this “dangerous” spot remains a favorite place to practice balancing.
b is for bear hunt
well, we worked on this “bear hunt” plan all week. an unplanned part of the week was hunting for our book, we’re going on a bear hunt.
we never found it but mr matt had the clever idea of looking on line. sure enough, the same book in animated version! click here to watch it. there is some spooky music sometimes, so you should know that.
we made beautiful brown paint, painted enough paper plates for everyone, let them dry for a day, cut out eye holes, glued on ears and noses, made several graphs…

and then finally we were ready to go on our own bear hunts. everyone chose to be a bear or a person or to watch. we did it as often as we could before it was going-home time. here is the cave:
the family of people:
the people approaching the cave:
the chase:
we recommend that you “go on a bear hunt as long as you are pretending and not teasing real bears and as long as you remember that when the bears get to your house they don’t want to eat you, they want to eat berries and oatmeal so give it to them.”
f is for fine line
i understand the automatic response to seeing a child draw with markers and smash cars on play dough.
it makes sense to me that a teacher may suggest using the markers on paper, the cars on the rug and other tools with the play dough. but the children who did this in my classroom last week were so constructive and focused, brand new to our classroom, using items that were stored only a few feet apart…so i let it happen. when other children questioned it, i explained that this play dough and markers could go together and that other times we would have play dough and markers that won’t go together. i explained that it works to use the cars in the play dough today and other days they will be other places.

there is a fine squiggly and often changing line between order and rules and respecting property and free expression and the blissful innocence.
and i want them to get it all.
r is for reading
t is for tell me
tell me why she doesn’t want to come. tell me what he is scared of. it will not hurt my feelings to tell me why your child doesn’t like preschool. there is no reason too silly or small. tell me what she doesn’t like that i do. tell me what parts of the day are boring. tell me what things he wishes he could do. tell me if there is someone hurting her. tell me if there is someone he’s afraid of. tell me what she wants from me. tell me what he needs from me.
I was gifted with a beautiful moment last week. the classroom was getting loud with friendly enthusiasm about what number should come next on the calendar. voices were ramping up in a collective “seventeeeeeeeeeeeeeen….” when one friend stood up and with her hands over her ears, feet firmly planted, said strongly:
see!! THIS is why I don’t want to come here.
thank you, friend, for telling us. now we know.
(all but one child agreed that it IS too loud at this place. that lone loud child was offered many suggestions on where and how to be loud. upon hearing those suggestions, a few more friends admitted that they too liked being loud. we recalled the classroom plan that if anyone puts their hands over their ears that means it’s too loud and we will change. and yes, you can believe there were many using the it’s-too-loud-sign power that day.)
so, grown ups, tell me anything.












