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.!”
