About Me

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Early childhood education has been my life for over 30 years. I have taught all age groups from infants to 5-year-olds. I was a director for five years in the 1980s, but I returned to the classroom 22 years ago. My passion is watching the ways children explore and discover their world. In the classroom, everything starts with the reciprocal relationships between adults and children and between the children themselves. With that in mind, I plan and set up activities. But that is just the beginning. What actually happens is a flow that includes my efforts to invite, respond and support children's interface with those activities and with others in the room. Oh yeh, and along the way, the children change the activities to suit their own inventiveness and creativity. Now the processes become reciprocal with the children doing the inviting, responding and supporting. Young children are the best learners and teachers. I am truly fortunate to be a part of their journey.

Saturday, August 18, 2018

Traces

I have been thinking a lot about traces lately.  I started out by thinking about the types of traces children leave in the classroom.  Of course since this is a blog about sand and water tables, I went looking for traces there.  I specifically looked at traces at the sand table that was filled with Jurassic Sand because I had a vivid memory of at least two examples of traces children had left.

In the first example, a child sprinkled sand onto the table covering with holes apparatus and used her fingers to make make lines and squiggles.   

In the second example, a child traced the outline of her hand in the sand that had spilled on the floor.

Both of these examples are static traces that the children left in the classroom as they played.  That got me wondering what were the invisible traces the children conjured up that led to these fleeting impressions?  And then how did these old traces combine with these just-produced traces?  Is this what constitutes learning?

What about experiences that do not leave any physical trace?  Are there still traces of their experiences that are stored in the body?  

I started looking for pictures that captured the flow of children's experiences, again with the Jurassic Sand.  I found a wide variety of images of children attending to how the sand flowed through their hands and various implements.  These were moments in time that they created.

A child slowly released sand in a stream from her right hand onto the back of her left hand.

A child used the scoop with a small hole in the bottom to create a fine stream she distributed back into the table.  (If you look at the stream coming from the bottom of the scoop, you can see the stream is bent because she was moving the scoop over the table.  The picture itself captured a slightly more complex trace of movement.

A child used a cup to create a stream of sand into a funnel which was then transformed by a funnel into another stream of sand.

A child scooped sand into a minnow net which dispersed the sand into a much broader stream. 

I am sure the children do not carry the full memory of these experiences with the sand.  But what are the traces of their experiences that became physical, mental and emotional memories from which to draw upon as they continue to encounter and make sense of the world around them? 

Some of the trace memories necessarily revolve around a growing familiarity of physical properties of the materials they employed in their operations.  Could there also have been trace memories of agency?  Will the children remember they were given license to feed their curiosity, to ask questions, to experiment?  What role do emotional trace memories such as mastery and joy play in helping children inhabit and navigate the world?

P.S. As I edited the draft of my post, I realized that I chose the first two images because I had two specific memories of children creating trace images.  I doubt that they remembered the traces they created, but why did I?  Interestingly, I used those traces to feed my curiosity about how children make sense of the world.  As I fed that curiosity, my inquiry on traces morphed into a different question about traces.  It is easy to grasp a static trace image, but is it possible to find more dynamic trace images of children's operations?  That eventually got me wondering about trace memories that are not just physical and mental, but also emotional.   I will leave you with that to make sense of it as you will.  Hopefully I have left enough traces.

Saturday, August 4, 2018

Horizontal tubes bridging two sensory tables

I have a proposition that I want to see if it makes sense.  The proposition is: Children's actions are never random and neither are they planned.  Though this is not a direct quote from Movement and Experimentation in Young Children's Learning by Liselott Mariett Olsson, it comes from discussions I have had with others about the book.

To see if the proposition makes sense, I have chosen three video clips taken with a child who worked with the apparatus pictured below.  More precisely, he explored moving things through the two cardboard tubes that connected two sensory tables filled with wood fuel pellets. 

In the first video clip, he used a homemade plunger---a jar lid attached to the end of a short wooden dowel---to move sticks through one of the tubes.  It is an operation that seemed methodical as he moved the sticks through each section of the tube before pushing them completely out of the tube.


Plunger and sticks from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

In the second video, the child switched the tubes on which he was working.  Instead of moving sticks through the tube, he moved pellets through the tube.  And instead of using only one plunger, he used two.  In addition, he added an extra challenge by working in such a way as to lean over to the other side of the apparatus.


Two plungers and pellets from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

To get through each section of the tube, he had to push with some force because the diameter of the jar lid matched the diameter of the tube itself.  Because he had to use force, the lead plunger popped out of each section.

In the third video, the child again moved pellets through the tube featured above.  Two aspects of his operation, however, were different.  First, he moved to the side closest the tube for easier access.  Second, he reversed the plunging process by pulling the plunger back through the tube.


Reverse plunging pellets from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.


Because he reversed the operation, he both pushed the lid part of the plunger and pulled its handle through each of the sections.  That evened out the forces so he had more control over how the plunger traveled through each section.

If I look back at the proposition, his actions were not random.  The orientation of the apparatus invited him to move the sticks and pellets horizontally through the cardboard tubes.   The plungers were another invitation especially since their diameters matched so closely to the diameters of the cardboard tubes.  There were necessarily other factors that are not so visible that contributed to the non-randomness of this child's actions.  One factor could have been this child's penchant to experiment and explore this type of apparatus.  Yet another factor could have been that this child saw another child use the plungers to move things through the tubes.

Someone might think that if something is not random, it is most likely planned.  However, I do not think this child's actions were planned.  Planning has the connotation of being linear along with the idea of causation.  In the three videos, I would be hard pressed to say why he moved sticks one time and pellets the other two times.  And did using one plunger naturally lead to using two plungers?  At what point did he decide to reverse plunge?

I am left with the question: If children's actions are not random, nor are they planned, then what is left?


 



Saturday, July 28, 2018

Moon Sand operations

Just because an apparatus is simple does not mean that the operations that emerge in the children's play and exploration are simple.  A couple of years back, I set up a large wooden tray with low sides on the end of the sensory table.  For that particular apparatus, I used Moon Sand.
The tray was placed on a small, flat table in such a way that the tray hung over one end of the blue sensory table.  Basically children had two large open surfaces on which to work on two different levels.  The lower level required the children to bend over and into the table while the higher level allowed them to stand and work on a counter-type level.

One way children spawned complexity around this fairly simple apparatus was to do one thing in a variety of ways.  Using their hands and assortment of implements, the children found different ways to flatten out the Moon Sand.

In the video below, the child used only his hands to make the Moon Sand flat in the jello mold. 


Moon sand in a jello mold from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.
 
In the second video, a child pounded the sand with a large white scoop to make it flat in the tray. 


Pounding the moon sand from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

In the third video, a child found a clear plastic tube that she used to roll the sand so it was flat.  And she did it in such a way as to make a smooth transition from the edge of the tray to the bottom of the tray.


Rolling the moon sand from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

In the fourth video, a child used the bottom of a stainless steel bowl to flatten the sand.  For his operation, the sand was so smooth that it took on a sheen.


Burnishing the moon sand from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

In the last video, a child appropriated the dust pan for flattening the sand.  He even pushed down on the pan part with his right hand to make sure it was good and flat.


Flattening the moon sand with a dust pan from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

Each of these children flattened the Moon Sand in their own way.  Big deal, right?  I do think it is a big deal because I appreciate the inherent beauty in the way each child found to do something ordinary: flatten the sand.  For the child who just used his hands, it was almost like a mediation so all the sand was just so.  For the child who pounded, it was a meditation of a different sort with bumpity-bumptiy rhythm.  For the child with the clear plastic tube, it was building a transitional incline with the sand.  For the child with the steel bowl, it was burnishing the sand.  For the child with the dust pan, it was finding a new use for a found tool.  Taken as a whole, their operations of flattening the Moon Sand took on a complexity that could easily be overlooked. 

These were just five examples of one operation the children created around flattening the sand.  There were surely many more.  And for each one, the children fabricated their own purpose.  The children essentially transformed the ordinary into extraordinary.  And for that, I am in awe.

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Simple operations?

I have always been curious about the operations children employ as they explore and experiment with a new apparatus at the sensory table.   Below is an apparatus I built over seven years ago.  I called it Boxes in boxes - bridge.
This construction was unique because it was not built inside the table, but next to the table.  It consisted of a iMac box embedded in a furniture box.  The iMac box formed the "bridge" between the table and the furniture box.  Children poured corn into the holes that collected on the bottom of both boxes.  They also used the holes to reach in to collect the corn.  In other words, the holes also offered multiple entry points for their operations.

There were even holes inside the iMac box that connected it to the furniture box.  As seen from the top hole of the iMac box, one hole was bigger for pouring and one was more like a slit to sweep the corn from the bottom of the iMac box into the furniture box.



Many of the operations that the children used in their play and explorations of this apparatus looked simple at first glance.  One child used a simple operation to fill his measuring cup.  He reached inside the iMac box to scrape corn into his measuring cup.  In the video below he repeats the operation three times and the third time, he reaches as far as he can into the box to collect his corn.


Collecting the corn with his hand from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

Why did he collect his corn that way?  It would have been easier to scoop it directly from the sensory table.  That is especially true when he had to contort his body to reach as far into the box as possible.  Though the operation looked as if he was simply filling a container, there was a lot more going on than just scraping corn into a measuring cup.  For instance, there was also some good trunk flexion and trunk extension as he bent over to reach the corn.  Is that why he did it that way?

Another child filled a black bowl and then poured the corn into one of the top holes of the apparatus.  He collected corn from the table in his bowl.  He filled it as full as he could.  Since he did not want to spill, his whole operation was done slowly and carefully.  Even when he poured the corn from his bowl into the box, he made an effort to create a measured flow instead of just dumping it in the hole.


Pouring the corn from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

Though this was essentially a simple filling and pouring operation, again, there was a lot more going on.  For instance, to complete his task, he had to use a good deal of balance and eye-to-hand coordination.  I would go so far as to say that there was a zen-like quality to his operation, especially as he focused on the corn from his bowl hitting the bottom of the box.   Why did his filling and pouring take such a form?

Compare that pouring operation to the child who filled a big bucket and poured it rapidly down one of the holes on top of the apparatus.
Again, this is a simple pouring operation, but for this child, the operation involved a little more muscle strength and control.  He also had to exhibit more perseverance to fill the bigger container.  Why did he dump when the other poured methodically?

As adults, we sometimes think we know what children are experiencing.  Our experiences have imprinted our thought processes in such a way as to control what factors we see as salient when interpreting children's actions.  At first glance, we only see children filling containers and pouring them out.  We do not see the complexity and nuances of their operations.  Their actions are much richer, maybe even richer than we can know.  Why bend over to reach into a box to fill your container with corn?  Why fill your bowl as full as possible to empty it carefully into a hole at the top of the apparatus?  Why expend so much energy filling a big bucket just to dump it into a hole? 

Without a deep curiosity about what children do and why they do it, we never see past the simple operations of filling and pouring.  Without that deep curiosity, we often forget to ask questions that help us understand where these operations originate and why they take different forms.  I am not saying that we can know, but without an effort to take the children's perspective, we are limited in understanding what the children are truly experiencing. 


Why does this child lie on the floor over the stool to look in the hole of the apparatus?  What does she see?  What does she hear?  What does she smell?  What does she feel physically and emotionally?

Sunday, July 8, 2018

How to pump with a hand pump

A few years ago, I added a hand held pump to the Duplo ramp.  There were basically two reasons for adding the pump: 1) because it invited one child to pump and one to direct the water being pumped, it connected children in play; and 2) because it connected children in play, it gave them agency in different ways to pump and different avenues for directing the water out of the hose.

To illustrate these two points, I offer the following videos.  In the first video, one child used her hands to pump the water from the white pail.  A second child directed the water from the pump into a plastic bottle.


Hand pump from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

This was a serious endeavor.  The child with the bottle somehow gauged that one more pump-worth of water would fill the bottle to overflowing and spill on the floor; he was forced to empty the bottle into the tub next to the water table.  On the other hand, the child with the pump kept on pumping making it imperative for the child with the hose to simultaneously empty his bottle and re-direct the water from the hose into the tub.  He was able to get the hose back in the bottle and stand up for another fill.  The child with the pump, though, had to find another way to pump because her right hand was too tired.  What does she do?  She switches hands.

In this second video, two children again filled the same plastic bottle.  However, this time the child with the bottle propped the bottle onto the Duplo ramp against some Duplo blocks.    The child with the pump, on the other hand, ended up trying a new strategy for pumping: he tried to pound the pump handle to make it work.


Hand pump pound from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

Because the child managing the bottle did not need to hold it with his left hand, which would have obstructed his view, and because he propped it approximately at eye level, he was able to observe more closely how the hose filled the bottle.  As for the child with the pump, his fatigue with pumping opened up another way to work the pump: pound the handle.  I find it interesting that he laughs the first two times he tries to pound the handle.  Maybe he simply acknowledged the surprise and novelty of pounding the handle to make it work.  He finally got down to business and began to pound in earnest.

In this third video, two children demonstrated another way to operate the pump and to direct the water coming out of the hose.  The child with the pump actually uses his tummy to complete the pumping action.  The child with the hose, on the other hand, blocks the end of the hose by placing it over one of the nubs of the Duplo ramp.


Hand pump using the tummy from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

Where did the idea of using his tummy to push come from?  Was he tired of using his hands to pump?  Did he think he could push with more force using his belly?  And where did the idea of putting the end of the hose over one of the nubs come from?  Did he know it was going to make the water spray out?  Of course once they knew they could make the water spray, they had to do it again and again

Though I focused on the connection and agency of the children as the explored the pump, I feel a need to champion the joy and laughter in each of the clips.  The joy and laughter must surely come from both the connection and agency the children feel as they discover the ordinary and surprising things they can do with the pump.  However, the children are not simply acting on the materials, on the structure or with each other.  They are inhabiting the space in a way that gives each episode its own texture, its own shape and its own rhythm.  Each joy is unique.  Each laughter is unique.  And they are all authentic.

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Milk carton cascade

I dove back into my archives of pictures I took over 20 years ago.  I was pleasantly surprised to find a milk carton cascade for the water table that I had completely forgotten about.  The setup below consisted of two clear toddler water tables.  I removed the legs of one of the tables so its tub rested on the floor.  I taped six milk cartons together in a cascade formation and then taped the structure to both the top water table and the bottom water table.

I cut a panel out of the top of each milk carton.  Children could then pour water into any milk carton of their choosing.  Water emptied out of each carton into the next through each of their original spouts.
Once the water reached the bottom, the water exited the bottom milk carton into the tub on the floor.

Axiom #6 on the right hand column of this blog asserts that children will stop or redirect the flow of any medium in the table.  In the picture below, the child nicely illustrates this axiom because he blocked the flow of water from the cascade with his hand.  In addition, he poured enough water into the bottom milk carton to make it overflow. 
Why would he do that?  My guess is that he plugged the cascade so the cartons would fill up.  When he removed his hand, he actually increased the rate of flow through the cascade.  

I have seen in early childhood catalogues that cascades are for sale.  They are durable, they are beautiful and they are guaranteed for life.  They are usually advertised as outdoor equipment with outdoor water tables.  The good ones are almost $2000.  And that is just the cascade piece.  

Can you guess how much this milk carton cascade cost?  




Saturday, June 23, 2018

Conference reflections

For the past five years, I have been reading books in the Contesting Early Childhood Series from Routledge Press that are edited by Gunilla Dahlberg and Peter Moss.  The series questions common assumptions in the field of early childhood education and "...examines the possibilities of risk arising from the accelerated development of early childhood services and policies, and illustrates how it has become increasingly steeped in regulation and control."

The first book I read in the series was called Beyond Quality in Early Childhood Education and Care: Languages of Evaluation.  The book basically questioned the concept of quality and how is it measured in early childhood education.   Before I started reading the book, I thought I knew what quality was.  After all, I had honed my craft for over thirty years. The book asked me to be critical about who gets to decide what quality is and for whom.  Since quality is a political, social, cultural and ethical construct, the concept of quality can be examined from multiple angles.

Two weeks ago I was in Austin, Texas, for the Professional Learning Institute of NAEYC.  Many of the conference attendees were trainers, administrators and researchers.  In other words, many of the leaders in the field who shape the discourse around such things as quality.

Sonia Nieto, professor emeritus from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, gave the opening plenary session.  Much of her work has been in the area of emergent bilingual education.  In her own way, she troubled the dominant discourse around bilingual education.  She asked the attendees to see and appreciate children's strengths and potentials rather than their perceived risks and deficits.  She even questioned one of the prominent constructs in education, namely, best practices.  She never uses the term because from her point of view there are no best practices for all children.  Each practice is contextual and needs to adapt to the cultural, political and ethical exigencies.

For the sessions I attended, I did my own troubling of the dominant discourse.  Many of the sessions privileged language and literacy.  Usually there was an added emphasis on social and emotional learning.   What was missing for me was some mention of the children's need to move to shape their own learning.  If movement was talked about, it was usually directed by adults and always in the service of learning academics.  Where was the language of children's actual play and exploration?  Where was the language of children's own movement and their dialogue with materials?

Children's actions are their thinking.  To question their thinking or the ways they think, adults need to step back and observe their play and exploration.  Sometimes they use words, but often times their actions are pure play and exploration with the materials.

Below is a Duplo ramp.  Basically it was two Duplo panels attached to a wooden frame and set on an incline.  Children used Duplo blocks to build various configurations to alter the flow of water down the ramp.

This apparatus offered a couple of good examples of children's thinking in motion as they play and explore pouring water down the Duplo ramp.

In the first example, the child poured water from a pot down the ramp.  When the pot was empty, he dropped it back into the table and ran around to see the water come down the ramp.  He got to the end of the ramp before the water.  As he watched the water drop into the tub in rivulets, he said the water was "leaking."  



In this example, his words were important as he made sense of what he experienced and saw.  However, the language was just the culmination of his actions.  His body said that he had an idea about what would happen when he poured water down the ramp.  His body said he was excited to test his hypothesis.  His body said that he was surprised that the water  streams off the ramp in rivulets.  Only after all that body language does he try to make sense of what he saw with words.  

In the second example, a child completely filled a container with water from the tub at the bottom of the ramp.  As he lifted the container out of the tub, he surmised it was too full so he poured a little bit of water out of the container, not once but twice.  He lifted the container which was still pretty full and started walking around the table.  As he walked, he sloshed some water on the floor.  When he got to the other end of the ramp, he lifted the container and poured the water---at least most of it---down the ramp.  After emptying the container, he hurries back around to catch the water coming off the ramp.


Physical challenge from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.

The were no words in this episode.  His body said he wanted to fill his container as full as he could.  His body said that the container was too full.  His body said that he was strong enough to attempt to carry the container around the water table.  His body said that he was strong enough to attempt to lift the container to the top of the ramp to pour all the water down ramp.  His body said that he wanted to do it again.

In the first example, there was a lot of action before there were words, a precious few words.  In the second example, there were no words at all.  Often times, teachers ask children to talk about what they are doing; they ask the children to put words to their actions.   The request for children to verbalize what they are doing often times sounds like an interrogation.  It is almost as if their actions must be validated with words.

I am not saying verbal language is not important.  I am saying that it is not always the language that should be privileged.  I am trying to make a case for adults to listen to a very specific language of children that is primary for young children.  I am advocating for listening to the language of their actions.   That can only happen when we set up the conditions for uninterrupted play and exploration.  That can only happen if we cultivate a disposition to privilege their actions as thinking.