Wednesday, April 16, 2014


I don’t often see movies. It was good luck that I happened to see the movie Frozen at a friend’s house.   Many of my Young 5’s students own it and I’m glad I have an understanding of their love for all things Frozen.
A couple of days ago “Nicole” wrote in her journal that she had the movie Frozen and loved it.  She went on to tell that the movie was gone and she really missed it.  I think her mom had rented the movie and it had been returned.  Later in her writing she commented even though the movie was lost “that song is still stuck in my head.” I was scribing for her and I asked which song she still remembered.  She replied, “Let it Doh.”  I must have looked puzzled, I was unsure, I’ve only seen the DVD once.  To help me out she began to sing and I recognized the song, “Let it Go”.  She gets speech services but she still doesn’t have her ‘g” sound. 
In typical fashion I encouraged her to add more details and to color her picture.  I moved on to scribe for more students.  During playtime I recalled Nicole’s writing.  I used my  iPad and went to the iTunes store.  The song was available for 69 cents.  I bought it and plugged into the sound system in my classroom.  The delight on Nicole’s face as she heard that ‘song in her head’ come out of the speaker was worth far more than 69 cents.  As the song finished playing she asked if I’d play it again.  I put the song on repeat and she stood in front of the speaker belting out ‘Let it Doh, Let it Doh.’  She was joined by several friends and they all sang “Let it Go” together, soon Expo markers became their microphones.  By the fourth performance they were choreographing their arm and head movements
Yesterday’s story in her journal was about spending playtime singing her favorite song.  This morning Nicole came in the classroom she handed me a picture and writing.  I asked her to read it to me.  She pointed and read Teacher and Elsa.  As I looked closely she pointed to the picture of me and of Elsa, the character in Frozen.  She went on to say that she now wanted her name to be Elsa.  I’m not sure of the proper way to handle a child wanting to be called a new name, but I really didn’t want to go there.  I quickly pointed to her desk name tag, her cubbie and even her writing journal.  “I’m sorry, Nicole,” I said.  “Your real name is written on too many important things to change it.”  She looked me in the eye and said with a dejected sigh,  “O. Day.!”

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