Reggio Emilia is a prosperous town in the hills of northern Italy, rich in culture and famous for its vintage basil vinegars, Parmigiano cheese, and Lambrusco wine. But it is also home to a program of early childhood education that has gained international repute in the last quarter century. The first schools were started by parents in 1945 as an alternative to the strait-laced, church-monopolized institutions that dominated Italian early education at the time. The number of these parent-run centers rose steadily, and in 1967 the municipality took over their administration and financing. The Reggio preschools (and infant-toddler centers, publicly mandated since the 1970s) are available to children from birth to six regardless of economic circumstance or physical disability, and continue successfully to this day.
What were the goals of these parents of Reggio Emilia? Amidst the rubble of post-World War II Italy, they raised from almost nothing, preschools that would far exceed the mere custodial services such provision – appropriated for the past twenty-odd years by Mussolini’s government--normally offered at the time. In the words of Loris Malaguzzi of Reggio Emilia, ‘War, in its tragic absurdity, is the kind of experience that pushes a person toward the job of educating, as a way to start anew and live and work for the future. This desire strikes a person, as the war finally ends and the symbols of life reappear with a violence equal to that of the time of destruction.’ And so a couple of trucks and several horses--battered remains of the retreating German army – were sold for hard cash, and from this tiny capital the first school was begun. Women scraped and stacked bricks from bombed buildings. Men worked nights and weekends; children helped where they could.
What were the goals of these parents of Reggio Emilia? Amidst the rubble of post-World War II Italy, they raised from almost nothing, preschools that would far exceed the mere custodial services such provision – appropriated for the past twenty-odd years by Mussolini’s government--normally offered at the time. In the words of Loris Malaguzzi of Reggio Emilia, ‘War, in its tragic absurdity, is the kind of experience that pushes a person toward the job of educating, as a way to start anew and live and work for the future. This desire strikes a person, as the war finally ends and the symbols of life reappear with a violence equal to that of the time of destruction.’ And so a couple of trucks and several horses--battered remains of the retreating German army – were sold for hard cash, and from this tiny capital the first school was begun. Women scraped and stacked bricks from bombed buildings. Men worked nights and weekends; children helped where they could.
“Our task, regarding creativity, is to help children climb their own mountains, as high as possible.”
Loris Malaguzzi
Loris Malaguzzi
News of the experiment soon got around. Soon other schools were popping up in disadvantaged wards of the city. Intrigued, a young teacher began volunteering part time, and ended up staying. Loris Malaguzzi was to provide dynamic leadership to the movement, that would continue till his death in 1994. After leaving his post teaching in the public schools, Malaguzzi studied psychology in Rome, where he took inspiration from such thinkers as Vygotsky, Dewey, Piaget, and Bruner. Bruner and Vygotsky’s recognition of the child’s natural problem-solving capacities, and of the role of culture in developing the mind, fit in well with Malaguzzi’s own perceptions. John Dewey believed that true education should stimulate a child ‘to conceive of himself from the standpoint of the welfare of the group to which he belongs.’ If any one concept embraces all other aspects of the Reggio curriculum and environment, it is this one.
The new preschools grew at great personal sacrifice, and demand grew as well. In the early 1950s, when television became commonplace in Italian households, many people from the poorer south migrated to the semi-industrial north. As women left their homes to work, they wanted quality care for their children. Family is important in Italian culture, and parents were determined to keep it that way. Against this backdrop it was natural that the preschools should be cooperative entities, characterized by major parental involvement. (Hours of overtime and weekends devoted to school projects are considered normal for parents and staff in the Reggio schools even today.)
From the start, the Reggio early childhood programs reflected spontaneity and responsiveness to new ideas – an ‘emergent curriculum’ that was a far cry from the rigidity of the public schools. As Malaguzzi described these after leaving his job as a middle school teacher, ‘The work with the children had been rewarding, but the state-run school continued to pursue its own course, sticking to its stupid and intolerable indifference toward children, its opportunistic and obsequious attention toward authority, and its self-serving cleverness, pushing pre-packaged knowledge.’ By contrast, in the new school there would be a conscious embracing of surprise, of not-too-much-certainty, an acknowledgement that as life itself is unpredictable, so must education be.
So it was natural – if revolutionary-- that the Reggio curriculum would be a fluid one, without prescribed outcomes. Long-term in-depth research projects, emerging from the pupils’ interests, constitute the primary path to learning – one of the outstanding features of Reggio that inspires, and unnerves, more conventional settings. Malaguzzi observed, ‘[Children’s] own timing and rhythms demand enormous respect. Children need the support of adults in order to combat the accelerating pressures and haste to make them grow up, which is not only a treacherous sign of the subversion of biological, psychological, and cultural relationships that is currently in vogue, but also a sign of deep insecurity and a loss of perspective.’
Weather, rainbows, sunlight, city life – everyday subjects, rather than remote or academic ones, provide fruitful means of discovery in the long-term projects. Exploration is facilitated by the environment, which is considered the ‘third teacher.’ Every centre includes an atelier (art studio), and often mini-ateliers (art corners) adjoining the individual classrooms. An atelierista(professional artist) is a standard member of staff, complementing the work of the teachers by helping children communicate in their ‘hundred languages,’ as Malaguzzi referred to children’s many ways of expressing themselves (through art, music, or shadow play, for example).
Extensive and continual documentation of children’s activities by staff – via handwritten notes, photographs, videotapes, and so forth – is a hallmark of the Reggio program and serves multiple functions. It guides children forward by helping them review where they’ve been; clues staff in to children’s progress and helps them reflect on their own practice; and informs parents and the wider community of the work of the school. Characteristically, documentation panels line the walls, depicting projects that the centre has done over time, thus transmitting and evolving its own distinctive history from year to year. In addition, a pedagogista is assigned to working with a group of schools, building a unified approach between settings, encouraging and mentoring staff, and heightening awareness of the theory underpinning practice.
Besides encouraging research and exploration, the Reggio environment transmits other messages to youngsters. The layout of a typical school echoes that of the city, with a central, indoor piazza or common area representing the traditional Italian town square – where buddies pass the time of day, bands march, marketers sell their wares, or families stroll of an evening. As in the city, the school’s piazza serves as a place where children can intermingle or get together in larger groups. (Smaller nooks are interspersed to honour children’s need for personal space.) The classrooms and kitchen/dining area open directly off the piazza, with no connecting hallways to interrupt continuity. The children can observe the cooks at work, and frequently help with meal preparation and cleanup. There is great freedom of movement between areas, including the outdoors. By design, the centre itself becomes part of the city, and the children can see its activities unfolding around them.
The welcome area is also significant in a Reggio school, as the place where the worlds of school and city intersect. Couches may invite parents to linger, with low windows providing kids’-eye views of incoming friends. Staff make conscious efforts to speak with parents as they bring their children or pick them up at the end of the day. They provide parents with notes or photos of the child’s activities that day, aware that both home and school life comprise education and should be closely coordinated.
Reggio settings typically make marked use of natural and artificial light, with floor-to-ceiling windows and pale walls that offset the children’s colorful clothing and artwork. Some areas have lighting that can be varied by the children for different effects. Mirrors abound, reflecting light in multiple dimensions, as well as supporting the child’s construction of her self-image. Often, an internal courtyard brings the seasons and weathers to the children’s consciousness, thereby connecting the indoors and outdoors.
If the Reggio environment plays an important role as ‘third teacher’, the first teacher (the parent) and the second (the classroom teacher) are even more important. Parents are involved in school decision-making, kept thoroughly up-to-date on their child’s progress, and depended on for information about their child’s home experience. They also join in regularly with children’s activities and help on their projects. As for staff, from teacher to atelierista to cook, the task of each is considered of equal worth and there is no administrative hierarchy or payment scale. Teachers always teach in teams of two, collaboration being considered tantamount to strength. Six non-contact hours weekly support the teachers’ demanding tasks of documentation, project guidance, and liaising with other staff and parents. The credentials prerequisite to a pre-primary teaching post in Italy are comparatively few. Therefore, co-teaching is seen as a necessary part of every young Reggio teacher’s training.
Finally, one might surmise that children could be named the ‘fourth teacher’ –if not the first – in the Reggio programme, for they are valued as ‘teachers’ in their own right, to be learned from, listened to, and respected. Children are seen as being born complete with the ability to discover the world they have entered. The teacher’s role is never one of superiority or dominance, but of listening and guidance. Strong bonds form between teachers and children, who stay together through a three-year span.
So how can acquaintance with Reggio Emilia’s methods benefit those of us who work with children in other parts of the world? Foreigners who visit Reggio Emilia’s preschools are predictably wowed by what they see. The vibrancy of the settings and the advanced work produced by very young children is, at the least, impressive. Visitors often wonder how the principles used might be transferred to their own nurseries back home. This is how it should be, provided the difference in culture and history that every centre inherits is acknowledged and valued. The soundest educational practice, as Reggio’s most avid participants themselves tell admirers, is a continually evolving one where practitioners take the best of the many systems that have been developed to date and adapt it to their own situation. A love for children and openness to change are the starting points. With these, anything is possible.
Sources consulted:
Hundred Languages of Children, edited by C. Edwards, L. Gandini, and G. Forman, Ablex Publishing Corporation, London, 1998
Understanding the Reggio Approach, by Linda Thornton and Pat Brunton, David Fulton Publishers, 2005
Experiencing Reggio Emilia: Implications for Preschool Provision, edited by Lesley Abbott and Cathy Nutbrown, Open University Press, 2001
Reflections on Early Education and Care: Inspired by Visits to Reggio Emilia, Italy, edited by Pat Gura, British Association for Early Childhood Education, 1997
Children, Spaces, Relations: Metaproject for an Environment for Young Children, edited by Giulio Ceppi and Michele Zini, Domus Academy Research Centre/Reggio Children, 1998
The new preschools grew at great personal sacrifice, and demand grew as well. In the early 1950s, when television became commonplace in Italian households, many people from the poorer south migrated to the semi-industrial north. As women left their homes to work, they wanted quality care for their children. Family is important in Italian culture, and parents were determined to keep it that way. Against this backdrop it was natural that the preschools should be cooperative entities, characterized by major parental involvement. (Hours of overtime and weekends devoted to school projects are considered normal for parents and staff in the Reggio schools even today.)
From the start, the Reggio early childhood programs reflected spontaneity and responsiveness to new ideas – an ‘emergent curriculum’ that was a far cry from the rigidity of the public schools. As Malaguzzi described these after leaving his job as a middle school teacher, ‘The work with the children had been rewarding, but the state-run school continued to pursue its own course, sticking to its stupid and intolerable indifference toward children, its opportunistic and obsequious attention toward authority, and its self-serving cleverness, pushing pre-packaged knowledge.’ By contrast, in the new school there would be a conscious embracing of surprise, of not-too-much-certainty, an acknowledgement that as life itself is unpredictable, so must education be.
So it was natural – if revolutionary-- that the Reggio curriculum would be a fluid one, without prescribed outcomes. Long-term in-depth research projects, emerging from the pupils’ interests, constitute the primary path to learning – one of the outstanding features of Reggio that inspires, and unnerves, more conventional settings. Malaguzzi observed, ‘[Children’s] own timing and rhythms demand enormous respect. Children need the support of adults in order to combat the accelerating pressures and haste to make them grow up, which is not only a treacherous sign of the subversion of biological, psychological, and cultural relationships that is currently in vogue, but also a sign of deep insecurity and a loss of perspective.’
Weather, rainbows, sunlight, city life – everyday subjects, rather than remote or academic ones, provide fruitful means of discovery in the long-term projects. Exploration is facilitated by the environment, which is considered the ‘third teacher.’ Every centre includes an atelier (art studio), and often mini-ateliers (art corners) adjoining the individual classrooms. An atelierista(professional artist) is a standard member of staff, complementing the work of the teachers by helping children communicate in their ‘hundred languages,’ as Malaguzzi referred to children’s many ways of expressing themselves (through art, music, or shadow play, for example).
Extensive and continual documentation of children’s activities by staff – via handwritten notes, photographs, videotapes, and so forth – is a hallmark of the Reggio program and serves multiple functions. It guides children forward by helping them review where they’ve been; clues staff in to children’s progress and helps them reflect on their own practice; and informs parents and the wider community of the work of the school. Characteristically, documentation panels line the walls, depicting projects that the centre has done over time, thus transmitting and evolving its own distinctive history from year to year. In addition, a pedagogista is assigned to working with a group of schools, building a unified approach between settings, encouraging and mentoring staff, and heightening awareness of the theory underpinning practice.
Besides encouraging research and exploration, the Reggio environment transmits other messages to youngsters. The layout of a typical school echoes that of the city, with a central, indoor piazza or common area representing the traditional Italian town square – where buddies pass the time of day, bands march, marketers sell their wares, or families stroll of an evening. As in the city, the school’s piazza serves as a place where children can intermingle or get together in larger groups. (Smaller nooks are interspersed to honour children’s need for personal space.) The classrooms and kitchen/dining area open directly off the piazza, with no connecting hallways to interrupt continuity. The children can observe the cooks at work, and frequently help with meal preparation and cleanup. There is great freedom of movement between areas, including the outdoors. By design, the centre itself becomes part of the city, and the children can see its activities unfolding around them.
The welcome area is also significant in a Reggio school, as the place where the worlds of school and city intersect. Couches may invite parents to linger, with low windows providing kids’-eye views of incoming friends. Staff make conscious efforts to speak with parents as they bring their children or pick them up at the end of the day. They provide parents with notes or photos of the child’s activities that day, aware that both home and school life comprise education and should be closely coordinated.
Reggio settings typically make marked use of natural and artificial light, with floor-to-ceiling windows and pale walls that offset the children’s colorful clothing and artwork. Some areas have lighting that can be varied by the children for different effects. Mirrors abound, reflecting light in multiple dimensions, as well as supporting the child’s construction of her self-image. Often, an internal courtyard brings the seasons and weathers to the children’s consciousness, thereby connecting the indoors and outdoors.
If the Reggio environment plays an important role as ‘third teacher’, the first teacher (the parent) and the second (the classroom teacher) are even more important. Parents are involved in school decision-making, kept thoroughly up-to-date on their child’s progress, and depended on for information about their child’s home experience. They also join in regularly with children’s activities and help on their projects. As for staff, from teacher to atelierista to cook, the task of each is considered of equal worth and there is no administrative hierarchy or payment scale. Teachers always teach in teams of two, collaboration being considered tantamount to strength. Six non-contact hours weekly support the teachers’ demanding tasks of documentation, project guidance, and liaising with other staff and parents. The credentials prerequisite to a pre-primary teaching post in Italy are comparatively few. Therefore, co-teaching is seen as a necessary part of every young Reggio teacher’s training.
Finally, one might surmise that children could be named the ‘fourth teacher’ –if not the first – in the Reggio programme, for they are valued as ‘teachers’ in their own right, to be learned from, listened to, and respected. Children are seen as being born complete with the ability to discover the world they have entered. The teacher’s role is never one of superiority or dominance, but of listening and guidance. Strong bonds form between teachers and children, who stay together through a three-year span.
So how can acquaintance with Reggio Emilia’s methods benefit those of us who work with children in other parts of the world? Foreigners who visit Reggio Emilia’s preschools are predictably wowed by what they see. The vibrancy of the settings and the advanced work produced by very young children is, at the least, impressive. Visitors often wonder how the principles used might be transferred to their own nurseries back home. This is how it should be, provided the difference in culture and history that every centre inherits is acknowledged and valued. The soundest educational practice, as Reggio’s most avid participants themselves tell admirers, is a continually evolving one where practitioners take the best of the many systems that have been developed to date and adapt it to their own situation. A love for children and openness to change are the starting points. With these, anything is possible.
Sources consulted:
Hundred Languages of Children, edited by C. Edwards, L. Gandini, and G. Forman, Ablex Publishing Corporation, London, 1998
Understanding the Reggio Approach, by Linda Thornton and Pat Brunton, David Fulton Publishers, 2005
Experiencing Reggio Emilia: Implications for Preschool Provision, edited by Lesley Abbott and Cathy Nutbrown, Open University Press, 2001
Reflections on Early Education and Care: Inspired by Visits to Reggio Emilia, Italy, edited by Pat Gura, British Association for Early Childhood Education, 1997
Children, Spaces, Relations: Metaproject for an Environment for Young Children, edited by Giulio Ceppi and Michele Zini, Domus Academy Research Centre/Reggio Children, 1998
Laurel Faculty visit Garden Gate School on Martha's Vineyard
January 23, 2015
Garden Gate Child Development Center
Our Day on Martha’s Vineyard
By Jennifer Levesque
As we set off on our adventure, we four travelers were excited and curious. Our early morning meeting place had Amy at the helm as we piled into the van on route to Mashpee to get our lady in red, Courtney… a vision in scarlet couture. Kathleen graciously let me be co-pilot, so as not to see what I had for breakfast. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one thankful for this.
The boat ride was delightful, the view breathtaking. We docked and headed toward the taxis, with the words, ‘Garden Gate’, on our tongues. Gary asked us, “where to?” and he knew just where we were headed because his daughter is a student at Garden Gate! What luck! We were then privy to one of the very best testimonials of anything anyone could ever hear. They were the words right out of a proud father who loves his daughter more than life itself. He was like champagne bubbling over, excited to share with us what Garden Gate was all about to his daughter, and his family. He had some of us tearing up as he spoke, and we all had goose bumps on our ride to the tiny school’s location.
During the cold, grey winter months, it’s hard to make anything, no matter how magical, look anything but well, cold and grey. But as we looked closer, we noticed enough balls for everyone to play, climbing structures with welcome banners, bikes to ride, an outdoor kitchen, raised beds for planting, and sculptures made of found objects. It was beautiful. All built by the parents, according to Gary. The community here is strong. He told us to walk around the back and enter there. We did and were greeted warmly by Leigh Ann, the lead teacher in the big room. Once inside, the facility took our breath away. There were art projects all around us. They were on the walls, in cubbies, on shelves, hanging from the ceilings, in the windows, on easels, in progress, drying, large scale, small scale, 3-dimensional, 2-dimensional, and oh the clay! Picture a huge lump of clay, the size of a soccer ball, in the middle of a toddler-sized table. It was a station with authentic, wooden and metal clay tools, spoons, safari animals, and more, set up for the children to explore at their will. It was so cool to see children coming and going: taking chunks, poking into, “climbing” with the animals, then noticing how it felt on the fingers of these little explorers: smooth, sticky, cold. Other craft materials were displayed in glass jars and the beauty of the natural lighting and natural wood was calming, and not lost on us.
We were asked to divide ourselves and observe quietly. We could take pictures and notes respectfully. The children quickly paid us no mind, as they were incredibly engaged in play. They were content and curious. The energy was of calm, peaceful contentment. The children moved around the room freely and occasionally checked in with the teachers for reassurance. They navigated the room as little sponges and problem solvers. They were able to get their needs met, most times without a teacher interjecting. It was clear that these children are allowed to make decisions, and in turn learn life skills. How empowering for these young minds. There is obviously an air of respect between these children and their caregivers. There were no fights for control. And that is why, it appeared, that many children could be in smallish, creative environment without upsetting each other. There was parallel play at the sand table, some children played alone, while others built together. The center has something for all types of learners.
Children are allowed to get a snack out of their packs when hungry and when lunch comes, it is a slow time for reflection, communication, and navigating their lunch boxes. Nothing is rushed and all are able to enjoy food and each other.
At this point us visitors were able to share a few thoughts with each other, discuss some things that we had observed, and scoot out of there for a richer discussion over lunch of our own. The plan was to meet back at the center with Leigh Ann at nap- time for an opportunity to ask her some questions and to bask in her brilliance. Leigh Ann is knowledgeable, confident, experienced, warm, and friendly. She was more than accommodating and welcomed us graciously into her day, sharing her passion for children with us. We are forever grateful for the connection we made at Garden Gate this day.
After taking in all the information (and it’s still sinking in! And I’m pretty sure it will be for a while) we loaded back into Gary’s taxi headed to the dock. Again Gary spouted about the school and his family. We considered ourselves so fortunate to have gotten into his cab that day. He had earned the name “Garden Gate Gary” by the time we were boarding our ferry.
We have learned so much on this day. We are overwhelmed and excited and motivated to share and implement some of the best of what we saw. We completely understand that full changes do not happen overnight. But we are so confident that changes can happen fairly quickly to move us into the light of becoming Reggio-inspired. Part of Leigh Ann’s allure and the powerful presence of Garden Gate is that they are not pretending to be something that they’re not. They have a parent orientation at the beginning of the school year and state clearly the things they teach and the things they don’t. They are able to weed out the families with expectations of printed worksheets, perfect spelling, alphabet learning, and counting to 25. It’s made clear that your child won’t be learning those things during their time at Garden Gate.
What a Reggio Emilia program at Garden Gate does promise is an opportunity provided to young minds that will allow children to grow in their own time though experiences in play, materials, social settings, a rich meal time, stories, and guided experiences where children are allowed to make mistakes. Time is what is allowed to these children. They are not rushed into getting to the answer. They are expected to come to their own conclusions through individual reasoning. On this day, they design their own circle, telling the teacher what they want to sing about. Another group learned how to fill a bird feeder, taking turns, overfilling it, spilling seed, emptying out the excess, and carrying it to the window, followed by clean up.
For a teacher not trained in Reggio, it means letting go of control. It means trusting uncertainty. It doesn’t mean being unprepared in the classroom and letting mayhem ensue, however, it is allowing the natural beauty of learning to unfold and getting on the wave with the children.
One may ask, how does this translate as the children get older and need to possess certain academic skills to get by in the older grades?
In these formative years of development, backed by years of scientific brain study, people would say, and teachers in upper classes would agree, that these children possess skills and the confidence to navigate socially and now have the cognitive focus to deal with academics in a formulated structure. Turns out, print out copies and formal lessons at the preschool level are not as effective as they once were thought to be.
A Reggio Emilia program produces a child who is confident because that child knows him/herself. These children have been allowed to make decisions and mistakes and learn from them in an environment where children are empowered and trusted.
We had a great day and look forward to many other enriching experiences together as we look to the future at Laurel School.
Garden Gate Child Development Center
Our Day on Martha’s Vineyard
By Jennifer Levesque
As we set off on our adventure, we four travelers were excited and curious. Our early morning meeting place had Amy at the helm as we piled into the van on route to Mashpee to get our lady in red, Courtney… a vision in scarlet couture. Kathleen graciously let me be co-pilot, so as not to see what I had for breakfast. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one thankful for this.
The boat ride was delightful, the view breathtaking. We docked and headed toward the taxis, with the words, ‘Garden Gate’, on our tongues. Gary asked us, “where to?” and he knew just where we were headed because his daughter is a student at Garden Gate! What luck! We were then privy to one of the very best testimonials of anything anyone could ever hear. They were the words right out of a proud father who loves his daughter more than life itself. He was like champagne bubbling over, excited to share with us what Garden Gate was all about to his daughter, and his family. He had some of us tearing up as he spoke, and we all had goose bumps on our ride to the tiny school’s location.
During the cold, grey winter months, it’s hard to make anything, no matter how magical, look anything but well, cold and grey. But as we looked closer, we noticed enough balls for everyone to play, climbing structures with welcome banners, bikes to ride, an outdoor kitchen, raised beds for planting, and sculptures made of found objects. It was beautiful. All built by the parents, according to Gary. The community here is strong. He told us to walk around the back and enter there. We did and were greeted warmly by Leigh Ann, the lead teacher in the big room. Once inside, the facility took our breath away. There were art projects all around us. They were on the walls, in cubbies, on shelves, hanging from the ceilings, in the windows, on easels, in progress, drying, large scale, small scale, 3-dimensional, 2-dimensional, and oh the clay! Picture a huge lump of clay, the size of a soccer ball, in the middle of a toddler-sized table. It was a station with authentic, wooden and metal clay tools, spoons, safari animals, and more, set up for the children to explore at their will. It was so cool to see children coming and going: taking chunks, poking into, “climbing” with the animals, then noticing how it felt on the fingers of these little explorers: smooth, sticky, cold. Other craft materials were displayed in glass jars and the beauty of the natural lighting and natural wood was calming, and not lost on us.
We were asked to divide ourselves and observe quietly. We could take pictures and notes respectfully. The children quickly paid us no mind, as they were incredibly engaged in play. They were content and curious. The energy was of calm, peaceful contentment. The children moved around the room freely and occasionally checked in with the teachers for reassurance. They navigated the room as little sponges and problem solvers. They were able to get their needs met, most times without a teacher interjecting. It was clear that these children are allowed to make decisions, and in turn learn life skills. How empowering for these young minds. There is obviously an air of respect between these children and their caregivers. There were no fights for control. And that is why, it appeared, that many children could be in smallish, creative environment without upsetting each other. There was parallel play at the sand table, some children played alone, while others built together. The center has something for all types of learners.
Children are allowed to get a snack out of their packs when hungry and when lunch comes, it is a slow time for reflection, communication, and navigating their lunch boxes. Nothing is rushed and all are able to enjoy food and each other.
At this point us visitors were able to share a few thoughts with each other, discuss some things that we had observed, and scoot out of there for a richer discussion over lunch of our own. The plan was to meet back at the center with Leigh Ann at nap- time for an opportunity to ask her some questions and to bask in her brilliance. Leigh Ann is knowledgeable, confident, experienced, warm, and friendly. She was more than accommodating and welcomed us graciously into her day, sharing her passion for children with us. We are forever grateful for the connection we made at Garden Gate this day.
After taking in all the information (and it’s still sinking in! And I’m pretty sure it will be for a while) we loaded back into Gary’s taxi headed to the dock. Again Gary spouted about the school and his family. We considered ourselves so fortunate to have gotten into his cab that day. He had earned the name “Garden Gate Gary” by the time we were boarding our ferry.
We have learned so much on this day. We are overwhelmed and excited and motivated to share and implement some of the best of what we saw. We completely understand that full changes do not happen overnight. But we are so confident that changes can happen fairly quickly to move us into the light of becoming Reggio-inspired. Part of Leigh Ann’s allure and the powerful presence of Garden Gate is that they are not pretending to be something that they’re not. They have a parent orientation at the beginning of the school year and state clearly the things they teach and the things they don’t. They are able to weed out the families with expectations of printed worksheets, perfect spelling, alphabet learning, and counting to 25. It’s made clear that your child won’t be learning those things during their time at Garden Gate.
What a Reggio Emilia program at Garden Gate does promise is an opportunity provided to young minds that will allow children to grow in their own time though experiences in play, materials, social settings, a rich meal time, stories, and guided experiences where children are allowed to make mistakes. Time is what is allowed to these children. They are not rushed into getting to the answer. They are expected to come to their own conclusions through individual reasoning. On this day, they design their own circle, telling the teacher what they want to sing about. Another group learned how to fill a bird feeder, taking turns, overfilling it, spilling seed, emptying out the excess, and carrying it to the window, followed by clean up.
For a teacher not trained in Reggio, it means letting go of control. It means trusting uncertainty. It doesn’t mean being unprepared in the classroom and letting mayhem ensue, however, it is allowing the natural beauty of learning to unfold and getting on the wave with the children.
One may ask, how does this translate as the children get older and need to possess certain academic skills to get by in the older grades?
In these formative years of development, backed by years of scientific brain study, people would say, and teachers in upper classes would agree, that these children possess skills and the confidence to navigate socially and now have the cognitive focus to deal with academics in a formulated structure. Turns out, print out copies and formal lessons at the preschool level are not as effective as they once were thought to be.
A Reggio Emilia program produces a child who is confident because that child knows him/herself. These children have been allowed to make decisions and mistakes and learn from them in an environment where children are empowered and trusted.
We had a great day and look forward to many other enriching experiences together as we look to the future at Laurel School.
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