With Gratitude to the Saint of Early Childhood Education

A Conversation between Nicolás Dumit Estévez Raful Espejo and Jane Clarke

Photo by Margritt Rott

NDERE: Jane! Your title of Saint of Early Childhood Education shares connections with Saint Jean- Baptiste de La Salle and Saint Angela de Merici, both of whom devoted their lives to the teaching field. In your case, I am suggesting the title be an honorary and secular one and not tied to any religion. We have known each other for 25 years, ever since I applied to be the associate teacher in your classroom at City and Country School. Can you talk about your path into teaching from London to New York City?

JC: One of my very first experiences of working with children was in a community center in London during the summer. One afternoon, one of the children got a nasty cut on his forehead (there was a lot of blood!) At a certain point I was assigned to take him to his home to let his parents know what had happened. I was very scared of having this responsibility. I distinctly remember that the mother of the child was nervous about opening the door of the apartment; she didn’t speak any English. She did let me inside and I found a simple home furnished with curtains and rugs from India which is where the family had emigrated from. This was my first real experience of understanding how it must feel to be in a new country, not to speak the language that others speak, and to have children that you have to entrust into other’s hands. The mother was so kind to me and seemed grateful that I had brought her son home. It was a humbling experience. It made me realize how much of a responsibility we take on as teachers and how the well-being of all the children who cross our path remains paramount, both emotionally and physically.

NDERE: We have myriad stories about our teaching together and the children we worked with. I remember the discussion that emerged in our classroom in the early ’90s as to the color of water, with some children asking us for a response. You suggested they deliberate amongst each other and there were speculations about water being blue, white…at some point the term transparent or see-through came up. What are the unexpected questions that teaching has posed for you, much like that of the color of water?

JC: One of the questions that continues to come up for me, particularly as a former teacher of very young children and now as a mentor for other early childhood teachers, is what kind of a world are we preparing children for? How are we equipping them to deal with some of the complexities that they will inherit? The very essence of our humanity seems to lie in question right now. As teachers we are committed to preparing children to be bold and confident and to be able to ask important and critical questions. I am deeply concerned about where the answers will come from. How will they be able to continue to rely on the sense of community that they have lived and experienced here in our school as they struggle to find purpose and fulfillment as they grow older? I have to remain optimistic, indeed I see myself as an optimistic person. When I look at the beauty that children create each and every day when they are given the right materials and the time to fully immerse themselves in important experiences, my heart is uplifted. Hope lies in the power of knowing what it actually feels like to be truly connected, there lies also peace. My hope is that these children who pass through our hands will model that opportunity for others and that they will never stop asking questions.

NDERE: We both have deep connections with City and Country School and I am aware that our conversation can easily focus on this progressive experiment. But I want to open the conversation to more encompassing topics and to teaching in general. Can you talk about the expectations teachers face in regards to their field of work? I personally feel that there is a stated and unstated consensus as to what a teacher is allowed to do and allowed to be. It is as if many aspects of a teacher’s life have to remain closeted. This might be changing with social media. Can we hear from you about this?

JC: Now that is a really good question! Our school was founded by a woman who lived quite openly here in the West Village with her partner, a woman, more than 100 years ago. Many of the teachers who worked here in those early days were also living alternative lives. What appears to have been important to them in their role as teachers was to empower children, through collective and creative experiences, to develop their own identities. I don’t believe Caroline Pratt was interested in sharing her private life with students and families in the school she created. The school she created offered children, girls and boys, the freedom to develop and discover themselves; there was no obvious gender stereotyping in practice at City and Country School. This emphasis on gender equity continues today, for example, boys and girls are confident and accomplished at the wood bench, they roughhouse and build together in the block yard; they see one other as equals, each with an individual voice that deserves to be heard and considered by everyone as important, collective decisions are made.

For me, a teacher plays a professional role and has a right to their own privacy. I also believe that there is a boundary between teacher and student that should to be preserved. There are times when that boundary may be crossed, but always in thoughtful and considered ways. When does a teacher tell a personal story with their students and why are they sharing that story? Is it to help a child/children to gain a better understanding of something important? Or is it initiated by the need of the teacher? Working together with you was such a pleasure. I have such fond memories of so many things, but having a male partner in the classroom opened up so many opportunities for the children. For example, having you working beside me helped to dispel such important, fundamental assumptions: “boys don’t cry” or “pink is a color for girls.” I remember asking you in front of the children in an effort to help a child express his emotions: “Do you cry, Dumit?”, or commenting in front of the children how much I liked the pink shirt you were wearing that day.

I strongly believe that teachers should be encouraged to share more personal sides of themselves with each other, therein lies the opportunity for us all to know each other better. Our opening workshop with Narrative 4 this year was an example of the power of sharing those more personal stories with a colleague. The stories shared stayed in the room. But what went outside the room forged deeper connections for the whole community. Earlier this year we needed to place an additional teacher in a specific classroom to further support the needs of one child in particular. As we brainstormed who would be a good person for the role, a name came up. The lead teacher in that classroom’s face lit up as she excitedly shared that she thought this would be a good match for the teaching team: “He was my story partner!”

NDERE: It is not possible for me to have a conversation without bringing play to the equation. City and Country was originally named by its founder Caroline Pratt the Play School. I have done art works on play, such as Play Date. I interviewed you about playing in 2014, while I was working on an experience with El Museo del Barrio. Thinking of Caroline Pratt’s statement about “learning from children,” what can people like us, entering elderhood, learn from play?

JC: I believe that as we get older we have the potential to peel away some of the layers that have built up over time. When you work full time and confront the daily realities of a busy life both professionally and personally, it is easy to forget how to let go and to truly play. Some people feel that “letting go” is about playing squash, posting on Facebook or practicing some type of “power yoga.” I am not so sure how truly playful these activities really are.

A few years ago I remember being in a garden with some friends who have a son who was about 6 at the time. Both parents are emergency ward doctors who lead fairly stress- filled lives. It was wintertime and it had just snowed. Someone spontaneously began to throw snow around and this motion developed into a full on snowball fight. I can honestly say that the experience was quite thrilling; we were suddenly all throwing snowballs at each other, vigorously and playfully. I remember looking at the child’s face as we were all playing together — he was so completely delighted to see us all playing together in this way, he couldn’t believe it was happening!

A few years ago I worked in a Head Start Center where seniors were invited to volunteer in classrooms of young children. As part of their time in the school we engaged them with materials that the children were using in the classrooms. What has remained with me is the way in which these elders entered into the creative, and always playful, experience of painting. They did not hesitate to plunge in and were so excited to reflect on the experience they had enjoyed so much. They seemed so completely open to this novel experience and did not seem hampered by the worries of how time was passing. They seemed to have all the time in the world to truly engage. I believe we all need to give ourselves this time. In our society here in the U.S. and particularly in a big city, it is so easy not to make this time for ourselves. As we get older I believe our concept of time begins to shift and we begin to notice things in a different way. For example, I have become so much more aware of nature, the subtle changes of the plants and trees and the birds in the air. I don’t remember noticing these things so much years ago.

NDERE: I had the most unusual experience while working with a two year old. I was on the floor watching him play and slowly moved into interacting with him by way of conversation and by activating some of the items he was playing with. He stopped what he was doing and looked me straight in the face to ask me, “are you a kid?” I honestly do not remember what I responded because I was startled by what I had discovered first hand, a passageway into the dimension we call play. What do you have to say about this dimension where there is a suspension of time and where the surrounding “reality” adults have constructed is there to be of service to the one proposed by children at play?

JC: I just love the way you described playing as a way of conversing with a young child. I think that is exactly how children converse with each other and with grownups (if we give them that chance), through a playful exchange. It is their most natural way of communicating and as we grow older we sometimes forget this. There are times when I might say something to a child in the hope that they will engage with me and I don’t get a response. When the gesture is offered playfully it is rare that children don’t engage. There is nothing more thrilling than to feel yourself as an adult enter into that dimension with a child. It is as if we can, for a moment, forget the trappings that an adult reality brings with it and can spontaneously peel away our protective layers to reveal the nakedness of our humanity. That moment is light, refreshing, magical; it is also swift and fluid and has no barriers or restrictions. It doesn’t matter what you look like, how wrinkled your skin may be, the tenor of your voice, the color of your hair – you are transported into the bubble together, as equals. These moments are timeless and transformative; when they happen to me I feel as if I have been given another chance, and when I return to the more consistent reality of my day to day existence, I feel rejuvenated by a moment that remains a “secret” between me and the child I have connected with. Our relationship has changed after these moments and when we see each other again we have an awareness of an intimate exchange that no one else knows about. Sometimes we can revisit with words, and sometimes silently, perhaps with a smile perhaps with a skip….

NDERE: During recent years there has been a trend to bring education into the arts, and I do not mean the good old art education that we both knew. Too humble. Too mundane. But wait, pedagogy has made it into the realm of high art, i.e. museums and art galleries.

I agree with teaching as an art that requires skills and intuition. I am not so sure about art as teaching or pedagogy. Those of us who have worked in the classroom know that the reality of dealing with the expectations of parents and students is very different from aestheticizing the education field. Any thoughts about this?

JC: Yes, I have a lot of thoughts on this. Through the work you and I did for Studio in a School, I saw how teachers who perhaps did not see themselves as appreciators, participators or creators, could be influenced and opened up by the artists working with them. It took time and trust for this to happen; it also took hands on opportunities with art materials followed by reflections on what was being experienced and what people were looking at to achieve this. “What do you see?” was a question that helped draw people in and as a visual vocabulary began to emerge, fear began to dissipate. These teachers of young children were then able to return to the classroom seeing things differently over time. Teachers grew to value experiences, materials and the children’s work in different ways. The same transformation happened with parents. I remember a workshop I observed at a public school in Bedford Stuyvesant several years ago. The participants were invited to work with red clay. There was something so disarming about the materials that almost the moment they had their hands on the clay they engaged. The materials seemed to transport them back to something primal, something that opened them up in old/new ways. The reflections they had after the experience were poetic and inspirational; the work they created was “quiet,” peaceful, representational of something profound about who they were deep inside. The art they had created had taught them something about themselves and had helped them to see the world in fresh and very profound ways. This was also a collective experience that had brought everyone in the room closer together, both in the making and in the way in which what they had made had transformed the aesthetics of the room we were all inhabiting in that moment. I believe the same thing can happen in classrooms and in schools for teachers and for students. Not sure if this quite answers your question!

NDERE: There is great respect for teachers in the environments in which we have worked. Similarly, we have come to know so many teachers that we admire. At City and Country, I sit in awe as I watch teacher after teacher go on about what they do with such mastery. This applies to both the young and to the elder teachers. In the arts there is a stigma about the artist who has to teach for a living. Many of us artists are compelled by the myth of gaining recognition from the art world, whatever that is, to downplay or hide our teaching selves, especially those of us who teach in pre-schools and elementary settings. There are exceptions to this, Ed Woodham being one. He works with very young children and makes this public. There is also Molly Herman and Maggie Ens. What do you have to say to those of us who might be facing this conundrum and unconsciously relegating teaching to a lesser domain?

JC: I would urge those artists to spread the word: having the opportunity to be around young children as they repeatedly create timeless beauty using various art materials is inspirational. Being able to facilitate this can only feed you in your own work as an artist is what I believe to be true. I always view this opportunity as a privilege, a moment in time that most people don’t have the chance to participate in and/or observe; a magical moment when young children actually become the materials they use to create; a moment in time when they show us what is inside them, something we cannot see or feel, but something we can admire as it takes its visual form. Obviously, being able to measure and balance the time you give to teaching and the time you spend creating yourself can be the key to a feeling of peace. One part of your life holding a balance for the other.

NDERE: Looking back, I see a long line of women teachers standing behind you: Joan Morgan, Virginia Parker, Harriet Cuffaro…Their hands are on the shoulders of that teacher in front of them as a symbol of support. Your hands are on the shoulders of the younger generations of teachers that you are sending forward. The line extends for miles with teachers all around the globe joining in: Ercilia Pepín, Sor Imelda, Fatima Coste, two teachers named Milagros, Doña Aspacia, Janet Walton, Linda Mary Montano, Lady K. Fever, Lucienne Haessle, Daisy Machado, Chip Conley, Roger Height, Julie Davey, Suzi Tucker…I will leave it at this, while more teachers join in. Thank you for all of your mentoring for 25 years, for the laughter, and for helping me claim the value of teacherhood as I step into elderhood.