Artfully engaging play

A visual metaphor for my impulse upon entering the beautiful play space set up at a ThinkinEd thinkshop.

 In March I was asked to participate in an incredible exhibit experience held by ThinkinEd. This was no small honour for me, a fan of their work. Their loose parts playscapes are always a multi-sensory, deeply thought-provoking invitation to celebrate creativity. I am so inspired by all that they do with their professional play experiences that I attend as many as I can though they're usually located an hour or more away for me. ThinkinEd takes something I've been actively engaging in with my students for several years now (playing, creating, thinking through use of loose parts) to a level I rarely see anywhere: their invitations are somehow transcendent, sweeping up participants in a feeling of utter delight. The thought that goes into the materials is art itself, and the participants become artists, architects or magicians simply by engaging in the experience. Below are images from some of the different events I've been fortunate to attend. 

June 2014: My daughter surveys a landscape she created with Aviva's daughter. The surprising reflection changed their play and their focus. At the joint Hawkins Exhibit & EdEx pop-up event at Black Creek Pioneer Village.
Click here for an interactive version of the photo, including audio.

August 2014: An invitation to play with the elements of design as used in Canada's most iconic and beloved artwork, that of the Group of Seven. At the incredible "Open House" pop-up event at MacDonald Art House in Vaughn. 

My response to the invitation above: I was joined by my friend's daughter as we looked carefully at the painted image for lines and colours to echo with the fabric swathes. 

While we were recreating the fall scene with fabric, my friend Helen got up close to a pair of snails (one large, one very tiny) with her older daughter. The snails soon became a living loose part, joining in fairy stories outside in the large wooded lot at MacDonald house. Like in an emergent curriculum classroom, there may be many threads of inquiry going on at the same time. Being able to wander from room to room, to follow one's own interest, made the experience personally meaningful to all.

My favourite room at the Open House event (and they were all inviting so this wasn't an easy choice). It wasn't simply the sense- and thought-provoking materials and set-up, but also the connection to the discovery made by our daughters at the EdEx event that made extending the play more meaningful. 

         

A closer look at the description in the reflections room. This particular scene with the trees and water intrigued me when I found it. I could see the images from the painting wonderfully captured with the tiles and stones, but it seemed incomplete somehow, not related to the mirror against the wall. So I experimented by turning their creation a full 180 degrees in order to orient the reflection as I saw it in the painting. It took that change for me to realize that unlike the other paintings, the reflection in this image could not be captured in the same way, with the island above and below in the water. Again, the play of reflection became a deeper exploration when something surprising happened. I realized my error, and laughed out loud.

 To see why I so connected with these pop-up events, I looked back to posts I'd written a few years ago when I first thought to look closely at what was happening in my evolving program. I went from having "centres" or areas for certain materials to a more organic space where students and materials were freed up to move and combine as desired: 

I have been experimenting with loose parts as artistic expression for a few years, more on my own or with my children, but as I learned about Reggio-inspired classrooms and saw images of students creating installation-type artwork in primary classes, I began to see the possibilities for my Kindergarten class. Another way I like to think of it: I stopped putting out glue as a way to capture natural materials in artwork, and started playing with balance, pattern, movement and time. (from "balance, pattern, rhythm and awe")

 I learned from students who once rushed through drawings and gave scant details ("It's my house. That's the roof.") and who now were telling elaborate stories with characters and setting. There is something very powerful about paying attention to the choices students make in what, where, and how they decide to spend their time. This might be more a function of leaving behind "must-do" tasks and less about the materials in use, but what I was seeing was evidence of "the environment as third teacher". I was seeing students in a whole new light, getting to know them as I hadn't been able to with a teacher-lead lesson followed by "play" (which wasn't nearly as engaging because I didn't yet know how to extend it). Later that same month, two years ago, I described how it changed student behaviour overall:

Loose parts art invites collaboration and problem-solving. Sometimes it looks like several students working on their own little pieces in frames but sharing bowls of materials, chatting about their designs, offering each other new parts to add or asking for someone to pass them another item. Perhaps it is because I have been collecting so many materials to use, or perhaps it is the sheer pleasure gleaned from playing with beautiful, tactile materials, but I rarely see arguing over materials even in such close quarters... 

Sometimes it looks like one child beginning a small pattern and then, slowly or all at once, being joined by several more students bringing more materials. Time after time I have watched students enter into a process already begun, adding their ideas, sometimes knocking things over, sometimes changing the story or design quite radically. (from "loosely told stories")

These ideas permeated my overall view of teaching young students, but it took learning about the work of David and Frances Hawkins later that summer for me to realize how meaningful the ideas are for us adult learners, as well. It was at the Reggio Inspired Summer Intensive in July 2013 where I met Simone, one half of ThinkinEd.

Pride and delight as we finally get our marble run working. From left: me, Simone, Cheryl. At Richland School during the Reggio Inspired Summer Intensive.

It was there I began to deeply relate to the messages from Reggio Emilia, through exploring the ideas of Via Vecchi, Lella Gandini, and Loris Malaguzzi. Perhaps that's not giving a proper description of how the week worked, though. We did have readings to do each day before our session, however we did little "studying" once at our session each day. Instead we explored ideas by engaging in hands-on play, and reframed our experiences afterwords by touching on the readings as we reflected on what had transpired.

It was also at the summer intensive where I was first introduced to the transformative ideas of Hawkins-inspired learning (and that is a post of its own, someday) including the necessity of "messing about" with materials and ideas for educators, not just for their students. The big picture was beginning to come into focus.

For tweets from this exciting exhibit, explore the hashtags here and here for week of March 17-21.

ThinkinEd is the creation of two incredibly inspiring friends, Simone Speigel and Aviva Fudem. I became friends with Simone during our week together (the impact of which took four posts to share and I felt I'd only scratched the surface with my documentation) and I was in awe of her artist's eye. All the participants (including the host teachers) were surrounded by beauty and wonder each day, but when Simone documented the experience she somehow translated it with a bigger perspective. Aviva, her dear friend and partner in ThinkinEd, is also incredibly talented at seeing artistic potential in what might seem like mundane materials. Together they see the vision of Hawkins-inspired learning come to life in pop-ups, thinkshops and exhibits for all ages. See more about their vision and wonderful programs on their blog & website. The quotes below illustrate to me why their work is not "professional development" but something much deeper:

Meaningful learning opportunities for educators need to reflect the unchangeable fact that idea sharing and knowledge co-construction are the key to progress. (from "back to the drawing board")

The very essence of our human existence is the ability to create – to create life, to create thoughts, to create ideas, knowledge, you name it. So imagine what you'd learn about yourself if you went beyond observing and reflecting on your individual learning journey and moved closer to genuinely embracing and understanding your creative journey. (from "imagining impossible things")

Embracing that challenge, to understand our creative journey, I've been thinking about play. Play, not work, is the stuff of constructivist learning. Work to me means finishing an assigned task, completing a job. Learning is not inherent in the process, in fact what is produced might illustrate knowledge from long ago, or worse, mimic understanding but instead demonstrate an ability to follow instructions. Play, not the creation of something to demonstrate learning, but actual engagement in meaning-making, is the stuff of learning. I've read it over and over said different ways, from great thinkers as far back as Dewey, and more recently like Lilian Katz. The most quoted in relation to early years learning is Loris Malaguzzi who speaks of pleasure and research in the same experience of learning:

The art of research already exists in the hands of children acutely sensitive to the pleasure of surprise. The wonder of learning, of knowing, of understanding is one of the first, fundamental sensations each human being expects from experiences faced alone or with others. 

What stands out for me, from reading and from my own teacher-research in the classroom (now shared with my wonderful teaching partner Pooneh Haghjoo whose observations add exponentially to my learning) is that when loose parts are involved, the focus shifts away from "what will it be made" to "what is". The mindful awareness that can come from exploring materials collaboratively is how students can come to understand ideas I once thought too deep, too abstract for young learners.

Last year, just before the EdEx event, Simone and Aviva visited Thornwood PS where I work with a team of educators whose dedication to emergent curriculum equals my own. It was a joyous day, with our students taking on the role of tour guides, showing off the most exciting or meaningful parts of their classroom and outside environment. After their visit Simone wrote about the day, in a touching post with many photos from Lada Duric's room (a place down the hall I visit often for inspiration and thoughtful advice too). In that reflection she had an "aha" moment that resonated powerfully for me: 

Throughout the day, I heard Laurel remind her students to "look closely". This had the wonderful effect of slowing them down and pushing their thinking. When I got home – with those words echoing in my head – I took the time to "look closely" at the photos from our visit. Here's what I noticed: Hands appear in almost every photo – maneuvering lights, creating patterns, touching, moving, poking, sorting. As I put together this PicCollage of images, a thought popped into my mind: We use our hands to think!

That got me thinking about the moment Lada announced she had captured a loose butterfly from their collection and wanted to release it into the (amazing) no-mow zone out back. The excitement of holding the butterfly in her hands, of gently opening her hand in the sunlight and releasing the butterfly onto a dandelion brought so much joy and wonder to us as adults, I can only imagine how it must feel for a child. (from "thinking with our hands")

As so it is that when I was asked to collaborate with these friends to create an exhibit highlighting my favourite invitations, I jumped at the chance. Their "Art of Play" exhibit ran all through March Break. As a happy accident, we would up settling on an auspicious date for my part in the exhibit: March 20, United Nations' "International Day of Happiness". That we met at a Reggio-Inspired course, where we daily explored Loris Malaguzzi's vision for teaching: "Nothing without Joy" made the date deeply meaningful.

My selection of materials included those I've used many times before in everyday play and in special provocations to further explore ongoing ideas in class. As I spoke to Simone and Aviva about my vision for the playscape I wanted to create, I looked to an artist (and long-distance friend) Ranjit whose playful sound and materials installations always make me wonder "how did he even think of that?" and as such who had inspired me to "mess about" and create. While I have no knack for electronics and I have yet to learn how to be truly handy with tools, I have taken from Ranjit and others the need to throw out the rules of "what" and "how" common materials are to be used. Wooden blocks become a xylophone, nesting kitchen bowls become floating drums, ice becomes a slow-motion, suspenseful noise maker, water becomes both a background and an instrument. The only new item I added to the collection was an antique washboard found earlier in the week that I expected would be a wonderfully noisy addition to the play. 

I gave the materials list (those I would bring and those I would need to borrow, like an array of glass jars) as Simone and I discussed what it was I intended to inspire with the wood, metal, glass and water/ice. She wrote the educator profile (below) after we spoke, and I must admit I was at a loss for words to see it summed up so perfectly. Simone's vision is so clear. I also adored seeing the moment used for the picture was that reflections room play where I connected my own learning to student misunderstandings, and the importance of cognitive dissonance.

Everything packed and ready for a day of noisy exploration at MacDonald House.

To see a stop-motion-animation of the art of sound room as we set it up, click here. It's a fascinating look at how my helpers and I set up one half of the exhibit (the other half being out of view of the photographer). 

The description Simone wrote for participants to think about while in "the art of sound" room. The invitation at the bottom sums up succinctly what took me many more words to explain to her. 

The sunlight added another dimension to the beauty of the room and the simplicity of the materials. For a long while, everything seemed to glow.

        

Watching as different players engaged with the materials, I saw new combinations I didn't expect. Stef's tower cascade, a child's design to shower marbles into the bowls through a tube, a design and re-design of the tubing waterfall in the trellis.. ideas expanded and the music changed.  My big takeaway from using materials I'd played with before (with students over several years) was how differently the various players approach the invitation. Some young children embraced the noise and action fully, rolling large jingle bells into the water bowls, swinging the makeshift drumsticks, spinning the ice sculptures, pouring water from high up to affect a dramatic splash, jumping for joy when a particular sound was achieved. Other young children approached cautiously, careful to stay dry in a very watery room, and treated the delicate materials with respect and even reverence. This wasn't the surprise, though, as I've come to understand that children bring their whole self to such deeply sensory play, and personality naturally shines through. The surprise for me was the way in which the older children engaged with the materials. I loved seeing a boy persevere for over an hour when he discovered he could alter the shape of the water trellis, and thus the flow of the water. I was fascinated by the thought that went into design decisions when large tubes were used to funnel marbles into the various floating bowls. I appreciated the time taken by some older children who were supportive of what younger children were attempting to build. I especially delighted in seeing my Peel colleague and friend, Stef, who approaches loose parts provocations much like I do... without hesitation. She created a beautifully towering bowl cascade that provoked the others in the room to look at the materials in a new way. It was Hawkins-inspired learning in a multi-age room - joyous learning indeed.

*Note: click to play, and again to stop the vine clip. 

For sound, click the speaker icon, click again to mute. 

Early in the day the sunlight on the clear water in the makeshift xylophone was simple and inviting.

A request for colour like (here and in the water bowl tubs) changed the scene to a beautifully colourful expression of different pitch.

Meanwhile, elsewhere much magic was happening all throughout the historic MacDonald House. 

A welcome at the door.

The simplest materials, perhaps, but the strongest impact for me. My mind raced with possibilities for students, especially tying to ongoing inquiries in class such as our look at the structures in our neighbourhood.

This enticing lighted darkness was mesmerizing. My daughter spent much time here, as well as outside in the puddles and visiting the YR Nature room. I had only a few minutes to explore here (click for video clip) but the colours, reflections and shadows were enticing. I could've explored for ages. 

A calm and inviting space set up by Diane Kashin and Diana Fedora Tucci of York Region Nature Collaborative.

In "the art of line" room there were traces of the amazing Jessica who had been artist in residence days before but whose invitations and collaborations with ThinkinEd inspired a gallery of beautiful artifacts.

Traces of several days' worth of play with line. The shadows playing lines across the floor just added to the experience of looking closely at line. 

My day playing with sound, time and basic materials was fast-paced and fun. I left with my head spinning and my daughter still giddy from all she'd explored. I saw people of all ages connect to big ideas, simply by playing... playing with their own bodies in space, discovering possibilities and passions and even unknown talents. It was, as always, a deeply wholistic way to think about art and beauty. I am ever grateful for the opportunity to join in the play.

@smari1120 @ThinkinEd that's why this is the best job ever! The joy of discovery, & the pride in each "Look what I can do" is priceless.
— kids connect (@KinderFynes) March 23, 2015

ordinary magic: ice inquiry, part 3

Undulating frozen waves extend out well past the shore. The sound of water moving underneath this is eerily beautiful.

It's been a full month since I last sat down to write about the ongoing ice inquiry in our class. As I had described it in my last post, our students "were beginning to explore ice as a material, a phenomenon, and as a medium of artistic expression." Indeed, ice became a way for so many ideas to be expressed among a group of students whose fascination for the material rivals my own. As is the case in a large class with a curiosity-driven curriculum, ideas cycle around as groups of students follow their own projects, inspire others to join in or take over, or a new student moves into class and wonders about the documentation around the room. Our big ideas keep surfacing though the play keeps changing, a bit like fat that rises from a bubbling broth. Both inside the class and everywhere outside, ice has continued to be a fascination for many students. While at home on my own or with my kids, I've continued to explore the incredible scenes along the nearby shore as the ongoing deep freeze in February stretched into March and the local bay froze entirely for over a week. I was saddened by reports of starving animals and injured water birds, all affected by the intense cold for weeks without a thaw. I was fascinated by the daily changes along the beach where enormous ice waves formed, broke, and reformed into fantastical Dr. Seuss-like landscapes. I continued to collect interesting artifacts I found to share at school: icicles I harvested from the beach pictured above, frozen treasures such as apples or feathers found encased in ice, photos of winter scenes that made me wonder (such as the cluster of feathers below).

Ducks working to keep a patch of water open over the frigid nights: life-and-death ice inquiry.

Thousands of glittering shards of ice.

A photo I took to share with the class. Soft downy feathers frozen to the ground. Great for inferring... ouch!

As the calendar now indicates spring is here (hard to believe while the temperature hovers near the freezing mark), I get ready to head back to school after the March Break. Pooneh and I had ended our last week looking around our classroom, talking about what interests were fading and which new inquiries might develop as the indoor and outdoor environment change with spring. A few warm days before our break created a muddy puddle-wonderland on the schoolyard, one we explored whole-heartedly on the last day of school. I doubt anyone went home fully dry that afternoon. The laughter and exclamations of "Wow, look at this!" could be heard all across the yard. We followed rushing rivers of melted snow as they curved along the pavement to a drain. We found sticky mud that threatened to pull off our boots. We learned, again, that winter boots are great for snow but generally lousy at keeping water out. I wonder if that brief "big melt" will see an end to the interest in ice, if the wet and muddy landscape of early spring will lend itself to further exploration of water in its warmer form.

Last month I wrote about how our tweeted communication with Kelly Wright's class K1 Wonders helped us clarify our own thinking about "ideas" and spurred several students into creating a centre in the room where they could plan and create their own inventive ice sculptures. I ended the post with these words: 

"Our collaboration grew to include several classes and teachers whose communication with us helped our ideas grow. Indeed, the word "inspire" became a concept that spread to all we do in room 109. But that is a story for another post."

Here is that story. It begins with a tweet from a teacher I admire, Aviva Dunsinger. Note: the response led in so many directions I captured what I could using the storify app. To see some of the related tweets shared with our families and followers, see: "Ideas about ideas: How our small group exploration of ice sculptures grew into a much bigger inquiry into ice, planning, learning from others, and metacognition."

.@109ThornKs Thanks for sharing your thinking and learning on Twitter! I teach Gr. 1, & I look at what you share, & you inspire what I do.
— Aviva Dunsiger (@avivaloca) January 25, 2015

 I was touched by her comment but even more I was curious to know what the students would say, considering our previous conversations about where ideas come from. I shared her message during our morning meeting, and immediately students began to ask questions and make connections.

@avivaloca thank you! We talked about yr tweet this morning. We are thinking about the word "inspire". Some friends are making you pictures.
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) January 26, 2015

A collage we shared with families and followers in response to Aviva's tweet.

Aviva read our responses, including the ones collected in the collage above, and responded with questions and more ideas for us to think about. Note: we included our friends in @kinderwonders when we responded to Aviva, because they had been a part of our discussions about where ideas come from.

@109ThornKs @KinderWonders I really like all of your thinking. Thank you for documenting & sharing your learning with me.
— Aviva Dunsiger (@avivaloca) January 26, 2015

@109ThornKs @KinderWonders When you inspire, you make people want to try things because of what you do and share.
— Aviva Dunsiger (@avivaloca) January 26, 2015

@109ThornKs @KinderWonders Who inspires you? How do they inspire you?
— Aviva Dunsiger (@avivaloca) January 26, 2015

The next day at school we read Aviva's questions and comments about inspiration and documentation, and it lead to another great conversation about what it is we do when we share our ideas with each other. I was particularly thrilled to hear a student say her mom looked up the meaning of the word "inspiration" at home. Our families are such wonderful supporters of the learning that emerges from our class community. Below is just a sampling of what was said. I remember we talked for a while about the meaning of "documentation" before I managed to grab my clipboard and start recording what was said.

Over the day I mulled over the connections students made when we discussed inspiration. I thought of how often Pooneh and I used a book, an artifact or image to inspire students. We do it all the time,  but shining a light on our thinking made me think of my own inspirations. For creative interaction with ice, two artists come to mind. Andy Goldsworthy, whose ephemeral creations have helped me inspire students to explore natural materials for many years now including his works using ice and snow. In the last post I shared how AC was inspired by Goldsworthy's tree spiral to try her own "glued ice sculptures" both at home and then at school. The second artist is my friend Ranjit, whose creativity never fails to amaze me. He is first and foremost a sound artist, creating sonic wonder, but I can't help but admire the visual beauty of his works as well. I have been making "noisy melting sculptures" for a few years now, so this intersection of #iceinquiry and inspiration seemed the perfect time for me to go back to the source. I knew I had to show the class the photo that started it for me.

A playful ice sculpture made by Ranjit.

I brought the pieces together at a morning meeting by reflecting aloud on how we had talked about inspiration, and how it happens in our class all the time. As soon as I flashed the photo on the screen, there was a buzz of excited chatter in the group.

Now all of this talk about inspiration was happening against a perfect backdrop: February 4th was "Global School Play Day" or #GSPD, a celebration of how play-based learning leads to big ideas and collaborative learning in classrooms like ours. We had been preparing for the day, talking about what it means, and also viewing short video clips about play in classrooms of all ages. My favourite focus of the movement is summed up in the quote they use as their motto:

"You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation"   - Plato

To be able to share how inspiration helps us, and then watch it unfold during play, was rewarding. The conversation about ideas just kept spirally around, widening to include more students and more ideas. Many big ideas were explored over the day, including light and shadow, body balance, balance of materials, simple machines (ramps), materials that change (ice and snow). My interest was piqued by two girls who disagreed about the value of play (included in the collage below).

AV: Play doesn't make you smart, only work makes you smart. You have to sit and write.
JP: Wait! We got smarter when we played with the blocks and we made the tower better together.

JP & AT worked together today during play&learn time. JP came up with a big idea about learning #GSPD #ReggioPLC pic.twitter.com/LzTZwnQHZZ
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) February 4, 2015

Now that is a conversation worth having with families, teachers, the whole school community... inspired by Global School Play Day and our philosophical talks about how we learn.

Days like this, when so many students have a light in their eyes and a fire in their bellies to go explore an idea, these days I say we have raised windhorse together.

Inspiration had become a part of the culture of our classroom. The next day, while students were again exploring body balance (as inspired by Steven Jepson's video shared for GSPD), ES saw AL fix a balance beam that he'd knocked over. He stood looking at AL for a moment, then it seemed as if a lightbulb went on over his head.

Overhead at the big carpet, during play and learn this morning (by ES): "You inspired me, AL" #proudteacher
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) February 5, 2015

Our first musical ice experiments involved lots of metal "junk" loose parts, such as the keys we had spotted in Ranjit's version. Many plans were drawn and sculptures began to fill the freezer or the space just outside our doorway. Signs asking our fellow kindergarten classes with whom we share our yard went up: "Please don't touch!" and the universal "NO!" hand sign. 

Students hushed to listen for the next "clang!" of something falling from the melting sculpture.

AV looking closely, carefully documents all the elements she sees in the experiment.

Many tweets and vines went out that day, with students asking us to share their drawings or take pictures of their favourite angle of the melting ice. Students were delighted later to find that Ranjit was likewise inspired by our playful experimenting.

@109ThornKs right back atcha! :) https://t.co/NfVqs65d5I
— Ranjit Bhatnagar (@ranjit) February 6, 2015

@ranjit today we watched your video http://t.co/cFk914OkE0 at our welcome circle. Much excitement, you've inspired us again! #iceinquiry
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) February 11, 2015

AC was so inspired by Ranjit's video of the "glaciophone" she quickly drew up exactly what she'd need to recreate her own, but also added her artistic touch by including colour for the ice bars. This is engaged learning from a JK student.

AC's ice bars and a few more ice experiements, fresh from the freezer.

The beautiful result of the ice bars "glaciophone".

Meanwhile, our excited sharing was beginning to catch others' attention, both in the schoolyard and in classes we follow on twitter. We were inspiring others with our ice inquiry. We were beginning to see exactly how big an idea can get, by sharing it and opening our minds to new ideas, daily.

@109ThornKs Melina wonders if you are going to hang them, she thinks the little blue ones will melt faster than ours.
— K3 Kinders (@dancewithwonder) February 13, 2015

I was impressed that this student made a prediction about what would happen... to another class's ice experiment! We tweeted her a response to say how we liked her observation and prediction. It led to a good conversation, and their following tweet (below) inspire several students to include new materials seen in their pictures, such as buttons and feathers.

We were inspired by Valentine's Day......and our friends @109ThornKs ....check out our new ice sculptures! pic.twitter.com/6jRtbsWmXX
— K3 Kinders (@dancewithwonder) February 13, 2015

Our class continues to have great communication with our friends in KI Wonders, so this tweet made just about everyone sit up a little straighter and smile at our welcome circle.

@109ThornKs @ranjit our class likes reading about your ice inquiry!! You give us lots of sparks!
— K1 Wonders (@KinderWonders) February 15, 2015

Another friend had shown her class some of our tweets, and they sent us this message:

@109ThornKs Ss wanted to make ice sculptures so we looked at a lot of yours for inspiration. Thanks!
— Beth Woodward (@primarytweeters) February 23, 2015

Our ice sculptures look amazing. We were surprised none of the containers cracked. pic.twitter.com/E2AHoSM8SR
— Beth Woodward (@primarytweeters) February 24, 2015

EW, a part of the ice inquiry projects as far back as November, was thrilled to help out by offering a new idea to their class. She carefully wrote up plans, not for her this time, but for their class to try. Procedural drawing in Kindergarten. We do that, too.

Dear @primarytweeters here's something too TRY! Photo & words by EW pic.twitter.com/5BmkB8cL7l
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) February 23, 2015

Another wonderful thread developed when I was chatting with educator friends @AnamariaRalph @Bartlettkinders @MissJules1010 @inostribimbi about ice inquiries developing in their classrooms. This wasn't seen by our class (or families because I was using my own twitter at the time), but I knew I had to share these images with AC, who so loved Andy Goldsworthy's technique for building with icicles. 

@KinderFynes we looked at his winter pieces, as well as the strategies he used, made a list, then set up our area. pic.twitter.com/uCKSR5PRNA
— Marnie Penney (@MP_Kinders) February 27, 2015

When a tweet like those above came through, I shared them with the students whose creations had prompted the others to respond. There were many more, with the students commenting back and forth about what they saw in their peers' creations, comparing and offering words of encouragement to each other. (those below are included in the larger storify link).

Just down the hall, indeed at the far end of our large Kindergarten pod, Ms. Duric and Ms. Azzopardi's class were also exploring the beauty of ice as an instrument. We found these intriguing hanging bars outside one day when we went outside. I was most impressed by how gentle and respectful these students were, even as they were fascinated by what they found. Also online, their class tweets were showing a similar fascination with #iceinquiry. Several video clips caught my eye and I shared them with the core group of ice inquiry experimenters.

EW typing answer: Dear @MsDuric your ice sculpture inspired Me to make a similar kind of ice sculpture #iceinquiry
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) February 19, 2015

EW: This is me making my ice bowls. I got the idea from the class down the hall @msduric https://t.co/HlX6WUyZPo @MsDuric @KinderWonders
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) February 20, 2015

Musical sounds make with ice. pic.twitter.com/cnYIUb67S0
— @105ThornKs (@MsDuric) February 21, 2015

We watched this https://t.co/2gd3S3ZV2O and it inspired us to make music all together #iceinquiry pic.twitter.com/Z7j15fCwLM
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) February 23, 2015

As can be seen from this long list yet small glimpse into the entirety of ice inquiry, freezing water and observing it can lead to some unexpected learning for all involved. Indeed, when our class welcomed Miss Shazia (an ECE student completing her practicum teaching in our class for two months) looked around for ideas for an invitation, she naturally included the ongoing inquiry into her plans.

Yesterday Miss Shazia made ice boats with a small group. Here they are, ready to test for "seaworthiness" pic.twitter.com/zGlToiR8He
— Beyond 4walls (@109ThornKs) March 3, 2015

This story seems far from over, knowing how our big ideas keep circling around and around in class and reemerging in new interests. I can imagine how melting will continue to fascinate as the warm weather comes and frees up the yard and frozen creek. I can only end by repeating what I said in the storify version:

 Aviva, I can't thank you enough for sparking the use of the word "inspire" in our class. You inspire us, and all the other classes and teachers in this part of our #iceinquiry story, you make our learning so much more interesting!

ordinary magic: ice inquiry, part 2

Last week I began to tell the story of why ice has meant so much to the learning journey in our class this year and over several years. Before I sat down to write that post, I'd spent much of the weekend exploring the magnificent ice formations growing along the shore near my home, because the temperature at the time was in the -20 range with windchill values nearing -40. The deep freeze continued this week in school, thus we had several days indoors when the extreme cold meant outdoor recess was cancelled. By Friday, I couldn't wait to get outside and see the shore again. This weekend we've had snow, so much that the landscape is mostly white with trees, rooftops and field covered in white. Nearby Etobicoke Creek still flows under thick ice but it's nearly impossible to see.

The beach disappears as the deep cold (-39 windchill) freezes waves into undulating shapes on the shore.

This crack was the only sight of the wide creek rushing below the ice and snow.

Back in the warmth at home, I thought about how our students got to where we are now, thinking deeply about how we learn. The year began with learning about our bodies, including our own "Best Part of Me" book. This is our first year of FDK at Thornwood PS, so there was new learning for all of us: the returning senior students who'd only had me for half-day Kindergarten last year, the new junior students for whom all school was new, for my wonderful teaching partner Pooneh who was new to Peel Board (and who I wrote about in a previous post), and for me, learning to share the learning with a teaching partner. We weren't sure what inquiries might develop early on, so we both spent time getting to know our students through shared play and through group invitations. Much of our first month was spent outside, using a skill the seniors remembered well: "looking closely" at our environment to learn about what lives in our schoolyard. As our class began to settle into the new routines, Pooneh and I often split our large group into two, each taking half of the students to do a smaller circle exploration of materials or a read-aloud. Her ECE expertise was quickly evident to me as she created many sensory invitations to hone in on understanding particular parts of our bodies and our traditional "five senses".

We noticed that we can recognize the shapes but not colours with our eyes closed http://t.co/nWwJ70WzDD pic.twitter.com/YK6oxNgBSF
— pooneh haghjoo (@Hpooneh) October 10, 2014

This book inspired us to create our own book of our"best part" pictures and stories.

From there we rather naturally moved into health, both body and mind. Perhaps because so many of our inquiries flowed out of ongoing explorations, much overlap has occurred from project to project. Current inquiries such as body balance certainly link back to that first month's look at our bodies and what we love to do. The ongoing ice projects are certainly about the mysterious properties of frozen water and other materials through the lens of scientific exploration, but a secondary aspect of the long interest in one project is the way some students are developing metacognition about learning, perspective, and ideas. Ice continues to motivate deep thinking and joyful engagement in our class. In part 1, I shared my own fascination with water in winter, and then how #iceinquiry began to unfold this year in class in late fall. I left off with a collaborative inquiry between our class @109ThornKs and my friend Kelly Wright's class @KinderWonders which inspired our students to incorporate colour into their designs. Kelly had continued to explore this with her class during that last week of school in December. What delighted me was to see how our collaboration was inspiring some pretty incredible thinking among her students as well.

We have been discussing how our brains develop through inspiration, sharing our thinking and technology. pic.twitter.com/p4RPtl6rsH
— K1 Wonders (@KinderWonders) December 22, 2014

This spark happened right before the winter holiday break. I wondered as the holiday began if the interest in ice projects would fade away, with gifts of new toys and movies seen with family sure to bring new ideas to our conversations. Not ready to move on from the exciting observations about ideas and learning that came up when our students commented on @KinderWonders creations, I brought a new book to share when we returned in January. The funny thing was, we didn't even open the book and read it, because the conversation that flowed once we looked at the cover was too rich! We saved reading to allow the students to share all the ideas bursting forth.

The story was captured in tweets by both myself and my partner Pooneh, as we share the @109ThornKs twitter stream. See the exciting week that unfolded when we asked: "What are ideas and how do we get them, anyway?" Note: some collages included in the slideshow are repeated in this post, as reading the small print can be difficult in the embedded storify below.

Lime ice - a sensory delight that scented the room.

Drawing plans and preparing sculptures for the freezer.

Now seemed a natural time to explore ideas, thinking, and inspiration. The collages below (also included in the storify slideshow above but repeated here for larger viewing to read the print) represent an attempt to capture all the new directions our body and mind, and our ice inquiries were going to expand. When I look back at this documentation, I see what I was missing back in 2010 when I directed the students to all do a drawn and written response to our ice experiment. These days, I try to always let students know that next steps come from them, while ensuring time to reflect on what has happened and to ask questions generating new ideas. This has allowed me to see the students as capable learners whose curiosity and insight is the most important resource in planning experiences.

What emerged from the conversation about "ideas" was incredible: thanks to the spark shared by JP at our welcome circle, the new way for students to create sculptures included drawing (and writing) detailed plans including the materials and tools needed for the project. When so many plans were drawn and created we ran out of space in the freezer, a space on the board was created, dedicated to "tomorrow's projects". It wasn't yet cold enough outside to use the yard for our ice projects. That would come soon enough. We also spun off into studying "brain food" due to the comment "fish is good for our brains", which lead a small group of students to join Pooneh in the library to conduct research into brains and ideas. On another level, we were learning how to conduct research, looking closely at information texts to glean what we could from words and pictures. This skill is one that our students will carry with them for life, and it emerged (as it often does) from deep interest in a topic that arises during a class conversation.

The emergence of several new inquiries in our class in January (including a fire truck project sparked by the local Fire Fighters' visit to our school and an interesting look at gender and identity through toys) meant that the ice projects went hiatus for a few weeks. The learning thus far would have been enough for me to conclude that it was one of our biggest inquiries of the year. When it reawakened, however, the excitement surprised even me. Our collaboration grew to include several classes and teachers whose communication with us helped our ideas grow. Indeed, the word "inspire" became a concept that spread to all we do in room 109. But that is a story for another post.