Sounds of Silence

The third graders are getting ready for their Rites of Passage Ceremony, which takes place tomorrow.  One of the pre-ceremony activities we do is for each student to write about an experience during the RItes Class that spoke to them.  (these offerings will be brought together as a poem and read at the ceremony).  We did this last Thursday morning during Rites class itself, and we always have one or more fourth graders join us during these classes to serve as mentors. While the third graders worked on their lines for the poem, I asked the three fourth graders (and one third grader who had just joined the class) to write about silence.  Here is what they wrote:

Silent time for me is a time of slowing down and taking a break of noise and a time to be in my own world.

What I Think of SIlence

It gives you time to relax.

It gives you the time to be with yourself.

It gives you the time to just have a moment.

It gives you time to have a time to have a moment to not have constant entertainment.

Silence is cool lemonade on a warm summer day.

Silence is ice cream soft and savored.

S i l e n t.

I n c r e d i b l e.

L ?

E v e n   b r e a t h i n g.

N o t h i n g n e s s.

C a l m

E ?

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Beyond Consequences and Contemplative Education

I was having a delightful conversation yesterday with Leslie Potter about Beyond Consequence, when there was a knock on my office door.  Evidently there was a child who was "disregulated" (I haven't quite wrapped my mind around that descriptive term or the phrase "Beyond Consequences" itself, but that's for another blog time!), and so I had the chance to "walk the talk", with Leslie there to observe!  I had an interesting interaction with this child,  though it was certainly a challenge as it usually is with these occurrences.

Today Leslie e-mailed me her detailed observations of my five minute interaction.  She saw when I had a connection with the child and exactly when the child shifted away; her analysis was very accurate and helpful.  And then today, after I re-read her e-mail, it occurred to me:  we're looking closely at what is, both with what we're feeling inside, with what is happening outside, and with what the child seems to be feeling inside.   By looking closely, with knowledge and empathy, we are able to start seeing clearly what is and what we need to do.  It's all there.  Usually our habitual patterns obliterate our resting in this space.  It takes insight, compassion, training,and patience, but it is possible.  We can show up!

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Words of Wisdom from Kindergarten

One reason for having tea with the students is to let them know that I am available for them when they have concerns,  joys, or questions they want to share with me.   After I told a group of three kindergartners today, "I want to make sure you know that I am here for you,"  one of them said,  "You're here for us and we're here for you, right Mr. Sachs?"  "Right," I said.

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Norah's Offering

I've invited staff and faculty to contribute to my blog when they find something of interest.  Norah has stepped up to the plate and offered this.  Thanks Norah!

"The kindergarteners often build block structures with ramp components.  They are really amazing buildings, complex and intricate (and incidentally all of my kindy classes when they build this type of thing  include a hidden storage area for marbles—I am fascinated by this, must be some archetypal thing, this need for storage).  Anyway, one morning the children were building these ramped structures to roll marbles down.  No matter how often I buy new marbles they kind of go away—some go home in pockets I imagine, most I think are in far corners of the room having rolled off a building.  And because of this they are a precious commodity.  Most of the time there are several structures going on at a time so there is usually some negotiating about marbles.  (Interestingly enough when we have more they all just have more and still negotiate over a few.)  The morning I tell about here I decided not to help them try to figure it out anymore—clearly, what I had to offer wasn't helping.  I called a student in to see if she could possibly be more help.  Without skipping a beat she went to all the players and asked them to give her their marbles.  They all did, no questioning even.  She collected them all in a basket, then she went around parceling them out—she asked each group or each child how many they wanted and gave them that many.  She had plenty more in the basket, which she carried with her as she played in the other room.  Any time anyone needed a marble they went to her and asked.  She asked how many they wanted and gave them that many."

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