Unjaded

I had a chance to step into my old role at work last Friday, working one-on-one with a little guy at a preschool. Well, sorta one-on-one. While he has limited mobility in his legs, and a bit in his hands, he is cognitively typically developing; a smart, confident young man. I was mostly just there to ensure driver safety with his walker.

He wanted to jump on the mini-trampoline at centre time. He bounces independently on his knees, a mix of straight up-and-down bounces with the occasional horse kick thrown in for good measure.

As I supervise just off to the side, we engage in conversation: about his full-size trampoline at home, about his older brother who tries to hog trampoline time, about how this little bouncer is harder on his knees than he's used to. 

It is quiet for a minute.

Then he comments, "sometimes people watch; they look at me a lot."

In an instant, my brain imagines all the scenarios where this little guy moves around on his knees, or in his walker, while the world around him moves unassisted on two feet. Expecting to hear him parrot whatever his parents have taught him thus far about how to respond to gawkers--and preparing myself to enter into a brief conversation about how it makes him feel when people act that way--I respond open-endedly with, "oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. It's cuz I can bounce so high."

Because the conversation was never about his disability to begin with.

When in Reggio OR 68/365

Because The GRIT Program (where I work) is a family-centred educational program, we work in family's homes, as well as neighbourhood preschools and kindergartens. We don't have a classroom of our own. We do, however, have a playroom, and run a small playgroup a few times each month for the kids in our program.

As we always try to adhere to current research and best practice for child development and education, we are presently trying to adopt many aspects of the Reggio Emilia Approach in our playroom. One of the most salient changes we are making is to the decor and 'ambience' of the environment.

On a tight budget, my partner and I have been brainstorming the little things we can change in the classroom--for little or no cost--to make it more conducive to learning through play and discovery. Knowing some of the benefits of plants, we placed a few in the classroom last month--each originally a cutting from a plant or two in our homes. They are thriving quite nicely. I also managed to obtain some fish for free, and they have drawn interest from some of the kids over the last few weeks. We have also gathered some natural materials (namely, sticks and pebbles) for the children to play with and explore in the different centre areas.

We also know that when we display the children's art work, it will 'pop' more if the playroom isn't busy with the primary colours (vibrant red, yellow, green and blue) so traditional of preschool and kindergarten classrooms and equipment. While there is nothing wrong with these vibrant colours, per se (after all, they're generally the first colours children learn developmentally), they're certainly not easy on the eyes. And sometimes there can be too much colour in one's learning space. So this weekend, I undertook Project: Ikea Meets Reggio.

For several years, the Play Doh Table has been a bright green and yellow Ikea table. My partner and I felt no guilt in covering it over with a few coats of paint (sorry, Ikea!). We were given some paint by a colleague in a natural taupe and chocolate brown. Perfect. With the long weekend at hand, I knew I would have ample time to prime and paint new life into the table.

So it was that on a Friday evening, I found myself dismantling the legs from the top (thank you, Ikea!), and applying two coats of primer over the bright, glossy colours. It looks better already.

An actual conversation at 8:56am today, as I am driving with a child to go swimming.

Me (special needs para-professional from the city): Hey, look--a big truck! We're going to pass the big truck; it's pulling a tractor! Wowww!

Child (4-yr-old with severe speech delay from rural Alberta): ...Dat's a back hoe.

Me: Oh. Back hoe. Gotcha.

* * *

It's okay. Yesterday I learned the term 'auger' at his playschool. Before, I just used to call it... well, I dunno what I called it. The child may have a speech impairment; I have a John Deere impairment.