Let's
begin on Friday, December 5th. Ms. Charlap, myself, and Khaled (affectionately known as K.) had just settled down in the IP office to
one of our formal meetings. K. had just told us that he was researching
children's literature a la
J.R.R. Tolkien.
He had explained, like Tolkien, that there was no definable entity
known as "children's literature." All literature, he posited, possesses
merit (even if certain stories, he went on to say, lack a certain
sophistication that might relegate them to a sphere for children). * To
learn more about K.'s explorations in this area, please click
here. *
All
of a sudden, when I asked “why,” something erupted. K. answered. I,
feeling dissatisfied, parried his argument. He - looking positively
ravenous - pulled up a chair, issuing forth a torrent of
qualifications. As we locked horns, I had the distinct impression of
something irrevocable and fundamental shifting. Fundamental to my
expectations for the meeting, certainly, but to something else too.
Fundamental to education. Fundamental to the behavioral expectations
set forth in schools for decades.
Something died. And we - student and educator - were to blame. What happened?
On
one hand, K. was still being “taught” at this moment. He was gradually
narrowing his conception of childishness to produce a specific
definition of children’s literature and to explain how it might differ
from “adult” literature.
On the other hand, however, he was coming to understand the radical
notion that he could challenge conventional forms of authority. And the
source in this scenario? His teacher.
Me. When he and I
began our verbal battle, the traditional educational roles, that
hierarchy between teacher and student, those weighted identities for which
I had prepared myself at the beginning of the year as an educator new
to the field…they proved untenable.
I realized that I simply could not teach him. I began to understand
that, at that moment and perhaps at every other moment before, K. and I
did not occupy a space in which the roles of teacher and student made
any sense.
So...where was the teacher at this moment?
Perhaps
the question defies a single response. Realistically, it seems rather
silly, too, in its infantile grasping for some authority figure that can
contextualize the situation.
So...why not abandon that need altogether? Why not consider that the true authority of this moment rests with the act of
#conversation itself?
Sure, it would be rash to say that “talking” is somehow innovative.
Having spent the last twenty years in various education systems myself, I
remember receiving feedback on countless occasions.
But let me explain.
There is a distinct difference between talking
to and talking
with someone. Students are often talked
to
in education; teachers do not advise but tell them, unequivocally, what
opinions they should form, what questions they must consider, and what
their learning objectives are. Now, only now, are teachers beginning to
alter that practice by talking
with their pupils. Only now
are they beginning to allow their agendas to breathe, to speak not to
dominate learners' arguments but out of a genuine interest in the ideas
that they are formulating.
It is that domain, among others,
that holds particular promise for the future of education. As I walked
away from that conversation with K., I felt consumed by the burning
desire
to know, to create more of those scenarios so that I
could begin not only to understand my students on a "whole child" level
but also to collaborate with my colleagues more meaningfully. I left,
too, with the enduring impression that conversation,
real conversation,
gloriously begins to separate "learning" from "schooling." It begins
to build that supreme level of engagement so sought after in classrooms;
it works to instill personal passion.
Conversation, when distilled to its quintessence, builds stronger
relationships. To accomplish this, it cannot function divisively; it
cannot preserve the traditional roles of "teacher" and "student."
Instead, it can only equalize. Rapturously, it must only create
"learners."
---
For more reading on the power of dialogue in learning, please explore Steve Wheeler (
@timbuckteeth) and his two blog posts:
"Learning as dialogue" and
"Teaching and learning through dialogue."
Description of 1st image: A shot of the conversation between K., at left, and myself. Photo taken by Ms. Charlap.
Description of 2nd image: A roundtable consisting of teachers and students. Photo located at
www.vicsrc.org.au. Kildonan and its IP program claim no ownership over this picture.
We
in IP believe strongly not only in championing the conditions that
allow authentic student-driven learning but also in connecting with
like-minded individuals and organizations. One of these is Educating Modern Learners (EML), an educator's portal created by longtime educator and technological expert Will Richardson (@willrich45) and Bruce Dixon (@bruceadixon),
respectively. This site offers insights into the new learning contexts
that teachers, administrators, parents, and students themselves must
confront in the 21st century. 