I had a lovely lunch with one of New York state’s newest
teachers this week. We talked about our
summer program, chatted about jobs and friends, and – as can be expected –
complained about the pressures facing teachers in the current educational environment. Students are expected to drill and drill,
in order to excel at a standardized test – all their work and knowledge
rendered down to a number. And teachers
are expected to robotically fulfill Common
Core requirements, spending much of their time proving they are “performing” according
to an externally determined plan (for the Annual Professional Performance Review), rather than
teaching. As a philosopher, I couldn’t help but see the
underlying world-view motivating educational “reform” in the United
States. We act as if schools are
factories, inhabited by bustling workers (teachers), churning out well-tuned
and tested machines (students). If
students were automobiles, then we could standardized the way we produced them
and we could test them carefully and discard the lemons. A quality control officer could discover
where mistakes are made and the factory workers (teachers) could be judged by
how efficiently they worked. That would
be great if students were automobiles – but they aren’t.
Teaching
is an art. Students are complex, self-moving people.
And – most importantly – what each
child brings to school each day is variable and outside of the teacher’s
control. If teaching is an art, we might
compare students to lumps of clay that the teacher molds into beautiful and
useful objects. But there is more than
one kind of clay, with variable plasticity, differing porousness, color,
etc. And if you don’t get your clay from
an art store, already highly processed, there will be sticks, pebbles, roots,
and other debris in it. The same is true
of our students. Each child has her or
his own qualities, strengths, and weaknesses.
Some come to us highly “processed” – like clay from an art store. Perhaps they spent the first 5 years of their
lives surrounded by books, talking to college-educated parents, playing on
computers or tablets, and visiting museums.
But other children come to us with great natural intelligence that has
not been processed and prepared in the same way for the school system. A teacher needs to meet children where they
are, adapt to their abilities and interests and assist them in discovering the
world. But students are more than
clay. Unlike clay, which the potter can
control, children can resist, redirect, misunderstand, and, in general, respond to teaching in surprising
ways. This is a good thing! We want children to be engaged learners who
take on the project of gaining knowledge as active participants. We do not want children to sit passively and
repeat what they are told. Tape
recorders can do that – but children are people, not machines.
When I
first became a teacher, I met with the usual frustrations. Students didn’t respond to my lessons the way
I had intended. They took up
assignments in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
They found every loophole in my rules.
Like many new teachers, I responded by tightening up my instructions,
filling in the loopholes, mandating conformity.
I could feel the resentment from my students and I was uncomfortable in
the role of police officer. And still
they didn’t act the way I had planned for them to act. Tightening my grip only made them slip
through my fingers more. I might get
outside conformity, but I knew I was losing them. With time, and confidence, I began to let
go. I took on the unexpected as a good
thing – I gave more open assignments, solicited student input, and began to
look forward to the surprises my students would bring me. And learning started happening – both for the
students and for me. I am fortunate
enough to teach on the college level, where state mandated testing and
performance evaluations do not constrain me.
What I learned, however, carries over to primary and secondary education
– learning and conformity do not mix.
Today’s
public school teachers do not have that freedom. While the teachers I know are creative and
confident and could easily engage their students as individuals and really teach them – they are being forced to
conform by state and federal controls and they, in turn, are forced to make
their students conform as well. As I
said to my friend at lunch, we are raising good fascists, but we are not
teaching.
Nice post, yes, the more we push for conformity, the more we meet with resistance! Education is about encouraging thinking, which seems to be the opposite of conformity. We seem to sometimes forget this.
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