I recently began re-reading Parker Palmer's The Courage to Teach.
Palmer begins his book as follows:
I am a teacher at heart, and there are moments in the classroom when I can hardly hold the joy. When my students and I discover unchartered territory to explore, when the pathway out of a thicket opens up before us, when our experience is illumined by the lightning-life of the mind – then teaching is the finest work I know.
This year is the 47th year since I became a teacher. At 67, and with 68 approaching rapidly, I am well past the age at which most teachers have stepped out of the classroom and into retirement. But I can still say, with Parker Palmer: ‘I am a teacher at heart’; and yes, there are still moments in the classroom when I, too, can hardly hold the joy.
Each year begins with a rekindling of the hope that drives a teacher: the hope that this year, this time, I’ll get it right, that I’ll ‘get through’ to my students, that we will share moments when our experience is illumined by the lightning-life of the mind.
Palmer is, of course, a realist. He goes on:
But at other moments, the classroom is so lifeless or painful or confused – and I am so powerless to do anything about it – that my claim to be a teacher seems a transparent sham.
That dichotomy – between those moments when you ‘can hardly hold the joy’ and those moments when the classroom is so lifeless or painful or confused reminds me of Mike Brady’s song Up there Cazaly. As Brady wrote of Australian Rules football, so might we say of teaching:
There’s a lot more things to teaching
Than really meets the eye
There are when you could give it up
There are days when you could fly
You either love or hate it
Depending on the score ...
I think back to 2009, to my classes with Year 10s: to students who did no work, whose resistance to learning was impenetrable. That wasn’t universal, of course, and I can console myself with positive memories of individual students.
N’s self esteem as a learner had been shattered by years of semi literacy. He’d given up on English years before. He was not totally illiterate – not like students I’d taught at Glenroy back in the 1960s whose reading vocabulary extended to a dozen words or so. N could read, albeit in a stumbling fashion; his reading age was around mid-upper primary school. But reading was such a struggle for him that he simply refused to read; as a result, the skills he did have were not practiced, and so didn’t grow.
I sent tasks for N by email: simple reading tasks and writing tasks – like writing about his favourite place, and about his family.
Page 1 of …
N and Barry work together
Dear N,
This is about helping you to read and write better.
You need to spend 10 – 15 minutes each day doing the work I send you.
There will be a bit of reading, and a bit of writing each day.
Here is your first WRITING TASK
Write an email to me. Here is the topic … Reading, Writing and Me
Tell me about your life as a reader and a writer.
When did you first find you have trouble?
How did you feel?
And how do you feel now?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Reading for today
Your reading today is the blurb from a book called:
No Presents for Christmas
Here’s what I want you to do:
1. Print out the page (it’s the next page)
2. Read the 65 words.
3. Underline any words that you find difficult
4. Writing task:
What is going to happen in this story?
Write down your ideas about what will happen
5. Send what you have written to me in a RETURN email.
No Presents for Christmas
When I was young, most of our money went on food and rent.
Even then we were often hungry.
Sometime we burnt candles to save to on light bills.
What I remember most when Mum said Father Christmas wouldn’t be coming that year.
My sister Maggie wanted to do something to cheer everyone up.
But what could the two of us do to save Christmas?
N. started writing about his life – about a significant moment from his childhood. One of his first pieces was about Christmas.
[Original version]
One of the first Christmas I remember we just moved into the new house that my dad built. On Christmas morning I woke up and ran down stairs to find what I been wanting: a motorbike. In the morning Dad taught me how to ride it. It was mad fun. Then my cousins came for lunch. It was all good too. They were about to leave and my dick head cousin jumped on my motorbike and went for a ride. He started off okay, but then he got to cocky and crashed off a cliff and bent a part of my motorbike. I was so pissed off.
The piece was short, and I was keen to push Nick to find ways of writing more. My interventions were aimed at encouraging him to express his experience more fully. I prompted him with ideas and questions focussed on the content of his writing rather than surface feature – such as errors in spelling and expression. I hoped he would respond and thus improve his piece.
[Teacher’s Interventions]
One of the first Christmas I remember we just moved into the new house that my dad built.
How old were you at the time?Where was the new house? Did he build it all by himself? Did you help? Was it in Warrandyte? How long did it take to build?Later in the story, you mention a CLIFF. You should mention it HERE – in your description of your block.
On Christmas morning
BUILD UP THE STORY here. Eg. For a long time I’d been pestering my parents. I really wanted a motor bike etc etc.
I woke up and ran down stairs to find what I been wanting: a motorbike.
What time was it? What were you expecting? Did you believe in Santa at the time?What was the first thing you noticed about the bike?
In the morning Dad taught me how to ride it.
Where? In the back yard? How big is it? Is it steep? What was really good about it?
It was mad fun.
Then my cousins came for lunch. It was all good too.
DESCRIBE the arrival of your cousins. How many? Who? How old? How did you feel about them? Were you looking forward to them coming?
They were about to leave and my dick head cousin jumped on my motorbike and went for a ride.
Which dick head cousin? Older or younger than you? Why is he a dickhead? Has he always been a dickhead?
He started off okay, but then he got to cocky and crashed off a cliff and bent a part of my motorbike. I was so pissed off.
I wanted to … I felt so angry I could have … Did you have other motor bikes after that?
What made THIS one so special?
N responded to some – but by no means all – of my questions and suggestions. His final piece was 143 words – compared with 105 in the original.
One of the first Christmases I remember was 9 years ago, in 2000, when we just moved into the new house that my dad built. On Christmas morning I woke up and ran down stairs to find what I been wanting: a motorbike. It was a brand new Honda XR 70. In the morning Dad taught me how to ride it I was riding around the house.
It was mad fun. Then my cousins came for lunch. It was all good too.
They were about to leave and my dick head cousin jumped on my motorbike and went for a ride. He started off okay, but then he got to cocky and crashed off a
cliff and bent a part of my motorbike. I was so pissed off.
I learnt my lesson and never let him ride any of my motorbikes any more.
Nan’s House
When I go to Nan’s house she makes me feel so special in every way.
The food is awesome she can make anything taste good even a cup of tea. She has lived in Thomastown for 55 years in the same house. She takes great care of the garden and when you walk in the front door you can smell moth balls. There is a mad swing outside hidden in her huge back garden she pushes me so high even now she still pushes me. She always has had a dog they are so cool. The dog she has now is so old she still has lots of energy but in small doses she is 15 her name is Millie. She is a shitsu. I use to spend a lot of time there in the school holidays and ride my bike and scooter on made foot paths and Nan would walk the dogs behind me. When I sleep there she makes sure I’ve got lots of blankets I get crushed and wake up boiling but it is the best bed in the world. Then breakfast the next morning is great you can have anything you want. She is so cool. I love her lots.
[Corrected version]
When I go to Nan’s house she makes me feel so special in every way.
The food is awesome. She can make anything taste good - even a cup of tea. She has lived in Thomastown for 55 years in the same house. She takes great care of the garden and when you walk in the front door you can smell moth balls. There is a mad swing outside, hidden in her huge back garden, She pushes me so high - even now she still pushes me. She always has had a dog- they are so cool. The dog she has now is so old; she still has lots of energy but in small doses. She is 15, her name is Millie. She is a shitzu. I used to spend a lot of time there in the school holidays and ride my bike and scooter on made foot paths and Nan would walk the dogs behind me. When I sleep there she makes sure I’ve got lots of blankets. I get crushed and wake up boiling but it is the best bed in the world. Then breakfast the next morning is great you can have anything you want. She is so cool. I love her lots.
I responded to N’s piece as follows:
N– this is so good!!! We write at our best when we write from the heart, and this is so clearly ‘written from the heart’.
Do you have a photo of your Nan? I’d loved to see her?
208 words is great.
Here are some secrets to extending a piece like this …
1. Think of a particular time you spent at your Nan’s house. It needs to be a time that has strong emotions attached to it. – either very happy or very sad. Now: start a new paragraph as follows:
I remember one time in particular.
2. Tell a bit of the life history of your Nan.
My Nan was born in…
3. Write about how your relationship with Nan has changed over the years.
4. You don’t mention your grandfather. Is he is alive? What happened to him? Do you have/ did you have - the same kind of relationship with him?
N's mum told me that this was the first time in years that N had actually done any work in English - and certainly the first time he'd actually written anything. These were small gains over a long year; but they were gains.
S had come to us from a prestigious Grammar that found his ‘weird’ behaviour too difficult to cope with. S. had been ‘diagnosed’ as ‘suffering’ from Asperger’s Syndrome. For the whole of Term 1, he sat in my Year 10 class with his head resting on his arms, unengaged, close to sleep. He rarely spoke. He found it very difficult to make eye contact with adults. He was an isolate within the class. I started Term 2 with two daily work tasks for Sean: firstly, his homework each day was to bring a riddle or a joke to tell me; secondly, he had to remember to bring his laptop. [He found the physical task of writing almost impossible. His handwriting was almost indecipherable, and there was no flow to his ideas. The Integration aide who worked with S told me that he loved playing / working on his laptop. However, he was resistant to bringing it into class; he was worried that that would simply add to the perceptions of his fellow students that he was “different”.]
The important element – from my point of view – was to establish a relationship with S.
Slowly, over the rest of the year, S slowly emerged from his shell. He began to greet me at the start of each class, and on good days, he would have a riddle to tell me. He chose his riddles well – they were invariably ‘groaners’ – or ‘dad jokes’.
The moments of joy, when they came, were among the highlights of that year for me. In term 4, the students had to deliver a three minute speech. Sean’s task was to speak about the social context in which Rudd’s Sorry speech had been delivered. When S. stood up the whole class was utterly silent and attentive. He spoke clearly, and well – and even made eye contact with his audience at times. And when he finished, we applauded him. Students congratulated him and I held back tears of joy.
As Palmer writes:
But at other moments, the classroom is so lifeless or painful or confused – and I am so powerless to do anything about it – that my claim to be a teacher seems a transparent sham. Then the enemy is everywhere: in the students from some alien planet, in that subject I thought I knew, and in the personal pathology that keeps me earning my living this way. What a fool I was to imagine that I had mastered this occult art – harder to divine that tea leaves and impossible for mortals to do even passably well!
... Students from some alien planet ... Garth Boomer likened teaching in secondary schools to being pecked to death by ducks. Hartley was right - the past is indeed another country and we certainly did things differently there. And these days, increasingly, I’m even more aware of the gap between my students and me than of our common humanity. When I started teacher back in 1965 my students were only between four and ten years younger than me; now there is 50 years between my Year 12s and me.
Late in 2009 I asked my prospective Year 12 students to read the set texts over the holidays so that we could get away to a flying start. “You only need to read 16 pages a day and you’ll have everything read for the start of the new year.”
On the first day back in 2010 I was eager to hear how they had gone. One student had read two books; two other students had each read a book. The others had read nothing. My spirits dropped - a lead balloon. Passive resistance and boredom walk hand in hand through my classrooms. The students enjoy each others’ company, and like nothing better than to chat . I try to harness their sociable natures and ask them to discuss the texts in small groups. They chat, but rarely about the work.
Many can’t see the point of discussion. ‘Just give me the questions and tasks and the notes I have to read, and leave me to get on with it,’ one wrote to me. He interpreted my friendliness as a desire to be his friend. ‘I don’t want a teacher who is my friend; I want a teacher who is my teacher.’
At the end of 2010, our school ran a Year 11 to 12 Transition program; the students from year 11 spent a week in late November participating in Year 12 classes. In English we introduced them to the texts and to the demands of Year 12. As part of this program, I asked students to complete a survey about their attitudes to English and their expectations in Year 12. I also asked them to write about what kind of teaching they responded to best.
C. completed the survey, but it was his letter that prompted a passionate response from me:
You write:
'I feel that I should be extended this year in English to give me the opportunity to enable me to try to obtain a high overall mark at the end of Year 12."
But then rate yourself HALF HEARTED (5 on the 10 point scale) re finishing the reading.
IF you are serious about wanting to maximise your English result then you will take the advice that your VCE English teachers have given you, and read ALL of the books before the start of the year.
3.
You write:
"Saying this I currently find your teaching methods quite personal, filled with numerous class discussions and the constant question of "and how does that make you feel?" jammed down my throat every two seconds."
You go on to describe this as a 'weak teaching method' because you define yourself as 'a very "linear" learner.'
There are several points to be made here:
i. Personal Yes, my 'teaching method' IS personal. We express our selves - who we are - what we think and believe - through language. In our case, English. And what can be more personal than that?
ii. Numerous class discussions? (1)
The 'beauty' of Mathematics and Physics (and, in its own sadly boring way, Accounting) is their 'linearity'. Half of our brains are wired for that linearity. But the other half is very different. Grammar is linear; clear expression is linear. But the subject English is also about literature (which is imaginative, holistic, and non-linear). MEANING in the sciences claims a linearity that is not always as unbending as it may seem. Crick and Watson, for example, came upon the double helix through a DREAM.
MEANING in EVERY area of human activity comes through DISCOURSE - through discussion. This is especially true in English. English is about negotiating meaning, NOT about learning lists of formulae to later apply in an exam.
Your desire ... 'to only receive the work I am required to do, complete it and ask questions on how I am able to improve myself in the future' may work in some subjects, but it doesn't work in English.
iii. Numerous class discussions (2)
For a 'linear' thinker, your judgements are very NON-Linear. Indeed, if we (your readers) are to take what you write to be an expression of linear thought, your judgements are wildly imaginative.
Please re-read the sentence I quoted from your letter, paying attention to the parts I have 'bolded':
"Saying this I currently find your teaching methods quite personal, filled with numerous class discussions and the constant question of "and how does that make you feel?" jammed down my throat every two seconds."
This is not LINEAR thought: this is gross exaggeration. Please submit the expression jammed down my throat to close critical scrutiny. Why is the language so emotive here?
iv. You can't LEARN ENGLISH like you learn Maths. Maths is a subject where you CAN go away and practice the stuff in your own space, and only come back to the class and the teacher when you 'need help'.
ENGLISH is about DISCOURSE - in writing and in speech; through reading and through listening. It is about DISCUSSION. It's about making statements - and then testing their truth value through hearing the responses of others.
v. This brings me to my final point - and your final point.
'Also note that I need a teacher next year, not a friend. If you can understand this, we will get along fine.'
I'll use DOT POINTS to clarify my response to this statement:
I have no desire whatsoever to be your 'friend' - or the friend of any student in my class for that matter. There is a mile of difference between 'being friendly' and 'being a friend'.
I am more than happy to have a 'friendly' - that is, a respectful, non-antagonistic - relationship with my students.
I certainly want to have many conversations with students, because conversations are so central to learning in English
So, to finish up:
1. I'm looking forward to working with you next year.
2. I'm looking forward to your reply to my email - especially your reflections on the questions I've asked.
3. I'm looking forward to your response to the blog. Have you had a look yet? What do you think?
Have a great holiday break, but do get your reading done, and DO keep your journal. Ideally, you'll email copies to me so that I can give you feedback.
C’s response to my lengthy letter was very promising; it showed a willingness to engage:
Dear Mr C,
Thank-you for your quick reply to my letter and survey, I am very grateful for your professionalism toward your work. I only have one issue I wish to clarify. ‘IF you are serious about wnating to maximise your English result then you will take the advice that your VCE English teachers have given you, and read ALL of the books before the start of the year’. Please note that I am very serious about reading the given text over the holidays and I wish to approach Year 12 English with a very mature and willing attitude. Also note the rating of ‘HALF HEARTED’ in regard to the enthusiasm of completing the reading task over the holidays, is in only in comparison to enjoying the Christmas festivities and the completing homework given by other subjects that I find more difficult.Nevertheless it will be done. I look forwards to learning from you next year.
At the core of C’s response was his need to assert his personhood – who he is, and what he expects. He was eager to point out where he wants to establish boundaries. He is articulate, and was clearly discomforted by aspects of my teaching style; what was heartening was that he was assertive, rather than passively resistant.
Other students are more aggressively resistant. Like X when he was in Year 10. X exuded charisma; he was at the centre of a group of five or six boys who made my teaching life very uncomfortable for a large part of 2009. He reminded me of Jack – in Lord of the Flies – in his exercise of power over the other boys. He was what an old friend and teacher educator – Peta Heywood – described as a ‘chaos monger’. Some days with X’s Year 10 English class were ‘days when you could give it up’, days when you felt that you’d never get through to ‘these kids’.
Palmer begins his book as follows:
I am a teacher at heart, and there are moments in the classroom when I can hardly hold the joy. When my students and I discover unchartered territory to explore, when the pathway out of a thicket opens up before us, when our experience is illumined by the lightning-life of the mind – then teaching is the finest work I know.
This year is the 47th year since I became a teacher. At 67, and with 68 approaching rapidly, I am well past the age at which most teachers have stepped out of the classroom and into retirement. But I can still say, with Parker Palmer: ‘I am a teacher at heart’; and yes, there are still moments in the classroom when I, too, can hardly hold the joy.
Each year begins with a rekindling of the hope that drives a teacher: the hope that this year, this time, I’ll get it right, that I’ll ‘get through’ to my students, that we will share moments when our experience is illumined by the lightning-life of the mind.
Palmer is, of course, a realist. He goes on:
But at other moments, the classroom is so lifeless or painful or confused – and I am so powerless to do anything about it – that my claim to be a teacher seems a transparent sham.
That dichotomy – between those moments when you ‘can hardly hold the joy’ and those moments when the classroom is so lifeless or painful or confused reminds me of Mike Brady’s song Up there Cazaly. As Brady wrote of Australian Rules football, so might we say of teaching:
There’s a lot more things to teaching
Than really meets the eye
There are when you could give it up
There are days when you could fly
You either love or hate it
Depending on the score ...
I think back to 2009, to my classes with Year 10s: to students who did no work, whose resistance to learning was impenetrable. That wasn’t universal, of course, and I can console myself with positive memories of individual students.
N’s self esteem as a learner had been shattered by years of semi literacy. He’d given up on English years before. He was not totally illiterate – not like students I’d taught at Glenroy back in the 1960s whose reading vocabulary extended to a dozen words or so. N could read, albeit in a stumbling fashion; his reading age was around mid-upper primary school. But reading was such a struggle for him that he simply refused to read; as a result, the skills he did have were not practiced, and so didn’t grow.
I sent tasks for N by email: simple reading tasks and writing tasks – like writing about his favourite place, and about his family.
Page 1 of …
N and Barry work together
Dear N,
This is about helping you to read and write better.
You need to spend 10 – 15 minutes each day doing the work I send you.
There will be a bit of reading, and a bit of writing each day.
Here is your first WRITING TASK
Write an email to me. Here is the topic … Reading, Writing and Me
Tell me about your life as a reader and a writer.
When did you first find you have trouble?
How did you feel?
And how do you feel now?
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Reading for today
Your reading today is the blurb from a book called:
No Presents for Christmas
Here’s what I want you to do:
1. Print out the page (it’s the next page)
2. Read the 65 words.
3. Underline any words that you find difficult
4. Writing task:
What is going to happen in this story?
Write down your ideas about what will happen
5. Send what you have written to me in a RETURN email.
No Presents for Christmas
When I was young, most of our money went on food and rent.
Even then we were often hungry.
Sometime we burnt candles to save to on light bills.
What I remember most when Mum said Father Christmas wouldn’t be coming that year.
My sister Maggie wanted to do something to cheer everyone up.
But what could the two of us do to save Christmas?
N. started writing about his life – about a significant moment from his childhood. One of his first pieces was about Christmas.
[Original version]
One of the first Christmas I remember we just moved into the new house that my dad built. On Christmas morning I woke up and ran down stairs to find what I been wanting: a motorbike. In the morning Dad taught me how to ride it. It was mad fun. Then my cousins came for lunch. It was all good too. They were about to leave and my dick head cousin jumped on my motorbike and went for a ride. He started off okay, but then he got to cocky and crashed off a cliff and bent a part of my motorbike. I was so pissed off.
The piece was short, and I was keen to push Nick to find ways of writing more. My interventions were aimed at encouraging him to express his experience more fully. I prompted him with ideas and questions focussed on the content of his writing rather than surface feature – such as errors in spelling and expression. I hoped he would respond and thus improve his piece.
[Teacher’s Interventions]
One of the first Christmas I remember we just moved into the new house that my dad built.
How old were you at the time?Where was the new house? Did he build it all by himself? Did you help? Was it in Warrandyte? How long did it take to build?Later in the story, you mention a CLIFF. You should mention it HERE – in your description of your block.
On Christmas morning
BUILD UP THE STORY here. Eg. For a long time I’d been pestering my parents. I really wanted a motor bike etc etc.
I woke up and ran down stairs to find what I been wanting: a motorbike.
What time was it? What were you expecting? Did you believe in Santa at the time?What was the first thing you noticed about the bike?
In the morning Dad taught me how to ride it.
Where? In the back yard? How big is it? Is it steep? What was really good about it?
It was mad fun.
Then my cousins came for lunch. It was all good too.
DESCRIBE the arrival of your cousins. How many? Who? How old? How did you feel about them? Were you looking forward to them coming?
They were about to leave and my dick head cousin jumped on my motorbike and went for a ride.
Which dick head cousin? Older or younger than you? Why is he a dickhead? Has he always been a dickhead?
He started off okay, but then he got to cocky and crashed off a cliff and bent a part of my motorbike. I was so pissed off.
I wanted to … I felt so angry I could have … Did you have other motor bikes after that?
What made THIS one so special?
N responded to some – but by no means all – of my questions and suggestions. His final piece was 143 words – compared with 105 in the original.
One of the first Christmases I remember was 9 years ago, in 2000, when we just moved into the new house that my dad built. On Christmas morning I woke up and ran down stairs to find what I been wanting: a motorbike. It was a brand new Honda XR 70. In the morning Dad taught me how to ride it I was riding around the house.
It was mad fun. Then my cousins came for lunch. It was all good too.
They were about to leave and my dick head cousin jumped on my motorbike and went for a ride. He started off okay, but then he got to cocky and crashed off a
cliff and bent a part of my motorbike. I was so pissed off.
I learnt my lesson and never let him ride any of my motorbikes any more.
Nan’s House
When I go to Nan’s house she makes me feel so special in every way.
The food is awesome she can make anything taste good even a cup of tea. She has lived in Thomastown for 55 years in the same house. She takes great care of the garden and when you walk in the front door you can smell moth balls. There is a mad swing outside hidden in her huge back garden she pushes me so high even now she still pushes me. She always has had a dog they are so cool. The dog she has now is so old she still has lots of energy but in small doses she is 15 her name is Millie. She is a shitsu. I use to spend a lot of time there in the school holidays and ride my bike and scooter on made foot paths and Nan would walk the dogs behind me. When I sleep there she makes sure I’ve got lots of blankets I get crushed and wake up boiling but it is the best bed in the world. Then breakfast the next morning is great you can have anything you want. She is so cool. I love her lots.
[Corrected version]
When I go to Nan’s house she makes me feel so special in every way.
The food is awesome. She can make anything taste good - even a cup of tea. She has lived in Thomastown for 55 years in the same house. She takes great care of the garden and when you walk in the front door you can smell moth balls. There is a mad swing outside, hidden in her huge back garden, She pushes me so high - even now she still pushes me. She always has had a dog- they are so cool. The dog she has now is so old; she still has lots of energy but in small doses. She is 15, her name is Millie. She is a shitzu. I used to spend a lot of time there in the school holidays and ride my bike and scooter on made foot paths and Nan would walk the dogs behind me. When I sleep there she makes sure I’ve got lots of blankets. I get crushed and wake up boiling but it is the best bed in the world. Then breakfast the next morning is great you can have anything you want. She is so cool. I love her lots.
I responded to N’s piece as follows:
N– this is so good!!! We write at our best when we write from the heart, and this is so clearly ‘written from the heart’.
Do you have a photo of your Nan? I’d loved to see her?
208 words is great.
Here are some secrets to extending a piece like this …
1. Think of a particular time you spent at your Nan’s house. It needs to be a time that has strong emotions attached to it. – either very happy or very sad. Now: start a new paragraph as follows:
I remember one time in particular.
2. Tell a bit of the life history of your Nan.
My Nan was born in…
3. Write about how your relationship with Nan has changed over the years.
4. You don’t mention your grandfather. Is he is alive? What happened to him? Do you have/ did you have - the same kind of relationship with him?
N's mum told me that this was the first time in years that N had actually done any work in English - and certainly the first time he'd actually written anything. These were small gains over a long year; but they were gains.
# # #
S had come to us from a prestigious Grammar that found his ‘weird’ behaviour too difficult to cope with. S. had been ‘diagnosed’ as ‘suffering’ from Asperger’s Syndrome. For the whole of Term 1, he sat in my Year 10 class with his head resting on his arms, unengaged, close to sleep. He rarely spoke. He found it very difficult to make eye contact with adults. He was an isolate within the class. I started Term 2 with two daily work tasks for Sean: firstly, his homework each day was to bring a riddle or a joke to tell me; secondly, he had to remember to bring his laptop. [He found the physical task of writing almost impossible. His handwriting was almost indecipherable, and there was no flow to his ideas. The Integration aide who worked with S told me that he loved playing / working on his laptop. However, he was resistant to bringing it into class; he was worried that that would simply add to the perceptions of his fellow students that he was “different”.]
The important element – from my point of view – was to establish a relationship with S.
Slowly, over the rest of the year, S slowly emerged from his shell. He began to greet me at the start of each class, and on good days, he would have a riddle to tell me. He chose his riddles well – they were invariably ‘groaners’ – or ‘dad jokes’.
The moments of joy, when they came, were among the highlights of that year for me. In term 4, the students had to deliver a three minute speech. Sean’s task was to speak about the social context in which Rudd’s Sorry speech had been delivered. When S. stood up the whole class was utterly silent and attentive. He spoke clearly, and well – and even made eye contact with his audience at times. And when he finished, we applauded him. Students congratulated him and I held back tears of joy.
As Palmer writes:
But at other moments, the classroom is so lifeless or painful or confused – and I am so powerless to do anything about it – that my claim to be a teacher seems a transparent sham. Then the enemy is everywhere: in the students from some alien planet, in that subject I thought I knew, and in the personal pathology that keeps me earning my living this way. What a fool I was to imagine that I had mastered this occult art – harder to divine that tea leaves and impossible for mortals to do even passably well!
... Students from some alien planet ... Garth Boomer likened teaching in secondary schools to being pecked to death by ducks. Hartley was right - the past is indeed another country and we certainly did things differently there. And these days, increasingly, I’m even more aware of the gap between my students and me than of our common humanity. When I started teacher back in 1965 my students were only between four and ten years younger than me; now there is 50 years between my Year 12s and me.
Late in 2009 I asked my prospective Year 12 students to read the set texts over the holidays so that we could get away to a flying start. “You only need to read 16 pages a day and you’ll have everything read for the start of the new year.”
On the first day back in 2010 I was eager to hear how they had gone. One student had read two books; two other students had each read a book. The others had read nothing. My spirits dropped - a lead balloon. Passive resistance and boredom walk hand in hand through my classrooms. The students enjoy each others’ company, and like nothing better than to chat . I try to harness their sociable natures and ask them to discuss the texts in small groups. They chat, but rarely about the work.
Many can’t see the point of discussion. ‘Just give me the questions and tasks and the notes I have to read, and leave me to get on with it,’ one wrote to me. He interpreted my friendliness as a desire to be his friend. ‘I don’t want a teacher who is my friend; I want a teacher who is my teacher.’
At the end of 2010, our school ran a Year 11 to 12 Transition program; the students from year 11 spent a week in late November participating in Year 12 classes. In English we introduced them to the texts and to the demands of Year 12. As part of this program, I asked students to complete a survey about their attitudes to English and their expectations in Year 12. I also asked them to write about what kind of teaching they responded to best.
C. completed the survey, but it was his letter that prompted a passionate response from me:
You write:
'I feel that I should be extended this year in English to give me the opportunity to enable me to try to obtain a high overall mark at the end of Year 12."
But then rate yourself HALF HEARTED (5 on the 10 point scale) re finishing the reading.
IF you are serious about wanting to maximise your English result then you will take the advice that your VCE English teachers have given you, and read ALL of the books before the start of the year.
3.
You write:
"Saying this I currently find your teaching methods quite personal, filled with numerous class discussions and the constant question of "and how does that make you feel?" jammed down my throat every two seconds."
You go on to describe this as a 'weak teaching method' because you define yourself as 'a very "linear" learner.'
There are several points to be made here:
i. Personal Yes, my 'teaching method' IS personal. We express our selves - who we are - what we think and believe - through language. In our case, English. And what can be more personal than that?
ii. Numerous class discussions? (1)
The 'beauty' of Mathematics and Physics (and, in its own sadly boring way, Accounting) is their 'linearity'. Half of our brains are wired for that linearity. But the other half is very different. Grammar is linear; clear expression is linear. But the subject English is also about literature (which is imaginative, holistic, and non-linear). MEANING in the sciences claims a linearity that is not always as unbending as it may seem. Crick and Watson, for example, came upon the double helix through a DREAM.
MEANING in EVERY area of human activity comes through DISCOURSE - through discussion. This is especially true in English. English is about negotiating meaning, NOT about learning lists of formulae to later apply in an exam.
Your desire ... 'to only receive the work I am required to do, complete it and ask questions on how I am able to improve myself in the future' may work in some subjects, but it doesn't work in English.
iii. Numerous class discussions (2)
For a 'linear' thinker, your judgements are very NON-Linear. Indeed, if we (your readers) are to take what you write to be an expression of linear thought, your judgements are wildly imaginative.
Please re-read the sentence I quoted from your letter, paying attention to the parts I have 'bolded':
"Saying this I currently find your teaching methods quite personal, filled with numerous class discussions and the constant question of "and how does that make you feel?" jammed down my throat every two seconds."
This is not LINEAR thought: this is gross exaggeration. Please submit the expression jammed down my throat to close critical scrutiny. Why is the language so emotive here?
iv. You can't LEARN ENGLISH like you learn Maths. Maths is a subject where you CAN go away and practice the stuff in your own space, and only come back to the class and the teacher when you 'need help'.
ENGLISH is about DISCOURSE - in writing and in speech; through reading and through listening. It is about DISCUSSION. It's about making statements - and then testing their truth value through hearing the responses of others.
v. This brings me to my final point - and your final point.
'Also note that I need a teacher next year, not a friend. If you can understand this, we will get along fine.'
I'll use DOT POINTS to clarify my response to this statement:
I have no desire whatsoever to be your 'friend' - or the friend of any student in my class for that matter. There is a mile of difference between 'being friendly' and 'being a friend'.
I am more than happy to have a 'friendly' - that is, a respectful, non-antagonistic - relationship with my students.
I certainly want to have many conversations with students, because conversations are so central to learning in English
So, to finish up:
1. I'm looking forward to working with you next year.
2. I'm looking forward to your reply to my email - especially your reflections on the questions I've asked.
3. I'm looking forward to your response to the blog. Have you had a look yet? What do you think?
Have a great holiday break, but do get your reading done, and DO keep your journal. Ideally, you'll email copies to me so that I can give you feedback.
C’s response to my lengthy letter was very promising; it showed a willingness to engage:
Dear Mr C,
Thank-you for your quick reply to my letter and survey, I am very grateful for your professionalism toward your work. I only have one issue I wish to clarify. ‘IF you are serious about wnating to maximise your English result then you will take the advice that your VCE English teachers have given you, and read ALL of the books before the start of the year’. Please note that I am very serious about reading the given text over the holidays and I wish to approach Year 12 English with a very mature and willing attitude. Also note the rating of ‘HALF HEARTED’ in regard to the enthusiasm of completing the reading task over the holidays, is in only in comparison to enjoying the Christmas festivities and the completing homework given by other subjects that I find more difficult.Nevertheless it will be done. I look forwards to learning from you next year.
At the core of C’s response was his need to assert his personhood – who he is, and what he expects. He was eager to point out where he wants to establish boundaries. He is articulate, and was clearly discomforted by aspects of my teaching style; what was heartening was that he was assertive, rather than passively resistant.
Other students are more aggressively resistant. Like X when he was in Year 10. X exuded charisma; he was at the centre of a group of five or six boys who made my teaching life very uncomfortable for a large part of 2009. He reminded me of Jack – in Lord of the Flies – in his exercise of power over the other boys. He was what an old friend and teacher educator – Peta Heywood – described as a ‘chaos monger’. Some days with X’s Year 10 English class were ‘days when you could give it up’, days when you felt that you’d never get through to ‘these kids’.
As Palmer says of these moments:
I am so powerless to do anything about it – that my claim to be a teacher seems a transparent sham.
