Slowing down is radical.

In a world built to optimize every minute, can we choose a different rhythm? Introducing our Reflection Studio.

Though many of us who spend our days with school-age children consider September 1st to be the official start of a new (school) year, there is still so much pressure to optimize, prioritize, reinvent, and restructure on January 1. This year, we’re taking the exact opposite approach and offering a different take. What if we called slowness to the top of our minds? What would it feel like to let something linger, to allow a room or an experience or even an idea to feel like a long, slow, deep breath? For ourselves and the children in our care.

We’re introducing a new rhythm and ritual here on Substack. The first post of the month will be a chance to pause, reflect, share, and learn from each other in a Reflection Studio. We will set a monthly intention and discover together how these small shifts can make a big impact in our days with children. If you’re already a paid subscriber, this offering is already included. And thank you! If you are not yet a paid subscriber, you can get a taste of this experience this month and see if it’s a practice you’d like to try. Of course, we’ll continue to share lots of ideas and inspiration each week as we have been, and The Reflection Studio will give us another chance to think, digest, and make room for what matters in our creative practice with children.

Shannon’s older child and a friend worked tirelessly to gather and push ever-growing balls of snow up a sledding hill.

Reflection Studio: January

This month, the call to action of The Reflection Studio is to slow down. Slowness does not come easily to me (Shannon). Not at all. In fact, slowness basically equals discomfort in this season of life. I am used to a busy pace and feel more productive and sometimes even more whole when I have less time to consider and ponder. I’ve noticed that right now my own two kids are not so comfortable with slowness (or boredom or not knowing what to do) either. As I’ve shared many times, we are trying to navigate screens and find balance as a family. It is very challenging to compete with the screen.

And, similarly, it feels less intimidating for many educators and caregivers to fill up every second with an agenda and activities rather than to steep in the uncertainty of open, slow time. In many classrooms, it is normal to have a pretty rigid “early finisher” plan that has been determined by the adult in the room to manage the noise and energy levels. What if children could decide how they spent those last few minutes? We’ve found that many children actually don’t want to be babysat by mindless games on an iPad after finishing schoolwork. They might love the chance to dry on whiteboards or make something from Lego, even for a few minutes.

What if this could be a chance for choice? What do you notice, feel, and experience without an exact plan for how time will be spent? What would a deep breath or pause in time and space feel like to you?

Time does slow down without an agenda, and in some contexts, slowness may not even seem like a possibility. I think about my friends and colleagues in classrooms who have to justify slowing down and letting children linger and find flow in their play. Many educators already feel stretched to the max and overburdened with content, standards, bell schedules, and assessment. Is it possible to slow down for play and creativity in these environments? We’ve talked before about making room for creativity in the crevices of the day, and letting transitional moments be an exhale instead of a mad dash. We’ve talked about slow starts at home or in the classroom, setting an intention for just 15 minutes or half an hour of creative play to start the day. Most educators we know are striving to create some balance for the children in their classrooms, knowing how much stress and pressure they experience each day. But in busy spaces shaped by schedules and standards, slowing down might feel unproductive, even radical.

A partner educator, while reflecting with our research partner Andrea Sachdeva about the intentional, daily time we had carved out for open-ended play called Playlab, shared this:

“It’s like, how did we forget this as teachers, as educators? Why isn’t this more important? Am I making sense? I’m a teacher, but I’m also this advocate I guess, in some ways, and that’s the piece that I struggle with most, of having to find language and examples to show people “wait a minute, this is healthy for kids!” like, “Damn a test score, look at the smile on their face; Damn a test score, they’re working together, they’re problem-solving, they’re happy! They have joy!”

In slowing down and making time for play and creative experiences, even when it’s uncomfortable, we unearth what actually matters. We can see wellness, see health, see development, see joy.

I remembered this when I slowed down at home and intentionally connected with my kids instead of busying myself with incessant tidying or zombie-walking to my laptop for work or mindlessly scrolling on a device. We made slime last week intentionally as a way to cope with some big feelings we were experiencing as a family. I watched the clock the entire time. I could feel the slowness of the experience, but I also wanted to see how long we could stay in it, like a personal experiment. My kids and I were locked into the slime-making for 43 minutes. They’re big now. I used to basically make this for them and then let the play unfold. Now they can make their own by my side. They want to try things, test them. They want to push against the confines of the experience and make discoveries. They bring their memories and experiences and feelings and knowledge and stamina, and I do, too. An image of my older son as a younger preschooler flashed before me as he removed his sock and squished his bare foot right into the slime he made by himself.

I’ll let you hang onto that image for a moment.

Now, we invite you to consider slowness or slowing down. Let’s pay attention to the urge to rush, to grind, the need to hurry and move on to the next thing instead of lingering and finding flow. What happens when you slow down? What happens when you let a room, an experience, an idea unfold? How does it feel? What comes into focus?

There are no right answers here. We’re hoping to chat about the notion of slowing down this month in our chat. Whether you’re an educator, caregiver, parent, or a creative on your own journey, share your thinking and use this as a safe space to consider and exchange. We would love to hear your stories, your ideas, your drawings and doodles and responses to what others in the community might share. And let us know how this concept of Reflection Studio lands for you, too. You can join us in the chat with the link below.