Last week's class discussion and this week's readings have had me thinking about the role of the caregiver in the "collaborative care" model that McMullen and McCormick (2016) describe in their paper. Specifically, they highlight the importance of taking on a "caregiver-centered perspective in which the voices of caregivers are central to defining issues, solving problems, making decisions, and informing policy in collaboration with other stakeholders" (p. 283). Reading article reminded me of Gibbons' (2007) paper which discuss the issues of increased state regulations in early childhood educations (Gibbons was speaking about the policies in New Zealand, but we see an increase in state regulation on education and child care in the United States as well). The increased scrutiny on the caregiver's role as Gibbons describes on pg. 126 is disempowering for the caregiver and takes away their agency and autonomy. In light of what McMullen and McCormick (2016) advocate for as part of a "collaborative care" model, I wonder if caregivers (teachers, child care professionals, family members) feel empowered as they make decisions regarding the care of the children they see daily, but also themselves.
The model of well-being for group care setting that McMullen and McCormick describe how interactions, environments and experiences within the childcare setting which support the nine elements of well-being. Yet, many of the currently policies and practices do not adequately support the caregiver. Aslanian (2015) and Gibbons (2007) both discuss on the fact that early care teachers are not paid, nor are respected as professionals in society today. In discussion groups during class last week last week, this point was vehemently echoed by my group members who are, or who have been care providers. As a teacher in Singapore, I remember that my colleagues and I often had to do what the administrators of the school wanted us to do, even if it didn't make sense to us and was not in the best interests of the child (but of course, that's always debatable depending on the perspective you adopt). Because of this, we (the teachers) often gathered and grumbled (I guess that built solidarity as a group) but we felt disenfranchised and didn't feel like we had any control. When I think back on my well-being and the well-being of the children in my class, I'm not sure all elements of well-being were being met.
I believe that caregivers need to feel empowered in order for collaborative care to take place. It involves standing up for what we believe we deserve. However, this is easier said than done. In the present political climate, I have to be honest and say that I wonder if this is wishful thinking. Perhaps collective action needs to come from the community in order to enact change.
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Challenging claims to knowledge about care in ECE
This week's readings made reconsider how the changing norms of society, the economy, culture, and societal structures affect the way we conceptualize care, particularly care for the young.
In my first year in the doctoral program, I took J670 which gave me an overview of the history of curricular thought in the United States. The historical perspectives that Aslanian (2015) describes in her paper reminded me of what we discussed in J670 about how various influences in curriculum (e.g. Froebel, Montessori, Dewey, Hall) became popular/arose because of the intersection of culture, beliefs, societal structures, economic trends at a given point in time.
I found Aslanian's (2015) discussion about the discourse of love, care and maternalism in early childhood eduction to be really interesting. As an early childhood teacher and caregiver, I have not thought of myself as loving the children I teach. I cared deeply about the children in my classroom, but I would not use "love" to characterize the relationship I had with them. I wonder if this is cultural and if other classmates originally from Asian countries have these same thoughts (or maybe it's just me!). In addition, I would not characterize the care that I received from my teachers while I was a student in Singapore as "loving".
Gibbons (2007) notes that care is "being fitted to an educational model" in New Zealand. When I first read the statement, I thought, this makes sense--care should be part of the education model; the notion connected with what we've been discussing so far in class so far--particularly on the importance of the care relationship between the caregiver (or teacher) and the child. Yet, Gibbons (2007) troubles this notion and brings to light the idea that "education's assimilation of care disrupts a knowledge of who cares, how to care, when they care, and why". She also describes how care has become "subject to the same regulatory gaze as education", bringing to mind measures in place which ensure that teachers meet certain qualifications, setting standards of care--which make sense and seem logical, but Gibbons questions the "surveillance" that this brings about and the politically mitigated decisions about care which impact the way children are cared for.
I partly agree with Gibbon that responsibility then falls on the educator to "challenge claims to knowledge about care and education..." and this is where our role as teacher educators is crucial. How can I not just provide content knowledge, but encourage critical thinking for teachers-to-be?
However, I would also add that it is not quite fair to place all the responsibility on the educator; rather we should work to empower parents to do the same--"challenge claims to knowledge about care and education". During the discussion in class last week on behaviorism, Professor Mary McMullen shared her encounter with a parent during her time in the behaviorist classroom and noted that the parent had no idea about the philosophy and practices of the center. That was a reminder to me that there are many parents who don't know about different care practices and being cocooned in the ECE environment, we can often forget this reality. I think that more should to be done in parent education, perhaps at the grassroots and community level, to empower parents to ask important questions about what it means to care for their child.
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
Is the behaviorist perspective antithetic to care?
This week's readings assigned on behaviorism left me wondering if, and how the behaviorist perspective fit with or has relevance to care in early childhood education. As I read about how teachers in the behaviorist classroom were caring (or not caring?) for infants as McMullen (2010) describes, I struggled to connect their practices to child care. For example, McMullen notes that teachers at the center did not pick babies up or hold them because "that is too easy", made me wonder if these practices toe the line of maltreatment.
Like any care provider, I have my own beliefs about what care should look like. I believe in responsive and child-centered care practices where the needs of the child supercede whether the teacher thinks something is "easy" or not. I also believe that being a responsive teacher/caregiver is not "giving in" (as the teacher in the article states) but an essential part of teaching.
What is the role of care in a behaviorist learning environment? As McMullen (2010) describes in her article, the relational aspect of care is almost non-existent, "I hesitate to write about the staff in the behaviorist room as "caregivers."...The adults in the behaviorist room could better be characterized as "trainers" or perhaps at times "entertainers" but not as givers of care" (pp. 5-6). This seems to imply that the teachers in behaviorist classrooms lacked care for the young. I wonder what goes through the mind of teacher. Does she ever second-guess herself? Does she think, maybe, she should pick up the wailing child? Or perhaps as McMullen (2010) suggests, teachers in behaviorist environments grow "numb" to the cries of children.
As I consider whether teachers in a behaviorist classroom construct care in a different way, based on their care-goals, I recall that in her book, Our Babies Ourselves, Small (1999) highlighted that parenting goals of the culture shape how parents care for their children. Can we use this lens to understand how care is constructed in the behaviorist perspective? Perhaps we can argue that teachers in the behaviorist classroom care by their desire for children to learn and achieve particular goals.
In the DISTAR reading, the section "Strengths of Behaviorism" notes that behaviorism is goal oriented where "the learner responds and learns the goal". Through positive and negative reinforcement, individuals (both children and adults) learn positive and negative behaviors (which, although not explicitly stated in the article, are often what society deems as desirable). If these are the behaviorist teacher's care goals, then the clip charts, punishments, praise practices are the means to the end.
I definitely have first hand experience of the behaviorist practices from my education in Singapore. Education is goal-centered; "punish and praise" practices where punishing and humiliating students who misbehave is not seen as out of the ordinary. I remember that in second grade, I was actually afraid to go to school because I was frightened of my teacher (and her exacting standards). Did I ever feel care from my teacher? Yes, I did, occasionally. There were a few teachers in my life who were able to communicate care by setting standards which they knew I could attain, much like the Vygotsky's ZPD. But I encountered them much later in my life, when I was a teenager and my emotional "goals" (to borrow an Erikssonian term) were different.
I personally believe that the physical, emotional and social needs of infants and toddlers require a level care that is antithetic to the behaviorist perspective. Creating goals for children to learn and develop is not a bad thing. For certain age groups, I'm not opposed to a teacher using clip charts to motivate and reward students. In fact, I've observed how a second-grade teacher who uses clip charts daily communicate care to her students through words and actions. However, a teacher who insists that all infants and toddlers meet some milestone by a certain timeline, and then structure care activities around these milestones, is missing out on the big picture of what it means to care for the young under her charge.
This week's readings assigned on behaviorism left me wondering if, and how the behaviorist perspective fit with or has relevance to care in early childhood education. As I read about how teachers in the behaviorist classroom were caring (or not caring?) for infants as McMullen (2010) describes, I struggled to connect their practices to child care. For example, McMullen notes that teachers at the center did not pick babies up or hold them because "that is too easy", made me wonder if these practices toe the line of maltreatment.
Like any care provider, I have my own beliefs about what care should look like. I believe in responsive and child-centered care practices where the needs of the child supercede whether the teacher thinks something is "easy" or not. I also believe that being a responsive teacher/caregiver is not "giving in" (as the teacher in the article states) but an essential part of teaching.
What is the role of care in a behaviorist learning environment? As McMullen (2010) describes in her article, the relational aspect of care is almost non-existent, "I hesitate to write about the staff in the behaviorist room as "caregivers."...The adults in the behaviorist room could better be characterized as "trainers" or perhaps at times "entertainers" but not as givers of care" (pp. 5-6). This seems to imply that the teachers in behaviorist classrooms lacked care for the young. I wonder what goes through the mind of teacher. Does she ever second-guess herself? Does she think, maybe, she should pick up the wailing child? Or perhaps as McMullen (2010) suggests, teachers in behaviorist environments grow "numb" to the cries of children.
As I consider whether teachers in a behaviorist classroom construct care in a different way, based on their care-goals, I recall that in her book, Our Babies Ourselves, Small (1999) highlighted that parenting goals of the culture shape how parents care for their children. Can we use this lens to understand how care is constructed in the behaviorist perspective? Perhaps we can argue that teachers in the behaviorist classroom care by their desire for children to learn and achieve particular goals.
In the DISTAR reading, the section "Strengths of Behaviorism" notes that behaviorism is goal oriented where "the learner responds and learns the goal". Through positive and negative reinforcement, individuals (both children and adults) learn positive and negative behaviors (which, although not explicitly stated in the article, are often what society deems as desirable). If these are the behaviorist teacher's care goals, then the clip charts, punishments, praise practices are the means to the end.
I definitely have first hand experience of the behaviorist practices from my education in Singapore. Education is goal-centered; "punish and praise" practices where punishing and humiliating students who misbehave is not seen as out of the ordinary. I remember that in second grade, I was actually afraid to go to school because I was frightened of my teacher (and her exacting standards). Did I ever feel care from my teacher? Yes, I did, occasionally. There were a few teachers in my life who were able to communicate care by setting standards which they knew I could attain, much like the Vygotsky's ZPD. But I encountered them much later in my life, when I was a teenager and my emotional "goals" (to borrow an Erikssonian term) were different.
I personally believe that the physical, emotional and social needs of infants and toddlers require a level care that is antithetic to the behaviorist perspective. Creating goals for children to learn and develop is not a bad thing. For certain age groups, I'm not opposed to a teacher using clip charts to motivate and reward students. In fact, I've observed how a second-grade teacher who uses clip charts daily communicate care to her students through words and actions. However, a teacher who insists that all infants and toddlers meet some milestone by a certain timeline, and then structure care activities around these milestones, is missing out on the big picture of what it means to care for the young under her charge.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Applying the Psychoanalytic Approach in Classrooms
This week, I've had the opportunity dig deeper into the psychoanalytic approach (mainly because it happens to be the topic I've been assigned to for class presentation!). As I read about Freud, Erikson, and later theories connected to the approach (i.e. attachment theory), I'm struck by how ingrained this approach has become so ingrained in many of us living in the westernized societies. One of the main ideas of the psychoanalytic approach is that we have a subconscious and the way we interpret and process experiences is a largely a result of the relationships and experiences we've amassed over our lifetime.
As I read the readings, I asked myself, how have I applied the approach in the care I've given to young children in my classes? I think I've used attachment concepts in considering my relationships with children, and when thinking about the relationships that children have with their parents. The readings allowed me to "dig deeper" into certain concepts in psychoanalytic theory and I was intrigued by the concept of defensive responses and how it relates to our innate need for relationship.
Elfer (2007) gives the example of a child who is affected by a new sibling who might draw herself and her parents, with the new baby absent in the picture. As I read that, I remembered a four year old girl in my drama class 7 years ago who would oscillate between wanting a lot of attention (e.g. suddenly insisting on my undivided attention when I was working with another child) and wanting to be left alone (refusing to participate in an activity and ask to sit in the corner). She was a spirited child who could be quiet at one moment and loud and demanding the next. She also had anxiety when she arrived in class and required a good amount of soothing.
I never understood her behavior (and didn't have a clue about psychoanalytic theory), particularly when she would withdraw. I was often torn between giving her the attention she wanted and and needing to be there for the other children. As a teacher who was often alone with a group of 12 children, I found it very stressful to have figure out whether to leave her alone or give her attention. Her parents were often in a hurry to drop her off and when I tried to speak to them, they brushed me off.
As I consider her behavior and our relationship through the psychoanalytic lens now, I can hypothesize that perhaps she craved the close relationship that she maybe once had with her parents before her baby sister arrived. She reached out to me and felt rejected when I indicated that I had to attend to other children. Perhaps withdrawing was a type of defense on her part to deal with these feelings. But what would have been best for her in the classroom? Perhaps we could have role-played a situation in which she was mum.
The psychoanalytic lens provides some answers and options for a teacher in the classroom. It also reinforces the idea that care can be complex and nuanced. It requires a strong relational base built on a foundation trust. These ideas also connect with what we discussed in class last week when we looked at the theories of Vygotsky and Bronfenbrenner. It also seems to me that theories are best understood when we compare them in light of one another.
This week, I've had the opportunity dig deeper into the psychoanalytic approach (mainly because it happens to be the topic I've been assigned to for class presentation!). As I read about Freud, Erikson, and later theories connected to the approach (i.e. attachment theory), I'm struck by how ingrained this approach has become so ingrained in many of us living in the westernized societies. One of the main ideas of the psychoanalytic approach is that we have a subconscious and the way we interpret and process experiences is a largely a result of the relationships and experiences we've amassed over our lifetime.
As I read the readings, I asked myself, how have I applied the approach in the care I've given to young children in my classes? I think I've used attachment concepts in considering my relationships with children, and when thinking about the relationships that children have with their parents. The readings allowed me to "dig deeper" into certain concepts in psychoanalytic theory and I was intrigued by the concept of defensive responses and how it relates to our innate need for relationship.
Elfer (2007) gives the example of a child who is affected by a new sibling who might draw herself and her parents, with the new baby absent in the picture. As I read that, I remembered a four year old girl in my drama class 7 years ago who would oscillate between wanting a lot of attention (e.g. suddenly insisting on my undivided attention when I was working with another child) and wanting to be left alone (refusing to participate in an activity and ask to sit in the corner). She was a spirited child who could be quiet at one moment and loud and demanding the next. She also had anxiety when she arrived in class and required a good amount of soothing.
I never understood her behavior (and didn't have a clue about psychoanalytic theory), particularly when she would withdraw. I was often torn between giving her the attention she wanted and and needing to be there for the other children. As a teacher who was often alone with a group of 12 children, I found it very stressful to have figure out whether to leave her alone or give her attention. Her parents were often in a hurry to drop her off and when I tried to speak to them, they brushed me off.
As I consider her behavior and our relationship through the psychoanalytic lens now, I can hypothesize that perhaps she craved the close relationship that she maybe once had with her parents before her baby sister arrived. She reached out to me and felt rejected when I indicated that I had to attend to other children. Perhaps withdrawing was a type of defense on her part to deal with these feelings. But what would have been best for her in the classroom? Perhaps we could have role-played a situation in which she was mum.
The psychoanalytic lens provides some answers and options for a teacher in the classroom. It also reinforces the idea that care can be complex and nuanced. It requires a strong relational base built on a foundation trust. These ideas also connect with what we discussed in class last week when we looked at the theories of Vygotsky and Bronfenbrenner. It also seems to me that theories are best understood when we compare them in light of one another.
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Vygotsky and the Art of Teaching
This week's readings on Vygotsky's theory and how it applies to caring for infants and toddlers reminder me of my time as a teacher (in Singapore). It has been awhile since I've stepped into a pre-K classroom to be present with 10-15 young children and I do miss so much about teaching and learning with children.
The readings remind me of how challenging a teacher's job can be. To be fully present with a group of young children--thinking about their development, considering their culture and backgrounds, and tailoring what is taught to each individual's ZPD. Even though the article describe caring infants and toddlers within the Vygotsky framework, it can also be applied to teaching for all ages. A really great teacher who taught me during my Master's program took the time to learn about me, understand how and why I had difficulty understanding certain concepts, made the effort to challenge me further without being pushy. He knew how to "streamline" the material such that I could first focus on understanding the basics, and then add on more challenging topics as I gained understanding.
Unfortunately, I never had a "Vygotskian" experience as a student in Singapore. My hypothesis is that the high-stakes testing environment makes it especially challenging for teachers to meet the needs of individual students. On the whole, a fixed or rigid notion of learning and development seems antithetical to Vygotsky's theory. Yet, isn't that what standardized tests are meant to do? The standardized testing environment in Singapore (and probably in the US) leaves no (or little) room for individualized learning experience. As a student in Singapore, if you don't make the grade, you're left behind, and there is be shame associated with not being able to keep up with the rest of the class, e.g. students are ranked within the class and placed in A, B, C... classrooms according to how well they perform. Thus, the student feels the burden of not having performed up to "standard". I say all of this having had first hand experience of being a less-than-stellar student in elementary and middle school in Singapore.
An interesting distinction I see in the Vygotskian framework is that the teacher takes on a lot of responsibility in helping the student learn. If the student isn't able to understand a concept, the teacher's role is to understand where the student's ZPD lies, help bridge the learning gap, and in so doing provide individualized learning experiences. Is this something that teachers can do in a pressure charged, achievement oriented environment in public schools? Can we modify Vygotsky's framework such that the responsibility to provide an individualized learning experience doesn't fall solely on the teacher? I wonder if parent involvement and peer learning are ways in which we can better support student learning. Perhaps others reading this could weigh-in and share their thoughts!
This week's readings on Vygotsky's theory and how it applies to caring for infants and toddlers reminder me of my time as a teacher (in Singapore). It has been awhile since I've stepped into a pre-K classroom to be present with 10-15 young children and I do miss so much about teaching and learning with children.
The readings remind me of how challenging a teacher's job can be. To be fully present with a group of young children--thinking about their development, considering their culture and backgrounds, and tailoring what is taught to each individual's ZPD. Even though the article describe caring infants and toddlers within the Vygotsky framework, it can also be applied to teaching for all ages. A really great teacher who taught me during my Master's program took the time to learn about me, understand how and why I had difficulty understanding certain concepts, made the effort to challenge me further without being pushy. He knew how to "streamline" the material such that I could first focus on understanding the basics, and then add on more challenging topics as I gained understanding.
Unfortunately, I never had a "Vygotskian" experience as a student in Singapore. My hypothesis is that the high-stakes testing environment makes it especially challenging for teachers to meet the needs of individual students. On the whole, a fixed or rigid notion of learning and development seems antithetical to Vygotsky's theory. Yet, isn't that what standardized tests are meant to do? The standardized testing environment in Singapore (and probably in the US) leaves no (or little) room for individualized learning experience. As a student in Singapore, if you don't make the grade, you're left behind, and there is be shame associated with not being able to keep up with the rest of the class, e.g. students are ranked within the class and placed in A, B, C... classrooms according to how well they perform. Thus, the student feels the burden of not having performed up to "standard". I say all of this having had first hand experience of being a less-than-stellar student in elementary and middle school in Singapore.
An interesting distinction I see in the Vygotskian framework is that the teacher takes on a lot of responsibility in helping the student learn. If the student isn't able to understand a concept, the teacher's role is to understand where the student's ZPD lies, help bridge the learning gap, and in so doing provide individualized learning experiences. Is this something that teachers can do in a pressure charged, achievement oriented environment in public schools? Can we modify Vygotsky's framework such that the responsibility to provide an individualized learning experience doesn't fall solely on the teacher? I wonder if parent involvement and peer learning are ways in which we can better support student learning. Perhaps others reading this could weigh-in and share their thoughts!
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Re-thinking Care in the Context of Singaporean Culture
I learned many new facts from this week's reading. In fact, it left me thinking, why haven't I heard of ethnopediatrics before? Doing the readings this week brought to mind the movie I watched last fall, Babies. I showed babies from 4 distinct cultures--Mongolia, America, Africa, and Japan. This week's reading reminded me of how it was not only fascinating to learn about how other cultures raise their infants, but also the fact that infants can thrive in environments and situations that I (as someone from an industrialized culture) would not necessarily consider appropriate for children (here, I'm thinking of the scene where the baby in Africa is eating dirt).
On the other hand, I also wondered what parents from those cultures (in the movie) would think of the way my parents raised me. Perhaps they would say, "It's so strange that her caregivers are playing with her all day" or "Why does she have so many colorful objects to the left right and above her head?" That train of thought led me to think, what IS the culture of care in Singapore? What are the parenting goals that create the cultural norm for raising children?
There are two distinctive things about parenting in Singapore from my perspective. Firstly many families rely on not only kin, but also on live-in domestic helpers to raise their children. As a result, children develop close bonds to their grandparents and foreign caretakers. My youngest sister experienced a period of sadness when she was 10 because our helper of 10 years left us to return to the Philippines. I was 17 at that time and remember that she was quiet and withdrawn for a few weeks. This reliance on an extended network of caregivers in families is a cultural norm because the government encourages women to work. In this way, children sleep separately from their parents (but with their caregivers) and most parents stop breast feeding soon after returning to work.
Secondly, Singaporean parents are not only concerned about developmental stages--physical, social, and cognitive, but also with academic achievement. This leads to many parents trying to "speed up" development by enrolling children in a different classes (Mandarin, Math etc.) before they even begin school proper. Parents in Singapore are also concerned with obedience and respect for elders. In many ways, this is part of the Chinese Confucian ethic that has been woven into the cultural tapestry of the country. Parents do not hesitate to punish children for disobedience or disrespect. It sounds taboo saying this in the United States, but as a child, I was spanked (using the cane) by both my parents, as were my sisters. Parents today probably don't use the cane, but many of my peers in Singapore certainly have come up with different ways to punish their children for disobedience.
Since being in the United States, I have had the opportunity to process and talk about my childhood experiences from an objective way. I do have a great relationship with my parents, and am able to understand my experiences in light of the culture in which I was raised. On page 41, Small says "...we treat our babies as we treat ourselves, and so our ideas about parenting and infant care are as culturally constructed as what we wear, what we eat, or how we dance." While I agree that our ideas of parenting/care are culturally constructed, I believe that we are not passive cultural beings. I would like to think that there can be an element to co-construction when we partake of a particular culture. We interpret and make meaning of the culture we are in, based on our past experiences. This requires and awareness of where you've been, where you are, and where you'd like to go.
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Honesty and Truth in Care
While surfing the net this week, I came across an article on the Huffington Post, What parents shouldn't say to their kids about fear that highlights that parents should stop using common warnings such as "be careful" to warn their children about fear. According to Kathy Eldon, the co-founder of website Creative Vision, the phrase "isn't going to make a child more careful", and parents should instead talk to children in a "more meaningful (and) less cliched way".
The very short article in Huffington Post brought to mind what Noddings writes about on page 120 of her book Caring. In that section, Nurturing the Ideal, she write that the words and actions of those caring must "confirm that they do care". This translates to the language that we use everyday with our children and we need to be aware that our well-meaning adult warnings are full of unintended double meanings. Noddings goes on to give examples of such phrases, some of which sound mean spirited, "Quit stuffing yourself-you'll be fat as a pig!" (although I have certainly heard parents say those words to their children) and another phrase she lists is, "Be careful or you'll hurt yourself".
Noddings goes on (pg. 121) to discuss the danger of these rules--that these may not only lead the child to "draw faulty connections between observed consequences and posited faults" but also that his/her "ethical ideal may be constructed as though it were the rule book for some elaborate game." In many ways, Noddings explores in greater depth how we should engage with children about rules and ethics.
However, what struck me most was her explanation that as the one caring, we need to show and model the ethical and caring way to approach these situations. This means being honest, open and receptive to talking about situations and feelings, the advice we give should be "perceptive and creative rather than judgemental".
As a recipient of care in Singapore, I've grew up in a rule driven environment where I was doled my fair share of rules: "Be careful" or "Study hard or you'll fail". As I read Noddings, I am prompted not only to consider how I should engage with children under my care, but also to think about the way my ethical ideal has been shaped by the environment I grew up in. How does it influence the way I think about ethics and morality, and care for others? I believe that this is a crucial component of the honesty, transparency, and authenticity that I bring to my care relationships.
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