pushing boundaries
but is it fixable?
Through Ken Robinson's humor and demeanor, he clearly displays his hope in the human spirit. His delivery is calm, sensitive and light-hearted yet serious; and he sees clearly the plight "schooling" has caused our culture of learning over the past century. John Taylor Gatto has much the same message, but perhaps he's been too close to the damage for too long to deflect the pain with humor - and feels as if he's been teaching in this closed system for a century. I think I've always taken for granted that education is a good thing - and that more is always better. I mean, I'm now in my 50s, still learning and growing, with no plans to stop. I believed in the system - but now I have to wonder at the cost for this generation of young learners. Does our way of life, our businesses, our economy and even our personal well-being depend on this belief system?
But if our philosophy of teaching is so circular and short-sighted, and the foundations of classical learning so entrenched in wrong-thinking practices, are we helping as much as we're harming our society? The fact that testing arose from the Binet intelligence test before the turn of the last century—as a means of determining "which people were qualified to be sent into the overcrowded Paris lunatic asylums"—and that a 1916 published revised version of that test, the Stanford Binet is used today as a core tool of educational selectivity. (p. 61) Wha-? I thought the fact that learning nonsense was nonsensical enough, because learning gibberish was clearly an inspired scientific means of proving our capacity to learn. So our educational system history is filled with military rhetoric, provides "proof" for various psychological fads and theories, undermines our intelligences, our creativity and our individual spark, demotivates learners and their teachers, and the system is rewarded by our government when standards are routinely shifted to guarantee a positive return on the investment. And our kids are failing. Or rather, we are failing them.
It's also gratifying to know that Frank Smith, for all he shares of the dark side of the "system," also has hope that change can happen. He recognizes that "the world doesn't have to be perfect for things to be improved. Teacher's don't need perfect conditions in order to teach well. Children are remarkably adaptable in their learning—and so are many grownups—succeeding often in the most adverse conditions (p. 91)."
God bless imagination. Watterson breathes life and whimsy into his characters like none other. Can you imagine even wanting to fail Calvin on that quiz, (if you knew the creativity of thought he put into the exercise?) Traditionally, we could never reward his answer, because the energy and imagination of his response had nothing to do with the real answer. Math teacher: "F," writing teacher: "A." Would that we could teach children to their strengths - and not to what the system has decided they should be good at. Or average at. Or to settle for having a smattering of facts thrown at them, to be absorbed and dismissed like popcorn.
I've bragged earlier (didn't mean to brag - but thinking back to four weeks ago, it probably sounded that way!) about how the school system worked so well for me. As a junior high student (and arts enthusiast) I was allowed to attend the art classes at the high school. They first sent me over to learn silk-screening, so that I could produce and print all the theater posters for the junior high productions. Then the high school art class invited me to stay for the entire year.
The schools were located at opposite ends of the city block - so transportation was not an issue. I got to mix with the sophomores, juniors and seniors. Was introduced to the Zeppelin and Motley Crue, open-ended dialogue on art, music and politics, class critiques, (and after class, special brownies, if truth be told.) In reality, there were only a couple of occasions, but remembered now from an adult's perspective. Boy, I was lucky back then. It was a heady experience - and I will remember that instructor to this day: Mrs. Reese. She mentored me through that year, and the following four years of high school, and she never doubted that I would be an artist. (The term was commercial artist in those days, because I was still all about fonts and design. I chose a non-accredited school in Seattle, The New School of Visual Concepts, to attend after graduation.) It wasn't just because of Mrs. Reese that I thrived, because I just couldn't help aiming for "A"s in all my course work. It didn't feel like it was just about the reward, because I never lost my drive to learn, read and try new things. But she made a difference in my experience - and as a young adult - we had meaningful discussions in those long afternoons after class. When time just didn't seem to be an issue, and phone calls were taken and placed in the evening hours at home.
I don't think she knew about the brownies, though. At least I hoped she didn't. But it was the late 70s...
a light shines
I am so grateful that the reading this week included my introduction to Adora Svitak. After the first few days of mulling over the reading, this clip was a very welcome sign of encouragement in the human spirit. And in human capacity. An amazing girl, with gifts, talent, insight and humility. I've been compelled to share this video with everyone I know, it's so gratifying. She made a strong case for the young, and their ability to share teaching opportunites with their elders. Learning could be, and should be, a give-and-take relationship. Kids have powerful and unfettered imagination, and Ken Robinson also talks about a child's creative genius - before it's squelched out of them through institutionalized learning. A child's ability to dream is paramount to the creative process, and Adora states it so well: "We kids still dream about perfection. And that's a good thing, because in order to make anything a reality, you have to dream about it first. In many ways, our audacity to imagine helps push the boundaries of possibility."
You go, girl. What an amazing thought process for a child—for a human person regardless of age— I wouldn't have thought to have expressed those thoughts even as an adult.
What really stuck most of us, I would imagine, was her conclusion: that we adults "often underestimate children's abilities ... when expectations are low, we will sink to them." It's a powerful message. I think back on Ken Robinson's talk on creativity, and can picture the young girl twirling and moving to the music, while the anxious parent waited to get the psychologist's diagnosis for her daughter's "bad" behavior in the classroom. That particular psychologist (Dewey would have been proud, I think) understood that that this particular child was—at her very core—a dancer. And that for her, learning was a kinesthetic experience. I've rewatched that video several times in the past year or so, and still have that mental image in my head. (And the comment that because ADD hadn't yet been invented, there was at least one other possible reason for her restlessness.)
Children have so much potential - and to see it blossom and take fruit in someone like Adora is refreshing.
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