house. He didn't want to relax until he was sure she was completely gone. He kept looking around the bedroom and telling me he was still bothered by something. Finally, he pointed to the Tibetan singing bowl on the side table and asked me to ring it. We've used it before to clear the space of "visitors" or unwanted energy. After I dinged it in all the corners and over the bed, he asked me to ring it in the closet, too. By the time I was done, he'd relaxed, and within minutes he was fast asleep.

I guess he hasn't outgrown the sensitivity. This was another reminder to trust that his negative reactions are valid responses to what he perceives. At almost four, he still doesn't have the ability to rationalize any of it. When he doesn't feel safe, for whatever reason, my job as his mom is to protect him. While it's uncomfortable for me to deal with the possibility that he may be hurting other people's feelings, that has to be secondary to supporting my son. Other people will quickly get over the fact that some strange kid didn't like them, but my son would not quickly get over the lack of trust he'd develop if I was more concerned about a stranger's feelings than his.

What do you do when your child seems resistant to someone for no apparent reason?

What Would You Call This?

2010-08-02T15:21:00.001-07:00

I'm excited to share that I recently presented my very first talk on the subject of this blog: sensitive children! For a first effort, I feel pretty good about the material I presented and the way in which I delivered it. I have quite a bit of tweaking to do, of course, but all in all, I'm pleased with how it went. The feedback forms I received showed that my audience agreed. It's a new beginning and I'm thrilled to have stretched myself in this way. So … yay, me!

But enough self-congratulations. The reason I'm sharing this with you is that, though the talk was interesting enough, the title of the talk was definitely lacking intrigue. I called it, "Understanding the Sensitive Child," which, though descriptive, is just not that captivating.

There is a possibility I'll be speaking on the topic at a wonderful conference this fall, (yes – thrilled am I!) and I have a feeling that if I keep this as the name, it will just be the crickets and me enjoying my lecture.

Can you help with some ideas? I really tend to get stuck when it comes to titles.

I guess you need to know what the talk is about before you can reasonably be expected to offer a title idea. In a nutshell, I address the characteristics of sensitive kids, share some stories to make them relatable, and then share some practical strategies to help address the challenges inherent in said characteristics.

What would you call this?

What would get you to come to my lecture instead of the one down the hall? Even better - what would entice you to come to the conference just to hear my lecture?

Any and all ideas are welcomed and appreciated! Thanks so much!!!

Cheers!

Alexis

Preschool Power Struggles – and my surprising ally

2010-07-27T16:09:00.000-07:00

When it comes to power struggles with my all-too-powerful, almost-four-year-old darling, I want to let you in on a little secret:

I delegate.

That's right. I don't handle them anymore. I pass the buck.

I stumbled on this strategy a while back out of desperation, and at the time I thought two things: "I must be losing it!" and, "Surely, Lucas won't buy it!"

Why did I think these two things?

Because I delegate to Chewy-man, Lucas' well-worn lovey.

Here's what Chewy-man (otherwise known as "Vegetable Chew") looks like … after a replacement hat and some reconstructive surgery following the incident of the neighbor's dog eating his original face.*

Here's an example of delegating to Chewy-man from this very morning (at 5:30am, I might add):

Lucas: (whispering at my bedside) Mommy, I want to get up now.

Me: Lucas, it's too early for you to be up. Please go back to sleep.

Lucas: But I want to get up. I want to climb in bed with you and then have breakfast and then play my guitar! (His voice is rising, legs jiggling … He's entering "fit mode.")

Me: Chewy-man says, (in a higher voice) "Come on, Lucas! Let's go back to bed and cuddle for a while."

Lucas: Okay, Chewy-man! (He happily goes back to bed without another word.)

TA-DA!

It turns out, this is a well-known strategy, but I didn't yet know about it. This past weekend, I had the privilege of attending an all-too-brief workshop on Redirecting Children's Behavior led by RCB instructor extraordinaire, Kelly Soban,** and found out that using puppets is a great way of diffusing power struggles. I know Chewy-man isn't a puppet, per se, but the idea still applies. Instead of me - the authority figure - trying to get Lucas to comply with a particular request that he's decided he'd rather not comply with, Chewy-man – his peer, so to speak – makes a simple request, and Lucas happily goes along with it.

Sheer brilliance – if I do say so myself!

Try it for yourself and let me know how it works!

Cheers!

Alexis

*Mommy isn't the best with the needle and thread, and when I handed him back his Franken-Chewy with a crooked head, Lucas looked at him thoughtfully and said, "It's okay Mommy. It's good." Sweet boy!

**Redirecting Children's Behavior is a wonderful body of work that dovetails so, so nicely with sensitive kids! Many of you have mentioned this to me before, but I thought I'd put out the word again, for those of you who've missed those valuable reader comments along the way. If you're in the San Diego area, Kelly Soban is a wonderful facilitator. She's been practicing on her own daughter for 14 years, and has been helping other families for 13 years. Check out her website!

How do you Empower Power-Hungry Kids?

2010-07-13T17:04:00.001-07:00

For sensitive kids, power seems to be a really big deal. Lucas would much prefer to be in charge of the world, and anything short of that is somewhat frustrating for him. When powerful kids don't have healthy outlets for expressing and exercising their power, life gets difficult for everyone. They throw tantrums, stall, refuse to cooperate, and generally choose the opposite of whatever it is you'd like them to do.

The important thing to remember is that their need for power is an authentic one. There is no way we will ever convince them that they really don't get to have that power. Sensitive kids are born this way, and if nurtured and directed properly, this quality will serve them very well as adults. Therefore, it's important that we learn how to meet their need for power in positive ways. I can't tell you how many times I've forgotten this, and what a relief it's been each time I've remembered and made appropriate adjustments.

Empowerment is not the same as giving them total control. This is an important distinction. Young children lack the emotional maturity to handle too much control and responsibility, and they can become power-hungry little dictators if there aren't firm limits in place. So … it's a balance - always a balance - between limits and freedom.

Rather than continue to explain what I mean, I thought I'd give you a list of some of the ways I've come up with so far to help our three-year-old feel empowered.

Ways we give Lucas some authentic power:

He dresses himself, and what he wears is his own choice. If we feel his outfit needs some adjustment for weather or venue, we'll mention the concern and let him figure out a new solution.

He makes his own bed. Yes, I'm sure to him this feels like a chore instead of empowerment, but knowing he can do such a grown-up task is actually empowering for him. He has a little sign on his wall with pictures showing what his three tasks are each morning before coming to breakfast: 1 – make bed, 2 – get dressed, 3 – wash hands/brush teeth. Most mornings, he does it all on his own without reminders. He's learning personal responsibility.

He helps set the table and pour waters.

He clears his own place when he's finished with a meal.

We have distinct routines throughout the day, so we don't have to be the ones to tell him what needs to happen next.

The music studio: Toby has worked with Lucas enough on expectations and limits in the music studio to entrust him to spend some time in there on his own. We watch through the glass door while he moves from one instrument to the next, taking care to use everything properly and put things back the way he found them. He loves this freedom and takes the responsibility seriously.

The "art studio:" I just created this for him recently with his train table in a little nook in the den. All of his art supplies are out and organized, and everything has a place. After we worked here together a few times, making sure to practice the expectations and limits, he now has the freedom to work here on his own whenever he chooses. He no longer has to wait for me to set up supplies and set aside time to "do a project" together. He has instant access as long as he takes care of his space. So far, so good. Here it is:

These are just a few ideas. I'd love to hear some of yours! How do you meet your child's need for power? What hasn't worked? Let's all learn from one another. You have so much wisdom to share!

Cheers!

Alexis

When Your Child Doesn’t Fit Inside the Box …

2010-07-07T09:00:00.001-07:00

I'm heartened by the overwhelming response to my earlier post about my friend's gifted son who was suspended twice from kindergarten. I'm also saddened, though not at all surprised, by how many similar stories were shared in the comments – of bright and energetic kids being suspended, punished, medicated, and shamed because the schools didn't know what to do with them. These are not isolated incidents. This is a systemic and growing problem that isn't going away in the foreseeable future. Therefore, if your child falls in any way outside the narrow band of school's accepted norms, you'll need to educate yourself and step into becoming "that" parent – the one who settles for nothing less than a positive and empowering educational experience for your child. If moving your child to an alternative school or homeschooling aren't viable options at the moment, there are still ways of improving your child's public school experience.

I'll share some tips on how to do that today. But first …

Why is it a systemic problem?

The structure of our public school system was based on a factory model of education. At the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, this served us well. It goes without saying that we've moved beyond the need to churn out thousands of factory workers trained to follow orders and punch time clocks. I think it goes without saying that the idea of cramming an exponentially growing body of knowledge into the minds of our children is ludicrous at this point in history.

However, the conversation continues to revolve around what children need to KNOW, and what SKILLS they need to master, rather than how children learn, and which environments promote the kinds of social, emotional, intellectual, and physical capabilities that will make for competent, creative, and compassionate adults who are able to roll with whatever the next few decades will bring.

As long as the public debate on education continues to focus on test scores and standardized curriculum instead of childhood development, current learning theory, and the latest brain research, we're still going to see the majority of schools trying to fit all kids onto that assembly line belt that someone in Washington or Houghton Mifflin decided was the right belt. Those who don't fit on that narrow belt will cause a "line failure" and the system will reject them in one way or another. They'll be stamped "Problem Child," "Learning Disabled," or "ADHD," and shunted off to the special services assembly line, where they're medicated, remediated, separated. Along the way, parents are blamed and shamed for causing this gross deviation from the norm.

If I sound a little overly-dramatic, well … that's just how I get when it comes to this topic. I've been IN THIS SYSTEM as a teacher and I've seen how it works … or rather, how it doesn't.

But it worked for me!

I hear this a lot from people who want to protect the sanctity of our existing public school model. We've all been through school ourselves, so we all have an opinion on what it should and shouldn't be. Generally speaking, if you had a great public school experience as a youngster, you'll see the public school system in a positive light and want to perpetuate it. If you had a negative experience, you'll have a different opinion. Regardless of your own experience as a child, if you're a parent now, we have to assume that your school experience was A WHILE AGO.

Things have changed.

The best thing you can do is let go of all of your remembered notions of what school was, and educate yourself on what it is now. Then, with a clear perspective on the current reality, ask yourself, "Is this working for my child?"

Why is it so hard to ask for what we want?

If your answer to the question, "Is this working for my child?" is "No, not really," then it's time to put on your advocate hat. You're the only one who has your child's best interests as your top priority, and so it's up to you to ensure that school doesn't permanently damage your child. Yeah, that's right – permanently damage your child. Your child's self-concept, confidence, ability to experience success, and a whole host of other bits that make up how we see ourselves as adults are all dramatically influenced by the school experience. It's a big enough deal that you might have to risk not being liked by your child's teacher or principal.

This isn't an easy role to step into. I'm guessing just about all of us were raised to respect or even fear authority, and we were imprinted since childhood to see teachers as authority figures. We still carry this with us, and it's easy to forget that we're no longer kids when we get "called into the principal's office." To turn this around, it may help to remember that the teachers and principals are, in effect, your employees. Your tax dollars pay them to do a service for you and your children. You have every right to evaluate them and make suggestions and requests. You also have the right to "fire them" – by switching schools.

It's also difficult to ask for something when you aren't exactly sure what it is you should be asking for. To help you in that arena, here's an initial list of ideas for you. I hope you'll add to it.

So … what do we ask for?

A GATE-certified teacher - Most schools don't have GATE (Gifted and Talented Education)
classrooms until 3^rd or 4^th grade, if at all, but you're not necessarily asking for your child to be placed in a GATE classroom. You're asking for your child to be placed with a teacher who has had training in this area, regardless of the grade he or she currently teaches. The training is very illuminating and provides a huge support for teachers in understanding the many ways giftedness exhibits itself in children, as well as how to handle the interesting behaviors that accompany giftedness.

If no one there is GATE-certified, you can request that you get a teacher who is willing to attend GATE training in the beginning of the year. Seriously, (before I received my GATE certification) I would have done this for a student if a parent requested it! You absolutely deserve to ask.

More physical activity, if that's one of the ways your child's energy needs to be expressed. The younger they are, the more frequently they need movement. Ideas: Ask for a wobbly chair or exercise ball to sit on so they can move even while sitting. Ask for them to be the gopher for the teacher, and ask the teacher to come up with errands the child can run (and I mean RUN) every 15 minutes or so. Ask for more time outside for the entire class. Just five minutes of running around can refresh everyone.

More choice in how and when they do their work. Though most public schools are pretty tightly scheduled, a gifted child will thrive when given more time to delve deeply into work that is satisfying for them, as well as being given the opportunity to move on to new work if they've finished something quickly.

More depth, complexity and relevance in their work. A gifted child has no patience for busy work, and I absolutely don't blame them. Ask for your child to pursue independent studies on topics of interest to them. The same concepts and skills being doled out through the canned curriculum can be learned through self-directed projects if the teacher is willing to work with your child.

Respect for your child. Above all, this is key! Every child is gifted in different ways. No one deserves to be labeled, ridiculed, humiliated or ostracized. Spend time developing a relationship with your child's teacher. Help them see your child the way you see them, through loving eyes. Help them see your child as a beautiful individual expression of humanity, with valid desires, needs, and preferences. A child who feels respected will respect themselves and others. The converse is true.

There is so much more to share on this topic, but for now, I'll turn it over to you, my capable and wise readers, to add to this list. What have you asked for that has helped your child? What is holding you back, if anything, from advocating for your child? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below!

Kindergartener Suspended – What’s wrong with this picture?

2010-06-29T21:51:00.001-07:00

Recently, I met a six-year-old boy who told me everything I'd ever need to know about carnivorous plants. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and intensity as he excitedly shared his knowledge with dramatic flourishes and scientifically accurate vocabulary. Immediately, I knew this was a gifted child. I also sensed he was an intuitive child, as well. He positively sparkled with energy. What a delight!

Apparently, his school (in the Portland Public School District) doesn't see him quite the same way.

This bright boy's mother is tethered to her cell phone, waiting to answer the frequent calls from the school informing her that her son has been a nuisance and must be taken home. Sometimes it's for the rest of the day. Sometimes they just want her to show her face in the classroom door, which seems to help. Twice, it has meant suspension.

Suspension.

In kindergarten.

Was he fighting? Streaking? Packing a concealed weapon?

No. It was nothing like that.

The first suspension came after he got very frustrated with some work that wasn't perfect (which is typical for gifted kids) and had a huge meltdown. The teacher decided to handle it by calling in the school principal and counselor and taking the rest of the kids out to the playground. At that point, he lost control and threw paper and crayons off the table, knocked over some chairs, and threw pencils at the principal. Suspension.

Of course he blew up. If he's so afraid of failure that he'll throw a fit over not knowing how to write a word, then he's going to feel completely raw and exposed if he's singled out in that manner, with the counselor and the principal coming in and the class being taken outside to the playground. It's a natural stress response - fight or flight. His pattern is to fight. This was high, high stress for him: embarrassment, frustration, humiliation, ostracism, self-loathing, anger ... all of that and more. That's a lot for a little six-year-old to handle. He retreated to the reptilian part of his brain and protected himself in the only way he knew how. The teacher obviously did not possess the skills to diffuse the situation before it escalated and he got stuck in that stress response.

This was not the boy's fault. He's only six. He's gifted, bored, misunderstood by his teacher and principal, and very energetic, to top it all off. This environment wasn't working for him and no one was attempting to change the environment. They were just trying to change the boy. They were completely reactive. If they'd even made a sincere attempt to proactively respect his needs, he would have responded more positively, and the situation would have been averted.

The second suspension followed an overheard conversation with another boy who wanted to do something that the teacher had disallowed. This gifted boy posited that if their teacher died, then they could do whatever they wanted. He wasn't threatening to kill the teacher, and while this line of thinking might be somewhat morbid, it was simply an imaginative child exploring the ideas of freedom and power. The teacher sent him immediately to the office, and the principal, interpreting the story to mean that he was threatening the teacher, issued a TWO DAY suspension.

After picking him up from school and discussing the matter with him, his mother determined this suspension to be unreasonable. After all, he had recently explored the same line of thinking at home, imagining he could eat candy and watch movies all day if she died, and they had not given it a second thought. When his mother called and made her case to the school, the teacher admitted that she'd just had a really trying day and had no patience left, and the principal admitted to not having accurate information. They shortened it to a one day suspension.

What kind of message is this school sending to both this boy and his mother? The family is seeking counseling, assuming there is something terribly wrong with their child and their parenting. This gifted child is learning to see himself in a certain negative light that will influence all future school experiences. It's not okay for schools to do this to our children and families.

Why is he so frustrated at school?

Well, for starters, he's bored out of his gourd. He's academically ready to tackle things far more complex than what is being offered, even though he seems to give up easily on some of the simpler tasks. This is typical of gifted children. If they can't do it perfectly the first time, there is huge frustration unless they have an understanding and patient person helping them learn to value their effort rather than the result. Gifted children (and intuitive children, for that matter) abhor repetitive and meaningless busy work. If it doesn't have depth and relevance for them, they will find other ways of entertaining themselves.

My suggestion: Training in gifted education

With so many intuitive and gifted children in our schools nowadays, it is crucial to have teachers trained in gifted education. And this is NOT so they can learn how to do fun projects with the GATE kids in a separate room. It is so they can identify and understand gifted children and how their brains process information. So much talent and potential is being wasted because their frustrations are being mistaken as learning disabilities, attention problems, or behavior issues. When their needs are understood and met, in most cases these problems disappear.

Why does he feel so disempowered?

An otherwise sweet and loving child who is fantasizing about the freedom he'd have if all of the authority figures in his life were to die is not psychotic. He is simply feeling disempowered. Intuitive children have enormous personal power, and if not given appropriate outlets to express that power, it can burst out in the form of behaviors that adults generally don't like. For an intuitive kindergartener, being made to sit still and quiet for long periods of time is just asking for some sort of inappropriate energetic burst. So is being expected to start or stop a particular kind of work at a particular time that feels arbitrary to the child, or doing work that seems irrelevant - in other words, most of the day in the life of a kindergartener these days.

My suggestion: More freedom, choice, and physical activity

This energy and power needs expression in positive ways, like more time to run and play freely and more choice in how they spend their time at school. Most public schools are not set up to meet those needs. Recesses are shorter and fewer. PE has been reduced or cut. Most of the children's work requires sitting. Days are chunked into small parcels of time so all of the required subjects can be crammed into each day, and those parcels are all determined by the teacher, or in some cases, the administration. Rarely are they decided by the students.

Outside of school, some positive outlets would be plenty of time for daydreaming and imaginative play, and lots of self-directed physical activity. Over-scheduling with sports and extracurricular activities will backfire because the scheduling will feel constrictive. One outside activity of their own choosing would be plenty, as long as it doesn't hog all their free time. Television should be avoided. This topic is a whole other post, but for now, just trust me on this. Brain imaging technology has proven that it really does, literally, rot the brain. Think of it this way: for a power-hungry child, how is passively sitting and watching a screen going to satisfy their need to express their power? Video games should also be avoided, but for the opposite reason. They give kids a false sense of too much power, which is very addictive for intuitive kids. Both modes of screen time are simply wasting an opportunity for them to be masters of their own world.

What is the alternative?

Luckily, there are many alternative schools cropping up that beautifully meet the needs of intuitive and gifted kids. Any school that describes itself as a Reggio Emilia, constructivist, or Waldorf school is a great place for these kiddos! Waldorf schools are amazing and magical places of deep, well-rounded learning, but can be rather pricey. Many charter schools (which are free and part of the public school system) are incorporating the Reggio and constructivist philosophies into their charters. I won't go into the details of these school models in this post, but I strongly suggest you Google them to learn more. You'll fall in love! Of course, homeschooling is another great option offering plenty of freedom, self-direction, and empowerment if you're able to make that work in your family.

[Update July 1, 2010: I forgot to mention Montessori as another great alternative! (Thanks, Lisa!) The Montessori classroom is rich with engaging manipulatives that allow children to construct their own learning at their own pace and by their own choice. Again: empowerment, choice, individualization. Great stuff!]

The bottom line …

The bottom line is that if school seems challenging for your intuitive, gifted child, it is more accurate to say that your child's gifts are challenging the school. If the school can't rise to the occasion and fulfill the valid needs of your child, then it's time to expel yourselves and find a place that will respect and honor your child for who they are.