Frog theories

Recently a small frog was discovered in our classroom sink. It looked like a blob of clay under the dish rack. Coincidentally, plastic frogs had been washed over the weekend and were drying in the rack right above where the frog was sleeping. Hmmm....

After some research, I learned that this frog is actually a gray tree frog that can change color slightly to fit its surroundings. They live their whole lives in trees, only coming to the ground to mate in the Spring or to hibernate in winter.

So I shared the story of the frog's discovery with the children at our end of the morning circle (see earlier post about morning meetings!). We wanted help with thinking about how the frog got into our sink. Lisa and I were engaged in magical thinking- maybe a plastic frog came alive! But we kept our idea to ourselves so that our students could generate their own theories.



Many students have created small forests with natural
materials for our small classroom friends: earthworms,
snails, and now our tree frog.

We know that at this age children often combine magical thinking with their knowledge of the physical world to explain natural phenomena. Often their theories demonstrate an intuitive sense of scientific laws, but are explained using magical or whimsical descriptions. Like when we observe rainbows in our classroom on sunny mornings: there's a general sense that light is shining through our window (through hanging prisms) creating these spectra, but children will often try to catch the rainbow, or personify it with human or animal features. The narratives that children create around a mysterious occurrence help with processing their observations and with tweaking their theories. Playful investigation is part of the young child's pursuit of scientific thinking.

Here is the list of theories for how our frog arrived in our sink:
He came up the drain in the sink. (We now know the frog is a she)
He hopped all the way up the building and came in the window to the sink (the window is right above the sink, too)
Downstairs, a robber sneaked him up here and dropped him in the sink when the police came
It climbed up the wall, over the ceiling, and fell in the sink
It climbed up the fire escape and came into the window and then into the sink
He has sticky feet to climb up a building wall

In reflection, the children's theories were pretty heavily scientific, or practical, except the one about the robber (and that was a fun story!). They seem to understand something about frogs, and how they navigate the world. We've never had a "lesson" on frogs- that's not how we operate. But we can think together about this frog and clearly the Rainbow Room students have a strong sense about frogs already.

Perhaps they have connected the dots between what they have heard or read or seen about frogs or other small animals and what drives an animal to resort to a human dwelling. I can see critical thinking at work here. And creativity. The opportunities for thinking and learning about our world are all around us, even in our classroom sink.


Our female gray tree frog, now a classroom pet

The Deconstruction of (Living) Things

Deconstructed bumblebee

A few weeks ago a person* in the Rainbow Room tore apart a dead bumblebee that was available for viewing under the loupe (a large magnifying glass on a stand). People nearby were very upset: Hey, you hurt the bee!!

The teachers, too, were concerned. Please don't break our classroom materials. This bee was for everyone to see under the loupe.
Admittedly we don't want people to destroy or dismantle items in our classroom, but these types of events occur in a preschool classroom. When a person knocks down someone else's magna tile ship, we ask the person to rebuild the ship for his or her classmate. Or if a toy gets broken, intentionally or accidentally, the teachers invite the person involved to help repair it. By bringing people back to a  destructive event, we are encouraging a reflection on one's actions; creating awareness of oneself and their surroundings. We also are supporting the growth of empathy: even if one's inadvertent actions (or purposeful, for that matter) impact someone else in the classroom, we check in. We promote the care for each other, the things around us. This process is an everyday occurrence in the Rainbow Room; par for the course.


Showing Anna a bug
caught in our classroom




A depiction of a dead spider a group
saw in the basement

Choosing a favorite butterfly on our poster

But the bumblebee incident brought up questions and feelings that I had not before considered.... somehow this "deconstruction" felt different. Why? Is there more to this event than just someone tearing apart a classroom material? It's not alive any more- is the fact that it once was alive making us more sensitive to it's safety? Should we expect the children in our classroom to feel the same way? Aside from the social norms about breaking something other people are investigating- that's not what I'm wanting to discuss here- is there learning to be had by actively deconstructing a dead bumblebee? What can this person share with the group that we had not before noticed? Is there a fascination with seeing the parts of an organism separately that we had not considered? Maybe there's an interest- an iconic, age-appropriate interest- in exploring living things, especially accessible things like bugs- and dead things.


The more I reflect on how we treat small critters, particularly bugs, I'm realizing how much presence insects and bugs maintain in the Rainbow Room (literally and figuratively). We find bugs all the time and usually catch and release them. Our warm windowsills often exhibit the occasional dead fly, a living stink bug, and to the children's delight, the beautiful ladybug.


Grub worms mysteriously appeared in our
acorns in the sensory table

Releasing the grub worms
on the playground

Making a home for the grub worms

Sometimes living bugs become the object of protective nurturing, as in the case of the grub worms "hatching"(?) from our classroom acorns. The same people whom I've observed stepping on bugs outside on the playground have been seen sensitively and carefully caring for these grubs in the classroom, making homes for them out of magna tiles and hollow blocks. Some specimen were collected to release on the playground- even the details of the grubs' comfort was considered when crafting the transporting environment (note the acorns in the bowl).


People noticed a spider on the playground
climber and quietly watched it move away.

For further exploration of living things,
a giant leopard moth caterpillar
was discovered and saved. An
enriching habitat will support its life
functions until its metamorphosis.



Providing space for the spider
while observing it.

After one person killed a granddaddy
long leg spider, a group was
invited to help the individual bury it.


Occasionally living things are deliberately killed on the playground. We aren't comfortable with this behavior, so we remind people that the playground is the animal's habitat; move away if you don't like it, but please don't hurt it. Drawing one's attention to the reaction of his or her peers can be a learning opportunity as well: were people interested in this bug? Were they observing it? 

When a particular episode occurred recently, a group of people were asked to help their friend bury the spider he had squashed. What resulted was a devoted group of friends working to create a lovely place in which to bury the spider. They rallied around each other, working toward a common goal and were satisfied with their collective result.



The spider's grave


Now I'm thinking of the Rainbow Room's next bug-related provocation: examining the parts of a bumblebee together.

 

 *I am deliberately using the terms people or person because generally that's how Rainbow Roomers refer to themselves (versus "children").