(17) Content, content, content. Information. Information.
Information. Critical thinking skills. Nothing wrong with them. They're
critical to be sure, but they are not the alpha and omega of education.
The great teachers are not content with merely transmitting content and
honing thinking skills. Do you know why some educational visions are more
powerful than others? The powerful ones go beyond "know," "think," and
even "do." They're the ones that inspire and guide; they're the ones that
have purpose and meaning. We are in an educational age that is
content-driven and job-getting centered. As a result, if you look at most
students eyes in the classroom, and you may not agree with me, education
is deadening. So often so much of the life is gone, sucked out. Content
doesn't offer meaning; it doesn't inspire; it doesn't provide guidance of
purpose; it just isn't a turn-on. So, you learn about iambic pentameter.
Now what. So you learn about the Battle of Waterloo. Now what. So you
learn about phyla and molecules and leverage. Now what. What about life
after the classroom? To be sure, content offers extraordinary power. We
send "content people" out from our campuses with lots of information and
intellectual skills to influence the world in incredible micro and macro
ways. They can ravage and pollute the land, blow it to smithereens, war
efficiently on each other, communicate instantly across the globe, alter
the weather, punch holes in the atmosphere, send people into the limits of
outer space, send people to the depths of the oceans, modify genetic
structure, change the course of the mightiest of rivers, prolong life,
wipe out species, and go faster than a speeding bullet. That's
extraordinary power. It seems to me, however, with acquisition of such
power has to go "character skills," morally responsible ways of living.
Over the last decade, this has seemed to me to be a profound problem:
merely transmitting information and developing skills to use information
is like giving my eighteen month Natalie a bigger and bigger hammer to
bang away with. So, teaching starts with meaningfulness. It continues
with meaningfulness. Teaching and learning is supposed to help students
provide themselves with information, intellectual skills, and help them
make sense of and find meaning in what they acquire, do, and will do.
When we do all that, education will come alive and be enlivening.
(18) When we talk about "teacher," the first image that usually
comes first to our mind is that of an activity of an individual at the
head of a classroom. I submit that teaching is merely not an individual
endeavor. In the classroom context it is a class action and interaction
of all participants. This communal definition does several things.
First, it embraces and includes everyone as a teacher-learner: professor
teaches and learns from students; students teach and learn from the
professor; students teach and learn form each other. Second, it
underlines the often ignored reality that there are no teachers unless
there are students and there are no students unless there are teachers.
Third, we assess a great teacher on the basis of the impact that person
has on the students around him or her. Fourth, it means one person can't
do it all, but be a participant in the doing. So, teaching is a
relationship; it is a community activity. Teaching is, therefore, both
individual and communal. Think about it. Most people find that a hard
concept to grasp. I know I did at first.
(19) Teaching is an "F" word. I've said that when I said I am a
"F"aith based teacher. I am, however, also a "F"ree based teacher. No, I
am not sniffing cocaine. As far as teachers are concerned, we all
proclaim to be adherents and promoters of academic freedom. Far too many
academics, however, think that such pronouncements are sufficient. Yet,
while they claim to be free and freely acting, they're cautiously looking
over their shoulder afraid to take risks, to make mistakes, worried about
what others think, concerned with how their quest for tenure or promotion
or appointment will be affected. They find it difficult if almost
impossible to enter the realm of possibilities. The absence of external
controls, then, is not in and of itself freedom. Too many of us are
prisoners of controls that are deeper, less obvious, more pernicious, and
far more pathological: perceived controls with which we imprison
ourselves. First, we're only truly free when are without anxiety about
non-perfection. Reality never shows up exactly according to our plans.
The best theories and abstractions are probably the best way to destroy
the best in teaching. Teaching is about what we do, not what we say.
The students and classroom and academia are not supposed to be perfectly
in accord with our ideas. We may not be able to change the academic
world, but we must be adaptable, flexible, free to work on perfecting
ourselves and our ways to deal with the imperfect and changing world
around us. Second, too many of us tend to see ourselves in familiar,
tried-and-true, safe ways, according to the images and models we have held
tightly for so long. It's that "this is me" or "I am ...." thing. Too
many of us have only one way of looking at ourselves, at students, at the
classroom, at our profession; too many of us have only one way of
thinking, feeling, and doing. From my point of view, freedom is the
"freedom to," to adjust to the changing scene, to strike out and do
something new, to get out of the proverbial box, to stay out of entering
any other box, to create something that is meaningful and valuable to both
me and each student, to change in order to respond to inevitable change.
As for the students, as I must be free so I must help students
help themselves to likewise. Both we academics and students often confuse
teaching with bossing. Teaching has nothing to do with position; bossing
does. Teaching is not really being in a position where you can tell
someone else what to do, although that view may be the result of a set of
ideas coming from our society's historical experience, religious
upbringing, our schools, from society in general. When Ph.D.s or
scholars-in-residence or whomever are in positions of authority, we expect
them to exhibit some "teaching-ship." Why? The answer is simple.
Because everyone will be happier. They will be more effective if they can
empower and inspire while they are informing. And when that doesn't
happen, we run for cover. We make every effort to believe it does with a
host of rationalizations or excuses when it doesn't. Why? The answer is
simple. Because everyone will be happier.
Teaching is about having the capacity to shape the future. It's
about teachers who empower, inspire, resonate, listen, learn, keep on
track with purpose and meaning, authentic, respect and value others,
explore, innovate, risk. I am a minimalist when it comes to classroom
rules in order for each student to have the opportunity to be a
maximalist. To me one of the best signs of a great teacher is somebody
who can create a process, bring the students project, and leave. The
great teachers don't have the ego to be there; they leave it to the
student to carry on. The great teacher is he who affords the students the
opportunity to say we did this ourselves. That was a paraphrase from
something said about 2,800 years ago.
In a rule-heavy class, students tend not to be free, tend to stop
thinking, and tend merely to slavishly obey. My vision of learning in the
classroom led to the establishment of a single rule that invariably has
profound constructive impact on almost all the students. I have discussed
it many times over the years. So, I won't belabor you with a description
of it: "Remember the Chair." No other rule is really necessary. I don't
take up all the space. I don't have to. Like my good friend John Lawry
says, we have to get out of each student's space so that he or she can
have his or own space. Doesn't mean, by myself ,I can make everything
happen just the way I want it to, but I feel a sense of deep confidence. I
can be part of shaping the future without doing all the shaping. It endows
each student with both freedom and responsibility. It says to a student,
using Jack Kornfield's words, "You got good stuff in there young man or
woman. Let me see it. I'm going to turn this whole thing over to you.
Let's see how you can do it." A student doesn't have to ask permission
what to learn, how to learn, in what manner to learn, when to learn. I
have found that such an attitude on my part generally builds a desire to
learn as a student begins the process of learning. The students
experience a degree of real freedom, of what Steve Sample might call
"thinking free," of what Peter Senge might call "real learning," of what
Parker Palmer might call "fearless learning," and of what Ellen Langer
might call "mindful learning." None of this "what do you want?" from a
student. None of this "Is this okay?" None of this "Can I do it this
way?" None of this "what if we're wrong?" None of this "how will this
effect my grade?" My answer to such questions is a simple "You heard the
rules." Or I'll simply remain silent, look at them with a supportive smile
until they remember the chair and utter an acknowledged "Remember the
Chair." I have found, and the research bears me out, that the ambiguous,
uncertain, freedom-giving rules, as well as supportive coaching and mutual
support, will provoke more students to learn than will semi-conscious rote
learning, mindless memorization, authoritarian delivery of information,
and fearful test-taking.
By the way, freedom is a word we use a lot and don't think about.
For most people it means "you can't force me to do something I don't want
to do." Freedom is very meaningful to us because it's a kind of "don't
tread on me" anti-obedience "I'm going to do my own thing." For an
iconclast and contrarian such as I am, "freedom from" is only one aspect.
There's another and more important sense of freedom. It's not the absence
of something. It's not merely the absence of overbearing authority,
constricting domination, and strict control; it's not merely the absence
of rehesitant and paralytic fear. More importantly, it's the presence of
something. It's the presence of listening to yourself and not only to
someone else. It's the presence of the experience and deep belief that "I
can do it. I can make it happen." It's the presence of the opportunity to
get out of the rut-worn, conventional, tired, predictable, boring, dulling
proverbial box. It the entering into that world of possibilities.
As teachers, if "teacher-ship" is about tapping the capacity of
human individuals, we as teachers have one fundamental and critical task.
We need to help each student look for, release, utilize, and discover the
magic in his or her innate curiosity, imagination, experimentation, and
creativity.
Curiosity, imagination, experimentation, creativity, discovery,
innovation, invention are the seven reasons we are who we are.
There's a third "F" in teaching I want to reflect about. I've
mentioned it before. I'd like to revisit it: fear.
That's for another time.
Make it a good day.
--Louis--
Louis Schmier www.therandomthoughts.com
Department of History www.halcyon.com/arborhts/louis.html
Valdosta State University
Valdosta, Georgia 31698 /~\ /\ /\
(229-333-5947) /^\ / \ / /~ \ /~\__/\
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