Simultaneous action, development, or occurrence. The state of operating or developing according to the same time scale as something else. “Some individuals do not remain in synchrony with the twenty-four-hour day”
–Google Dictionary
(For the similarly named song by The Police, click here.)
In human development terms, synchrony is the dance that happens between babies and caregivers, right around three months of age. In highly technical terms, it’s what makes adults go completely ga-ga when a baby smiles at them—suddenly, we get huge smiles on our faces and we start talking like we forgot all those grammar lessons from fourth grade.
Come into a Sing and Play Kindermusik class and observe the way moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas interact with their babies. Synchrony abounds. It is part of why Kindermusik is about developing the whole child, in this case, social skills.
Kathleen S. Berger, in her human development book, Invitation to the Life Span (2014), writes:
“One study found that those mothers who took longer to bathe, feed, and diaper their infants were also most responsive. Apparently, some parents combine caregiving with emotional play, which takes longer but also allows more synchrony” (pg. 141).
Interestingly the adults are the ones who imitate the babies, not the other way around. This explains why newborn babies don’t elicit the same response from us. They get plenty of oooh’s and aaaah’s, but no peek-a-boo games.
What happens when we don’t react this way, when we don’t give the kids this attention? Ed Tronick, the chief researcher on the still-face technique, shows us (fair warning, it might be really hard not to reach through the computer and give the child some love, but rest assured it doesn’t last long, and ends well):
So, obviously, this is something that comes naturally to us as caregivers, whether or not we’re enrolled in a Kindermusik class. But Kindermusik has given me is a large array of songs that I can sing to help slow me down during those routines and to engage in this responsiveness cycle with my children. I can spontaneously burst into a rendition of “Bubbles,” while I’m bathing them, “I See You,” when doing a peek-a-boo game, or “Little Red Wagon,” when I’m bouncing one of them on my lap waiting for the oil to get changed. And, gratefully, these are songs that I can actually tolerate listening to while we’re driving (unlike Other-CD’s-That-Must-Not-Be-Named).
And, as I have said before, I especially love coming to class and having that time with them there. While I strive for it daily with my kids, it is the one place where I can come and just be truly present with them—no laundry to worry about, homework to get done, or kitchen floors to mop.
Erik Erickson’s theory of the psychosocial stages of life has indelibly shaped the course of the study of human development since its creation. Certainly, the theory is not perfect, and others (such as B.F. Skinner, father of operant conditioning) have established differing theories of human development. Nevertheless, without Erikson, we wouldn’t ever use the term “identity crisis” to describe the angst that teens go through during adolescence, nor would we work to make sure that our newborns felt secure in their attachment to caregivers.
In my secondary teacher training, and again in my Kindermusik training, I learned a lot about Erickson’s theory, though in the context of children and adolescents. In the last couple of weeks, however, I have been studying about human development during adulthood and late adulthood stages. The juxtaposition of early childhood development with my own development (now that I am officially “mid-life”) fascinates me.
Of course, like anything we learn, when something applies to our life, it sticks with us. While I probably did have to regurgitate all of Erickson’s stages of life for some test somewhere along the line, it is now that I am actually in this stage of “generativity versus stagnation” that I can get my head around why it is that as a parent and educator I feel so strongly about being productive and caring.
Generativity, as Erickson defined it, is all about getting outside of ourselves and caring for others. We need to feel productive. There are ways that this occurs—through art or other creative pursuits, through employment choices (where possible), and through parenting or otherwise contributing to future generations. If it doesn’t happen, we stagnate and feel, as Erickson put it, “personal impoverishment” (Erikson, Erik H. [1963]. Childhood and society (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Norton.).
I think a lot about the impact that my parenting has on my kids, especially in context of the Kindermusik studio. I often hear that I, as my child’s parent, am my child’s best teacher—this is why home materials can be so beneficial. And it is also at the core of why we offer Love and Logic parenting classes.
But how often do we think about the ways that our children change us?
Many researchers have studied the stress that childrearing can be in our lives, especially when children are young. However, reading Erickson’s comments about what my children puts things in a different perspective for me:
“The fashionable insistence on dramatizing the dependence of children on adults often blinds us to the dependence of the older generation on the younger one” (Erickson, 1963, p. 266).
(From a developmental perspective, foster parenting, step parenting and adoption all present their own, unique challenges—but these are important ways for adults to meet their generativity needs, as well, so I’m not speaking only about biological children, here.)
It’s fascinating to think of all the ways I need my kids. They have all taught me how to love certain aspects about myself. Certainly, I have changed my priorities many, many times. With my son’s new interests, I have learned much more about bagpipes than I ever thought I’d know (no sharps or flats!). I’ve also had to learn not to care so much about the messy kitchen (this is a daily struggle—both to keep it clean, and to let it go when it’s not). And, just when I think I’ve got it all figured out, they go and have a birthday, and it changes everything.
There should be some concluding paragraph here—something somewhat reflective that sums this all up for you. Unfortunately, I find myself coming up a little short with the wisdom. After all, how much more profound can it get, then to think of where I would be (for worse AND for better) without my kids? The ways our kids depend on us, the way we depend on our kids—I’m sure this rests at the pinnacle of why there is so much joy and so much pain when it comes to being the child or being the parent. For those moments of joy, I give thanks. For those moments of pain, I also give thanks, though sometimes not until much, much later.
Today, may you have a mindful day of generativity.
I find the science of how music connects to memory to be fascinating. Not only does it aid in language acquisition, it actively connects with our “autobiographical memories,” according to a study published by Cerebral Cortex and as reported in 2004 in LiveScience. The author writes, “(E)vocation of autobiographical memories and associated emotions by music counts among the most poignant experiences associated with music,” and shows in his study that music is tied up in our memories because they are both activated in the same spot of our brains, the medial pre-frontal cortex (MPFC). This is true even for Alzheimer’s patients—they can “recall songs from their distant past,” even when they have lost other, substantial memory, because the MPFC is one of the last areas in the brain to be affected by their disease.
The summer I was 15, my parents and I took one of the best trips of our lifetimes. With our little pop-up trailer, we drove from Salt Lake City to Washington, D.C., and back home through parts of the south. We ate at a fantastic Italian restaurant on Dupont Circle, stood in awe while watching the changing of the guard at Arlington, toured Monticello, got a flat tire in the scorching heat of Oklahoma, witnessed the most incredible lightening storm through the panhandle of Texas and climbed through the ruins of Mesa Verde.
Of course, being 15, and an only child, much of the time I spent “tuned out” on my Walkman (speaking of memories). So, when I wasn’t listening to Frankenstein on tape (now they’re called “audiobooks,” but I still find myself inclined to call it a book-on-tape, as it actually was “on tape”), I found myself engrossed in U2’s Rattle and Hum, which had just come out. It seemed the perfect soundtrack for the trip—just enough rebellious spirit in the music to quench my need to disengage from my parents from time to time. And lyrics that, more often than not, seemed to match our experience on the road: “like a drifter needs a room,” and “a highway speaks of deserts dry, of cool green valleys.” I ask you, is there any better place to hear “The Star-Spangled Banner,” (at the time, my first exposure to Jimi Hendrix) than when you’ve just come from a walk along the Mall? Even today, when I hear those opening lines, “This is a song Charles Manson stole from the Beatles, we’re stealing it back,” I cannot help but be transported immediately to the back seat of the car, my dad at the helm, crawling along on the scenic BWI parkway.
Several years ago, I made a mixed-CD of my favorite Kindermusik songs. (Yes, they used to be called “mixed-tapes,” and yes, I know that people now put together “playlists.” I am somewhat of a Luddite, cut me some slack?) At any rate, the other night, as we were winding down after dinner, my preschooler decided she wanted to listen to some music, and chose this particular Kindermusik CD. Soon, “Los Pescaditos” came on and I found myself on my living room floor, in New Mexico, holding my baby boy (who, at that point, was about 15 months old), with my oldest daughter and husband and all the other Kindermusik parents I was teaching at the time. It was such a calm moment of connection, not just with my children, but also with people who I had come to love during our short residency there. Lullabies in Kindermusik have been by far my most favorite moments in class, and now that my youngest is in with the preschoolers, they are by far the things I miss the most (probably because of this same music/memory connection). Not only did this lullaby calm my stressed-out mama soul at the end of a long day the other night, it reminded me of the many times I have felt joy and comfort just being present with my kids. As much as I love Rattle and Hum, that moment was infinitely more nourishing for my soul.
I talk about mindfulness a lot in this blog—about the importance of taking time to just notice what is going on around us and being present for our kids. I probably do it because it is something I have come to really value, but it is also one of the things that most eludes me as a parent. Even still, I consider it to be a gift that I have such a rich history with the Kindermusik songs that those memories and those moments present themselves to me at unexpected times.
What are some of your favorite music and memory connections? Please, share!
My son, when he was about 18 months old, once said the word “puppy” (his favorite stuffed animal), and that was it for another year. He seemed neurotypical in all other aspects, but I was still concerned that he wasn’t speaking. I had done some sign language with my oldest girl, but at that point got serious about signing with him. I increased my vocabulary, showed him as many Signing Time videos as I could get my hands on, and noticed a drastic change. Where he had previously taken me by the hand, walked me over to the fridge, patiently waited for me to open the fridge, and pointed to the milk, now he was giving me the sign for MILK. It was as if we flipped a language switch in his brain—he seemed to understand that there were symbols (signed or spoken) for things he wanted or needed, and he could use those to communicate. With the introduction of sign, his language abilities took off.
Obviously, correlation doesn’t prove causation—my experience with my son isn’t a viable science experiment. Lucky for us, though, there are researchers who have studied this, and their findings are similar. Linda Acredolo and Susan Goodwyn have found that kids who learn sign language have better overall language skills than those who don’t learn sign—they have “bigger vocabularies” and “(use) longer sentences.”
You’ll know you’re in a good learning environment when a teacher finds a way to engage verbal, aural and kinesthetic/tactile learning modalities into the lesson plan, as we all have ways that we learn best. For me, personally, I have to take notes (preferably in a textbook—it was heaven when I got to college). I rarely refer back to these notes, but once I have written them down, I remember them more easily. My daughter, on the other hand, needs to use manipulatives of some sort—she always works better when she’s cutting something, or moving something around. Muscle memory works to our advantage to help us recall certain concepts–by teaching children sign language, we engage their full bodies in the learning process.
As I recollect this process with my son, I find it hard to believe that the 8 year old child who is, at this moment, scrambling his own eggs for breakfast was that same kid who, even when he started speaking, was difficult to understand (because even once he became more verbal, we still did some speech therapy together). The journey of a mom is fraught with equal parts love and pain. Nevertheless, I’m grateful for all the ways he and I have communicated through the years, and have a special place in my heart for the way sign language helped us through a particularly critical period.
Last spring, Kindermusik dissolved their Sign & Sing class. At that point, Angela Horsfall joined the Song of the Heart community to teach Signing Time classes—and she’s absolutely fantastic! She has the benefit of being an Advanced Certified Instructor. There are still openings for the class, and we’d love to have you join us, regardless of your previous experience with sign.
Last weekend, as my husband and I were in Vegas celebrating an anniversary, I went to see Bodies. . . .the Exhibition, where I got to see the preserved remains of actual bodies. Although my husband got queasy and exited quickly, I found the exhibition to be remarkable—I left in complete amazement at how the body’s systems work together to allow me to do even the most simple of tasks. Fun fact: we actually shrink during the course of the day and when we go to sleep, we stretch out again.
Amazingly, however, it isn’t just our muscles that work in such harmony with our bones. The whole of our development results from a complex interaction between our genes and our environment. I’ve learned this week of a study that was conducted in the state of Georgia several years ago. A group of researchers wanted to know if they could influence the propensity of a child’s risky behaviors as they move through adolescence—including, for instance, their use of alcohol or marijuana. The 11-year-old African-American boys who were not in the control group attended seven seminars with their families, each with the intent to discuss communication strategies, parental and other familial relationships, cultural and racial pride, and discipline. After five years, it seemed that the seminars had had no effect—the researchers found no remarkable difference between the boys who had attended the seminars and those who hadn’t.
Nevertheless, with advancements in genetics, the researchers then tested each boy for a particular gene (5-HTTLPR, which is connected to the body’s level of serotonin, or the chemical responsible for our feelings of contentment). It was then they noticed a huge difference between the two groups of boys. If the boys had the long version of the gene, it didn’t matter whether they had attended the seminars or not—they had experimented with drugs, alcohol and sex at similar rates. However, for the boys who had the short version of the gene (those who were genetically more inclined to be at-risk), attending the seminars proved to make a substantial difference, as they showed a substantial decrease in rates of risky behaviors. In other words, despite their nature, the boys who received a different type of nurture took a less risky path in life.
Epigeneticis the term scientists use to refer to the effects of the environment on our genes. (Since they were just barely starting to map the human genome when I was learning about Mendel in high school, much of what I’ve learned this week has been revelatory.) While it has been obvious to me that nature and nurture work together to shape our development, I’ve been fascinated to learn that, in fact, they don’t just work in tandem. Rather, the relationship between our genes and our environment is much more dynamic than I realized.
One of the reasons I love sign language for babies is that through the process of giving little ones a way to communicate to their caregivers they can be the agents of change to shape their environment, which will in turn, influence their future growth. Instead of having to cry, or, as was the case with my son who was language delayed, go through myriad movements and gestures to get what they need (which are often met with frustration from their caregiver), kids are able to simply ask. Consequently, in addition to getting their needs met (a tremendous thing by itself), instead of being met with frustration and anger, they get praise. Now they have changed their nurturing environment. Of course, just because I learned to sign with my toddler didn’t mean I was a perfect parent; but, it generally allowed me to be calmer and more responsive—a setting much more conducive to additional, positive brain development.
For my family, I have found that Kindermusik, in general, continues to shape our home life. Attending with my preschooler once a week, I’m setting aside time to connect with her (I love being able to look into her eyes when Ms. Carol asks us). Reading books, dancing or listening to music together, gives both of us a meaningful way of interacting with each other.
We all come to Kindermusik class with differing natures. I love how Kindermusik nurtures the nurturing part of our lives, as well.
In the last few weeks, I have been learning about a methodology that many teachers of world languages are using in schools called TPRS, which stands for Teaching Proficiency through Reading and Storytelling. In my pre-mom days I was a Spanish teacher, and it’s been interesting to see how this methodology (new since I taught) meshes with what I have learned as a Kindermusik educator in terms of how any of us learns a language, whether it be our first one or our fifth.
A TPRS educator may teach very differently from the one you may recall from your own Spanish I days. She or he does not spend an hour conjugating verbs or giving lengthy explanations about what a present progressive verb tense even is. Nor does he or she teach vocabulary arranged by thematic topic (“Today, we’re studying ‘body parts’” ) without any context. Rather, in a TPRS class, the teacher and students, together, create a story in class, building on vocabulary with which the students are already familiar. Teachers expose their students to hearing many repetitions of only about three new phrases or vocabulary words in a lesson before they expect the kids to speak, and they teach grammar through natural use. Additionally, they ask their students to give an appropriate gesture or physical representation when they hear the new words. Vocabulary is taught in context (describing the main character of a story, an elephant, perhaps, will include some animal words, some body part words, as well as physical and emotional descriptive words). TPRS teachers encourage a playful and personal atmosphere, often asking silly questions about the story they’re telling or making sure that the vocabulary and stories reflect vocabulary that is germane to the students’ lives. After telling stories in class, the group moves to reading, and finally to free writing. Throughout the process, the class may sing little songs or create pictures of the stories they tell.
While the TPRS methodology isn’t without some controversy (mostly from those expecting a traditional foreign language approach), research supports its effectiveness. “In speaking, writing, vocabulary and grammar . . . TPRS has consistently outperformed traditional teaching, and has at least equaled traditional teaching in every study.” (“Show Me the Data: Research on TPRS Storytelling“) To me, this is no great surprise. It is exactly what we do in Kindermusik, and even what we do naturally as caretakers for our little ones. Of course, Kindermusik is more than just a music and movement program. It is about teaching the whole child, and language acquisition is a large component of that whole-child development.
In my daughter’s Kindermusik class last week, for instance, they created stories together about being frogs—what do the frogs do? Eat bugs, hop from lily pad to lily pad, and swim. They used gestures, including the ASL sign for FROG, and hopped and swam from lily pad to lily pad. They sang songs about frogs (my daughter loves the finger plays and requests them when we’re driving), and this month on the @home Kindermusik site the story is Frog Went a-Dancing, which includes a repetition of certain phrases and of course a lot of silliness (animals are speaking and each has a dancing song).
I don’t recollect ever explaining to my children that there is a difference between past and present tense verbs—instead, I use the verb tenses as they come up. Naturally, it takes kids awhile to figure out that “eated” is actually an irregular verb, but not because anyone sat down and said, “the verb ‘to eat’ is irregular and will be conjugated differently in the past tense.” No–eventually, with enough repetition and reading, our kids figure it out. Participating in Kindermusik helps with all of this critical repetition.
You will notice that our Song of the Heart Kindermusik studio supports language acquisition in a variety of ways, not just what happens in a Kindermusik class. Having puppeteers come for our Fall Festival exposes children to stories, thereby enriching vocabulary and helping them create meaning of the world. We have books for children to read while they wait for their class to start, or in the hall while they wait for their siblings to finish class. The educators incorporate natural gestures for words as well as American Sign Language instruction—both within a Kindermusik class and as part of a separate Signing Time class you can take with your little one. (Teaching your children ASL in and of itself has proven to be a fantastic way to help them develop language.) Taking a ukulele class encourages older students to learn a more sophisticated vocabulary—music-specific words as well as the more complex words that we find in other songs (the same holds true for the other music classes we offer for big kids).
Clearly, as humans we need connection with others. Language acquisition is an important part of that connection. Of course, not every child follows a neuro-typical path to developing language skills. Nevertheless, exposing our children to as many research-based best practices will give them great opportunities to receive the love and nurture that comes from communicating with others. Storytelling and reading are such important components of that communication and I appreciate being part of the Kindermusik studio where we nurture that connection with our kids.
Every once in awhile, my son goes through a stage where he trips and falls over his feet at every turn or bonks his head on the corners as he’s rounding from one room to another. Sure enough, shortly after I notice one of these phases, I also notice that his shirt sleeves are a little too small and his pant legs are a little too high off the ground. (Ugh! We JUST bought you those!) While his new size may be only just noticeable to my eye, it’s clear it even a small growth spurt means that his body can’t quite figure out where it starts and stops.
Have you noticed that in a Kindermusik class we might play a “follow-the-leader” type game? What about going for rides in the laundry baskets or swinging in a towel? Sometimes we make a big tunnel of hula hoops for the kids to go through. All of these activities are designed to increase our children’s propioception, or their ability to move through space with fluidity. In the ever-expanding “Wow! Our Bodies Can Do That?” column of awe, we can list: “they send our brains constant information about where and how we are in space.” This is what allows us to kick a soccer ball or use scissors.
Propioception is basically what my son lacks when he falls out of his chair. He’s 8, now, and finally better; but, for a long time I was convinced that one day I would get a call from his seventh grade math teacher saying, “Your son is a dream to teach [hey, as long as this is my fantasy, I’ll hope for the best], but he always falls out of his seat.” Nevertheless, his balance on a bicycle is far greater than that of my 2-year-old nephew’s. Clearly, we develop these skills over time and with practice, including participating in activities such as the ones we do in Kindermusik. (I suspect this is probably why my son is even as good as he is!).
Check out this great video that explains just how important movement is to our bodies. I really appreciated seeing just how normal it is for there to be fingerprints all up and down the walls in my house. Maybe this will help me react with more patience next time I’m scrubbing up.
Incidentally, propioception is also one of the things that police officers are looking for when they administer field sobriety tests. If you drive by a New Year’s Eve traffic stop and you see a driver out of her or his car walking a white line, will you remember to come back to the blog and tell us that you saw first-hand what can happen when somone’s propioception was compromised?
(Important note: There are some real, neurological disorders that may present themselves in children who seem to be atypical in developing their sense of body awareness. If you suspect that something is “off,” please pursue appropriate avenues to get help in diagnoses and resources.)
“Touch is the only sense we cannot live without. You child could be blind and be fine, she could be deaf and be okay, but without touching and being touched, a child will die.” — I Love You Rituals, Becky Bailey, Ph.D., pg. 10
The other day my son asked me which of my five senses I would give up if I needed. I told him that although it would be sad (more than sad) if I couldn’t hear him or his sisters again, or if I couldn’t see their faces as they grew older (and life without chocolate might be unbearable!) I certainly would retain my sense of touch. I want to be able to nurture my children through touch, and I definitely want to be loved and held myself. Nothing soothes my soul like a hug from one of my kids.
Researchers have looked extensively at the devastating consequences of non-touch, especially at the deprivation that occurred in the Romanian orphanages. This Scientific American article points out that skin-to-skin contact with babies calms them and helps them sleep better (who doesn’t want a baby to sleep better?) and helps mom’s own levels of stress and depression.
Of course, if I had read this as a new mom I would have an increase in my stress levels, wondering if I was holding my baby girl enough. Sometimes she didn’t sleep well at night—was I doing everything “right?”
Now, I read that advice and I notice all the times during the day that I DO hug my kids, or snuggle with them while we read on the couch. And I think to myself, “My preschooler may be upset today, but it’s NOT because I didn’t touch her enough—it’s got nothing to do with me and I’m doing my best here. And just think how upset she might be if I HADN’T hugged her?”
Having an 11-year-old daughter, I know it isn’t always easy to give her a hug (especially when she really needs it—that’s when she’s at her most resistant to me). Still, I try to look beyond the moments that she squirms away from my hugs and instead find the times when I can put my arm across her shoulders or brush her arm gently to wake her up in the morning.
You may have noticed that in the green studio we have some words on the wall. From time to time when I’m snuggling with my son during class I look up and see the word “touch.” I’m reminded that this is the gift of Kindermusik—it gives me a chance during the day to focus exclusively on my son, to hug him and let him know that I see him and I value him. If there are more important things to give my son, I’m not sure I’ve found them yet.
One of the rituals we do in some of Kindermusik classes is called “Round and Round the Haystack.” It’s a great way to entertain the kids while you’re waiting for the oil to get changed or while standing in line at the grocery store, as well as engage in some playful touch.
Round and round the haystack goes the little mare (draw circles on your child’s hand/knee/shoulder, etc.) with your index finger
One step, two steps (walk your fingers up the child’s arm/leg/back, heading for a ticklish spot)
Tickle you under there! (Give a gentle tickle under the child’s arm)
(Also found in I Love You Rituals, pg. 111)
Do you have a favorite snuggling ritual with your child? What are some of the ways you engage with your kids in some playful touch? We’d love to hear about them in the comments!
