Category Archives: Intergenerational Community

Making Connections Through Letters

Posted November 23, 2021

Making Connections Through Letters
By Calley Roering

This year is different compared to last year in a few ways. There have been more fun and exciting opportunities happening at school: having more children in my class, co-teaching with another teacher, and being able to go upstairs to visit the seniors.

Last year, the children and teachers were not allowed upstairs due to COVID. Luckily, this year we have the opportunity to visit the seniors’ common spaces and visit with them outside of their apartment doors.

One day, a child was working on a drawing. When we asked who the drawing was for, the child responded, “This is for the grandmas and grandpas. Can you write on the back that I love them?” My co-teacher and I knew that we needed to get this picture and words to the seniors. We thought that since we are finally allowed to go upstairs and visit with the seniors, we should take advantage of it.

We found a simple mailbox in the storage room and brought it into our classroom to be decorated. After the teachers explained the idea of writing letters and delivering pictures to the seniors, the children were excited to bring the mailbox upstairs. A group of children and I went upstairs and set the mailbox, paper, and pens on a table in the mailroom with a note asking, “Will you please write to us? We are the preschoolers who go to school downstairs. We have a bird feeder and love watching the birds land and eat the bird seeds. Do you like birds?” As we placed the mailbox, materials, and letter on the table, we crossed our fingers and hoped that we would hear back from the seniors.

A few days later, we rode the elevator upstairs to check the mailbox and it was exploding with mail! The children grabbed the mail from the mailbox and proudly walked down the hall, eagerly waiting to hear what the seniors had written to them. When we entered the classroom, the children shouted to their peers with excitement, “LOOK AT ALL OF THESE LETTERS!” We sat down as a group and read them together. The seniors shared things like their love of birds, how they missed their childhoods, and how hearing the children laughing outside brought back good memories and joy.

The children wasted no time writing back to the seniors. While they spoke, I wrote down their words. Then they added their own touches, little drawings or some stickers. Once we had a stack of letters and pictures, we decided it was time to go upstairs and deliver them to the seniors. We took the elevator to the third floor to drop off a letter to Grandma Pat. The children looked for her apartment number, knocked on her door and eagerly waited for her to answer. We usually are in luck; the seniors typically are home when we are delivering mail and pictures. When the grandmas or grandpas answer the door, they are greeted with happy children, a letter, and picture.

It seems to happen naturally now: during playtime, a handful of children draw pictures and write letters for the seniors upstairs. We have hung up in our classroom all of the letters that the seniors have written to us. This helps the children remember that they are part of a bigger community. The teachers and children alike have found so much joy receiving mail from the seniors. It’s always a highlight of our week when we can write back and deliver mail and pictures to them. It’s been a long-awaited interaction and is proving to be powerful and wonderful for all of us.

A Happy Halloween Indeed

Posted November 9, 2021

A Happy Halloween Indeed

By Sarah Kern

It has been over a year and a half since our lives were turned upside down by the COVID-19 pandemic. It has been over a year and a half since we had a “normal” school year. It has been over a year and a half since the children have been a regular part of our seniors’ lives — a year and a half without the joy and connection of our time with the residents.

A couple of weeks ago, we got a glimpse of the past, of what it used to be like, every day, with our seniors. The children of All Seasons celebrated Halloween by putting on a parade. Unlike last year, when the children only got to wave to seniors through their windows, we were able to go upstairs for the parades. One of the parades even included a trip into Memory Care.

As the children excitedly dressed for the Halloween parade, the teachers prepared them for what would happen. Leaving the school and riding in the elevator was a new experience for almost all of the children. Walking through the halls, staying together, following a teacher — these were rules the children needed to know. But none of us could have been prepared for what happened when we entered the Memory Care units.

There were the seniors, waiting in their chairs and on couches for the children. The looks in the seniors’ eyes and the joy on their faces was indescribable. Amidst the “oohs” and “aahs,” seniors reached out their hands and held open their arms for the children. And without prompting, the children fell into their arms. They gave handshakes and high fives. They shared the physical touch so many of us have been missing over the last 20 months. The seniors perhaps have missed it the most; so much of the touch they’ve received has been perfunctory as they received care from aides.

The teachers’ eyes filled with tears as we remembered the way it used to be and all that we have missed. It was a glimpse of the past, yes, and also a glimpse of the future, of the coming times when we will all be together again.

Spring With The Seniors

Posted June 8, 2021

Spring With The Seniors

By Sarah Kern

In a school year like no other, we did a lot of wondering. We wondered how it all would work — teachers alone with small pods of children, parents dropping off outdoors, how we would handle conferences, health exclusions, family parties. As with many things, most of our worst fears never came to fruition. Instead we saw deep, joyful connections between children, rich relationships between teachers and children and teachers and parents. The classes became little families, and the school days passed happily. But those of us who remembered years past still missed one big thing: our grandmas and grandpas.

We did our best to connect with them throughout the year. We went on an outdoor Halloween parade in hopes the seniors would see us out their windows. We made a Thanksgiving display to share what we were thankful for. (Grandmas and grandpas made the list!) We exchanged holiday cards and valentines. Little gift bags appeared from upstairs as each holiday passed. Sometimes we’d spot a senior in their window, waving frantically, and we’d do our best to show the children, to help them see that this building was not just ours, that many wonderful people were always meant to share this school with us. It was still special, but it wasn’t the same.

It was late spring when we got the good news: the nursing management cleared us to welcome vaccinated seniors into the school as readers! Knowing our time together would be all too brief, we quickly made phone calls, hoping the seniors would be ready to join us. Were they ever! At Inver Glen, we welcomed back three beloved readers from years past. At Eagan, we welcomed five new seniors into the school. There were so many grandmas who wanted to be readers in the classrooms that they had to take turns coming downstairs! On their first days, there was a buzz of excitement in the air. As the visits continued, the children and the seniors settled into a comfortable, happy rhythm.

While there were still things we missed, — hugs, for one! — all of the goodness, love, and joy remained. Children eagerly chatted, sharing their names, ages, information about their families, and discoveries they made outdoors, and like always, the seniors happily listened. The classes shared favorite stories with the seniors and eagerly looked forward to each visit. In the end, our time was much too short, but we were filled with gratitude for the time we did have. When we said goodbye to Grandma Marion on her last day, her eyes filled with tears as the children walked her to the door. As she left, she stopped to tell me, “Wednesday mornings are my favorite time of the week.” Ours, too.

They Can Wear Their Pink Pajamas

Posted September 15, 2020

They Can Wear Their Pink Pajamas
By Amy Lemieux

As a new teacher fresh out of college, I remember the school principal telling me to be intentional with whom I surrounded myself. It did not take long for me to identify the colleagues in my building who would become my mentors as a young, impressionable teacher. Pat stood out immediately. She understood that for great learning to take place, the relationships within the classroom had to come first. In her classroom, she had created a community of emotional predictability, comfort and acceptance. The core values within her classroom were clearly defined and demonstrated. Notably, Pat had a boy in her second grade class who wore his pink pajamas to school. There was no doubt her classroom was a place of total acceptance.

In the beginning when the concept of All Seasons was only an idea, we had no defined boundaries. We started with…NOTHING. No location, no building, no teachers, no children or parents, no curriculum, no program, no schedule. While exciting, the lack of certainty was horribly uncomfortable. The only objective from the beginning: create a high-quality early childhood program that brought children and seniors together. In 2009 these missing components slowly materialized; some fell into place serendipitously and others were meticulously, sometimes painstakingly arranged. What was at the core, though, was a community of acceptance and familiarity, a joyful place for young children to grow and for older adults to age. All Seasons is a place where a little girl can (and did) tell the grandpa next to her, “I just wet my pants,” and he is comfortable to respond, “Me, too.” This is the type of radical acceptance I saw over twenty years ago in Pat’s classroom and remains the heart of our school community. An extraordinary early childhood community in which young children can learn and grow does not exist without teachers and parents who embrace this very nurturing environment. That quality remains and is the essence of what helped us move forward this summer and fall.

Reopening All Seasons in 2020 initially felt much like 2009. It felt horribly uncomfortable with many unknowns. The most difficult part was saying goodbye for now to the intergenerational component of our day, our grandmas and grandpas. But again, we started with what we knew. Already having a strong art and nature foundation as a springboard made building our schedule feel more natural. But first and foremost, seeing the children and talking to their parents this summer highlighted the most important component of our program: providing an emotionally safe and joyful environment with predictability during a time of unprecedented uncertainty. As we did in 2009, piece by piece, we are putting our puzzle back together. Your child is welcome to wear their pink pajamas to school. All Seasons is back, and we thank you for helping us along the way.

Dining Without Reservations

Posted February 4, 2019

by, Amanda Janquart

Knowing where to sit in a communal dining room is intimidating. Think back to grade school, middle school, high school, perhaps college. What about stools at a bar, and even picnic tables at a reunion. One would hope it gets easier, but residents in senior living aren’t immune to hesitation. It took time, but the seniors at Inver Glen have found their regular seats. So imagine showing up with multiple preschoolers looking for places to sit and eat lunch alongside their beloved grandmas and grandpas!

We looked for friendly faces and asked if there was room at the men’s table. With a little startle, they moved around water glasses and menus and created spots for chairs to be added. It was quiet while the children pulled out their lunch boxes, but at the first sign of a struggle, the grandpas were there – offering to help open Tupperware and passing napkins to wipe mouths.

It was hard to read their minds. Did they enjoy the children squirming in their seats, spilling on occasion and at one point a child attempting to butter his grapes? The answer was slowly teased out. One grandpa told his family at the Christmas party that eating with the children was the highlight of his week. Another asked when we’d be back. And one made his first appearance in the preschool ever, “Just wanted to check out where the kids are.”

And so the lunches continue. Not every day, but just frequently enough to keep it special. The residents’ requests for company at their tables keep coming. One teacher brings three to five children at a time. They look forward to their turns to eat with the seniors and are prepped with encouragement to converse. Stories from their peers, such as when a grandpa shared his lemon meringue pie certainly helps build up the excitement!

It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Posted November 1, 2018

By Kylen Glassmann

If you read our last blog, written by Amanda, you have a clear image of Friday mornings at All Seasons Preschool, and the excitement that comes with “popcorn day!” Now, let’s take a trip down memory lane (for many of us, anyway). Picture yourself coming home from school, probably exhausted from the day and all its challenges. You plop down on the couch and turn on the T.V., excited to see his familiar face, his cozy sweaters, and the iconic red trolley headed to the “Neighborhood of Make-Believe.” You snuggle in and wait for another adventure as he welcomes you to the neighborhood and makes you feel safe, calm, and loved. That’s right, I’m talking about none-other than Fred Rogers and “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.”

If you’re like me, these are among your most treasured memories from childhood – maybe it was an after school tradition or something you did when you were home from school, sick on the couch. No matter the occasion, I could not wait for the next episode. There is something so personal about “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” and the way it approaches childhood. It is one of the most unique shows that I have ever seen, and it has been beyond wonderful to witness our young students and beloved seniors join the “neighborhood” together, as we watch episodes as part of our Friday morning popcorn tradition.

What about this show is so extraordinary? Maybe it is its simplicity: there is nothing overstimulating or fast-paced about it. It is just a person, his neighbors, and their imaginations. They live in a space where all feel safe and learn from each other. Perhaps it’s the fact that Fred Rogers had a platform to sit in front of children (and adults!) and tell them things like, “It’s okay to feel disappointed.”

It may be all of those things, but it may also be that we recognize that we are part of such a neighborhood ourselves.It’s because Grandma Ruth, who could barely walk herself to a chair one Friday morning, saw Mr. Rogers, and came to life. “I’m going to try that!” she said excitedly, as we watched him make spaghetti using a pasta maker. It’s because Grandma Lou, who often babbles incoherently, looked at one of the aids and said, “He’s talking to me!” when Mr. Rogers sang his welcome song. It’s because all of us teachers watch, with tears in the our eyes, as the children ignore their cups full of popcorn and watch, wide-eyed, as Mr. Rogers tells them to be brave. It’s extraordinary because, as an adult, I still watch the show and feel safe, calm, and cared for. These are the reasons why “The Neighborhood of Make-Believe” continues to fill a special place in my heart – Mr. Rogers transcends time with his gentle presence and accepting messages and reaches all audiences.

So now, as you picture our Friday morning popcorn tradition, imagine children, teachers, and seniors, learning and growing together, all part of our own “neighborhood.” Any with that, I’d like to say, from the words of Fred Rogers himself…

I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you!
I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.
So let’s make the most of this beautiful day,
Since we’re together we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won’t you be my neighbor?

Grandma Faye

Posted October 4, 2018

by Sarah Kern

In September, we lost our Grandma Faye. I say “our” because she was as much a part of this school as any of the teachers or any of the children. Perhaps she was more so “ours” because we loved her — and she us — for many years. We built Grandma Faye into our curriculum, from her weekly visit to read to the children to our spontaneous visits to her apartment — a favorite place to visit with her old doll carriage, polar bear figurines, and view of the playground. “Can you see us play, Grandma Faye?” “Oh yes, I love to watch you.”

I first met Grandma Faye in the pines. I was being trained in for my new teaching position in the Autumn Room on a beautiful fall day. Grandma Faye was out for a walk. She immediately filled me with a feeling of warmth that only a Grandma can. She had a simplicity and a sincerity about her.

Faye loved the children. She adored them. She brought small gifts around holidays. She shared her handmade puppet who had on one side a smile and on the other a frown and brought favorite books. She asked questions and remembered favorite students. Faye invited struggling children onto the couch to sit next to her as she read. She loved to make the children laugh. She loved to hug them. She loved to be with them.

Faye loved us teachers, too. She remembered details about my life I’d forgotten I’d shared, asked after my husband, and delighted in my pregnancy. I will always cherish the memory of her holding my baby girl when we came to visit. She sent me two cards after my baby was born. I know each of us teachers has treasured memories of Faye.

It became clear early this fall that we may not have much time left with Faye. Her wish was to see the children as much as possible. We brought them to her every chance we could in her last days. They sang with her, hugged her, held her hands, asked her questions. Though Faye was declining, she was ever herself. She lit up when she saw the children. I will never forget the tenderness they showed her, somehow grasping what teachers failed to explain– don’t step on the tube that goes into her nose, be quiet, be gentle, sing clearly. One morning, a group gathered flowers for her and brought them to her. As she held them, they shared a book with her. Though Faye could no longer read to us, we could read to her. Faye died the next morning.

There is a melancholy to loving anyone. We know they are not ours to keep or change, only ours to hold close to us for a time. For some, we are blessed with a long time. For others, it’s much shorter. When we grow to love the seniors, we know in our hearts we will have a short time. We know Inver Glen will likely be their final earthly home. Sometimes it is with fear and a bit of sadness that we begin to care for these people — We don’t know how long we will have. But it is impossible not to know and love them. With Grandma Faye, we were blessed with many years and many happy memories. We are grateful.

Grandma Faye’s obituary

Community

Posted October 27, 2016

By Sarah Kern

You may have heard it when you first visited All Seasons or read it in a daily list or newsletter. If there is one word that could possibly sum up our preschool, it’s community. Every day we work to build communities, large and small, all of which are connected to one another by shared people and shared experiences.

The smallest communities are our classrooms, united early by shared space and experience, and later by friendship and love. We extend these communities by adding the families, who share fellowship in brief moments at pick up and drop off, and deeper experiences at conferences, family parties, and playdates. Slowly but surely, we invite one another into our lives.

Similarly, the senior community exists first as its own entity, then expands to include the seniors’ families. Then, like magic, our upstairs and downstairs communities connect, and our circles grow ever wider. Beyond a shared space, it’s shared people that bring us together.

Consider Sue, Inver Glen’s Activities Director; early in the year, she is one of the most direct links between the preschoolers and the seniors. She is a familiar face in our school and upstairs, and her voice and songs connect both groups as they sing together in memory care and the community room.

Steve, Inver Glen’s maintenance man, is another link. He’s our community’s real-life superhero who rescues the seniors when a light is burnt out and the preschoolers when there is a pipe leak.

While much of our community is created without effort, there are elements of community we work diligently and intentionally to build and preserve. Much of this effort comes through rituals – shaking hands to greet and say goodbye, repeating activities on a weekly basis, having the same group of kids visit Memory Care East and Memory Care West every day. There are also the spontaneous moments that build community – visiting a grandma who is sick, delivering thank you cards to seniors who make donations to our school, and saying hello to seniors we pass in the hallways, often with a giant bear hug.

Over and over again, the worlds of the preschoolers and the seniors collide – intentionally and unintentionally. We see Grandma Marion out for a walk every day. We gather for an art project in the community room. We wave to the grandmas getting their hair done in the salon. It’s all part of the process; it’s all part of community.

A Perfect Match

Posted February 18, 2016

by Amy Lemieux
The Little Boy and the Old Man by Shel Silverstein
Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”
The old man nodded, “So do I.”
“But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems
Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man.

I often use this poem to help people understand the ideal pairing between two age groups that, while far apart chronologically, have much in common. Retrogenesis is the theory that with dementia, the brain deteriorates in the reverse order of which it developed. Once seniors reach the middle stage of retrogenesis they need more supervision and become cognitively and functionally similar to preschoolers. Characteristics of both groups include; concrete, not abstract thinking, taking in information through the senses, short attention spans and being easily distracted, enjoying repetition and familiarity, are ego-centric and concerned with their own wants and needs.

When people learn we are a preschool inside of a senior building, they have one of two reactions; What a great idea! Or Why would you have little children with old people? While Silverstein’s poem tugs at the heartstrings and illustrates a deep psychological connection, it is equally important to articulate the research that supports this wonderful match. The research to support the benefits of intergenerational programming is strong and consistent. Long-term studies show lasting benefits to young and old who spend time together.
What does an intergenerational program DO for seniors?
It decreases boredom, loneliness, and helplessness, all things positively correlated with depression, heart problems, and a weakened immune system. In some facilities with intergenerational programming medication levels decrease.
What does an intergenerational program DO for children? It increases empathy, vocabulary and reading scores, and improves the quality of social interactions. It decreases misbehavior. These effects are long-term.
Under what conditions do children, families and communities flourish?
Renowned psychologist and author, Mary Pipher, writes, “Many communities are realizing the value of projects that connect the young and old. Older people are often wiser and less stressed than the rest of us and they have more time and patience.” Seniors are not checking their watches, laptops or phones constantly. Young children need the wisdom and patience of the older generation and older people need the innocence and vitality that only a young child can offer.
“You can have a nursing home that strives for the absence of pain, but that isn’t enough. There needs to be the presence of joy.” – John Greiner from Grace Living Center.

Mondays on East

Posted May 1, 2015

by Amanda Janquart

Grandma Bette is all ours on Wednesdays. She began the year as our Spring Room weekly reader and has become so much more than that. We wheel her down the halls and into our class where she has joined us for snacks, listened with patience to preschoolers’ stories, and become a champion of their play with children scrambling to show her their latest creations. Fridays have consistently included passing around cups of popcorn and watching old cartoons or movies like Mary Poppins with the grandmas and grandpas on Willow Cove East. We have a routine and it works. Mondays however, have gone through multiple transformations – always with the residents on Willow Cove East, but with changes in the activities the generations share.

In the fall, Sue Hastings, the Activities Director (and talented musician and joyful person and loving caretaker) played the piano and led us all in songs. The songs were carefully chosen and bring out tenderness and reflection in the seniors; connection in the children. The slow songs, Home on the Range and Edelweiss, can bring me to tears the way they evoke longing. But I darn near sobbed the first time Take Me Out to the Ballgame was sung. It was as if fireworks were going off, the way everyone took notice and joined in. Music is a mighty strong bridge. I couldn’t help but see my own Grandma Grace whenever Sue chose How Much is that Doggy in the Window?

As winter approached, Rhythm Band started up. Shakers were passed out to the grandmas and grandpas and children took turns on the triangles, bells, rhythm sticks, wood blocks, cymbals, and drums (limited to two at a time!). We again took cues from Sue as she directed which instruments to come in and when. Sometimes residents covered their ears, but really though, the group worked hard and we sure sounded great most of the time.

Spring has come and so have cooking projects and table games. Residents of Willow Cove East sit at the tables and children stand between them; a generational daisy chain. We have made edible necklaces by stringing cereal on yarn, dyed eggs, and peeled eggs, adding carrot ears and whiskers to make bunny eggs. On our latest visit, baskets of various blocks were interspersed at the tables and everyone kept busy, either creating with the blocks or simply sitting back and taking it all in. When I stepped back myself, under the guise of wanting to take a picture, my eyes started to fill up yet again. Good things are happening here.

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