In May, a post on the TWT blog caught my eye, as it started by quoting a teacher, Julie Diamond, from her book, Kindergarten: A Teacher, Her Students, and a Year of Learning.
Wait a second, I thought. Julie Diamond? Could it be that Julie Diamond?
Sure enough, when I googled the book and the author, up popped my own kindergarten teacher from decades ago, with her short, gray, cropped hair. I immediately ordered the book from Amazon and patiently awaited its arrival.
On Wednesday, I went to a dog park with Phoebe while P taught a private soccer session, and began reading.
I couldn’t put it down. I read, wishing I’d brought a pencil to underline and take notes in the margins. I reluctantly dog-eared the pages, swearing I’d unfold them as soon as I got home and write the notes I’d been meaning to (which I did).
In a serendipitous way, I discovered, through reading Julie’s words, that my first elementary school teacher had a teaching philosophy truly aligned with my own. Progressive, project-based, child-centered, Reggio-inspired.
How much of my educational career, both as a student and now as a teacher, can I attribute to that first year of my schooling at PS 87 under her tutelage?
As Julie explains how she (and you, the teacher-reader can) truly listens to children and lets them guide their own learning, providing practical advice for setting up and running a classroom, I find myself affirmed, inspired, and impassioned. I am a sponge, soaking up as much teaching as she has left to share with me, some 28 years later.
I feel more excited about heading back to work in August than I have been in years, and I’m curious about setting an intention to write about the upcoming school year: “a teacher, her students, and a year of learning.” What a beautiful idea.
Perhaps the SOL community is a good starting place to hold me accountable.
Writing With Abandon 