Not a Book Review--A Look at Gun Play

About six months ago, I read Killing Monsters: Why Children Need Fantasy, Super-Heroes, and Make-Believe Violence by Gerard Jones. It was a fantastic book, and I learned a lot from it. I began taking notes, like I normally do, but I soon realized that it was too time-consuming, so I began highlighting instead. In fact, I found so much of the book important that I probably literally highlighted a full third of the words in the book.

And that was my trouble. That's why I never posted a book review of it--I wanted to take so many clippings from it that when I imagined finally finishing the post, I almost feared I'd be arrested for copyright infringement. You know, for publishing so much of the book online that it doesn't even seem to be a review anymore, but rather an abridged copy.

Anyway, I lent the book to my boss at the day care, hoping it would spark his passion as much as it did mine. He seemed to be excited for it, but then he gave it back to me, partially read and stained from a coffee spill, saying that he didn't have enough time anymore. (And yet I saw a copy of Ayn Rand on his desk. Yep.) I told him that it was fine, but what did he think of it? He replied that, while he certainly didn't agree with everything in it, there were some things that made him think. I let the issue drop, deciding to be happy with that at least.

I've always allowed gun play in classrooms that I've been in at the daycare. My Montessori background leads me to believe, and my reading now supports, that whatever children play is something that their mind is trying to make sense of, and thus beneficial to their development. I always try to observe closely and watch for children that are made uncomfortable by it, but actually, that's never come up. The other children either play along or ignore the gun-player completely.

The only time it's ever an issue is when another child remembers rules that adults have enforced upon them and looks to me to see if I will enforce consistent rules. And then I ask the child why we have that rule, to which they reply with something like, "Guns are bad." Again, I ask, "Why is that?" Usually they shrug and wander off at that point, but if they reply with, "Guns hurt people," then it seems that they have a clear concept of a gun as a weapon and I bring the other child into the conversation with something like, "X says guns hurt people. Are you trying to hurt people?" and so forth until we establish that the play is pretend.

But honestly, I prefer gun play to a lot of other types of play, especially horse play. (What a silly term. It's absolutely fine to pretend to be horses!) There was one class of two-and-a-half-year-olds that played guns more frequently than the others. (They have since been broken up into separate classrooms through the natural progression of aging in a medium-sized daycare center, and a couple of them have termed, dropped out for various reasons.) They were a rambunctious bunch of boys and girls, but when they were standing, pointing their fingers at each other, and then falling over, I didn't have to worry that they were tackling and physically harming one another. (Not that bumps and bruises aren't a natural part of childhood, but, as I learned in Killing Monsters, adult women are less comfortable with physical play than adult men and the children themselves are.) Plus, I saw a lot of compassion in that play, led by a certain female child. When someone would fall over after being "shot," she would rush to their side, smush their chin between her palms, and coo sadly, even if she was the assailant! Sure there was a lot of, "Get 'em!" but there was also a lot of, "Help me!" and friends running over to comfort an "injured" buddy.

Once while I was in this class, a neighboring teacher looked in, saw gun play occurring, and reprimanded the kids. My kids. Okay, they weren't really "my kids," because I'm a float teacher, not the lead teacher in that classroom. Aaaand, technically, a few of them were drop-ins from her classroom, so they were more her kids than mine. But still! She was undermining my authority while I was in charge of the class and confusing the children with mixed messages about what was allowable and what was not. So I told her, still with the shy and polite manner I have, even though I was frustrated, that we have different philosophies on this topic. She proceeded tell me about a child in a public school where there was a no-tolerance policy for guns that got expelled for pointing a breakfast pastry, fashioned into the shape of a gun, at a friend. "We have to stop it here," she explained. "These kids will be going into the public schools," though, admittedly, perhaps not the ones with no-tolerance policies, "so we have to stop it here." I was at a loss for words. What? What about all the amazing things I had just read in Killing Monsters? What to say? What to say? Had I learned nothing? Seeing as I didn't have a reply, she left, smugly.

Another time, I was in a preschool classroom with four-year-olds. It was nearing the end of the day, and a number of children had decided to play guns with Legos. One of the boys' mother came in and saw the play. Visibly shaken, she addressed her son, "Are you playing guns?" She roughly took the blocks out of her child's hands and threw them on the ground. "You better not do that again." I have to say something!, I knew. I couldn't let this turn out like last time. "Children absolutely know the difference between pretend violence and actual violence," I offered, not quite as firmly as I could have. She addressed me for the first time, "Well, I don't know. I'm a gun owner, myself, but I don't know... Come on, we need to go tell [boss's name] about this," she told her son passive-aggressively, taking him by the hand. There was nothing else I could do.

A few minutes afterwards, an expected appearance from the boss, but not, by the way, the one who I offered the book to. He confirmed that the child was in my class, first, then told me that his mother had made a complaint about gun play in my class. "It's a policy here that we don't allow gun play of any kind. No weapons at all--no guns, no knives, no swords," he told me. Huh. Well, I had seen a number of teachers disallow gun play, but it was never discussed, not in any manual I read upon hire, nor on any signage on the walls. "Really? I've never heard that. Is it posted somewhere?" I asked. But instead of responding to politely as I had done, he chose a snippy reply, almost hostile, complete with finger pointing, "I'm posting it to your brain right now. Don't. Do it." He left, leaving me to finish out the day in my tearful frustration.

Whatever, I decided. At that point, I only had about two months left to work at the center before leaving for Montessori training, so I decided to play by the "rules," unposted or not, rather than ruffle any more feathers. I heard later from a coworker in the office that said boss actually thought the complaint was silly. He sure didn't act like it when he spoke with me. Since then, every time a child has mentioned a gun in their play, I've told the child compliantly, "No guns."

Gah, what happened to all the facts and insights I had read? Had I not internalized it? Perhaps I really had highlighted too much. And, definitely, not going over the notes again by posting them here wasn't helpful. So.. actual book review of Killing Monsters to come.

But on the day that I was spoken to, after the boss left, the remaining children still wanted to resume the game. I told them, "No guns," a couple of times, but one child was adamant. Eventually, after a few trials of what he could play without comment from me, his gun turned into a "flower wand" that turned everything it shot into a flower.

Toddlers and Pretend Play

I've been spending the past week and a half with the youngest at the daycare again, a class of 12- to 24-month-olds. They certainly keep me on my toes. Once, the box of plastic food and dishes was out when I came in in the morning. I'm not too fond of this box in any classroom, the biggest reason being that the direct representation of food doesn't lend itself to creativity like a box of only dishes would. But in the youngest's room, there's something else at hand as well.

When I first spent time with the littlest ones, I taught about how playing with pretend food means only pretending to put the toys in one's mouth. It was to little success. I watched the older ones take to it reasonably well, but they were two years old already or fast approaching. The littler ones couldn't seem to comprehend the practice, and when I went in that morning, I was frustrated already because I knew that almost all of the children in the room that day were closer to 12 months than 24.

Yet the toys were already out, so I had no other choice than to begin the long struggle that felt like, "come on, please mimic me already!" For the half an hour that remained until outside time, I watched the eyes and faces of the children as I carefully explained again and again, "No, not in our mouth. Just pretend," and demonstrated. It just wasn't there. There was no understanding on any of their faces.

This box has no purpose in this room, I thought to myself. These kids are just too young to understand how to pretend.

It hit me all at once what I had just realized.

Well, that's it then. I guess I really am a Montessori teacher.

One of the most common arguments I hear against Montessori education is about the lack of imaginative play in the classroom. The link in the above post writes well on the topic, but even upon reading it, I still hadn't made up my mind definitively on the issue until that moment last week.

Even in the older classrooms, some toddlers still don't understand pretend play, as evidenced by the teeth marks on every piece of plastic food and dishes in the establishment. They must be told very specifically that, "That is a toy. We don't put toys in our mouths. It's just for pretend," and I haven't seen any other teacher say this.

So I know now that I believe children can't understand pretend play until around the age of two, but what of giving imaginative play toys to older toddlers?

Well, children will play whatever they need to play in order to develop the skills they currently need, despite what invitations we make available for them through toys. A friend recently described to me how her two-year-old gave voices to and played dolls with crayons one day. Similarly, my parents have a photograph of me playing intently on the floor with a piece of trash that looks like a wadded up piece of paper. If children want to play housekeeping, nothing will stop them from finding what they need to do so, but I don't believe that we need to provide them with the confusing, mixed messages that pretend toys send.

(It's a little disheartening to me to realize this, actually, as I was planning on giving my two-year-old nephew the elegant, painted wood Food Cutting set from Melissa and Doug as a gift. Although it does list the age the toy is appropriate for as 3+. Unfortunately, because I'm a long-distance aunt, I don't get to spend as much time with him to know when he would truly benefit the most from this gift.)

In the meantime, what should these little ones be working with? Well, pouring, scooping, matching, classifying, and practicing cleaning various things. You know, Montessori activities. :)

Practicing Pretend: First Week in Child Care

I've now worked at the day care for one week (technically four days, because Monday was a holiday). It was tough at first, getting into the swing of things, and the morning before my second day, I thought to myself, Just WHAT have I gotten myself into? Thankfully, every day since has been progressively easier. It really is a less stressful job than that of a public school teacher, I've found. Yes, every job has its perks as well as troubles, but I'm absolutely enjoying this atmosphere. I'm still in training, but I look forward to getting a "classroom" of my own. Aside from the 30 minutes today I stepped into an "older-kids" room (I'm not sure if it was considered a "Kindergarten class" or a "School-age class"), I've still only worked with the toddlers, but I'm actually liking it more than I expected to, and I'm sure that's because of ratios. The toddler room is kept at a 1:5 teacher-child ratio, while the pre-K rooms are 1:8, Kindergarten rooms are 1:12, and school-age rooms are a big 1:20. After my student teaching, I definitely like to keep to as few children as possible so I can focus and stay devoted to them. But it certainly is a change to get used to caring for such little ones.

If I have the opportunity, there are a few things I'd like to implement when I have a room that primarily I will be in charge of:
1 - In Montessori fashion, get less toys on the shelves. With less to distract, children will be able to focus easily on the thing in front of them. Plus, it's less for a little one to be responsible for--less for a little one to need to clean up.
2 - In Montessori/Waldorf fashion, include no toys that beep or make noises or music. The more that a toy does for a child, the less the child has to do for herself. With simpler toys, a child is left to exercise her creativity in order to play.
3 - In Vivian Gussin Paley fashion (and Teacher Tom after her), allow ample story telling, recording of children's own stories, and reading aloud and reenacting of those stories.
4 - Ample singing (even in, gasp!, foreign languages), word play, and nursery rhymes to promote phonemic awareness.
5 - Frequent hand washing, particularly after coming in from playing elsewhere or eating, or after potty training, to promote proper hygiene.
6 - I'm lucky enough to work at a facility that encourages daily teeth brushing, but it's best not to brush right after eating. I'll save our brushing until after nap time.
7 - Time-outs reserved solely for when a child actively defies the teacher. I debated this one for a while. I didn't want to include time-outs at all because it's more effective to simply discuss behavior and use it as a learning opportunity. However, it has happened this week that toddlers have said, "No," to a request I'd given, and, for the safety of the child, I simply cannot allow that to develop into a habit. As tough as it is to admit, I truly DO need children to follow directions. I will keep their best interests at heart and never ask them to do anything unnecessary, but when a child decides to disobey, I'll need to follow through with a 2-minute time-out.

Until that time, I still have some more training to do!

Recently, the toddlers have been interested in picture books around the end of the day and have been allowing me to read to them for about an hour each day. It keeps their focus well actually, and what's great about having two adults in the room is that when they grow restless, the little ones can find something else to occupy themselves with while I keep reading to the ones that are still interested. Most of the time they come back after about ten minutes, anyway.

Today we practiced proper Pretend etiquette, which I'm proud of. We had the plastic food out, and many of the toddlers were putting the toys in their mouths. I know that they're one- and two-years old, but most of them have runny noses, and one went home yesterday with a 102 temp after nap. With that in mind, I sprung into action. One at a time, starting with the current offenders and then moving to the rest whenever the issue arose again, I began a game/discussion/lesson of how to pretend without putting toys into mouths.

My words went something like this:
While gently pulling the hand that's holding the toy away from the face, "[Child's name], no, we can't put the food in our mouth. Just pretend that you're eating that [food item]. Watch me." Then I'd demonstrate the procedure of miming eating, either with the toy they were playing with or another that's in front of me. "See? I'm pretending to eat the [food item], but I'm not really putting it in my mouth. It's just pretend. Now you try it." Next I'd hand over the toy I was using to demonstrate. If they continued to play by putting the toy in their mouth, I'd start over, but if they followed my lead at that point, I'd say, "That's right! I like the way you're pretending to eat the [food item], but you're not really putting it in your mouth."

A couple of them picked up on it very quickly while others needed more practice. The youngest (I believe she's 20 months?) didn't seem comprehend the "game" at all, but I was glad to keep showing her, anyway. The second youngest, however, occasionally after our lesson, held a purple, plastic fork in the air for me to "eat" from. Perhaps as a reminder to himself of what to do with said fork?

One boy preferred to ignore the plastic food all together and focus on the epitome of pretend food, the invisible kind. He brought me a red plastic bowl and proclaimed it to be french fries, while shaking a small, red, plastic bottle of "ketchup" over it, and when I'd "eaten" it all, he'd run back to the play kitchen to bring me more, ad nauseum. But honestly, I was glad to play, knowing the repetition was building his creativity and confidence.

Little ones certainly demand a lot of patience, I'm learning! And I'm happy to say that I'm able to provide them with it.

Edit (7/14/12):
After more thought, I've come up with some other things I would do to a daycare classroom. Reggio Emilia schools create spaces using the philosophy, "The environment is the third teacher," emphasizing the importance creating a classroom in which children can thrive. That being said I'd like to:

-Remove the rocking chair. I'm continually telling children not to play on it. It creates too much of a hazard of squished fingers or toes. The rocking chair is mainly for rocking inconsolable children, but I don't find it necessary. For a couple of weeks when I had a 14-month-old that cried during nap, I picked him up and stood with him, swaying slightly, to quiet him. But I'd like to use that method sparingly, as well, as to not build a dependence on that type of behavior. The rocking chair is the only adult-sized chair in the room, but that's okay, because I would add...

-Floor pillows of many shapes, sizes, and colors. They can be used as large, soft toys or for seating.

-Remove all meaningless wall decorations and replace them with rotating artwork made by the children, including large, communal pieces on butcher paper.

-Remove all cartoon-y toys so that only realistic toys are present. Young children have a difficult time determinging fantasy from reality (another Montessori philosophy), and I don't want to contribute to that. For example, leave the stuffed toys fashioned after koalas, birds, and cats, but remove Barney (that's not what dinosaurs looked like) and Elmo (is he considered a monster?).

And just for clarification to number 2 above, the noise-makers I was referring to were all electronic. Instruments, like bells, drums, or guitars made out of empty boxes and rubber bands (although probably not the latter for the young infants), are fine by me.