I’m going back to a prompt from a couple of weeks ago . . .
Would I want to be a student in my own classroom?
I’m doubtful this is the right question to ask. Of course I’d want to be a student in my own classroom . . . I plan learning activities and have discussions around topics that I’m interested in and passionate about. I’m totally engaged and learning, and so are all the students who are similar in learning styles and interests to me.
My yardstick for my classroom is usually my son, and whether he’d want to be in my classroom. He’s 15, and school has never been his favourite place. He’s also not one of those kids who will sit quietly and endure something he’s not enjoying, which means that there’s also been quite a bit of conflict in his school life. And when we talk about it and he tells me why he feels frustrated and unfulfilled at school, I know he has a point. The one-size-fits-all, sit-down-and-shut-up, do-what-I-tell-you model that so many classrooms follow doesn’t work for kids like him, if it works for anyone at all.
My son would thrive in a classroom where he had some choice – a choice of where he sits, what he learns, the way in which he completes assignments, the order in which he completes activities. He’d also be successful with a teacher who he feels cares about him. Because he’s so often “that kid”, there haven’t been many teachers in his life who have made the effort to get to know him – his interests or his fears. Those who have developed a relationship with him have seen him blossom.
And that’s my question, always – “Would he want to be here?” If I can reply that I’m working on relationships with my students, that I’m giving them choice, that I’m helping them follow their passions, I think I’m doing okay. And from okay, I can work towards great.
There are few things as enlightening, and humbling, for a teacher than having your own child struggle in the school system. My son has been a great catalyst for me to become more innovative so I can better meet the needs of students like him. I am so thankful to him for making me a better teacher.
Can I just take a moment to say how much I love my grade 7/8 students? I only have them for ELA and social studies, but I’ve taught them in some capacity for three years now, and they really do feel close to being my own.
Something I admire about this group is that, for the most part, they do learning, not school. Our discussions and activities tend to be all about making connections, and are definitely random and non-linear much of the time. We can start out talking about immigration, and suddenly be checking the Statistics Canada website for a definition for a rural community, referencing a map to figure out the potential routes for new pipelines in Canada (how’d we get there from immigration??), and then be checking the etymology of a word that’s come up in discussion. Their favourite learning style always involves something social, and they aren’t afraid to challenge each other or me.
Sometimes I panic and think, “Oh no! What about the curriculum?!” The beauty is, when I go back and check the outcomes and indicators, we’re hitting them all, and more. Not all days are like this, but when they are, I have happy and engaged students, and a happy and engaged teacher.
Learning for the win!
With it being the middle of report card and parent/student/teacher interview time at school, I find myself behind in my #IMMOOC reflections. A couple of nights ago when I listened to the second YouTube episode, Sarah, George, and Katie all commented on “living in beta”, and I think it was Katie who said something to the effect that if we didn’t work in beta, nothing would ever get done. So here I am, trying to keep up to the #IMMOOC because I’m living in beta!
The line about living in beta resonated with me because I have to keep myself in check from leaning too far into the perfectionist camp, the camp that says, “I’ll try this once I’ve finished reading the book”, or “I can’t start that until I have a full plan in place.” My natural inclination is to have my ducks in a row before moving forward, and to be “ready”. I should know after all these years, that no matter how much work you do in education, there’s still more to be done, and the only time you can have the illusion of being “done” is June 30.
And so this week was a good reminder to jump right in and start working on something new, whether those ducks are wandering all over the yard or not. We’re all working in beta, and I need to give myself permission that it’s okay to do that.
I find it interesting that the whole “relationships are the most important thing in education” line of thinking plays itself out when I think about my ideal school. The first thing that jumps into my mind isn’t the actual structure, the resources, or the curriculum. Rather, it’s the people I would fill it with.
I’ve been fortunate to teach in many different schools in my career (across three provinces). I am confident in saying that kids and parents are basically the same everywhere. There is never enough money for resources to do the things you’d really like to do in education, no matter the government involved. There is always assessment and curriculum to be questioned for the value it provides to students. But everywhere, there are great people who are making everything work, no matter what the odds, and inspiring the rest of us as they do it.
My ideal school could be a broken down barn with few resources, but the people I’d populate it with would make it exceptional. They would make it exceptional because of their passion, their knowledge, their ability to collaborate, their talent at making learning opportunities, sometimes seemingly out of nothing, and their intense desire to make school interesting, safe, and relevant for students. These people have inspired me in my career because of their curiosity and commitment to their own continued growth and learning, their beliefs in hands-on and experiential learning, and their acknowledgement that most times, we have to go where students lead us.
My ideal school would have many other aspects to it. There would be lots of messy learning. Process would be more important than products, and our assessments would reflect that. Coming from the angle of someone who teaches in both kindergarten and middle years, exploration and inquiry would be key at all ages. Technology would be employed to connect to others, and share our work. But the key would always be the passionate people filling the building.
My ideal school would be all about the people in it. Everything else would be gravy.
I originally started this post during my the writing warm-up time in my grade 7/8 class, on March 2. I gave them the same prompt as I started with, to choose to do if they wanted (“What would your ideal school look like?”). The ideas were fabulous! They were so thoughtful, and it was surprising how many of their ideas aligned with mine. I might have to share some of them here sometime.
I tried to exercise my brain and body last night as I listened in on the first session of The Innovator’s Mindset MOOC (#IMMOOC) while working out on the treadmill. My main takeaway was that I have to stay on my toes. As soon as I start to feel as though I might finally “get” this teaching gig (after 14 years), someone like John Spencer comes and blows me out of the water. The one thing I should try is design thinking? Ugh, I don’t think I know anything about it! Where do I start? But that’s the nature of curiosity and innovation – someone or something planting the seed, and me taking off with it. Maybe not in the direction they anticipated, but in the direction I need to go to meet the needs of my students and myself.
Another thing I’ve been thinking about is transformational change. That’s the buzzword in my province for what our government wants to do in the health, education, and social service sectors. Most people cynically think it just means taking money and resources out of the system to help eliminate our ballooning deficit. I want to keep George Couros’ quote in mind as we go through this difficult process – “Change is the opportunity to do something amazing!” As we head into uncertain times, when we feel that we are having the rug pulled out from under us and are potentially losing co-workers to the process, that it’s going to be increasingly important to look for opportunities in the change. We owe the positive attitude to ourselves and our students.
* Originally written on February 28, but not published until March 12.