Ode to a Newly Crawling Baby #TeacherMom

“We call the early years formative. What is firing the brain? It’s nothing less than a sense of self. How does it feel to be me? How does it feel to be human? That’s what’s forming. Our sense of self and our sense of the world.”

via Case Wade

I see your joy. You sit up with a straight back, surveying the world from a perspective you’ve never seen.

I see your deliberation. You make a bee-line for the dog bowls every time we set you down, already knowing that if you do so stealthily enough, you’ll find a prize.

I see your intensity. You move from room to room and object to object, patting, squeezing, raspberry-blowing, all with an astonishingly palpable focus.

I see your relentlessness. You already possess an uncanny sense for the moments your parents most need a break, and will do just about anything to ensure you have our undivided attention.

“Learning isn’t having an agenda. It’s forming associations, recognizing when they discover. When they put things together they’ve never put together before.”

Most of all, I see your connection-building. You are already laying the foundation — with a magnitude I can scarcely comprehend — for the learning that will take place for the rest of your life. These connections, these moments of comprehension, are like golden threads criss-crossing all over our home, constantly reinforced as you feel your way across them again and again.

“The most important ingredient is the people who interact on a regular basis with young children. A baby does something, and the adult response to what the baby’s doing. It’s this back and forth responsiveness that’s absolutely essential for brain development.”

That I am an integral part of this process is humbling. You are reminding me of the connection between learning and relationships; of the need to learn when to set down the lists and sit down with the people. In this way, you are strengthening my ability to connect with those around me — as a parent, teacher, and human being.

So, little one, although I wish you’d sometimes slow down, I look forward to all we will continue to learn together.

Quotes from the documentary, The Beginning of Life, (streaming on Netflix) by filmmaker Estela Renner.

featured image: DeathToTheStockPhoto

Sometimes, Nothing Goes According to Plan, & That’s OK #TeacherMom

Sometimes, the toddler refuses to say he’s finished with his cookie, but also refuses to take more than one infinitesimal nibble at a time.

Sometimes, the baby decides the whole afternoon nap thing (which happens to be your blogging time) isn’t his cup of tea anymore.

Sometimes, your first grader just needs a tea party–and by golly, you need one, too.


We make these rhythms and routines for ourselves, hoping to create a sense of order and achievement out of each day. And then we get annoyed when they get out of sync. And we get impatient for things to get “back to normal.”

But maybe that’s never what was normal to begin with.  

Maybe, I’m most in-sync when lunch with my toddler takes longer–longer to pretend our fingers are little people dancing on the table, longer to chat about Batman, longer to exchange goofy grins.

Maybe I’m most in-sync when the baby ends up needing to be walked to sleep for a bit and then snuggles down for his nap on my chest in the baby carrier.

Maybe I’m most in in-sync when I’m pouring imaginary tea with my 6 year-old.

The bridge to the world of education here is very short indeed.  It reminds me of a section that resonated most in Taryn Bondclegg’s latest post: her description of the internal struggle when it comes to letting go of our careful “plans:”

“Yet I have to admit, I had an internal struggle. The teachery teacher side of me kept saying “Hurry up! Move along! There is content to get to! You are behind your team! Report cards are coming!” While the inquiry-teacher side of me kept saying “Slow down. What’s the rush? Follow your students. Notice the learning that is happening everyday.”

That word “notice” particularly stands out to me. It seems to me that “hurry” and “notice” are almost always nemeses.

When we hurry to start the day, do we notice who seems to have had a really rough morning?

When we hurry through our lesson, do we notice the thoughtful questions that deviate from the plan (though they might take us somewhere even better)?

When we hurry our assessments, do we notice the growth and small victories as well?

And yes, we do have obligations and content and testing to answer to. But if we are continually rushing to keep up, both as teachers and as parents, we are much more likely to miss the good stuff. The stuff that puts us most in-sync. The stuff that makes us connect most as human beings.

Slow down. Notice. And don’t worry when things don’t go to plan. That’s usually where the best learning and connecting happens anyway. 

featured image: DeathToTheStockPhoto