It's an annual event that gets my heart a-flutter every summer: The big IKEA outing. I come prepared with tape measures, a mental budget, and long lists of mysterious names, written all in caps because...well, that's the way they look in the catalog, and this is serious business. While my husband plays with our daughters in the children's section, I set out like a bloodhound, tracking the exact shelf/pot/lamp that will be the latest addition to the classroom. (In case you're wondering, I am given a classroom budget each year for outfitting the space with furniture and supplies. And yes, I am completely aware of how incredibly lucky I am.) My loved ones collapse in the bulging car several hours later, their bellies full of meatballs and their eyes glazed from the fluorescent lights. But I can barely contain my excitement - it's time to get to work on preparing the classroom for another school year!
There's a lot to love about being a teacher in a Reggio-inspired program, but I've got to say that arranging the "third teacher" is one of my favorites. As I sit in quiet solitude, assembling furniture, my mind turns to the possibilities of the space. It's an exercise in reflection and creativity, a challenge that seems to deepen and become more complex each year. There are the usual factors to consider, of course: Has the room been made as safe as reasonably possible? How easily can the space be navigated and supervised? Are there areas for noisy, collaborative play as well as quiet, independent work? How will meals and rest times figure into the space? What boundaries are given by the school that I must respect?
But those are just the tip of the iceberg. The givens. As a Reggio-inspired teacher, I must ask myself what the classroom environment conveys to the children and the families who enter. Who is the child that lives and learns here? Are they seen and valued? Are they trusted and loved, challenged and nurtured? Do their families feel welcome and comfortable? Where are their families visible in the space? What messages are implied about the larger identity of the school as a whole? When I consider these questions, it begins to feel as though preparing the space is an expression of my love. No wonder I enjoy the process so much!
I've had the pleasure of visiting many Reggio-inspired classrooms, both in the United States and Italy. The environments ran the gamut from packed to sparse, shadowy to light-flooded. In fact, I can't say that there was a single constant about the spaces themselves. Rather, the commonality in all of these classrooms is how they made me feel - inspired, intrigued, delighted, curious. I hope that my classroom creates a similar sense of wonder in my students.
And that's just for the beginning of the year. Once they begin exploring and interacting with the space? That's when the fun really starts!
There's a lot to love about being a teacher in a Reggio-inspired program, but I've got to say that arranging the "third teacher" is one of my favorites. As I sit in quiet solitude, assembling furniture, my mind turns to the possibilities of the space. It's an exercise in reflection and creativity, a challenge that seems to deepen and become more complex each year. There are the usual factors to consider, of course: Has the room been made as safe as reasonably possible? How easily can the space be navigated and supervised? Are there areas for noisy, collaborative play as well as quiet, independent work? How will meals and rest times figure into the space? What boundaries are given by the school that I must respect?
But those are just the tip of the iceberg. The givens. As a Reggio-inspired teacher, I must ask myself what the classroom environment conveys to the children and the families who enter. Who is the child that lives and learns here? Are they seen and valued? Are they trusted and loved, challenged and nurtured? Do their families feel welcome and comfortable? Where are their families visible in the space? What messages are implied about the larger identity of the school as a whole? When I consider these questions, it begins to feel as though preparing the space is an expression of my love. No wonder I enjoy the process so much!
I've had the pleasure of visiting many Reggio-inspired classrooms, both in the United States and Italy. The environments ran the gamut from packed to sparse, shadowy to light-flooded. In fact, I can't say that there was a single constant about the spaces themselves. Rather, the commonality in all of these classrooms is how they made me feel - inspired, intrigued, delighted, curious. I hope that my classroom creates a similar sense of wonder in my students.
And that's just for the beginning of the year. Once they begin exploring and interacting with the space? That's when the fun really starts!
