Since this blog is about sand and water tables, the place I choose to identify is the space that holds the sensory table. The space is approximately six feet by eight feet. The space is partially enclosed on three sides: a cabinet that holds the smocks on the right, a wall in the back and a counter with a sink on the left.
There are a few other features that help identify this space. Under the counter, I have tubs with extra implements to be used in the table. There are curtains that hide the tubs which means they are not available to the children but near enough for me to reach when I want to switch out objects from the table. In one corner, there are brooms and a mop. I place rubber mats under the table. And I pull the table away from the wall so it is open to play from all sides. On this particular day in the table itself, I have put water implements with a giant sponge sprinkled with dish soap in an inch of water.
Though I have identified the space, it does not feel like it has a soul as of yet. However, there are some hints at its soul. For instance, the brooms, mops and rubber mats hint that messes are welcome. The table is simple so it can be easily transformed by changing what is in the table. The pail is empty asking to be filled.
To discover its soul, they say in the book that we must learn to recognize our own soul as we interact with the space. Since this space is an invitation for children to play, in other words, to interact, maybe I can surmise its soul by looking at the children's interactions in this space. There are really so many interactions, that I need narrow it down to one type: playing with the suds. My thought is that at least one of the essences (souls?) of the sponge is that the children can use it to make suds.
There are other actions that make suds. In the following video, two children first punch the sponge before pushing down on the sponge to make suds.
Beating the giant sponge from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.
These two children interact differently with the sponge . Their actions are much more vigorous. Maybe the intersection of the children beating the sponge and the sponge absorbing the punches in this space that allows/encourages such explorations is part of the soul of this space.
Besides making suds, children use the suds in many different ways. The child in the following video has dumped a pail full of suds on top of the giant sponge. She uses her hand to spread the suds almost like frosting a cake.
Spredding the suds from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.
The energy in this video is much different from that of the previous video. As she glides her hand over the suds there seems to be a meditative aspect to her actions. Maybe the intersection of the child gliding her hand over the sponge and the sponge acting as a platform on which to spread the suds in this space that allows/encourages such explorations is part of the soul of this space.
By adding implements, the children find other ways to use the suds. In the video below, the children have filled a bucket halfway with suds. The child hovering over the bucket grabs two small sponges from the table and drops them in the bucket. He begins to use a long-handled spoon to stir the suds. He chuckles and says that he is stirring the soup.
Stirring the soup from Thomas Bedard on Vimeo.
The children have appropriated the five-gallon pail to constructively transport the suds from the table to the pail. In the process one child has also appropriated smaller sponges and a kitchen spoon to stir his soup. Not only is there yet a different purpose (transporting the suds) to this episode, but the children have added role playing to their actions. Maybe the intersection of the children transporting the suds out of the table into the pail and the appropriation of a couple of loose parts (small sponges and a big spoon) to stir the "soup" in this space that allows/encourages such explorations is part of the soul of this space.
Suds even have the power to change a child's identity. When a child spreads suds on her arm with a little ladle, her arm is transformed into a...??? When a child puts suds on his face and head, is he still the same person? Maybe the intersection of the children feeling the suds on their arm or seeing themselves in a mirror to check their identity in this space that allows/encourages such explorations is part of the soul of this space.
I know I have found my soul in this space. It is my creative outlet; It is a place for me to play with ideas and offer them to the children. Because each child brings something different to the this space, it becomes a reflection of their soul, their identity. The space itself has no soul without the interactions. Since there is no end to the possible explorations in this space, could that be its soul? Could its soul be a space that constantly allows/fosters new interactions that enrich our collective experiences? What do you think?
P.S. If you are curious about the multitude of possibilities just with the giant sponge, you may want to look at the following posts: Making cookies, Bubble cake, Giant sponge with jewels, Giant sponge - 2014, Giant sponge - new axiom, Beyond the giant sponge, Giant sponge.
Jeanne Vergeront wrote from Museum Notes (https://museumnotes.blogspot.com/) wrote: You've begun an interesting exploration; thank you, Tom. For me thinking about, finding, and describing the soul of a place is a fascinating and often difficult process. Two questions come to my mind in exploring this: what is/are essential quality(ies) that define this place; and what qualities does this place possess that other similar places do not? To the first question: this is a place responsive to both your ideas, questions, and investigations and to those of the children. Whether the table holds a giant sponge with soap, water, or wood pellets, in its soul the table—and its immediate area—is a place of possibilities for both you and for the children. The fact that the table does this for both you and the children and in varied conditions speaks to something that is core. While other places may also do that, they may not be intimate as this one is. Part of the soul of this place is a kind of intimacy that comes from its scale and its semi-enclosed space. Children face each one another across the table; their hands move around and with others; ideas collide; children's voices mix. And the walls on three sides contain, share, and amplify these interactions. As you point out, there's more to consider in the soul of this place.
ReplyDeleteThank you Jeanne for advancing the conversation. I especially like a couple of your points. One was the idea that part of the soul is that it is responsive to both mine and the children's ideas questions and investigations. Every place has possibilities, but they may not all be responsive to me or the children. I also appreciate that you point out the intimacy of the space. I have never thought of it quite in that way. It seems to me that if I could find one representation of the space, I could define/understand the soul of this space. As of yet, I cannot.
Delete