I'll probably start with a very simple, stove-less design like this one and build it up from there as I find more furniture |
My hosts presented me two tables to choose between for K’s
play kitchen and the smaller one I decided to turn into an art table,
specifically a chalkboard table. Now, I have seen similar projects all overPinterest and have been dying to try one out so you can imagine my excitement
when I learned that there was a can of chalkboard paint waiting for me in the
garage. It was super easy, required only two coats of paint, and the whole
thing was finished in no time at all (5 minutes of sanding, 10 minutes to paint
each coat and about 2-3 hours between coats for the paint to dry). Piece of
cake. It looks great too, I think, and I cannot wait to get some chalk, fasten
a basket to the corner to hold it in along with a towel for wiping the slate
clean, so to speak.
K's new chalkboard table! |
In addition to these two table projects, I really want to
get a sensory table built for K. When I was at Bella Mente, each of our
classrooms came equipped with a sensory table and they were always a huge hit.
K, being not-quite-two, is really interested in touching, feeling, ripping,
squeezing, grasping, and pinching anything and everything she can get her
little hands on, so I figured a sensory table would be just the thing. But then
yesterday, after we gathered some greens to feed the chickens, did a little
yoga together, and read a few stories, we headed out to the upper terrace
garden to harvest some Pigeon Peas from the bush that is scheduled to be taken
down in the next week or so.
On Monday, I harvested a big bowl full of fresh green pigeon
peas which Dylan and I spent a good hour carefully shelling. It was time
consuming and tedious, requiring concentration and a lot of fine motor skills.
The peas tasted great cooked in a coconut curry sauce and the bush was overflowing
with both fresh green pods and rattling, yellowed dry ones. The dry ones just
needed to be shelled and tossed into a Mason jar and could be stored like any
other dried bean. Knowing that the plant would be coming down, and never
wanting to see anything wasted, I decided that I would harvest them myself and
slowly, over the course of the next few weeks, shell and jar them as part of my
weekly farm work so that our hosts and future WWOOFers could enjoy them without
the work.
Anyway, when K and I were hanging out yesterday, it occurred
to me that harvesting the Pigeon Peas would be a perfect task for the two of us
to do together. She has been really interested in helping out in the garden
lately, particularly when it comes to picking and shelling the tomatillos,
though at her age she needs a lot of guidance and gets very frustrated when I
won’t let her pick all the “babies,” as she refers to the unripe fruit. The
Pigeon Peas offered the perfect opportunity to practice; because there are so
many of them and the bush is being torn down anyway it didn’t matter how many
or which ones she picked.
This is a pigeon pea bush, they produce so many peas it will take K and I days just to make a dent! |
So after stomping around the porch like giants, I asked her
if she wanted to help me pick some peas. I told her that I had wanted to pick
them later but if she was interested, we could pick them together. She eagerly
agreed and off we went in search of buckets to fill. K wanted her own bucket,
as mine was too cumbersome, being about half her size, so we found a cup for
her to fill. When we got to the pea bush, I demonstrated how to grip and pull
the pods off the branches and explained that I was collecting the yellowy dried
out ones that sounded like baby rattles. She yanked a few of them and threw
them on the ground, a few making it into my bucket, and then started grabbing
at the green pods, looking to me to see if I would say anything, the way I had
when she grabbed the “baby” tomatillos.
This time, I said “I notice you’re picking the green ones,
those are ripe and tasty to eat, I ate them for dinner last night.” She looked
up at me, down at the pod, then back up at me, lifting it up and saying, “help
please.” I explained as I showed her that I twist the center of the pod until
it snapped and then use my fingertips to pry open the shell, grab the little
green peas, and pop them into my mouth. K grabbed a few more pods and tried her
hand at getting them open. She struggled and pinched and twisted and eventually
gave in, asking once again for my help. I could tell she was trying hard and
this task would take some practice, so for our first day of harvesting, I
started the process for her, pod after pod. I left it closed just enough so
that she would still have some work to do on her own, strengthening her fine
motor skills and allowing her the sensation and experience of opening the
shells and plucking the peas from the pod all on her own.
It occurred to me, as I harvested handful after handful of
the dried peas and K struggled with the pods and munched away on the little
green rewards that perhaps a designated sensory table was not a high priority
after all. Living on a farm presents tons of unique sensory experiences every
day for a little one like K. If we wanted some sensory activity, all we had to
do was step out of the house and rip up some more “salads” out of leaves like
last week, or remove the shells from a bowl full of fresh tomatillos or pigeon
peas. We could even grab some garden tools and do some digging in the dirt,
feeling it squish between our fingers and plant some seeds, letting the dirt
sift through our fingers as we gently covered the future veggies, like K watched
us adults do together last Sunday.
Sensory table with empty tub waiting to be filled |
Back at Bella Mente, an urban preschool in the city of Seattle,
there were far fewer opportunities for organic sensory experiences like there
are here on the farm, so we teachers created them in our sensory tables. The
kiddos loved this and it really helped them develop those fine motor skills,
use multiple senses to take in information about the materials presented each
week, and manipulate the various tools with which we provided them. We needed
to do this because otherwise those urban kids would have missed out on an
important learning experience. Here, K and I have endless opportunities for
emergent sensory experiences within the context of her life on the farm.
It’s not that K has it better being out here on the farm, or
that the kiddos at Bella Mente are missing out, because that is not at all the
case. Yes, K has more organic and directly relevant sensory experiences all the
time, but she doesn’t get to ride the bus to the library for story hour, or
learn from and collaborate with a classroom of her peers, it’s just her and all
the adults here on the farm, and baby A who is only 5 weeks old and still many
months away from being able to play with us. Each environment has it’s
strengths and its challenges and we, as teachers and parents, work with what we
have and find other ways to make up for what we lack. K has weekly beach
meet-ups with a handful of other mother’s and their toddlers, and the kiddos at
Bella Mente have sensory tables. Different environments present different, yet
equally beneficial and enjoyable, organic experiences and I love having the
chance to experience both ends of the spectrum.