It's this way, you see: I've had a pretty steady grind of it these last years, working up my social position."
- Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
Rosedale's description of social climbing might have as much application to the modern classroom as it does to modern socio-economics. The grind of school on our students leaves them jockeying for the best position; for college and for life. To what degree is that grind a function of their actual position in our classrooms? Are the rows of desks and factory-model instruction resulting in the kind of degradation of spirit Wharton skewered with her pen in The House of Mirth? Are the rows and pseudo-rows a rat race our students must navigate as we did?
I remember my AP Calculus class from high school, where the teacher seated us in rows according to our grade from the previous quarter; Low grade? Front center. High grade? Back edges. Our test results were excellent - many 4s and 5s. I received a 3 on that particular AP examination, but then again, I was a Front and Center student. More importantly, the class stands out as one of the worst academic experiences of my life. Like Rosedale, I worked at a steady grind to achieve even mediocre results. The quantifiable results were fine, but the qualifiable results were putrid.
Now, as a teacher, I face each day with an old fashioned classroom and rows of desks, seeking progressive solutions with a blend of modern and antiquated tools. How do I provide an ideal learning environment for my students using the tools and artifacts of the factory-model of education? Bringing modern technology into the space is helpful, as laptops and an interactive projector allow me to teach creatively. Still, I ponder the best use of the physical space.
I have tried rows, horseshoes, circles, and tables. I have even ordered desks into two converging lines to mimic Seminary Ridge and Cemetery Ridge while teaching The Killer Angels. One student recently remarked that I must have "Desk ADD". Many students yearn for the familiar routines, even when they are producing sub-par learning experiences. Better something familiar and known than unfamiliar and unknown, regardless of the good or bad of the results.
Examples abound of non-traditional classrooms, such as this example from Aiken, South Carolina. Unfortunately, most of the examples I have found are for elementary school classrooms. Are secondary schools consigned to be a place to grind away, a destination students dread because their creativity and individuality must be sacrificed at the altar of "success"?
Technology has opened avenues for 24/7 learning that had not previously existed. In fact, progressive educators such as Shelley Blake-Plock predict that traditional brick-and-mortar learning centers will become obsolete by 2020. In the meantime, I find myself trolling the web thirsty for solutions, using tools such as this Classroom Architect, in an effort to match my pedagogical vision with the physical realities of my classroom, hopeful that successful and bright teachers will stumble in to offer sagely advice or powerful tools...if only they aren't stuck in the rat race.
Showing posts with label learning environments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label learning environments. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Letter from an American Teacher
"In this great American asylum...What then is the American, this new man?"
-Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, Letters from an American Farmer
American education often seems like an asylum, though not in the sense of the word de Crevecoeur used. Rather than a haven, schools and classrooms can take on the manner of mental asylums, learners and teachers alike suffering form all sorts of infirmities of mind. What then is the American student? How is she new, and how do we meet that newness? A large portion of my answer derives from a program at my school called simply "The Humanities Program".
For the past two years I have been team teaching a sophomore course of American Studies as part of a broader Humanities Program. The course I teach pairs an English teacher with a Social Studies teacher and features periodic lessons from Art, Music and Religion teachers. Students study material from a thematic rather than chronological approach. Assessment options not only include but require creative options, as students must alternate between traditional essays and alternative assignments. Students have painted, sculpted, acted, and cooked their way into demonstrating mastery of the material alongside more traditional writing pieces.
My experience teaching this course has been eye-opening. Students have produced work and wrestled with ideas at a level that I find missing in many of my more traditional courses. The dialogue between the disciplines encourages and models the kind of collaboration that will be expected of our students in the future. Our students engage in learning outside of the classroom through quarterly field trip options completed on their own time. Nevertheless, there are those who question the validity of the program and its methods. To some, our approach sacrifices content and is irresponsible if not outright rebellious. I am continually moved to evaluate the practices we use and consider the rammifications for our students.
In short, I think the program's detractors are missing the boat. They may represent the 1/3 of De Crevecoeur's letter who are wealthy in their original countries - certainly some students thrive under more traditional models. Like De Crevecoeur, I believe that the motto of emmigrants will be "Ubi Panis Ibi Patria; where he wrote of economic and social realities, I write of educational and learning realities. Students will be invested where they find bread - where they find sustenance for their intellectual pursuits. For a great many of today's learners, bread will be found in more inter-disciplinary endeavors.
Similarly, I believe that we are not sacrificing content. Quite the contrary, we are full to the brim with content for our courses. The misunderstanding comes from the fact that our content is fundamentally different. In age where the Stamp Act or the publication date of The Scarlet Letter can be looked up on hand-held devices, the content of our courses should be different. It has to be different if we wish to prepare our students. In our study of the Scarlet Letter we incorporated art lessons where we tried our hand at cross-stitching.
"Sage on a stage" models are increasingly failing. When our practices work towards developing strategies of "not reading" and concentrate on teaching 19th century literacies in the 21st century, we are engaging in the work of Sisyphus. We often think of 21st century literacy as being solely about technology, and while tech plays a vital role, it is not the limit of what that term encompasses. 21st century literacy includes collaboration and creativity, initiative and adaptability; characteristics our program embraces. We need to stop rolling the boulder up the hill and discover creative solutions to reach the summit. In some cases, we ought to leave the boulder behind.
For several years teaching Philosophy to college undergraduates I would tell my students, "These theories are the tools I am providing you. You must then prove to me you can build something with them." The Humanities Program is giving me the opportunity to try that model on the high school level. I can provide the materials: literature, history, art, music, grammar, rhetoric. What will the new American learner build with those tools? The same papers that have been written and re-written, or something new, bold, original and daring?
-Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, Letters from an American Farmer
American education often seems like an asylum, though not in the sense of the word de Crevecoeur used. Rather than a haven, schools and classrooms can take on the manner of mental asylums, learners and teachers alike suffering form all sorts of infirmities of mind. What then is the American student? How is she new, and how do we meet that newness? A large portion of my answer derives from a program at my school called simply "The Humanities Program".
For the past two years I have been team teaching a sophomore course of American Studies as part of a broader Humanities Program. The course I teach pairs an English teacher with a Social Studies teacher and features periodic lessons from Art, Music and Religion teachers. Students study material from a thematic rather than chronological approach. Assessment options not only include but require creative options, as students must alternate between traditional essays and alternative assignments. Students have painted, sculpted, acted, and cooked their way into demonstrating mastery of the material alongside more traditional writing pieces.
Student work analyzing the connections between The Scarlet Letter and "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God"
by K. Boggs
My experience teaching this course has been eye-opening. Students have produced work and wrestled with ideas at a level that I find missing in many of my more traditional courses. The dialogue between the disciplines encourages and models the kind of collaboration that will be expected of our students in the future. Our students engage in learning outside of the classroom through quarterly field trip options completed on their own time. Nevertheless, there are those who question the validity of the program and its methods. To some, our approach sacrifices content and is irresponsible if not outright rebellious. I am continually moved to evaluate the practices we use and consider the rammifications for our students.
In short, I think the program's detractors are missing the boat. They may represent the 1/3 of De Crevecoeur's letter who are wealthy in their original countries - certainly some students thrive under more traditional models. Like De Crevecoeur, I believe that the motto of emmigrants will be "Ubi Panis Ibi Patria; where he wrote of economic and social realities, I write of educational and learning realities. Students will be invested where they find bread - where they find sustenance for their intellectual pursuits. For a great many of today's learners, bread will be found in more inter-disciplinary endeavors.
Similarly, I believe that we are not sacrificing content. Quite the contrary, we are full to the brim with content for our courses. The misunderstanding comes from the fact that our content is fundamentally different. In age where the Stamp Act or the publication date of The Scarlet Letter can be looked up on hand-held devices, the content of our courses should be different. It has to be different if we wish to prepare our students. In our study of the Scarlet Letter we incorporated art lessons where we tried our hand at cross-stitching.
While learning about the Stamp Act, some students took trips to Jerusalem Mill or Hampton Mansion to get a feel for the various living conditions of the time. Learning inched closer to a 24/7 model, with content extending beyond the four walls of room 208. Most recently, a group project on the American Dream has students reaching out to some of their subjects, dealing with agents, publicists and personal assistant, trying to get a brief interview. At present one of those groups has been successful, and others continue their pursuit.
"Sage on a stage" models are increasingly failing. When our practices work towards developing strategies of "not reading" and concentrate on teaching 19th century literacies in the 21st century, we are engaging in the work of Sisyphus. We often think of 21st century literacy as being solely about technology, and while tech plays a vital role, it is not the limit of what that term encompasses. 21st century literacy includes collaboration and creativity, initiative and adaptability; characteristics our program embraces. We need to stop rolling the boulder up the hill and discover creative solutions to reach the summit. In some cases, we ought to leave the boulder behind.
For several years teaching Philosophy to college undergraduates I would tell my students, "These theories are the tools I am providing you. You must then prove to me you can build something with them." The Humanities Program is giving me the opportunity to try that model on the high school level. I can provide the materials: literature, history, art, music, grammar, rhetoric. What will the new American learner build with those tools? The same papers that have been written and re-written, or something new, bold, original and daring?
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Don't Be the Minotaur
Teaching the myth of Theseus to 9th graders is a wonderful opportunity. Their lives are social mazes to which they often lack a solution. Our role as teachers is to provide the ball of wool that will enable safe navigation.
Too often, however, we become the minotaur, intent on devouring the boys and girls that are sent our way. These children become sacrificial lambs to the monster of our own egos or stubbornness. Particularly in the realm of technology, we tend to hold onto our tried and true solutions, hesitating to recognize that those solutions only work for far simpler mazes. The flow and availability of information coupled with the collaborative nature of learning make for intricate designs and near impossible exits for the students of the present and future. As Mitchel Resnick wrote; "However, schools are only one part of a broader learning ecosystem.In the digital age, learning must become a daylong and lifelongexperience. National education initiatives should aim to improve learning opportunities not only in schools, but also in homes, community centers, museums, and workplaces."
Too academic? it is also the challenge Cobb firstlays out for Ariadne (!) as her 'interview' in the film Inception demonstrating that the mazes of the present are complex - unable to be solved by simple formula or rote definition.
As the Great American Teach In approaches, and students, educators, administrators and communities prepare to reflect on ideal learning environments, how many participants will identify their current paradigms as labyrinthine? Our challenge as educators/parents/students is to construct webs and pathways, networks and connections that will allow free entrance and exit through the mazes we face on our learning journeys.
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