The Festival of Learning is back!

After taking a few years off from organizing community education events, I couldn’t be prouder to let you know that the Festival of Learning is back—bigger and better than ever! On Saturday, February 24, more than 30 innovative schools and educational programs are taking over the beautiful space of the Branch Park Pavilion at Mueller.

This means that, rain or shine, families will be able to visit with educators and students, play games, try new arts and crafts, and learn more about the growing alternative education community in Austin. It all happens from 10am to 1pm, and you can find the details, including all the participating schools, on the Alt Ed Austin website.

The Festival has always been a fun gathering of amazing local educators who want to share their passion for learning. But this year feels special because we’ve been able to expand the number of participants and guests we can host in the fantastic space at Mueller. Parents and kids of all ages will be able to talk to school representatives—including students—and look at cool projects they’ve created. Hands-on experiences will include art projects, code wheels and puzzle boxes, magnet science, knife skills and kitchen hacks, bookmaking, wildflower seed crafts, and much more.

For example, Marie from Tigerlily Preschool offered us a preview of what she’s got in store for little visitors to the Festival: “At Tigerlily children express their own ideas through paint, clay, building, collage, mud making, dance, and drawing. Our table at the festival honors this last medium, drawing, as a powerful tool for young children. Come join our community doodle!

For older learners, Amy from Headwaters School said they will be sharing “an interactive Identity Board where attendees can use yarn to signify different parts of their identities on a large labeled peg board.” You’ll have to come to the Festival if you want to discover exactly what that mysterious project is all about!

And for those in-between ages and everyone else, Pascal from Bake Austin and Ken from Austin School for the Driven are teaming up to teach basic knife skills (with cut-proof gloves provided!) along with some handy kitchen hacks.

Our goal this year is to give learners of all ages a chance to discover the wealth of opportunities available in Austin’s creative, learner-centered schools, as well as beyond-school programs. The open setting at Branch Park Pavilion allows everyone to move from booth to booth easily to chat, share ideas, and take part in all the activities. And our new location right in the heart of the Mueller business district makes it easy to stop for lunch or a snack before the Festival and burn off some energy at the playground afterward.

Please take a look at our Festival of Learning webpage or Facebook event page for all the information you need about how to get there and where to park, as well as ways to share the details with friends and family. We hope to see you there!

When we dress up, do we become someone else? Or do we become more ourselves?

Marie Catrett, a frequent guest contributor here, has been looking back over ten years of documentation from her work with young children, compiling these stories into a book. She generously turned some of that material into this special photo essay about supporting young children in processing their feelings and questions about Halloween (and “dressing up” in general). Marie is the founder and lead educator at Tigerlily Preschool. You can meet her at this Saturday’s 2nd Annual Small Schools of South Austin Tour.

 
March 8, 2012

Willa: Is it a ghost or is it just Emerson?
Nayeli: No, it’s Emerson.
Willa: Let’s say boo to him, then the ghost will be Emerson again.


August 28, 2012

A set of magic wands appears in the dress-up corner.

Willa: Marie, what do you want to be turned into?
Marie: Hmm . . . turn me into a butterfly.
Willa: Okay, cause I’m a flying fairy.
Willa waves her wand over me and dances off.
Marie:
Now I’m going to be a butterfly?
Emerson: Now not going to be a butterfly. (Emerson waves his yellow wand over me.)
Marie: Did you turn me into something else?
Emerson: No!

I take Emerson to be saying here, “Marie, I need you to be my Marie.” He will often do this when monster play happens if someone in the play begins to refer to me as “the monster coming.” Emerson will tell them no, she’s not a monster, she’s Marie. He will ask me directly, with concern: you’re not a monster, Marie? No, Emerson, I reassure him. I am Marie.

Elias (who finds great meaning in interpreting the world through train talk): We can’t get on this train. This train is too small. We can’t get inside; we don’t have tickets. (His bubble wand is a train.)

Willa: Emerson, what do you want to be turned into?
Emerson: I don’t want to be something.
Willa: Okay. But this is real magic. You could be anything. Even a princess!
Marie (gently): Emerson, I hear pretending. You can choose about if you want any pretending.
Emerson (ponders, then): You could turn me into a BIG princess.

Later during the day
Emerson: (Waves wand): I turn you into a princess Marie.
Marie: Now I am a princess? Are you a princess?
Emerson (spinning happily): No, I’m not a princess. I’m nothing.
Willa: Are you air?
Emerson: No.
Daphne: Are you just Emerson?
Emerson: Yes! Just Emerson!


November 2, 2012

We return to school after Halloween. The children begin telling each other about what they saw.
Marie: There could be more drawing about this, to show what you’re remembering about Halloween?
Yes, the kids say, oh yes, we’ll draw about our Halloween!

Daphne: Me and Daddy maked happy faces for our pumpkins and Mommy made a monkey face. And Mac didn’t carve any because he’s a baby. My pumpkin had fire in it.

Wyatt: I had a scary face of a pumpkin. A vampire face. My pumpkin had its eyes closed. My pumpkin had a triangle eye.

Willa: I saw a lot of shapes in the pumpkin faces on Halloween.
Elias: My pumpkin had a quiet face. I saw a witch. I will draw a witch. With black.
Daphne: I saw a witch! I will draw about a witch too.

Daphne: That’s the witch that I saw on Halloween.

Elias: With a tall black hat on its head!

Nayeli: I saw a spooky house.
Willa: Did you see a real ghost that someone didn’t dress up as?
Nayeli: No.
Willa: Did you see a spider? A monster?
Nayeli: We had to reach in a spider’s web to get candy!
Willa: Was it just a costume spider web?
Nayeli: It was just a pretend spider web with no one inside it. Look how black my picture is.
Willa: Are you making the black night?
Nayeli (adding black lines over the orange ones): It’s making dark orange.

Willa (adding the spooky person, black figure in the lower right corner, with looser black lines, “the black night” wrapping around him, very pleased with the feeling she’s captured): Look what he looks like! When I went trick or treating there was a spooky person wearing all black. Outside. On their porch. He looks like a real haunted. I looked for a dark color to make it. And there was a sunset. I’m making colors because it’s sunset. All sunsets have color. And I make the black night, see? Moon, moon, a bright glittering moon! The moon is gonna be making a yellow sky.

I am struck by how deeply this Halloween stuff matters to the children and make a note to prepare more on this for our next Halloween together.

Here’s what that looked like, one year later.


October 30, 2013

“Me in my Little Red Riding Hood costume and I’m skipping, see? With roses on the basket and candy bread inside.” —Nayeli

Nayeli: Tomorrow is Halloween day.
Daphne: And we’ve been waiting a long time.
Marie: People are thinking about wearing a costume to school tomorrow if they want to. Elias thinks he might be a station master, Nayeli will be Little Red Riding Hood.
Nayan: I will be a giraffe. A costume of a giraffe.
Elias: I will be a costume of a station master.
Marie: And tell your grownups, bring extra clothes. Because maybe you want to be in your costume a long time or maybe you will want to change after a while.
The subject of “What will you be, Marie?” comes up.
Marie: You know, I am usually saying “I will be just Marie” as your teacher, here, when children are pretending.

Dear three-year-old Emerson, you and the other children taught me the importance of this last year!

Nayan: Just wear a little hat.
Daphne: Like with a headband. A headband, and how about different shoes?
Marie: Will you still know that I am me?
Daphne: Wear the same clothes. Your usual clothes.
Marie: If someone is wearing different clothes, are they still the same person?
Daphne: I’ll know everyone because I have really good hearing and really good eyesight.
Nayan: We’ll know you by your talk. Or if you took off your shoes or your hat or your headband.
Nayeli: Marie could be a Marie for Halloween!
Daphne: You just need to put on the same things. If we could go upstairs and see them, we could pick them out for you.
Elias: You have a double-decker house. At night you go upstairs.

Marie: What if I wore a shirt that kids had not seen before, would that feel okay?
Kids: Yes! One we haven’t ever seen before?
Marie (ah ha, I do have an idea now!): Yes. See, I have a new shirt that I just got but you haven’t seen it yet.
Daphne:
Like your piano shirt? (There’s a photo of me in some documentation on the wall wearing a concert shirt the children admire.)
Marie: Ah, a little bit like that, yes. But not a piano . . .

Later
Marie: So, we were talking about a costume for me, and people said I should wear shoes, maybe a hat. Here are some different hats of mine.

Nayeli (recognizing my garden hat): This one we know already!
Marie: Yes, you know that one. See the straw hat with the polka dots? This is a hat I like to wear when I go to Barton Springs. It gives me a lot of shade. Now, here’s just regular me, right? And here’s me (putting it on my head) wearing my Barton Springs hat. Am I the same me when I put on the Barton Springs hat?
Daphne: Yeah!
Nayan: ’Cause I see some of your hair.
Daphne: And I see your shoes. Those shoes that I know.
Marie: Ah, ’cause my shoes didn’t change. But you’ve never seen my Barton Springs hat.
Nayan: But I do still know your shoes and your hair.
Nayeli: I would know you even if those shoes were pink.
Nayan: I would still know it was you if your hat was green!
Daphne: I would know you if you were a giant! Because you’re pretty giant.
Marie:
What do you think, Elias, is it still me if I put on this hat?
Elias: Yes! It just has this polka dots around your hat.
Nayeli: Your face stays the same. But your face is bigger than ours. Parts of your face is bigger than ours.
Nayan: And my face is smaller than yours.
Daphne:
And your hands are bigger than us. Because you’re older.
Marie: Am I the same Marie in my garden hat, in the hat you know?
Kids: Yes! ’Cause of your face and your shoes and the garden hat that we know.
Marie: Okay, and if I take my hat off, here’s just me again. And now here’s the third hat. This is my running hat.
Daphne: Oh, now you look different!
Nayeli: Much different.
Marie: I’m different when I put on the running hat?
Nayeli: But you are the same Marie, though.
Marie: I am the same Marie, but I look different in my running hat.
Nayeli: You look so different in the running hat because there’s no hair coming down.
Kids want to try on my hats.
Daphne: Right now, I can’t see the underneath of the garden hat because I’m wearing it.
Nayan (the Barton Springs hat hangs down over his eyes): Right now, I can’t even see where I am going!
Daphne: And I can’t even see where I am going!
Nayan (laughing): Where am I? This hat kind of looks like a cowboy hat.

Marie: So, tomorrow on Halloween you’re going to see people you know but they might be wearing something different. I’ve never seen Nayeli in a Little Red Riding Hood costume.
Daphne: Have you ever seen me in a butterfly costume?
Marie: I have never seen you in a butterfly costume.
Nayan: Have you ever seen me in a giraffe costume?
Marie: I have never seen you in a giraffe costume.
Daphne: Or in any costume!
Marie: Elias, I have never seen you in a station master costume.
Elias: No . . .
Marie: That is going to be different! Here’s a song I like to teach (holding the Barton Springs hat up over my face).

Who is underneath that hat, hat, hat?
Who is underneath that hat, hat, hat?
All together: Whooooo is it? Marie!
(Marie taking hat away):
I see Marie underneath that hat!
Marie is underneath that hat, hat, hat!

Nayeli: I know that song, I know that song!

We sing many verses, with all our hats, together.

 
Marie Catrett | Tigerlily Preschool

Now this really looks like an alligator!

Marie Catrett is back with another glimpse into the world of children’s learning and growth at Tigerlily Preschool in South Austin. Marie is inspired by Reggio Emilia and informed by her deep curiosity and many years of experience working with young children. This guest contribution is adapted from one of her regular letters to Tigerlily families.

5/4/2023

Marie writes:

Today is a fine example of how we can help children think more deeply about their work and loan them the use of our skills in a way that helps them grow their own.              

Marie (as we’re headed into the classroom, to R, a young three-year-old in our group): I have a question I want to ask you, about the alligator you made in clay yesterday.

R’s alligator is a flat face figure, with drawn-in eyes and a cheerful mouth, and this piece stands up because he added a nice big tail at the back in response to my asking, “Can you think of anything else your alligator needs?”

Today we look at Alligator together. It’s so charming as is, and doesn’t necessarily need any further embellishment if R doesn’t want to go further, but maybe . . .

Marie: Here’s a question I have for you. I notice you drew the alligator’s mouth, and I wanted to ask you something. May I look at a picture of an alligator with you?

We look at some pages from a well-known current story in our group, Mrs. Chicken and the Hungry Crocodile.

Illustration by Julie Paschkis, in Mrs. Chicken and the Hungry Crocodile, by Won-Ldy Paye and Margaret H. Lippert.

Marie: I’m wondering (this is me asking children about their work, are you satisfied?), sometimes people make an alligator and it feels important to show about teeth. It’s up to you (me, really working hard to make a yes or a no thanks be acceptable here, the maker truly is in charge, but the opportunity to add a meaningful detail is always exciting to me!), but if you’re interested in adding teeth to your alligator, that’s something we could think about together.

R looks at the pictures and announces that yes, his alligator needs some teeth.

My co-teacher, Lulu, has the excellent idea that it might also help to go look at the toy alligator that’s been such a popular player in the classroom this week.

From earlier in the week: the wild animals birthday party, no wilding allowed.

Re: no wilding allowed at the party, the alligators take a meeting.

Ah ha, looking back at play this week, it makes sense that thinking about alligators has been on R’s mind, enough to want to make one with the clay.

And while looking at images can help kids think more about what they want to do, touching an example of what they’re thinking about is even better.

A Tigerlily Preschool student touches the mouth of a toy alligator

R explores the mouth of the alligator. His first “face” alligator is also in the frame above.

I am imagining helping him add bits of clay to his drawn mouth line to make the wanted addition of teeth happen, but R now has a richer vision of how to make this alligator more alligator-y.

 R: I think an alligator should have an open mouth. And teeth. And a tongue that sticks out.

Marie: Hmmm. Wow. Okay. Oh! You know what, when my potter friend Jane came to show us about how she uses clay, she said starting with a pinch pot is a great way to make creatures. Would you like to try that?

Yes, says R, and we get a small ball of clay out to begin with a pinch pot. When it’s big enough, and turned on its side, R sees the shape he needs to decide it’s an open mouth. He adds eyes on top by drawing them on, in the way he’d done on the “face” version.

 Marie: I heard you say about teeth. I can think of two ways you could add those . . .

I take an extra bit of clay and show him some options to think about. You could use the tool to draw them in, as he’s done his eyes. Fingers could pinch up some teeth bumps maybe? Or . . .

Marie: These are just to show some ideas, but you’re the maker, so it’s up to you what you’d like to do.

R likes the idea of using his fingers to make “teeth shapes” out of clay. He places them where he thinks they need to go on the mouth, and I help him make them attach securely.

Marie: You know what, I bet you could also make a tongue shape like you’re wanting.

From left to right: R’s first and then second alligator.

As we’re looking at the finished work, an older child says, with admiration, of the second piece: “Wow, now this really looks like an alligator!”

One of my favorite things about striving to be a Reggio-inspired teacher is working with children like this:

I hear your interesting idea.
Let’s think more about this together.
I see a way that I can be a resource for what you’re wanting to do.
Here are some options to think about what feels right to you.
What do you think?
And, are you satisfied?


Marie Catrett | Tigerlily Preschool

Small Schools of South Austin Tour 2022

Marie Catrett, a frequent contributor to this blog and an extraordinary early childhood educator, is back with a brief update on Tigerlily Preschool and an invitation to an exciting new event for anyone interested in exploring South Austin preschools.


Hello, this is Marie Catrett, writing to you from deep in the adventure of launching a new program. After years of running separate, in-home childcare programs, Lulu Bautista (formerly of Corazón Neighborhood Preschool) and I (formerly of Tigerlily Preschool, out-of-my-home edition) began meeting and dreaming about what a combined program, out in the world, could look like. In this quest we have found a beautiful new home, met city code regulations, obtained our commercial child care license, filled our new space with joy, and jumped into the process of merging our methods into a cohesive, vibrant, ready-for-the-children new program. We proudly present to you our Tigerlily Preschool.

But wait! The only thing we’re missing is … getting the word out to our expanded community!

On November 5th, a collection of schools for young learners in south Austin are holding an event we’re calling the Small Schools of South Austin Tour. Thirteen schools are on the list and all of us will welcome visitors to come see our programs in a casual, drop-in format on that day. For over 20 years I’ve been telling prospective families to go see programs that interest them, as we truly have such a variety of programs here in Austin. Discover the place that feels right to your family for your child.

Help spread the word and RSVP here.


Marie Catrett |
Tigerlily Preschool | Small Schools of South Austin Tour

“They’ll have to stop sometime”: Notes on taking turns at Tigerlily Preschool


Longtime readers of this blog will recognize the name and voice of Marie Catrett, founder and teacher at
Tigerlily Preschool. Joining Marie in the dialogue below, adapted from the school’s blog, is her co-teacher, Lulu Bautista, who shares some scenes from a recent day on the playground. It’s a fascinating conversation that gives us a small taste of the kinds of careful observation, detailed documentation, and deep discussion these Reggio Emilia–inspired educators engage in daily with each other, parents, and the young humans in their care.


4/7/2022

Lulu writes:

Emme and Aran have the idea to sweep off some dirt-covered stones around the pyramid structure and chairs in our play yard. I’m sitting nearby, still pondering Emme’s description of the cloudless “bluebird sky” that we’d been discussing only moments ago. . . .

Aran: (frustrated) Unhhh, but you’ve already had a tooooo long turn!

He’s talking about the sweeping brush.

Emme: But I actually just got my turn and I’m not finished sweeping this stone yet.

Lulu: Yes. Sometimes when we’re waiting it can feel like So Long to Wait. (Pausing to think.) You know, part of our agreements at Tigerlily are that we can’t make a person give us a turn right exactly when we ask for it, even though we’re very ready for a turn. Sometimes it just happens to work out that way and the person is finished quickly . . . but sometimes we have to let them be done, which can be so hard!

Emme decides she is done, and hands the brush to Aran: There! It’s all clean. But there’s this brick over here that is covered up with dirt.

Aran, brushing away, and still thinking a little longer: But what if it takes all day? And they use it for the whole day?

Lulu: That is a very understandable worry that some kids might have. But it would be very rare for that to happen. Usually the person using the thing will eventually have enough and be ready to try something else.

Emme: Yeah, they’ll have to stop sometime! Like to go potty. Or play with someone or something.

Lulu: So, yes, after we say “me next,” and the person reassures you that they’ve heard you want a turn (“Okay, you can have a turn after me”), a helpful tool could be figuring out what to do while we wait. Emme, do you have an idea of what you’ll do while you wait?

Emme: Yeah, I would climb on those stumps, that’s what I’m gonna go do right now.


Not pictured:
Aran joins her for some stump climbing, and they spend a little more time passing the brush back and forth for sweeping, before moving on to something else.

I’m thinking about how I generally like to encourage the children to build the skills to be able to navigate these situations with less & less adult intervention, and I often try not to be the decider of “you have two more minutes, then it’s the next person’s turn.” But also–beyond waiting—not getting a turn at all can be very frustrating!!

I really like Marie’s tool of having a promise board—if we run out of time before someone gets a turn, a promise is written for a turn at the next chance we get.

An additional strategy: If we are getting close to a transition, I might say quietly to the person who’s having the turn, “you know, we only have about 10 minutes left before it’s time for snack, and I notice that Aran’s been waiting for a turn for a long time. Do you have some ideas of how he might get a turn?”

I like empowering the children to think about what feels right and fair. Usually I’ll get some version of “Maybe we can do it together!” or “Maybe we can find another one just like it, if someone else is done” or “Actually, I’m done. Here you go Aran!” and it’s true—very rarely, almost never, does it happen that the waiting goes on forever.


Further teacher dialogue:

Marie: In this situation I see two children, who know and care about each other, experiencing some workable frustration around waiting. Emme’s got some smart ideas to help manage her time. Here are some more generalized thoughts from me on waiting and turns. “Can you think of a way” is helpful for children who have a lot of language and skill. I also think sometimes children need the support/reassurance of a structured here’s-how-to-get-a-turn.

Lulu: Yes! I could see adjusting this language in the moment to something more structured, like "To make sure Aran gets a turn, some kids might try using the brush together.” (See if that works.) “Another idea is finding something just like that thing you're using.” (See if that works.) . . . “Maybe, another idea is counting to 10 while you finish using it" and see what kind of ideas generate from there. Ultimately, if nothing sticks, "I'm hearing that you're just not ready to be done right now. Can you please come find Aran and let him know when it's his turn? To Aran: “Let's see what interesting things we can find to do while you wait."

Marie: I like the notion that we will always help you get a turn, and help the waiting part be not so hard. I try to help so that the ones least able to wait get through the quickest. Thinking again about manageable frustration.

Lulu: I'm trying to envision how this works. Like if someone is having a hard time waiting, they'd get to jump the waiting line to get their turn quicker? I'd like to know more about this! I can definitely see how we all have different capacities for how much frustration we can hold, until we spill over, and how it can fluctuate depending on the day.

Marie: So, let’s say we’re introducing a new material and it’s two people at a time, and I know one of the people wanting a turn badly has a very hard time waiting. I’d be putting them in the first group if that were possible. Maybe not always. But I’m probably putting some thought into the order.

Lulu: Ah okay! Yes, I see how in a situation like that, where it's more of a structured offering, we'd be thinking about how to plan an order.

Marie: For kids who are working on using their words—Z grabbing stuff, for example. Or how Charlie can be quieter about a need—if he’s asking for a turn-—I’m going to do my best to check in with him—you might want to try the such and such too… Kid (who hasn’t expressed that want yet but when asked realizes, yes!): Yeah! Me: Okay, let them know you’d like a turn next please.

I’d help that kid get the payoff of getting that turn they are asking for/being helped with language to ask. Sometimes getting a turn feels crucial to build trust between me and a new child. That this is a place where you’ll get to do the things you’re interested in, and here’s how to get your name on the list / say you would like to be next / let another child know you’re still using the shovel. Sometimes that’s me, in the moment, making teacher decisions that should probably be followed up with discussions about fairness and how we make sure this is a good-feeling place for everyone.

Lulu: Yes, I can see how we'd want someone who is practicing at something (using words to ask) to feel successful. And how so much context of a situation can influence our decision making, in the moment.

Marie: Yes! In Reggio they’re very fond of saying “it depends.” Can you say more about what “Tigerlily agreements” are?

Lulu: I think in the specific agreement of Sharing, if someone is using something, we want to honor their agency to decide when they've used it and feel they've had a complete turn to explore to their satisfaction (and as a teacher goal, that the children would be able to build executive function skills and eventually self-regulate in recognizing that someone needs a turn and how to respect that, or how to manage their waiting). I could see inviting the children to help build an agreement around sharing, and teachers having a bigger discussion before deciding something as a School Culture Agreement. Maybe a better phrase would be that those are my personal goals as a teacher.

Marie: Sure, a simple guideline for that falls under the idea about not taking things from someone, but if you’ve put it down / left the item without making a plan, it’s considered available.

Lulu: Yes, just a general guideline to fall back on. And that's a good reminder about "walking away being a signal to others that you're all done"! Kind of opposite, but I'm reminded of a situation today where Zia was swinging, but hopped off real quick to look at something interesting the group was ooohing and ahhhhing over nearby (a natural impulse), and Emme was waiting and watching for a turn, so she jumped to the swing as soon as Zia hopped out . . . but when Zia turned around just a moment later after satisfactorily checking out the Interesting Thing, he was visibly stunned for a moment to see the swing had been taken. The great thing here was Emme reading the situation before Zia even had a chance to say anything, and stepping back off the swing so that Zia could finish his turn, and I made a point to notice aloud that it was thoughtful of her to recognize that he actually wasn't done with his turn, even though he looked like he was for a moment. So, I guess, I’m pausing here to think about how context can factor heavily into how we utilize our rules of thumb.

Marie: Right now, I’m watching the swings to see how the children are self-managing turns. There’s some turn taking with an agenda happening—Z and one of the olders swinging, another older also wanting a turn. It was sort of assumed that obviously Z should be the one to get off. Which isn’t a bad strategy exactly; he probably will be the first one to get off! But that will feel unfair at some point, and perhaps rightly so. 

Lulu: Yeah! Absolutely. No one but Zia should get to decide when Zia's turn is finished. I'd like to pay close attention to the swinging too, and if anyone is being pressured to end a turn, then support that with a boundary: you can let the swinging people know you'd like a turn, and they can reassure you that someone will come tell you when it's your turn. Let's think of a plan for what can happen while you wait, and if someone is feeling pressured to be done, let's give them a little space to have their turn.

Marie: If Zia had been there a long time, the waiting kid had indicated they needed a turn, and was still waiting and waiting, I would probably teacher-decide Zia’s turn was ending soon. Maybe just notice out loud first. I would then probably say let’s count to X and then give Aran his turn, it’s been a long wait and I’d like him to have a turn before we have to go inside.

Lulu: I hear that and respect it as an option you might choose. For me (and possibly you too? if it felt right for you, but you get to say, of course), I don’t think I’d leave the child to be waiting and waiting, unless that was the choice they made. I’d see it as an opportunity to help with some skill building around what we can do while we wait, adaptive thinking in “how I can manage the waiting,” communication acquiring in saying, “I’m ready for a turn, don’t forget about me,” emotional recognition (it’s feeling hard for me to wait), etc.

Marie: I would support making a “how you get a turn” system to manage the waiting when needed; in the past it’s been something like counting to 30 and then the next kid gets a turn. A list to put your name down to sign up, so you can go do your thing and get called over when it opens up. Like Emme and your good question about how to help the waiting.

Lulu: I think a list could be helpful! But I'd want to see the children using that system mostly on their own, so I'm not managing the list, but supporting them if confusion arises. For my own personal strategies, I'd use counting down as a last resort, as it can be arbitrary and feel like a forced turn-ending, which I'd like to avoid. But I could see inviting the "child having the turn" to count down for themselves, if it felt like an idea that worked for them.

Marie: Why avoid ensuring turns happen, as teacher?

Lulu: Not avoiding ensuring turns happen, but being okay and supportive if having a turn doesn't happen exactly as the child expects it to (so, supporting with a promise on the board, a talk about how it was disappointing to not have a turn, a plan for more materials when possible, a plan for next time). I'm especially thinking of moments where organically someone wants a turn with something being used, the clock runs out, it's time to transition, the turn didn't happen. Theoretically, having a group of 10, but only 2 swings, or something like that. At the Corazón park, there was only one swing. Sometimes there'd be a line of 4 kids, but it was time for us to go.

Marie: I like kids to not spend their time waiting and waiting- so brainstorming ideas like “Do we need more of the in-demand tool? What feels fair?” It would be a great next-day meeting topic: “It was hard yesterday with the _____. Let’s make a plan so everyone who wants to use the _____ gets a turn to do so today.”

Lulu: Yes, I love this! Group idea generating usually turns out some great solutions and is so empowering for the kids! At the end of the day, it can be really hard to see the waiting child end the play period without getting their turn in the moment but can be a real opportunity for executive function practice. I'm so happy about our toolbox of support ideas. I think, from my experience, more often than not, the person next in line usually gets a turn after a few minutes, and the waiting practice can be as valuable (or more?) than the Getting a Turn Very Soon. I'd love to use this as a focus of my documentation, just to help myself understand if my perception matches up to reality. Also, I'm envisioning the Outlast Wheelbarrow (one of the new materials waiting for us at Tigerlily proper) being a thing we might get lots of practice with on this! :)

Marie: Say more about how not getting to have a turn benefits the child.

Lulu: Some nuance here: Not saying that not getting to have a turn benefits the child. That would be hurtful, I think. But Yes saying that the Practice of Waiting (or Practice of Managing Disappointment when your turn doesn't happen as soon as expected) benefits the child, I think, specifically in the areas of Executive Function skill building (adaptable thinking, planning, self-monitoring, self-control / impulse control, working memory, time management, and organization). For me, my goal would be that the waiting child, in time, gets a turn, utilizing all the tools we have in place—but not at the expense of forcing an ending of a turn for someone else before they are ready. I can see trust building by ensuring that someone gets to have a turn, but I can also see trust building by ensuring autonomy and agency for a child to decide when they're done (if they are enjoying a material safely). My plan is to pay attention to how Turn Taking plays out in the coming weeks, and report back!

Marie: Yes, I think the wheelbarrow will teach us lots! :)

 
Lulu Bautista and Marie Catrett  |  Tigerlily Preschool

Starting school and saying goodbye: Help for children and their grownups

Marie Catrett has been working with children and families for more than 15 years and has been an occasional guest contributor to this blog since 2012. As founder, teacher, and lead “puddle spaloosher” at Tigerlily Preschool in South Austin, she has deftly guided many families through the process of parting ways for the school day. Thanks to Marie for sharing her expert advice with Alt Ed Austins readers just in time for the new school year!
 

When Dad was taking Jim to school for the first time, Jim said, ‘Will I have a friend at school?’ ‘I think you will,’ said Dad. And Dad smiled down at him.

In the big schoolroom Dad said, ‘Goodbye.’ Jim didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to say goodbye. ‘Come Jim,’ the teacher said.

Will I Have a Friend? by Miriam Cohen


Starting school can feel like such a leap of faith for parent and child. If you’re anxious about the transition, let’s take a deep breath together and look at some ways to help. Welcome to preschool!

My teaching year begins with the work of welcoming young children and their families into our school program. Everyone is excited, nervous, and maybe even a little sad thinking about this transition, about saying goodbye. Stepping into a new space is hard work for both the children and the grownups. Everyone new to each other: new school, getting to know and trust a new teacher, navigating a change in morning routine.  All these pieces will become familiar with practice, but in the beginning everything feels so unfamiliar.

Marie Catrett and Tigerlily Preschool alum Willa

Marie Catrett and Tigerlily Preschool alum Willa

During the week before school begins, children first come with a parent for a one-on-one visit with me in the new space. “Hello,” I say gently, “my name is Marie. It’s so nice to meet you.” I’m a welcoming, gentle presence, letting my energy meet them where they are. “This is a very informal visit,” I explain to the parents. “We really don’t have an agenda at all except to invite the children to start checking things out, to be curious.” I’m eager to see what sort of things these three- and four-year-olds are interested in. Some kids race around touching everything, maybe talking a mile a minute. Another child might perch on the edge of his mom’s lap, taking it all in much more slowly. Either approach—and everything in between—is most welcome. We are saying our first hello to each other.

On the second visit the children come again with their parents in a small group for a playdate-style visit, seeing me and the classroom again, and starting to get to know the other children. We might return to a favorite activity from their first visit, put away some personal items in their cubby, or check out the all-important bathroom. As the children continue to explore, I am checking in with their parents: how are you feeling about goodbye?

Goodbyes will happen on the children’s next trip to Tigerlily, their first day of school. Sometimes separation feels like the hardest thing we’ll do together. Growth sure can feel uncomfortable: all that change, all that new, but when a child works through separation, they build new connections, confidence in themselves, and we should trust in their ability to step out into a supportive and ever expanding world. The same can be true for the grownups. As our child works through the goodbye process, we’re growing as parents, too. Starting school is kind of our first goodbye. We promise a three-year-old we will return, always, and our experience together of separation and coming back becomes a sturdy base for future comings and goings, transitions of all kinds for the rest of our lives.  

Here’s what I know: I expect that at some point in the year every child will go through a period of having some hard goodbyes. Some children have their rough patch right at the start of school. Letting the person you love most go away IS sad. Another child may bounce into the room, barely looking back as their parent tries to be heard: “Goodbye, goodbye? Honey, mama’s leaving now. . . . ” Then in a few weeks or months, boom! a period of some sad goodbyes because sleep has been off, breakfast was too rushed, or it is a gloomy day so staying in bed with pajamas and lovies and pancakes just sounds a whole lot better.

As the teacher I’m ready to support this transition with a lot of love and some very good tools to help us get through the hard work of goodbye and on to the other side of having a wonderful time together.

Some suggestions:

1.     Don’t start too soon.
Try not to process the upcoming start of school too far in advance. The weeks and weeks and weeks of summer are too long for young children to think and worry about an upcoming transition. A few days is just right. I would wait to talk in great detail about school until there has been an actual visit to the new place because then you can talk about specific details, and that’s so helpful and reassuring to young children. “Yes, you have a hook with your name on it for your new backpack, don’t you? And we saw the place you’ll put your lunchbox. I remember how much you liked those swings. . . . ”

2.     Talk to the teacher.
Have a conversation with your child’s teacher about what goodbye will look like with your child. After several getting-to-know-each-other visits, we have some sense of each other, and you can share your best guess of how saying goodbye will go for your child. And you might, happily, be surprised! Do ask: What does support here look like for a child who is having a hard time? I believe that children are fully entitled to feel what they feel. Part of my job is helping a child access ways to express those feelings in appropriate and ultimately helpful ways.

3.     Build a routine.
A goodbye routine is a structured plan that x, y, z, will happen and then it will be time for goodbye. Something like “We’ll get to school, put your lunchbox on the blue shelf, then go out to the swings. Then Dad will get a big hug, say goodbye, and see you right after lunch.” Keep it simple.

4.     Make your routine and stick to it.
Having a dependable sequence of events will help you both navigate the morning. After your child has gone through the routine a few times, it becomes familiar and predictable, two things that really help children with anxiety. I encourage parents to stick with their routine even (and especially!) through a hard goodbye. Your routine can be a kind of guide rope, a path to follow when things feel hard. Give it a few days. It will get better.


When we talk about respecting feelings, that’s pretty easy with the good ones: excitement, joy, curiosity, contentment. But I think it’s essential that the hard stuff get honored too: sadness, fear, anger, worry. All of the feelings—the entire rainbow of them—are okay to feel and express, even the hard ones.

In my room we dance for our joy, singing the names of the people we love: Mama, Papa, Murphy the dog. We talk about what’s going on. If somebody’s angry: I see you’re so mad he crashed your block tower, but I can’t let you hit him. Let’s make some more space to work, and I’ll help you tell him that you don’t want him to crash your tower ever again. If somebody’s sad: You know what, yesterday when you had that sad time before story I remember you and I rocked in the rocking chair together and pretty soon you felt much better, and then you painted about the sunflower. You could have some more rocking today to help yourself feel better.

Here it is okay to feel sad. Sadness is part of being a person. When we can feel our sadness and talk about it, we create a safe place to be who we are, together, and to notice the many options available to us to help get to feeling better. Going through the hard part is what gets you to the better place. We’re learning how to take good care of ourselves and each other and all our other learning happens from there.

Here’s what teacher support during a hard goodbye can look like:

  • Recognize what the child is feeling. “You’re feeling really sad to say goodbye.” 
  • Validation. “Yes, it was hard to say goodbye to Mama this morning. You really miss her, and she loves you so much.”
  • Offer comfort. “I’m here to help, and I promised your grownups I would take very good care of you while you are at school.  May I hold you / read you a story / see about some more pushes on the swing?”  
  • Explain what’s happening, emphasizing the parent’s return. “We’re going to play outside and have some snack, and you know what, Mama will be right back for you after lunch. Mama always comes back.”
  • Help engage the child with activity. “Yesterday you were so busy with digging in the sandbox, shall we go see if the buckets and shovels are out?” 

Speaking on behalf of early childhood teachers everywhere, I want worried parents to know that after you leave a sad kid, they almost always get much better very quickly! Staying on and extending goodbye in the hopes that by doing more things you’ll then be able to depart without tears makes total sense to me in my parental heart, but as the teacher what I see most often is that on a hard morning, when the parent chooses to delay leaving over and over again, the child’s anxiety continues to grow and grow. I ask parents to stay until they are confident in my ability to take care of their child, and then go ahead and say goodbye and leave, knowing that I will be right there to use my very good tools to help. Things are almost always better very quickly, but if they ever should not be—if within a few minutes I am not able to comfort a child and help them to engage in something wonderful—I’m in touch with the parent to check in and consider any adjustments needed to our transition plan. 

So: Deep breaths; things are going to be okay. We are all doing such important growing!

When your child has moved through their hard goodbye period, and separation does in fact go more smoothly, there’s a powerful story we can help them notice about themselves. “You know what, when you first started school everything was new and it was pretty hard to say goodbye, but you got some help and cheering up, and pretty soon we figured out how to do ten pushes on the swing and a great big hug, and now you know I always come back right after lunch.” When we help children to tell the story of their own growth, these messages help them tackle the other hard things. “Pretty soon you knew all about preschool after you did it some. Now you know ALL about it and are ready to graduate, and you know what? Starting kindergarten will be like that.”

Instead of making the goodbye process about avoiding tears, let’s focus on authentic feelings, being present to the child’s experience, and our confidence that children are capable of doing this important work.

Marie Catrett