One evening, not long after returning home from Italy, I opened the book, The Hundred Languages of Children, and looked at it with different eyes.  This time I saw the photographs as one familiar with the spaces and places there.  As I turned the pages of this famous book, the photographs of young children seemed to spring to life in front of my eyes.  I was looking again at the place I had dreamed of seeing and I was struck by a sudden sadness and longing.  I longed for the streets of the city of Reggio Emilia which had become so friendly and familiar to me during my days there.  What a joy and privilege to feel connected and at home in a place I had dreamed of visiting for so very long.  What a privilege it was to walk the ancient cobbled streets, wander the market stalls, hear the church bells, and run barefoot in the fountain on a hot summer evening with the children of the city – to feel myself WITH the people and IMMERSED in the place called Reggio Emilia.

It was a warm afternoon and many of the businesses in Reggio Emilia had closed for the long lunch break.  I walked to the square of San Prospero with the blank journal I had purchased at the Malaguzzi International Centre, and a pencil from the desk at the Hotel Posta.  I had a date with a Lion. Through the streets I walked, enjoying the feeling of familiarity.  I was really going to enjoy this!  I found a place to sit at a small table of a nearby cafe facing the square, where I could admire my Lion at my leisure.

The lions stand guard in front of the historic Basilica of San Prospero, an ancient church in central Reggio Emilia, Italy.  The six lions, sculpted in rose-colored marble by Gaspare Bigi in 1501, were meant to be bases for the columns of a portico in front of the church and have stood watchfully over generation upon generation of Reggio children throughout much of the city’s long history.  Although, they are somewhat young in comparison to the city’s actual age which dates back to Roman times.

I settled myself on a chair facing the piazza and opened my sketchbook.  As I began to make the first marks on the page, I could feel myself focus and the rest of the city faded for a time.  It was just me and my lion.  The proud head, the deep, wise eyes, the flowing mane and large clawed feet slowly took shape for me as I sat in the Piazza alone.  And as I looked at that ancient lion, he looked back at me.  He was beautiful, standing there in the Piazza as he had done for hundreds of years.  As I sketched, I wondered about all of the times he had seen –  the wars, the struggles, the stories, the triumphs and tragedies of generations before me – all witnessed by this silent sentinel.

I thought about the children of the city and their connection to the Lions.  I remembered seeing them playing in photographs, riding on their backs, running along the streets, making drawings of their own just as I was doing.  How many generations of children had done the same?  Surely the Lions were friends of the children and not frightening images.  Yet, even more so, I perceived a sense of solidarity there.

The Italians seem to love lions.  They are everywhere in the architecture of their beautiful ancient structures – guardians and protectors of these places.  I photographed them and was photographed with them throughout my travels in Italy.    The Lions of Prospero held a most special significance because of their connection to Reggio Emilia and the work of the educators there which I tirelessly study.  For me personally, the lions symbolize the courage and bold spirit of the work we do as early childhood educators, inspired by the Reggio Approach.

It was as I sat sketching that I came to understand “connection to place” in a new and deeper way.  I sketched, not to produce a product necessarily, but to be more immediately present in the moment and to take it all in as deeply as I could.  This is what it meant to me to be in Reggio – to take in the feel of the place, converse with the people, eat and drink, walk and look, listen and breathe there and begin to understand.  I had come here asking how the schools of Reggio Emilia embody this culture?  How do they contribute to it?  Here in the Piazza, I began to understand.

I would say that the richness of this context is beautifully interwoven into the work of the educators in Reggio Emilia.  There is respect for culture and history, appreciation and deep love of beauty, and a spirit of joy underlying it all.  It is a joy that is boundless and most courageous, as it looks to what is good and what is worth upholding in all situations and times of its history.  The spirit of this people and their values is richly expressed in everything they do in the schools.  The image of the child as capable and powerful, the documentation of the children’s work, the beautiful and intentional environments, the emphasis on collaboration and community – all flow together and reflect a depth of purpose that is most profound and simple.  The school is not a separate place, apart from the community.  It is the very heart of it!

As we traveled on, I continued to photograph lions everywhere – especially in Venice, where the lions were found in abundance.  But these lions took on a new dimension – they had wings!  The winged lion is the symbol of St. Mark, writer of the Gospel of Mark, whose bones reside there in the Basilica of St. Mark in the famous St. Mark’s Square.  The Lion had been the image which I had given to all that I loved in Reggio and now that image had been given wings.  My heart was so full I thought it would burst.

So it was THIS lion, the WINGED lion, who sent me home and continues to inspire my journey here at the ECDC.  THIS lion, who continues to challenge me to be bold and courageous, in the work of giving THESE children in THIS city a voice.  THIS lion inspires me to keep on striving to bring to expression the power of THIS context, which is the University of Michigan-Flint. Loris Malaguzzi, founder of the Reggio Approach, believed that schools should speak of the community of learners who occupy them.  The very walls should joyfully proclaim the richness and beauty of what happens there and not be dead places where the voices of the children are not heard.  The children here among us have much to contribute to their culture and it cries out to be made visible.  How this will unfold is yet to be seen, but it will be the driving force behind everything I do from now until the end of my teaching career.