Director's Corner

As early childhood educators, hearing the hilarious things kids say every day keeps us smiling and makes dealing with all those runny noses and bathroom accidents worthwhile. Here are a few real-life examples from Mountain School children:

1) "A shovel looks a lot bigger when it's in your face."

2) "My mom is growing a baby in her tummy, so I'm going to be a big brother or sister."

3) "My mom is growing a baby in her tummy. Maybe it'll be a baby tiger!"

4) "You have to get married, or no one will see you!"

5) "My mommy went to Paris and saw the Awful Tower."

Disasters--natural and otherwise--are a fact of life. News such as major earthquakes, terrorist attacks, or the recent tragedies in Portland and Connecticut can elicit reactions covering a spectrum from disbelief, to compassion, to fear. That being said, we as adults are able to frame these frightening incidents in the context of our life experience. It is distressing when details of catastrophic occurrences filter down into conversation among children of preschool age.

It does such serious events no dishonor to say that this kind of information has no place in the world of the young child. As parents and teachers, we must strive each day to shelter children from frightening images and information they can neither comprehend, nor respond to in any constructive way. Sometimes, newspapers must be tucked away just for grown-ups' eyes; radio and television reports must be saved for adults-only time. It behooves us to be careful what we discuss within earshot, whether petty complaints or concerns for the future of humanity!

Of course, it does happen sometimes that children are exposed to things we would rather they had not seen or heard. Then, fears and curiosity must be addressed. The key is to offer, in one's calmest matter-of-fact manner, the simplest possible explanation. For example, in the case of flashing lights and emergency vehicles on the freeway, one might say, "Some people need help, and the police are taking care of them." Limited information, inexplicit, yet truthful. What a child needs is reassurance, and fewer details than one might imagine. The late Fred Rogers put it this way: "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping. To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers--so many caring people in this world."

One can hardly overstress the importance of nurturing in children their innate belief that the world is generally a good and safe place to be--and it is, despite what the media may bring into our homes each day. When we do so, we are providing a solid and secure foundation from which our children will someday move forward and become good citizens with a positive vision for their future. They'll be the helpers.

Pablo Picasso said, "Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two makes four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are?...You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children."

One aspect of a world "worthy of its children" is a value placed on space and time for childhood. Young children's development proceeds at a pace determined by nature which cannot--and should not--be hurried, nor can it be bypassed. Far from little vessels needing to be filled with facts and figures, young children are unfolding beings who must first spend sufficient years noticing, exploring and interacting with their immediate world before cataloguing, categorizing and expanding it. 

According to Jane Healy, highly-respected educational psychologist and author of Your Child's Growing Mind, "Early childhood programs that implement a directed academic curriculum often replace essential, hands-on learning activities with skill-based performance and rote-learning tasks. In doing so, they risk the developmental growth necessary for children's future academic success." So while preschool programs offering math, science, pre-reading and other academics may seem to give a child a "leg up", the truth is that there is no substitute for child-directed imaginative play, which in itself is profoundly pre-academic and fosters creativity, problem solving, and openness to new ideas--all among the many well-researched and documented benefits of play. Children whose deep, engrossing play is displaced by direct instruction in the early years misses out on some critical building blocks for their future.

A world worthy of its children will reclaim childhood for them.

Almost twenty-five years ago, Robert Fulghum wrote a book called All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.  Its salient points were made into a poster that seemed ubiquitous in mudrooms, pediatricians' offices and teachers' lounges.  I have no idea if it is still popular, but I haven't seen it around lately so thought I would post it here. I still enjoy reading it!  

Needless to say, this is what we are all about at The Mountain School with our play-based curriculum. While the current trend in early childhood education is to overlook the development of personal and social skills in favor of premature academic study, these words have never rung more true.  Enjoy!

As a loyal San Francisco Giants fan I am, of course, rather caught up in baseball at the moment as our home team seeks to end its long World Series drought. Naturally, this brings to mind one of my favorite parenting books: Covering Home:  Lessons on the Art of Fathering from the Game of Baseball by Jack Petrash.

Sometimes chapter titles inspire in and of themselves.  Covering Home’s table of contents is laid out as a lesson plan, and includes such gems as “Understand the Pace of the Game and Manage Accordingly”;  “Work Both Sides of the Plate”;  “If You Have a Shallow Bench, Keep Your Game Simple”.  Best of all, Petrash includes “Remember, You Can’t Win Them All” along with “To Be an All-Star, Make the Highlight Film (and Avoid the Blooper Reel)”.  Add the phrase “as a parent” to any of those titles and you’ve got an instant mantra-of-the-day.

But most importantly, we should remember what Petrash so aptly reminds us:  In parenting, as in baseball, you can miss two out of three and still make the Hall of Fame.

Having lived through many seasons at The Mountain School,  I must say that Autumn has always been my favorite.  Even as a child each new school year held for me a “fresh start” feeling: new shoes, new faces, and seemingly endless possibilities.  The mood was, and is, one of being able to triumph over any adversity, working together to slay metaphorical dragons that in the past have filled us with fear and dread.  In this spirit we launch our new website, one that has come together with the work of many heads, hearts and hands. 

When The Mountain School was founded twenty years ago, I was a parent and worked part-time in the office, with no computer, nor copy machine, nor voicemail at my disposal; I can assure you a website was not even on the radar.  About five years ago Chickadee parent Steve Johnston came to me and offered to create a site for the school, which he did beautifully and maintained for us (many, many thanks Steve!) until his younger child flew our nest last Spring.  Grateful for his initiative and his many hours of fine work, still I confess I didn’t quite “get” the whole thing and literally squirmed when he told me I was going to write a blog.  Even more daunting was the thought of taking over the site once Steve moved on.  I had been quite comfortable, thank you very much, addressing a dozen or so of our beautiful brochures every week to prospective families in my very best handwriting.

In the meantime the internet became the way to get one's message out to the world, and a few months ago it dawned on me that I had mailed only a dozen or so brochures in the entire twelve months prior.  Clearly those pretty papers were moving toward collectors' item status, and maybe I was, too.  But wait;  I started Kindergarten the year of Sputnik and graduated high school the year of Woodstock and the Apollo 11 moon landing.  Who says we can't adapt? 

So with the expertise of the ever-patient Hasan Sume, and the input of my colleagues, assorted artist friends, and tireless Board member Jamie Collette, last summer we set out to create a fresh web presence for The Mountain School, and here we are.  You can easily view a slideshow, sign up for a classroom tour, download an application, find us on Facebook, and watch our wonderful video generously donated by another former parent, Chikara Motomura.  As a parent of an enrolled child you can log in to check our calendar, roster, parent handbook or even download an aftercare contract!

I get it now.  It has been explained to me in words of one syllable how to maintain the site.  I will be happily sharing thoughts with you regularly on my very own blog.  And I’m actually looking forward to the next “new thing”, whatever it may be.  Bring on the dragons!