Meet our Caring Professionals

Peggy Gertner, Co-Teacher

Hello, hello! Peggy is my name

Up north in Canada is from where I came

Being outside is my happiest place

Days spent with children put a smile on my face

 

Hiking in the Catskills, touching every peak

Adventures like this are what I seek

Crafting is my secret skill

Knitting, felting, sewing enjoyed while I chill

 

Born in Toronto amongst the maple trees

Heading to every mountain with a pair of skis

Spending a decade in NYC

Before swapping gritty for pretty, in the Hudson Valley

 

Livingston Street is my new home

Through the vines of the ‘way back’ I often roam

I love to create and work with my hands

Making phones out of rope and empty tin cans

 

I’m excited to meet you, be sure to say hi

Tell me what shapes the clouds make in the sky

Show me the cool bugs you find under a rock

Or tell me a joke that starts with knock knock

Hannah Myers, Co-Teacher

I am – above all else – an artist and an adventurous spirit.

I am a painter — fascinated with neoexpressionism and stream of consciousness creations. Come over and you’ll see noodlings in photography, ceramics, weaving, and herbalism across my walls, shelves and window sills. While you’re there, give my sweet cat, Leifje some scritches.

Against that wall there, you’ll notice a loom, built by my hands, the same way my grandmothers built theirs. Why is it looped with red yarn and only red yarn? That’s all I had access to at the time it was built. That constraint makes my creations more playful, so I keep it this way. I explore pattern after pattern, the way the light hits each loop and knot.

From my current home, to my many homes growing up in the Hudson Valley, you can find moments my tiny feet left prints of dirt and weather. No season kept my siblings and I from playing “who’s got the toughest feet!” Plunging barefoot through snow and across hot concrete for as long as we could bear, giggling all the way.

These tough feet have settled, once again, in Kingston. My home. This home-sense only comes to me where there is community — inviting, curious and omni-present. I enjoy weaving the Livingston community into my life with waves to my students at puppet shows in the park, with hugs from kids who recognize me working at the farmers market, and talking with parents while I’m waiting in line for coffee.

Kids, like a best friend, are honest. They’re open. They’re free with their joy, and their frustration. There’s no pretense, no show. There’s curiosity and there’s play. These things I want to actively nurture in my life, as much as in theirs.

Rachel Stewart - Assistant Teacher

I have been lucky enough to work with children for over 10 years now. I have had many roles as a nanny, a public school teacher, a garden teacher and as a camp counselor. My background is mostly in farm to school based education and I love getting to spend time with kiddos outdoors and in the dirst. I am very excited to be joining in at Livingston this year and to become a part of this vibrant community.

I grew up in Cambridge, Massachusetts and went to Lesley University where I received a bachelor’s degree in early childhood education.I recently settled in Esopus with my partner, our three dogs (Finley, Zuzu, Iyla) and a friendly bunny named Marigold. I love exploring the Hudson Valley and finding new spots to go hiking + swimming! I live near the Shaupeneak Ridge Park and enjoy going there at every season to observe the changes in the landscape. In my free time I like to go foraging, cook meals for friends, explore various herbalism projects and cuddle lots of dogs.

Matthew Wetzler - Co-Teacher

I didn’t have much background in early childhood care before I started working at Livingston Street. So on my first day I remember feeling nervous, anxious, and unsure what to do with my feet, hands, and brain.  I quietly entered the classroom and casually wandered around as if looking for loose change.  I was very excited to see the kids, but all the noise and enthusiasm stopped me from interrupting the play underway.  One of the children was voraciously playing on their own in the dress-up / kitchen section.  He would rapidly pull objects out of the sink, shove them into the cupboard, shove them back into the sink, place new objects on what appeared to be a kitchen table, and then jerkily shove everything back into the sink again.  Back and forth and back and forth and then there was a pause.  Then it would begin again.  I decided to duck down and pull up a chair to the chaos that was being organized.  I quietly asked the kid if it was okay that I sat down at the table.  Myles said “Uh. What?” I asked, “Is it okay if I played in the kitchen too?”  He exclaimed, “Sure!” I asked him if he was making dinner – to which he responded, “No. I’m playing restaurant”.  I pulled out a piece of paper and pretended to read a menu.  I asked if he was making spaghetti, steak, or some other food item I knew and he would laugh and squeak, then return to the rapid arrangement of opening cupboards and replacing objects.  I asked some other restaurant related questions as he placed food on a plate in front of me.  He may have laughed or squeaked again — I am unsure —  either way he did not respond with “words”.  Instead he would take the cutlery, or bowl, or some other object away and again place them back into the sink and/or cupboard.  After a little while of this I realized I had become one of the objects in the game and I sat in silence.  It was the most enjoyable silence I had ever felt in a workplace.  I served a function and I could just sit quietly and absorb all the interactions around me.  I observed as children were negotiating turns on the ladder, listened as pretend witches looked for their next victim, and watched the unique body language of the teachers with the children.  Immediately I realized that all of us were learning from all of us all the time — in rapid succession — organizing what we see and do and hear without even needing to speak a sound.  This of course felt to me simultaneously simple and profound.  It wouldn’t be until later that I realized that Myles was finally waving to get my attention — he needed to know how the soup was.  I responded, “The bowl is chipped, the soup is cold, and I am giving this restaurant 2 banana peels!” Just kidding — I have no idea what I said, but I am sure it was very positive and appropriate.

I grew up in renovated old church up the hill from the magnificent Wurts Street Bridge. My partner is Caitlin, we have a baby named Fiona, and we live in Ponckhockie.  I lived for a couple years as a teenager in Toronto and Vancouver as a college student; however, it was too cold and well-meaning so I moved back.  I graduated from Empire State College and I spend a tiny bit of free time rock climbing and reading Das Capital. I love fermented foods and I go on really long story telling rants.  It’s an issue — I won’t stop unless you’re direct with me.  Don’t worry – I won’t be offended.

Sally Chakwin - Executive Director

I first began working at Livingston Street in 2017. I came to cover as a long-term substitute for the summer and when I had to leave in the fall, I was heartbroken. Livingston Street had introduced me to an entirely different way to care for young children and families that felt so natural, so joyful, and so fulfilling, I never wanted to leave. In fact, that fall I spent most of my afternoons after work visiting Livingston Street because I just couldn’t get enough. I relished being in a community of caregivers who loved each other, spending time outside, and witnessing children play and exist in a truly child-centered way. As you can imagine, as soon as the school year ended, I was back at Livingston Street. Lucky for me, I’ve been here since.

One of my favorite things to do is to look closely at something – an object, a moment, an idea – and delve into the meaning behind it. When I was a child, I would sit in my mother’s garden and pluck flowers, dissecting them gingerly with my fingers to reveal hair-like veins or seeds as small as grains of sand, taking it all apart like a jigsaw puzzle until nothing was left. As a young adult, this desire to analyze turned into a love of Art History, and in particular, the study of old cathedrals, where every single nook and cranny promised a world of meaning, if looked at closely enough. These days, I’ve turned my critical lens towards early childhood and human development, sinking deeply into thinking about what it means to raise children, to be a caregiver and educator, and to be in community with others.

I grew up in Connecticut and now live in Rosendale with my partner Rich and our family of pets. I love to hike and scour the ground for fossils and herkimer diamonds; I love to make art, write, and tell stories; and I love to engage in conversation and thought around the nature of being.