The Pedagogy and the Pendulum

Once again, the great pendulum of education’s pedagogy is in full motion – swinging widely to the left and, then, to the right – with no indication of settling in or near the middle. While there may be general agreement that our current methods for educating children in this century are outmoded and in need of change, the rationales and how-to’s for doing so are widely varied and in-depth (aka the Pit), and as far apart as the swath of Poe’s proverbial pendulum. [Please pardon the alliteration.]

It was in this frame of mind that I approached our [faculty’s] PLN summer reading assignment.  My intent was to read and compare all four [suggested] books, looking for consensus among current paradigm shifts – hoping to find a philosophy to adopt as I plan for the coming school year. I completed three of the books (having grossly underestimated time spent in underlining, highlighting, and notating).

Finding common ground, meshing ideologies, and synthesizing a wealth of information proved doable.  The challenges I foresee are practicality and applicability.

School Ning July, 2012

Because I Say So…

As one component of this summer’s PLN, I am about to read Alan November’s Who Owns The Learning?  and reflect upon it on my school’s Ning – which reminded me of an entry I intended to cross-post here last May.

“Because I Say So…” 

Prologue:  The NING – an online community of teachers and administrators who share thoughts, questions, perspectives, frustrations and successes to support and mentor, challenge, and learn from one another.  At the school where I teach, reflecting on lessons/classroom experiences and posting said reflections on our Ning are strongly encouraged.  What follows is a brief reflection, about my grade 6 Language Arts class, recently posted.

Scenario:  Last Friday.  Grade 6 test prep on poetry elements and terms.  Lyric and narrative poetry, couplets, tercets, quatrains, sonnets, rhyme, rhythm, meter, similes, metaphors, onomatopoeia  – I see wispy tendrils of smoke curling from ears and I sense heads are soon to explode.  A hand goes up.  The student poses the question.  “Why?” she asks, “do I ‘hafta’ know this?  If my sister or somebody reads my poem, she won’t know what kind it is.  No one, but maybe you [Mrs.K] knows this stuff.  I don’t get why I have to.”  [“Because I say so?”]  Several heads nod in assent.  “It’s not like we’re going to become famous poets, or anything,” another student adds, followed by more head nodding. One student responds, “You can’t write poetry if you don’t get what it’s about.” “I never get what poetry is about. Knowing what to call it doesn’t help me.” “HOW do you spell onomatopoeia?!” A wave of murmured conversation undulates through the class.

Options: My turn to respond – back to business as usual [“Because I say so.”] or encourage this discussion?  The cynical, or perhaps, realistic inclination is to view these questions as weapons of mass disruption 🙂 and to steer the lesson back on track.  The other course of action is to mediate an open class discussion and see where it leads.

Epiphany: I choose the latter, because I am having a 21st century moment.  I opt not to acknowledge the “derailers”; instead, I respond to what I see as the deeper question being asked – “Where is the relevance in what you are making me learn?”  In turn, I prompt myself to reconsider the value of this lesson.  Is knowing the characteristics of a cinquain even germane to a 6th grade student’s academic success?   What is my yardstick for measuring the validity of my teaching?

Note to self: tackle these questions during lesson pre-planning.  Fair enough.  But at this time, for this lesson, I opt to ask questions with my students, not of my students.  I am unwilling to return to business as usual, because I know that the answers to both my and my students’ queries can no longer be, “Because they  (the text, the curriculum, state/national standards, H.S./college app.’s, standardized tests) say so.”  Considering the wealth of knowledge and sheer volume of information available at the touch of our fingertips, as well as the myriad of opportunities for lifelong learning,  critical thinking and intellectual curiosity , “because I/it say(s) so…” is archaic and should be obsolete.  And, NOT just because I say so.

Still Kicking and Screaming?

It’s not what you think. I entered the world of 21st century learning willingly. Of course, in the beginning, I was reluctant; I admit that. Now, thanks to some amazing mentors, I thirst for what tomorrow may bring. I embrace what technology has to offer as a means for differentiated instruction. I experiment with 21st century tools. I challenge traditional attitudes about learning. I no longer send, I share. I am cognizant of thinking globally. I get the buzz words. I understand the need to move beyond basic literacy. I even own a smart phone. So, why am I still kicking and screaming?
I find such behavior a perfectly reasonable reaction to passion and frustration. Though my enthusiasm for a 21st century curriculum knows no bounds, I am held hostage by the yoke of inadequate assessments, backward beliefs and misunderstandings, outdated practices, unreasonable expectations (often my own), apathetic students, and parental roadblocks.
The only way this little fish can keep from drowning in a large, stagnant pond is by kicking and screaming.fish-bird-fishbowl 1/24/11

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