Dear Rosebud and Dewdrop Families and Friends,
I look forward to seeing you at Relles Hall tomorrow, Thursday, at 10am. This is the outdoor performance pavilion near the Butterfly Classroom and playground. If you arrive early, your child can play on the swings and playground.
Depending on how many families attend, the festival will last from 20 to 40 minutes.
With warmth and light,
William Geoffrey Dolde
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
From the Nursery on Silence and Speech
Dear Families,
Here are thoughts I collected for nursery families on silence and speech that you may find of interest.
Dear Families,
In our discussion on the night of the Confident Captain, Zen Captain talk I presented a number of weeks ago, we explored ways to communicate with our young children without speech, or with just the right amount of speech. This is tricky. There are times we need to talk--perhaps a good deal--and times our silence is most helpful. I recommend the penultimate chapter from Kim Payne's Simplicity Parenting on Simplifying Information or "Filtering Out the Adult World." In this chapter, he shares a guideline for speech that comes from any number of spiritual, religious, and cultural streams. Before we speak (to children or adults), we can ask ourselves if what we are about to say is true (avoiding gossip or hearsay), kind (avoiding criticism; indeed, Payne advises us adults to go on our own put-down diets, to be careful of criticizing, say, a president or politician we don't like in the presence of our children), or necessary (here is where we filter out the adult world of too much information to soon; is their a way to reach our child with our modeling or guidance or an image or gesture). It is easy to forget, so Kim Payne writes the words "true, kind, necessary" down to remind himself before speaking to his children or others.
What follows are other thoughts I have collected on speaking and not speaking.
"A night full of talking that hurts
All my worst held-back secrets.
Everything has to do with loving and not loving. . .
This night shall pass,
Then
We have work to do."
--Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī as recited by Ashley Ramsden
A number of years ago I was blessed to be able to accompany Ashley Ramsden--a storyteller and performer who teachers storytelling for future Waldorf teachers--as he performed in Monterey and Santa Cruz. He told long stories to assemblies of Waldorf students. He told stories at libraries and performance spaces. He also recited many poems by Rumi (many of which are like stories). To thank me for playing music for him, Ramsden gave me a recording of him reciting poems by Rumi--these performances and my image of Ramsden come to me from time to time. He was an excellent speaker. He was extremely gifted at not speaking as well. His pauses in a story or poem conveyed so much. When I find myself rushing through an Ellersiek game or tale in class, I think of Ramsden and his mastery of the moment.
I also think of Magda Gerber and her concept of tarry time, the time we give our infants and young toddlers to process information. She had observed that it can sometimes take a minute--literally--for our children to, say, register that we have told them we are going to pick them up to change their diaper. At the same time, some toddlers and preschoolers are so quick that they are already anticipating (often joyfully) what is about to happen.
This is all to say that I have observed both the joys of talking with our children and some beautiful nonverbal interactions between parents and their children, situations in which the parent gave loving and silent witness to the new challenge or discovery a child was making.
As we help our children create community and transform conflict into conversation, we may find ourselves talking a lot as we notice and describe what is working--and help direct children toward another path that seems to work better, whether to say, "Let's try that again" or "I'll put my hand here to keep you both safe" or "You both seem to want those plates." Even while we respect that our young children learn through moving, bumping, dropping, climbing, falling, rolling, and pushing, we can help them move--as Michael Gurian writes in Boys and Girls Learn Differently--towards using words without having unrealistic expectations that a progression to civility will happen overnight or in a week.
As several parents have reminded me recently, we can also cherish those times when we don't need to speak, where the lesson, the reward, the value, the blessing is inherent in our child's activity and our silent, respectful presence is the greatest gift of all. A number of years ago a parent from one of my classes shared this article about silence and presence with me, finding it in harmony with our observation work in our classes. The chapter "Dailiness" from Mitten Strings for God: Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry (available in the Kathrine Dickerson Memorial Library in the lobby) resonates with a celebration of doing and not doing, of appreciating the moment without fear that the moment will pass.
Even as we find the need to use words to guide our children throughout the day, we can strive, when the moment is right, to create structure and form with movement, music, rhythm, predictability, and modelling. Dr. Michaela Gloeckler writes about becoming nonverbal educators. In a relatively short number of pages, she provides a picture of three phases of child development and helps inspire us to become worthy of imitation for our children in these early years. She helps link a spiritual picture of human development to practical suggestions for how to be present with and for our children.
With warmth and light,
William Dolde
Here are thoughts I collected for nursery families on silence and speech that you may find of interest.
True, Kind, Necessary
In our discussion on the night of the Confident Captain, Zen Captain talk I presented a number of weeks ago, we explored ways to communicate with our young children without speech, or with just the right amount of speech. This is tricky. There are times we need to talk--perhaps a good deal--and times our silence is most helpful. I recommend the penultimate chapter from Kim Payne's Simplicity Parenting on Simplifying Information or "Filtering Out the Adult World." In this chapter, he shares a guideline for speech that comes from any number of spiritual, religious, and cultural streams. Before we speak (to children or adults), we can ask ourselves if what we are about to say is true (avoiding gossip or hearsay), kind (avoiding criticism; indeed, Payne advises us adults to go on our own put-down diets, to be careful of criticizing, say, a president or politician we don't like in the presence of our children), or necessary (here is where we filter out the adult world of too much information to soon; is their a way to reach our child with our modeling or guidance or an image or gesture). It is easy to forget, so Kim Payne writes the words "true, kind, necessary" down to remind himself before speaking to his children or others.
What follows are other thoughts I have collected on speaking and not speaking.
Talking, not talking, nonverbal education
All my worst held-back secrets.
Everything has to do with loving and not loving. . .
This night shall pass,
Then
We have work to do."
--Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī as recited by Ashley Ramsden
A number of years ago I was blessed to be able to accompany Ashley Ramsden--a storyteller and performer who teachers storytelling for future Waldorf teachers--as he performed in Monterey and Santa Cruz. He told long stories to assemblies of Waldorf students. He told stories at libraries and performance spaces. He also recited many poems by Rumi (many of which are like stories). To thank me for playing music for him, Ramsden gave me a recording of him reciting poems by Rumi--these performances and my image of Ramsden come to me from time to time. He was an excellent speaker. He was extremely gifted at not speaking as well. His pauses in a story or poem conveyed so much. When I find myself rushing through an Ellersiek game or tale in class, I think of Ramsden and his mastery of the moment.
I also think of Magda Gerber and her concept of tarry time, the time we give our infants and young toddlers to process information. She had observed that it can sometimes take a minute--literally--for our children to, say, register that we have told them we are going to pick them up to change their diaper. At the same time, some toddlers and preschoolers are so quick that they are already anticipating (often joyfully) what is about to happen.
This is all to say that I have observed both the joys of talking with our children and some beautiful nonverbal interactions between parents and their children, situations in which the parent gave loving and silent witness to the new challenge or discovery a child was making.
As we help our children create community and transform conflict into conversation, we may find ourselves talking a lot as we notice and describe what is working--and help direct children toward another path that seems to work better, whether to say, "Let's try that again" or "I'll put my hand here to keep you both safe" or "You both seem to want those plates." Even while we respect that our young children learn through moving, bumping, dropping, climbing, falling, rolling, and pushing, we can help them move--as Michael Gurian writes in Boys and Girls Learn Differently--towards using words without having unrealistic expectations that a progression to civility will happen overnight or in a week.
As several parents have reminded me recently, we can also cherish those times when we don't need to speak, where the lesson, the reward, the value, the blessing is inherent in our child's activity and our silent, respectful presence is the greatest gift of all. A number of years ago a parent from one of my classes shared this article about silence and presence with me, finding it in harmony with our observation work in our classes. The chapter "Dailiness" from Mitten Strings for God: Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry (available in the Kathrine Dickerson Memorial Library in the lobby) resonates with a celebration of doing and not doing, of appreciating the moment without fear that the moment will pass.
Even as we find the need to use words to guide our children throughout the day, we can strive, when the moment is right, to create structure and form with movement, music, rhythm, predictability, and modelling. Dr. Michaela Gloeckler writes about becoming nonverbal educators. In a relatively short number of pages, she provides a picture of three phases of child development and helps inspire us to become worthy of imitation for our children in these early years. She helps link a spiritual picture of human development to practical suggestions for how to be present with and for our children.
With warmth and light,
William Dolde
Why Our Toddlers Seem to Push Our Buttons
Joseph Chilton Pearce on Toddlers
I received a question about balancing our growing children's desire and need to explore with our need to keep them safe and secure, with the sense that parents are guiding the family ship and have not abandoned the wheel. While healthy and consistent (and age appropriate) limits are healthy, it also helps our child and helps keep us sane if we can find appropriate ways for them to learn about the world--and toddlers learn about the world through climbing, running, tumbling, slamming, wrestling, building, toppling, throwing, splashing, and breaking. As Rahima Baldwin writes in "Rhythm and Discipline in Home Life," the first Waldorf kindergarten teachers found it most effective to find an acceptable outlet for something she needed to forbid--ideally before the children even thought of trying the forbidden activity.
Using brain research, Joseph Chilton Pearce describes the toddler's innate need to explore and learn in "The Cycle of Competence" and "Will and the Terrible Two." Because you may need to download and/or print the above selections in order to view them, here is a synopsis of Pearce's argument. As a book such as The Scientist in the Crib would suggest, from birth children are "wired" to explore and learn about the world, to develop connections in their brain. The most profound way they do this is in their bonds with parents and other primary caregivers. Another important way is through free movement and exploration in the environment. Children do not open and close the cabinets or try to open the oven to annoy us (at least at first). They are following a divine and spiritual plan to learn about everything.
Because children have such a strong bond with their parents and and such a strong desire to learn from everything, toddlers find themselves pulled in two directions at once. Pearce describes how a toddler may pause and look at a parent saying, for example, "Don't touch the oven. It is hot!" The toddler, after pausing, proceeds to touch the oven, causing pain in the toddler and dismay in the parent. "He looked right at me and then ignored me!" Pearce advises us to reframe our way of viewing this. The toddler's pause and then apparent disobedience are not, Pearce says, a challenge to us, a toddler pausing to say a la Clint Eastwood, "Go ahead. Make my day." The toddler, rather, has not yet developed control of his will yet and is being carried along by two strong forces: one, always having to explore and learn about everything; the other, wanting to maintain this strong bond with a parent and primary caregiver. The toddler wants to strengthen the bond with mom or dad--hence the pause--but also feels driven to keep exploring--hence the apparent disobedience.
This does not mean we as parents should let our children turn on the oven, drive our cars, and practice with a welding torch just because these experiences have a lot to teach (though we may find with less dangerous forms of exploration such as climbing, cutting, and jumping we can find ways for the children to challenge themselves without coming into undo harm). Limits and boundaries are healthy. What Pearce and others help us remember is that we should also expect our young children (up to six or seven) to forget our boundaries and need patient reminders. As Sharifa Oppenheimer writes, when we are redirecting our children or setting a limit, our words will be much more effective at guiding our children when we use the same tone we would for a statement such as, "Here's the towel." If we steadfastly refrain from transforming our toddlers' need to explore into power struggles, we may find ourselves able to guide them while staying calmer ourselves. Although it is healthy for children to see a diversity of emotions from parents and learn that it is OK to be sad, glad, angry, and anxious, if we provide ostentatious or explosive reactions to our children's forbidden explorations, we may inadvertently foster the development of a young social scientist: "If I do this, Dad explodes like this. Boy, I wonder what Dad would do if I do this!"
Children do need limits. It is helpful if we state them positively, telling the child what she or me may do, or--even better--stating in a general way what is the appropriate thing to do. When mentoring other teachers, I have observed them at a time when a child is disruptive say, "Joe, you may be quiet now," only to have Joe experiment with how long he can be noisy before the teacher does something else. A power struggle begins. I have asked the teachers to consider a phrase such as, "This is the right time to be quiet," or "When we are all quiet, the beauty of silence can come" or "It is polite to listen quietly or sing along." Teachers have reported back that these phrases (and the gesture they implied) have reduced power struggles dramatically and invited more compliance. When a power struggle does emerge with an older toddler or kindergartner and our child needs a cooling off period, Rahima Baldwin advises us to leave the room with the child rather than sending them off by themselves (the chapter in discipline in Hold on to Your Kids follows a similar approach). We stay with the child calmly without lecturing (long tirades tend not to penetrate and may be entertaining) and sit in a calm and boring manner with our child. After a minute to 3, we say, "Let's go try that again" or "We'll do that again in a polite way" or "The kings and queens have been called to the table. I'll be queen and you be king." Young children live and think in pictures, and when we can garner the resources to create living pictures as we guide them, we may find ourselves more effective.
I hope this is helpful. In a follow-up conversation with the parent who sent me to read Pearce again, the parent reported having adjusted the location of some furniture in the kitchen, permitting climbing in a certain area, and redirecting the exploration there. It sounded as if the parent and child were both satisfied--the child could explore; the parent could ensure safety; it was no longer a power struggle.
If you have trouble downloading the selections, they are available in Evolution's End, available in the Kathrine Dickerson Memorial Library.
With warmth and light,
William Geoffrey Dolde
Advent Garden, Thursday, December 16, 10am
Dear Dewdrop and Rosebud Families, Friends, Relatives, and Visitors
You are invited to our Advent Garden on Thursday, December 16, at 10am at Relles Hall (the new outdoor performance pavilion) at the Whidbey Island Waldorf School.
Follow this link for a brief description of next Friday's festival along with lyrics to many of the songs we will sing. Below is a description I have composed with more details to help you prepare for the festival.
Many Waldorf School set up an Advent Spiral for their early childhood and some elementary grade classes. Traditionally, a class and teacher will enter a darkened space. There will be harp or lyre or other quiet, meditative music. A child or adult portraying an angel will light a candle in the center of a spiral of greens. One by one, children have the opportunity to walk alone or with a teacher, light a candle from the central light, and place it along the path of the evergreen spiral. It is a beautiful event, and like the lantern walk (and festivals and religious holidays such a Kwanzaa, Christmas, Hannukah, Holi, Solstice, and others) helps given an image of strength for the dark months of winter. Our many lights together can light up the darkness of the months ahead.
With warmth and light,
William Geoffrey Dolde
You are invited to our Advent Garden on Thursday, December 16, at 10am at Relles Hall (the new outdoor performance pavilion) at the Whidbey Island Waldorf School.
Follow this link for a brief description of next Friday's festival along with lyrics to many of the songs we will sing. Below is a description I have composed with more details to help you prepare for the festival.
Many Waldorf School set up an Advent Spiral for their early childhood and some elementary grade classes. Traditionally, a class and teacher will enter a darkened space. There will be harp or lyre or other quiet, meditative music. A child or adult portraying an angel will light a candle in the center of a spiral of greens. One by one, children have the opportunity to walk alone or with a teacher, light a candle from the central light, and place it along the path of the evergreen spiral. It is a beautiful event, and like the lantern walk (and festivals and religious holidays such a Kwanzaa, Christmas, Hannukah, Holi, Solstice, and others) helps given an image of strength for the dark months of winter. Our many lights together can light up the darkness of the months ahead.
In teaching parent & child classes, I have observed that some infants and toddlers find great nourishment from an event such as the Advent Spiral if I can adapt it. Our parent & child Advent Spiral will take place in the morning, so the light outside will make it not quite so dark. Rather than having quiet harp music, I will welcome us with some fiddle tunes, and then we will sing songs about stars and from the season together (I will provide lyrics sheets). My vision is that it will still be reverent, just noisier with more space for authentic infant and toddler interjections. Rather than having children walk (or crawl!) alone, families will be invited to walk together, parents holding a child or a child's hand as they walk with a candle for the family. I will walk along in cases where a parent needs two arms to hold a child and wants me to carry a candle.
Although I have adapted this festival, it may not feel just right for every child at her or his particular moment in development. We will be singing and encouraging children to sing. Children do not need to walk alone in front of a group. Children do, however, need to be comfortable sitting on a parent's lap or next to a parent while others walk through the spiral. There will be lit candles, so this will not be an appropriate place for a child to walk or crawl around freely. If everyone arrives somewhat promptly, the festival itself should not take that long, and we welcome families to leave early if it is too hard for a child to sit. Please contact me if you have questions. I have seen some 6 month olds and 1 year olds enchanted by the singing and the light. Some 1, 2, and 3 year olds find this delightful. Other 1, 2, and 3 year olds (and their parents) find it an incredible struggle because the child is at a phase in which she or he needs to be always in motion and sitting and waiting provides more stress than is needed during this busy season.
Older siblings are welcome, but please keep the following in mind. This festival is intended for infants, toddlers, and young preschoolers and their families. If the older children can come as a support, sing with the family, and provide structure, it will be lovely to have them. Some older children who have seen an Advent Spiral in kindergarten or their grades class might be frustrated because elements are simplified or missing. In these cases, it may be best to seek care for the older child with another parent or friend. Some older siblings, however, will be moved themselves as they witness the joy our infants and toddlers experience coming together in reverence, and having them along will be just right.
With warmth and light,
William Geoffrey Dolde
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