It's March, and March means the Slice of Life Story Challenge. All are welcome to join the challenge of noticing and writing about the moments of daily life that are stories.
“I don’t like writing,” B. told me as I walked into her kindergarten class, “and I’m not writing anything today.”
For a quick moment, I wished I had a mask on since it’s easier to hide my facial response when you can’t see much of my face, and I’m probably out of practice for keeping a poker face.
B. was true to her word, and for the entire writing period, she made it her business to roll on the floor, moan in the corner, and crumple her papers. I tried kindness. (Utter rejection.) I tried distraction. (Complete failure). I tried ignoring. (Textbook escalation.)
“Has this been going on all day?” I asked her teacher. The last time I’d been in the classroom was two days ago, and B. had been tricky to jump start but once she got going, her writing was probably the strongest in the room. She suffers from the perfectionist syndrome which is a tough diagnosis for a five year-old writer.
“Off and on,” her teacher responded.
Again, I wished for my mask to hide my facial expression.
When writing ended, the class headed for art, and B. was in the corner somewhere between moaning and wailing. Literally. And it had been almost the entire half hour.
I struggled with the “right” approach. What would I want for my own child? What was going on that made it worth a full out mind loss before lunch? What did the circles under her eyes suggest about what else could be going on? What behaviors would I reinforce with kindness and attention? How did I want this to end?
After completing my self-talking q and a session, I went with the eat an elephant one bite at a time approach.
“You want to get to art,” I said, “ and the first thing that has to happen is the top has to get put on the pen.”
Once the cap was on the pen, I asked for one shoe at a time to go on her feet, and then her smock. When new tears started over having the wrong smock, I told her to go ahead and get a different one. That must have surprised her as a response because she herself didn’t have much of one. She walked over and switched her smock.
At the end of it all, she walked to art as if nothing had happened. I'm not sure if this change in mood reassured me or concerned me even more.
And later, she came to my room and worked on a special project– yes, it was writing related!-- with me, and was much more receptive and productive. I chose not to point out that she was breaking her pledge of not writing today.
Maybe tomorrow, that pledge will be a distant memory.
It must be difficult to decide how to deal with such situations and there is not much time to take decisions. It was good to read that it all worked our well.
ReplyDeleteLove this turning point line: That must have surprised her as a response because she herself didn’t have much of one. This would be a great mentor text to use with our writers. Glad you were there to give this young friend the space she needed to work through the moment in her own way and in her own time.
ReplyDeleteAs a reader, I was there with you. As a teacher, I was nodding along and applauding your decisions! As a writer, I love what you do with your questions paragraph. We were in your head asking questions and anticipating which choice you might make and whether or not it would work.
ReplyDeleteA nice reflective start to my day!
Those big emotions are so hard to handle. I can see her moving away. Insisting, but then trusting you. This is truly a moment of where you have built a relationship with this little one that matters oh so much!
ReplyDeleteThose are some big feelings. I can't say I've experienced quite that level of student frustration in my 20 years in Kindergarten, but the perfectionist streak is most definitely present during my Writer's Workshop from time to time. I love when parents, during conferences, say, "I have no idea where that comes from." Nature or nurture? Who knows!
ReplyDeleteI love how you got her to write anyway. Those are my own, silent moments of triumph and 8 hold onto them dearly!
ReplyDeleteThanks for influencing a young writer to write, even if it was eventually. Haha 😊
There's a lot to appreciate about this post, like Tim said, but what stuck with me was YOUR writerly decisions. I love that graph with the paragraph responses; I love the last line. And as a mama, I appreciate so much that you channeled that version of Melanie. What would I want for my own child? is a question that anchors me in so much of our work. XOXO
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