““While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.” ”
To be new to something is a situation that typically brings a lot of discomfort and nerves. To be new at something allows room for a terrifying possibility - to be bad at something. Whether the “new” thing is an activity or being the “new” person in a room, the general feelings of unease are pretty similar in my experience. The fear of messing up can be a pretty paralyzing thought, if given enough power.
As a born and raised California girl, this is something I’ve grappled with since I first moved to Minnesota. Everything stills feels new, even after living here for a year. I’m still navigating the freeways, I had to Google what a balaclava is, and my mom thinks it’s so funny that I have to keep a broom in my car a few months out of the year.
Aside from the obvious changes - the weather and a different pace of life - something that has been startling has been the lack of understanding I have about my surroundings. Animal tracks in the snow? I had no idea bunnies' footprints looked like that when they hopped across a fresh fall. Those weird little black bugs with the red stripes all over that like to sunbathe? They’re everywhere, and I was tired of feeling out of the loop, so I asked my preschoolers.
“You don’t know what a box elder bug is? Are you kidding us or being serious?” is a question a child in the Autumn Room genuinely asked me this month. Then the whole group started giggling, and I won’t pretend otherwise, I was a little embarrassed. I’ll shut the allegations down now - yes, California has box elder bugs, the species there just do not have the iconic red stripes.
Being a preschool teacher is full of humbling moments like this. I’m supposed to be the grown up who has all the answers, but every now and then, the kids are the ones teaching me.
As an educator, I have this unique access to such a special part of a person’s lifespan. The other day, after I went home and searched “where do box elder bugs live”, I realized something. The kids in my classroom are experiencing what it’s like to be “new” right alongside me. This may be my first time being new to life in Minnesota, but it’s all of their first times being new to life.
One responsibility of being a teacher is creating a space where children are able to express curiosity alongside irritation. Another is noticing things all day long, the little moments that gradually add up to the big ones - like when the child who has been working on writing the first letter of their name masters it, and immediately moves onto tackling the next letters. It feels like for weeks all you see is wobbly versions of that first initial and then all of a sudden, their whole name is in front of them. All that time that child spent working hard, being uncomfortable, experiencing frustration - paid off.
Sure, I’m able to recognize the nervous feeling when starting a new chapter of life as an adult. I’ve been new before, and I know I will probably be again. But I know how to survive it, and walk through to the other side. For a three year old though? It’s their first time experiencing that discomfort. That might take a little more patience. Maybe it’s a few more tears (though you should have seen the first time I drove in the snow), maybe it’s repeatedly explaining the same thing, and maybe it’s a few more big feelings than the average adult.
With a child, it’s easy to over-correct and explain rather than let them explore and try themselves. Often, it’s faster to answer quickly or to finish a task than sit there and wait the extra five minutes while a child attempts something, like putting their shoes on. Going through this phase of life while being in the classroom has given me a different understanding, and a little more patience. The reminder has been so helpful when working with a child: I don’t need to rush them through the process to be comfortable faster, especially when it’s their first time experiencing it.
Sometimes the benefit of a new situation is simply learning how to show up despite the discomfort. Sometimes it’s the people around you giving you the space to explore, along with the confidence to try.