Our son started a new kindergarden this week, a big and exciting step for him (and for us), and we find ourselves very fortunate to have him under the care and guidance of a wonderful teacher and writer, Mrs Amy Weisberg, one with great experience, wisdom, kindness and a remarkably open approach both to her role as a "guide" to her children and to the children's own differing sensibilities, levels of awareness and achievement, and the fact that their minds are at a precious and vital turning point between a wonderful acceptance of and unity with the world and the beginnings of "critical thinking," if you like - which brings with it the further growth of both character and the ego, and so is a stage that needs delicate attention and nourishment.
Mrs Weisberg has her own wonderful blog, Between The Words, and I asked her if I might reproduce here a marvelously atmospheric piece she wrote about her classroom, just before the school year begins. It is called, Listen, and one of the things I liked most about it was her appreciation of silence, along with that of the children "unhampered by thoughts of how things should be."
Anyway, here it is, and thanks to Amy Weisberg for letting me reproduce it:
The classroom is mostly quiet now, with the exception of the hum of the blessed air conditioner and the occasional ringing of the two bells indicating the necessity of the plant manager. The chairs are pushed in and the tables almost clear of the materials readied for the new year, a year that will be different, yet the same, as many others. Right now the playground is waiting patiently for the laughter of children that will fill it next week and the dolls in the playhouse wait patiently in their crib, clothing in tact and the plastic multicultural foods await preparation in the labeled bins. The smell of fresh, new crayons is in the air and the computers are happily waiting to begin their whir and hum of activity. For me, even music is not necessary yet; the silence is a giant space, open with possibilities and fresh with optimism. A bigger class this year, 24 or 25 new little students, some scared, some overly confident, most excited to begin an adventure that will last for the next 13 years. They enter the institution in the best of possible ways, a soft landing filled with songs, games, colorful paint and new stories told while they sit in squares on a colorful carpet rapt with attention. Friends wait to be made, blank paper filled with colorful drawings and easels beckon for young artists unhampered by thoughts of how things should be, instead filled with the endless imaginings of how things can be. Soon enough, the rhythm instruments will ting and jingle, sticks will tap and little children will bounce around the room, most unable to sit for long. They will be introduced to letters sounds, counting songs, The Pledge of Allegiance and happy songs of friendship. They will make life-long friends here in this safe place and will tell secrets, whisper, and hug with abandon unable to keep from expressing the simple joy of loving a friend or the happiness of running out the door to play. They will learn to appreciate the stillness of their own breath while in yoga postures stretching their bodies and minds to appreciate the stillness and space that allows for peacefulness. The silence is space, yet it is full of possibilities, experiences yet unknown and the peace of planning for future memories that will resonate in a happy place contained in the hearts of the future residents of Room K.
(Photo above of the parents gathered for the principal's commencement address.)
