Tradition.....Tradition!

My kids love the opening number from, "Fiddler on the Roof,"-- the one Tevye sings, "Tradition."  Tradition is the central theme of the musical.  The villagers are trying to hold on to their cultural practices in the face of pogroms and social unrest...the father doesn't want his daughter to marry someone who isn't Jewish...Tevye and his wife have the classic ironic spousal relationship:  he is supposed to wear the pants, but she actually does...  Of course our traditions tell us a lot about who we are.

Yesterday, my girls and I played hookie.  Every autumn, we take a day off together.  A day of hookie is our tradition (I'm not sure what this tradition says about us; absenteeism is not supposed to be a teacher thing).  Fall is our favorite season, so we usually try to coordinate with Mother Nature.  We shoot for a day in early October, in order to take full advantage of autumn color.  My first season in Minnesota taught me that if you blink, you'll miss the leaves.  Come the second week in October, the wind whips every last leaf from the trees.  New England, where I grew up, has a longer and gentler autumn; it hangs around long enough to make an impression.  New England is famous for fall, right?  Anyway, this fall day off has become a habit for us, and part of the tradition is that I try to surprise the girls.  They are ten now, but a whole year passes between these days off and they tend to forget.  Yesterday, I woke them up and told them my alarm had not gone off (I'm usually up and off before they get up in the morning) and so I would be the one to drop them at school.  We hustled around and jumped in the car.  They were crabby about not riding their bikes to school, and when I drove right by their school, they were totally bewildered.  When I laughed, they looked down right worried:  "Oh Dear God," their faces said as they exchanged glances, "she's off her nut!"  Then JJ got it:  "It's our day off!"  Wahooo!

Our day off, ironically, is a day off in the Big City, usually Minneapolis.  When you work at a nature center, you don't necessarily want to hike on your day off.  Our annual urban safari has some tried and true pit stops.  After seven years, there is very little change in our itinerary.  We've got it down.  If I forget something, the girls remind me, and they aren't quite satisfied if we skip a stop, or if something changes dramatically.  Little changes can be a delight, like when we discovered a new animal at Wild Rumpus.  Big changes can be disappointing, like when we learned that a favorite window-shopping destination was relocating.  And yesterday, Turtle Bread was all out of chocolate rolls.  That was almost a crisis for me.  If my almond croissant default hadn't been available, there's no telling what may have transpired.  Lunch is our only wild card really and I think we're destined to make a long term commitment there too.  Part of what makes the day so great is remembering what we always do, and anticipating returning to the same activity or place (or food); it's tradition.

The bittersweetness of this season is likely highlighting the phenomena of building tradition, but I've been noticing emerging, developing and continuing traditions here at Dodge lately.  This is my third season here, and it seems only natural that I can now see some of the Preschool's traditions.  There are the obvious habits and practices.  Every September, we go see the bee demo out at the apiary.  A couple weeks later, we all get a tractor ride out to Mrs. Dodge's apple orchard and press cider at the Cider House.  Every October, we host a Curriculum Night.  We always have a Friday night Halloween party.  November comes and it's time for parent/teacher conferences.  These are activities that happen each fall.  But there are less noticeable traditions too, those that perhaps have a bigger impact on the children, and are a part of the true fabric of our classrooms, and the school.

 My colleague, Joey, began making a list of all the songs our class knows.  She talked about this list with the students and posted it in the classroom.  Kids were invited to illustrate the song titles and to contribute more suggestions.  Many of these songs are ditties certain teachers sing from year to year-- favorites.  Our co-teacher, Luzia, who is from Brazil, loves to sing and often solicits song ideas from us (well, Joey mostly; I'm really not a songbird, or even a warbler).  Luzia's enthusiasm made me realize that without practice, memory, or documentation (in the form of that list), these songs are in danger of dying out in our room.  Teachers (like Joey) and kids keep them alive.  This is like any other oral tradition-- practitioners breathe life into the stuff.  Just the other day, we were on a windy hike with a continuing student, a child who was with us in the Spruce Room last year.  When we stopped to rest, she requested, "The Wind Song."  I asked if she would lead us and she did.  A small handful of other returning students took up the tune too.  Pretty soon, the new students had caught on and the entire class was belting out the song.  Now it is a favorite in this year's class.  Returning children are responsible for carrying a lot of our traditions forward; this is one of the beauties of the mixed-age classroom.

Last week, our afternoon class hiked up to Tipi Hill (aka, "Princess Mountain"-- see previous post).  It was a return trip.  We had happily picnicked up there just days before.  And during that previous visit, a child had lamented over the fact that the "Stone City" (a "Roxaboxen" of sorts which we had created up there last year), was no more.  We chatted about this and then made some loose plans to return to Tipi Hill and "do something" about the Stone City.  So, we kept our promise and returned last Friday.  We milled about, admiring the blaze of Sugar Maple leaves and absent-mindedly kicking at the hundreds of fist-sized stones now scattered far and wide.  Then the same kid, the returning kid with the great memory, said, "Remember the stone spiral?  Marlais, do you think we could build another one?"  And before I could answer, she scampered away shouting over her shoulder, "Let's build it right here!"  And there were just enough kids who were with her last year.  You could see the memory jolt through them.  Their reaction was actually visible; it was physical-- a catalyst!  Suddenly they were bending and picking up rocks, following the excited directions of their new foreman.  And you know what?  These kids were tiny last year!  The youngest in the class.  Last year, they were recruited by older kids to help out in the spiral project.  This year, the Dodge "graduates" have gone on to Kindergarten, but they left a legacy behind.  Here were last year's apprentices assuming command, confidently issuing directives and recruiting a whole new crew of eager young assistants.  Viola!  Out of an old Dodge tradition (mixed-age classes) a new Dodge tradition is born:  the stone spiral.

Readers of this blog may recall that the original stone spiral, built last autumn, was inspired by a snow spiral, created that previous spring.  All last year, we loved watching children alter that spiral.  One class' enthusiasm spread to other classes.  All the Dodge kids visited Tipi Hill and played with the spiral.  By winter, everyone was making spirals again, bigger and better.  So Tipi Hill with it's stones joins other Hall of Famers here at Dodge like Challenge Hill, Mini Challenge Hill, the Stick Forts and the Castle Wall.  These places, their names, and the activities that occur there are now learning traditions, kept alive and brought forward by returning teachers, and returning students.  Old teachers (or should I say, "experienced"?) share their practices and knowledge with new staff, just as the returning students share knowledge with newbies.  New teachers and students bring their experiences to the group as well.  Traditions may remain, but they are altered, and improved.

Last Friday, up on Tipi Hill, I watched Kristenza, (we co-taught last year), teach kids how to make an assembly line with their bodies, passing stones from hand to hand, to build the spiral bigger, faster.  I don't recall us doing that last year.  Kristenza had found something new.  And it was beautiful; it was real teamwork, collaboration, motor skill, impulse control, kindness and more all rolled into one.  The perfect mixed-age activity; something for everyone!

And just when I thought it couldn't get much better, I turned around to see that Luzia had thrown a big log over the stone pit.  Kids were trying like you-know-what to dash across without falling off.  A broad spectrum of large motor control was on display.  Threes, fours and fives dashed, wobbled, fell and flew (remember, age does not necessarily correspond to ability; everyone develops at different rates) over that log.  Two great new Tipi Hill traditions in one afternoon!

Together, we get to decide what endures and what falls by the wayside.  We are a community of individuals, after all, and which traditions we choose, year in and year out, tell the story of who we are.  Next year, maybe nobody will like, "The Wind Song."  Maybe they'll be crazy about "The Pirate Song," instead.  Who knows?  But maybe someone will remember...