Category Archives: Religious education

Winging it (successfully)

Ferry Beach Conference Center, Saco, Maine

The children’s program of the religious education conference continued this morning. Once again this year, Lisa and I are doing nature and ecology with rotating groups of children in grades 1-6, and this morning we had the grade 1-2 group, followed by the grade 3-4 group.

We decided to take the 1st and 2nd graders down to the beach to see the fog. We collected different kinds of seaweed, and were having fun trying to decide where the fog began and ended, when it started to rain lightly. We headed back to our tent, and got under cover just before a downpour started. We compared the different types of seaweed, and decided which ones felt slimy, which ones felt slippery, which ones felt lumpy, and so on. The heavy rain put an end to rest of our lesson plan, so we decided to make time for free play in the sand in which the tent is pitched — but then the wind picked up, and it got cold, and we ran inside where it was warmer. It wasn’t a bad session — the children got time to get to know one another — but the heavy rain and cold winds prevented us from meeting some of our learning goals for the morning.

By the time the 3rd and 4th graders joined us, the rain had stopped and it was warmer. But the ground was still so wet that we couldn’t do our planned activities, which involved crawling around on the ground. So we walked down to the beach.

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Re-focusing

Ferry Beach, Saco, Maine

The children’s program of the religious education conference started this morning. Once again this year, Lisa and I are doing nature and ecology with rotating groups of children in grades 1-6.

One of our groups this morning was filled with really great kids — I knew most of them from last year’s conference — and I was expecting the group to be lots of fun. But this group just didn’t come together. In fact, things started to fall apart, which meant that the children started acting out the stereotyped roles they have learned:– some of the boys started acting out, some of the girls sat there passively, one or two kids started acting like the good kids telling the others to behave. Nobody was learning anything. Nobody was having any fun.

It was raining off and on, so maybe the kids were cranky. Or maybe the chemistry just wasn’t right. I don’t know why things weren’t working, but I knew something had to change.

So I threw out the lesson plan we had written up, and did something that was more or less unexpected: “OK, everyone stand up. Make a line, and hold hands. Follow me.” The line broke down a couple of times, but finally we made it over to some trees. “Look at this…” We started picking up different kinds of lichen. “What’s it feel like?” Damp. Squishy. Soft. “Usually lichens are dry and crispy, but now they’re all wet from the rain,” I said. “It’s OK to pick it up, because wherever you drop it it will start growing again.” The kids started telling each other what they knew about lichen (these were 5th and 6th graders, so they knew quite a lot.) Lichen is fungus. No, fungi. It’s fungus and algae together. Look at this one growing on the tree! Look at this one, it’s completely different!

We ran back to our picnic table. Earlier, I had collected different kinds of seaweed down at the beach. We compared the lichen and the seaweed. “Seaweed is a kind of algae,” I said. Some of the lichen looked a little like some of the seaweed. Both the seaweed and the lichen felt damp, squishy, and soft.

By now, we were all re-focused. We sat down, and I asked them to come up with a list of ground rules that we could all live by. They came up with some good rules: No physical violence. One person talking at a time (they’re thinking of using a talking stick, but we’ll see). The Golden Rule: treat other people the way you’d like to be treated. And a few other common sense rules.

By the time we got the rules written down, and all agreed on, it was time to go to lunch, so we all went off to the dining hall.

Thinking back, I’m trying to figure out if there was anything I could have done differently at the beginning to keep things on track. I probably had higher expectations for the group than I should have had. Many of them are strong kinesthetic learners, and I probably should have had manipulatives for them to play with, or an immediate physical activity for them. I’m also not thrilled by having kids rotate through the different activities on such a tight schedule (I prefer spontaneous programming that arises from children’s interests, rather than schedules that force children to change to a different topic whether they’re ready or not) — and my negative attitude towards the schedule may well negatively affected how the group interacted.

But I suspect that in this case, there may not have been much that I could have done to change the way we started off. And it’s fine, because it worked out pretty well in the end — even though I never made my key point, that for many of us Unitarian Universalists appreciating Nature is a big part of our religion.

What I did at General Assembly

For my own reference, here are links to the General Assembly workshops and events that I wrote up for the UUA Web site. Two of the events I covered are definitely worth reading about, and I’m listing those first. The rest of the links appear after the jump.

Toward a Safer Congregation The dramatic story of how one Unitarian Universalist congregation survived when a beloved member of the congregation was accused (and later convicted) of child molestation. If you are a leader in a congregation, you must read this!

Home Grown Religion William J. Doherty, author of Take Back Your Kids: Confident Parenting in Turbulent Times, happens to be a Unitarian Universalist. In this lecture, he talks about the inadequacies of Sunday school, and he begins to outline what you families can do at home to pass on religious values to their kids. Anyone concerned with the current sorry state of religious education in Unitarian Universalism should read this.

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The end of a search

As of this morning, when the successful candidate signed the contract, we concluded a successful search for a part-time Director of Religious Education. We had five high-quality people apply, all of whom were qualified, and all of whom had relevant gifts and/or experience.

How good were our applicants? All our applicants identified themselves as Unitarian Universalists, which was a big plus from our point of view. All our applicants had at least two years of college. Our applicants included an experienced Director of Religious Education looking for a new job, four people with experience as religious education volunteers in their own congregations, two people with one to two years of seminary training, one life-long Unitarian Universalist, and one person with a background in counseling.

I thought other small churches might be interested in hearing why I think a tiny church like ours got such a good pool of applicants for a half-time job.

First and foremost, we committed ourselves to paying at the salary guidelines recommended by the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA), and we also committed ourselves to coming up with enough money to make it a half-time position. In the past, when we advertised for a quarter-time or one-third-time position we got only one or two applicants. Increasing the position to half-time at a fair salary made a big difference in the number of applicants.

Second, two of our applicants mentioned that they checked out our church Web site before applying. Our Web site doesn’t pretend to be flashy, but I think it does accurately reflect who we are as a congregation. Although our Web site is aimed primarily at newcomers, I suspect it is equally useful for job applicants — which we will keep in mind during future revisions of the Web site.

Third, we advertised in the right places. We sent a full job posting out in our newsletter — two applicants saw it in the newsletter, and one applicant was given the job posting by someone who receives our newsletter. We also posted the job on the Web site of the Liberal Religious Educators Association (LREDA) — two of our applicants saw the job posting there.

Fourth, we stated that we were hoping for a three-year commitment. I believe applicants heard that and understood that meant that the church was going to be committed to them for at least three years — this was more than a one year trial commitment.

Finally, it helped that we are in Massachusetts, the state with more Unitarian Universalists than any other state. Only two of the five applications came from out of the state.

Of course, having these five excellent applicants created a problem for us — the search committee had to decide between them. It was not an easy decision for them. What a great problem to have.

Plan ahead

Anne Principe, the Director of Religious Education at the Unitarian Universalist church in Brookline, Mass., pointed out to me that the Religious Education Association (REA) annual meeting and conference will take place in Boston this year. I have never been able to attend the REA annual meeting due to travel costs, but this will be close enough to commute. And this year’s topic sounds fascinating: “Culture that Matters: Intercultural Explorations in Religious Education.” I’ve already put it on my calendar.

November 2-4, 2007 — Religious Education Association annual meeting, Hyatt Harborside Hotel, Boston.

Link.

Happy 200th, Henry

I managed to miss the two hundredth birthday of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (27 February 1807 – 24 March 1882). A poet who is perhaps best known for his poem “Paul Revere’s Ride,” it also happens that Longfellow was a Unitarian. If you go up to visit First Parish in Portland, Maine, they will show you the pew which he and his family rented.

Longfellow’s reputation has fallen on hard times. Today, the critics dismiss his poetry as too sentimental. And the historians rightly point out the gross inaccuracies in his poems;– when I was a licensed tourist guide in Concord, Massachusetts, I had to constantly explain to people that despite what Longfellow wrote in “Paul Rever’s Ride,” Revere never made it to Concord because His Majesty’s Regulars captured him in the town of Lincoln.

Nevertheless, Longfellow’s straightforward language and imagery helped create the political mythos of the United States. I still get chills as I read the last lines of “Paul Revere’s Ride”:

In the books you have read
How the British Regulars fired and fled,–
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.
So through the night rode Paul Revere;–
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,–
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

…although, in the context of the current political and military adventures of the United States, it is worth noting that Longfellow was a pacifist.

So happy 200th, Henry. Sorry I missed the actual date. But according to the Web site of the Longfellow Bicentennial, I’ll have plenty of other opportunities to celebrate — including an “evening conversation” at 6:30 tonight, at the Longfellow National Historic Site in Cambridge.

Sunday school teachers can find activity kits here: Link (scroll down and follow the link labeled “Activity Kits,” which brings up a pop-up window).

Works by Longfellow at Project Gutenberg: Link.

Movement and drums and Sunday school

This past Sunday, I got a chance to teach in our tiny Sunday school. Just one girl showed up, A—; my co-teacher was A—‘s grandmother.

We have been using the curriculum “Stories about God” by Mary Ann Moore, a curriculum which exposes children in the primary grades to a wide range of God-concepts. Moore is especially interested in feminist theology and non-orthodox God-concepts. On Sunday we did the session on “God as Mother of Us All.”

In this session, Moore has the children do a creative movement exercise. Creative movement is not one of my strong suits. Over the years, I’ve led a fair number of creative movement exercises with children, and even with teens and adults, but I’ve never been satisfied with my efforts. Suddenly I was not looking forward to teaching Sunday school.

But then I remembered that the old “Haunting House” Sunday school curriculum came with a little booklet by Barbara Kres Beach on doing creative movement with kids, and I remembered that in that booklet was an idea that might help me out. I dug out my bootleg copy of “Haunting House,” and found the photograph I remembered: a picture of children in a sunlit room doing creative movement exercises, with a woman in the background holding a frame drum and a drumstick. Kres Beach suggests: Use a drum to set the pace and tone when you do creative movement with kids. Ah, ha! — all of a sudden I was ready to try creative movement.

By chance, I own a bodhran (an Irish frame drum), and I brought it in on Sunday. The creative movement exercise starts out with the children lying on the floor, breathing peacefully and quietly — I made circles on the drumhead with the beater, a soft and meditative shh-shh-shh sound. Everyone stands up and takes a big step! — a tap on the drum, and A— and her grandma were on their feet, stepping forward and reaching to the sky! I did a slow beat on the drum when that was called for, and a faster, wilder beat when that was called for. At last we finished up back on the floor, with me making the soft shh-shh-shh sound with the beater again.

It was magical. The simple addition of a drumbeat made it so. A— had a blast (so did her grandmother, and so did I!).

Then it was time for the story, and A— was ready to settle right down and listen. “Stories about God” is a good curriculum, and the story built on the creative movement exercise. I felt that A— really understood the God-concept I was trying to get across, and the simple addition of a drumbeat meant allowed me to pull it off.

Tales of the Rabbis

I’ve been working on a series of stories for liberal religious kids, and here’s another story from this work-in-progress. This is part of a series of “Tales of the Rabbis,” taken from the Talmud and from medieval sources. The stories of rabbis are reminiscent first of stories of Zen masters, and second (obviously) they are reminiscent of stories of Jesus. The story below should be familiar to anyone who has taught Sunday school for a few years; but my version tries to remain closer to the original version in the Talmud (without the common Christian interpretations that creep in, like changing or criticizing Rabbi Hillel’s one-sentence version of the Torah/Law), and my version also gives the original source. Note that the version below is still a rough draft.

You can find more of my Tales of the Rabbis here.

Standing on One Foot

A man came to talk with Rabbi Shamai, one of the most famous of all the rabbis, nearly as famous as Rabbi Hillel himself.

“I would like to convert to Judaism and become a Jew,” said the man. “But I don’t have much time. I know I have to learn the entire book you call the Torah, but you must teach it to me while I stand on one foot.”

The Torah is the most important Jewish book there is, and this crazy man wanted to learn it while standing on one foot? Why, people spent years learning the Torah; it was not something you can learn in five minutes! Rabbi Shamai grew angry with this man, and he pushed the man away using a builder’s yardstick he happened to be holding in his hand.

The man hurried away, and found Rabbi Hillel. “I would like to convert to Judaism and become a Jew,” said the man. “But I don’t have much time. I know I have to learn the entire book you call the Torah, but you must teach it to me while I stand on one foot.”

“Certainly,” said Rabbi Hillel. “Stand on one foot.”

The man balanced on one foot.

“Repeat after me,” said Rabbi Hillel. “What is hateful to you, don’t do that to someone else.”

The man repeated after Rabbi Hillel, “What is hateful to me, I won’t do that to someone else.”

“That is the whole law,” said Rabbi Hillel. “All the rest of the Torah, all the rest of the oral teaching, is there to help explain this simple law. Now, go and learn it so it is a part of you.”

Source: Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Sabbath 31a.

Talmud online:

The Babylonian Talmud, edited by Rabbi Dr. Isidore Epstein of Jews’ College, London.

The Babylonian Talmud, translated by Michael L. Rodkinson (1918).

Red Light, Green Light

Since we had a lay-led service today, I got to teach Sunday school with Serena, our regular paid child care provider. There were three children present: S—-, age 7; E—-, age 7; and A—-, age 10. K—-, age 12, who was visiting with A—-, was also present.

Rather than plan out a complete lesson, I decided to go with the spontaneous programming approach to planning, where the program arises out of the interests of the children, and their interactions with their surrounding environment. I brought along a Christmas story (which I never used), some drawing paper and crayons, and a game.

The game was “Red Light, Green Light (with cheating),” which the children have been playing off and on all fall. In order to understand the session, I have to explain the rules of “Red Light, Green Light (with cheating)”:

One person is “It.” She stands some distance away from the starting line, where the rest of the players stand (thirty to a hundred feet is a good distance; use a greater distance with more players). She stands in front of the goal, which is some solid object — a chair, a tree, a couch.

To begin the game, “It” stands in front of the goal, says “Green light!” in a loud voice, and turns her entire body away from the rest of the players. As soon as “It” turns away from the rest of the players, they all advance as quickly as possible towards the goal. After a moment or two, “It” says “Red light!” in a loud voice while simultaneously turning around to face the players. If she catches any player still moving, she calls out that player’s name, says what body part she saw moving, and sends him back to the starting line.

In traditional “Red Light, Green Light,” players are supposed to stand absolutely still after “It” says “Red light!” But this version of the game allows cheating, where players can move at any time — although of course if “It” catches them moving, she can send them back to the starting line. In addition, “It” can cheat by walking away from the goal to get a better look at the players, to see if certain individuals are moving.

The game works best if you play it together over a period of time, so you can figure out the nuances of the rules. Children will find that they can sneak up behind adults. As you play together, you will get increasingly strict about what constitutes movement (at advanced levels of play, even a smile will send you back to the starting line). You will discover the two basic strategies: slow and steady, and mad dashes towards the goal; both strategies can work (and they work well in combination). Those who become “It” discover that it requires coordination to whirl around quickly, and concentration to watch all the players.

The game ends when one player touches the goal without being called out by “It.” That player then becomes the next “It” for the next game.

“Red Light, Green Light (with cheating)” is a great game for small Sunday schools because it works well with mixed age groups (from six to adult). Younger children will need more than one session of the game to feel fully comfortable with it. When you’re first starting out, older children and adults will have to learn to modify their play to accommodate younger children who are learning (younger children who join an established game will find it easier to pick up the nuances of the game). We’ve been playing the game long enough that the younger children are nearly competitive with older children and adults.

The children are always excited when I go over the rules for the game. They find it hard to believe that the rules explicitly allow cheating. They also learn pretty quickly that the cheating is very limited, and actually makes the game harder to play, not easier to win.

A—- became “It” in the third game. She whirled around, saying “Green light!” Then she whirled back and looked at us. “I didn’t say ‘Red light!’ yet, you know,” she said. No one moved. “Red light!” she said. No one moved. She tried this several more times, but as long as she was looking at us, no one moved.

The children began to learn if they hid behind the two adults, Serena and me, “It” would be less likely to see them moving. K—- figured out that if she kept herself very low to the ground, “It” was less likely to call her out; she won the next game using this strategy.

When you are “It” in this version of the game, you have almost absolute power over the other players, within the constraints of the game. When S—- became “It” a second time today, she began abusing her power. She sent several of us back to the start even though we hadn’t moved at all. We complained, but she didn’t listen to us. So we had to resort to other strategies: we conspired to rush her all at once (A—- almost won when we did that); and we complained at her unfairness. After that game was over, K—- said she no longer wanted to play. You could almost see the wheels turning in S—-‘s head, as she realized that she had gone a little too far. At the end of this game, I said, “The next time is the last game, then we’ll do something else.” But S—- said, “No, we have to keep on playing!” — and then she realized that no one else was as eager to play the game as she was any more.

A—- was “It” for the last game. All the players had gotten quite good by this point. We all spread out over the room so that when we got close to her, A—- couldn’t keep an eye on all of us at once. K—- sat at the side of the room, pretending not to watch us. E—- won, sneaking quite close and then making a mad dash to tag the goal right after A—- said “Red light!”

I got out the paper and crayons and said, “Now let’s draw whatever you want most for Christmas.” All the children (and adults) settled down to draw, except S—-, who after five minutes said, “I’m bored with drawing.” S—- is a verbal and kinesthetic learner, so I explained to her that she is the kind of person who likes moving around a lot, but the rest of the children enjoy drawing. S—- looked around and saw that the other children did indeed love to draw, so she settled down — which represents a big step for S—-, who has loved being the center of attention and has always gotten the group to do what she wants. She asked me why I was drawing money, and I told her because that’s what I want for Christmas (Serena was drawing money too!). When I drew Cookie Monster where George Washington usually goes on a dollar bill, S—- said she wanted to know how to draw Cookie. I showed her one way draw Cookie, and she spent the rest of the time drawing.

If S—- had been a couple of years older, perhaps I would have sat down with the children after playing “Red Light, Green Light (with cheating)” and asked them about what had happened during the game, eventually leading up to pen-ended questions like, “How did you feel when someone sent you back even though you hadn’t moved?” and “How did it feel to be able to cheat during the game?” (although plenty of learning happened anyway without the necessity of being so explicit). One of the nice things about teaching Sunday school is that the same children often come back for years, so you can watch them grow up, and get to important discussions when they’re at last old enough for it.