A Zen story:
A student, intent on confounding his master, pointed to a dog lying in
the corner and asked, "What do you call that?"
Not taking the bait, the master answered the student's question with a
question, "What do you call it?"
"I call it a dog."
The master replied, "You call it a dog, but you have not said all there
is to say about it."
Now, replace "dog" with "student." Do you see the point? Most of us
are blind to the mystery of the individual human being. Oh, we look at the
students; we do a lot of looking. And, we hear the students; we do lots of
hearing. But, the real question is whether we do a lot of penetrating seeing
and listening. Do we enter the classroom with unconditionally outstretched
hands or poised to do battle? Do we touch or are we out of touch? Do we open
our ears, eyes, and hearts and focus on a student as if she or he is the most
important thing in the universe? Are we participants or onlookers? Are we in
the game or spectators in the stands? Do we dress students in metaphoric
costumes? Like dupes of marketeers, do we gaze at the labels, read the names,
look at the imagery, the rely on someone else's suggestions, and make our
choices without tasting the wine in the bottle? Do we know, really know, each
person's story.
So many of us fall victim to a "perception bias" by which we blind and
deafen ourselves and get lost in back alleys of "attribution error." We talk
in terms of purifying perceptions; we talk in terms of black-and-white
presumptions; we talk in terms of lock step assumptions; we talk with labels,
of "they," "students," "class," "don't belongs," "student body," "honor
students," "average students," "poor students," "Greeks," atheletes,"
"freshmen," "majors," "seniors," "graduates," etc. as if we say all there is
to say and know all there is to know about that mysterious, magical, sacred,
noble, invaluable, and very unique, individual human being.
he
The classroom is a inevitably messy and impure place. There are always
unexpected events. The classroom is fraught with serendipity; it is filled
with incongruities; students are ever-changing; student needs are never static;
and, above all, students are unique individuals. I submit that effective
teaching, meaningful teaching, purposeful teaching is visionary teaching in a
real world. It is innovative, inventive, creative, imagination, autonomous,
and significant. It is adoption, adaptation and innovation for the specific
purpose of helping different and unique individuals to learn as they and the
situations inevitably change. It is a dedication to that single person in the
classroom with you; it is to think and act in holistic ways; it is the focused
effort to see each student and search for opportunities to connect with that
student for the purpose of helping her/himself to see and reach for her/his
potential; it is an endless poem written of countless lines; it's a commitment
to systematic adaptation, experimentation, and innovation in an environment of
daily shifting sands and changing currents. Maybe if we stop spending so much
time clumping those individuals into groups, if we stop being PC and merely
rearranging our biases, if we stop reorganizing our stereotypes, we might have
time to find ways to dive into reality, to learn about, get to know, and love
each of them.
The reality is that all the recent research about teaching and learning
is all well and good. The problem is that the new understandings and
opportunities it offers rarely fits into the establishment; it rarely fits the
habits of students; it rarely fits the way academics have approached the
classroom and students; it rarely fits to what both student and faculty are
already doing; it rarely fits into the risk-aversion, fear campus mentality.
That is why learning about the recent research on learning is a process of
unlearning; why it is time consuming; why it demands a lot of lead time; why it
takes a risk-taking trial and error application; why it needs a strong safety
net of vertical and horizontal support and encouragement.
And then there is the deepest pitfall: if all this time, effort, and
energy are in the service of each student, just who exactly are the students;
who are the individual students; and how do you find out, or, at least, get an
inkling. Now, I admit you have to keep at it if for no other reason than the
sure-fire, quick "tricks" that everyone is looking for don't exist. I'll
repeat that: there are no sure-fire, quick "tricks." As I used to write on
the whiteboard, "Beginning is tough; continuing is just as tough." You need to
develop and practice practices that teach you to be present, to pay attention
to the present moment with individuals who are in your presence.
Now, I am not suggesting that you have to know of every corpuscle, vein
or artery, bone, neuron, muscle, or whatever of each student. I am not
suggesting you have to know every chapter and verse of each student's story. I
am suggesting that you be intensely mindful that each is there, that you enter
a class and see a gathering of separate and sacred "ones" rather than a crowd
or herd. I am suggesting that you need a focused and channeled attention, a
technique of contemplation. I am suggesting that you learn and use practices
you engage in every day to engage in every moment with each student. I am
suggesting learning and practicing a mindfulness, that unites see, listen,
feel, you, and her or him into one see/listen/teach entity. I am suggesting
that you have raised antennae and know each person is there in her or his
uniqueness and worthiness and be ready to be there for her or him when needed.
I am suggesting that you have to be ready for an impromtu playing of a
variation on the theme. I am suggesting that seeing and listening are
adventures. I am suggesting that seeing and listening are challenges. I am
suggesting that seeing and listening are opportunities. I am suggesting that
seeing and listening are discoveries. I am suggesting that seeing and
listening are an unlearning your learned blurring stereotypes, fuzzy
generalizations, opaque perceptions, impersonal presumptions, and lifeless
assumptions. Maybe we should listen closely, very closely, to Mother Teresa
when she said, "I never look at the masses as my responsibility. I look at the
individual. I can love only one person at a time. I can feed only one person at
a time....Just one, one, one."
Make it a good day
-Louis-
Louis Schmier
http://www.therandomthoughts.edublogs.org
203 E. Brookwood Pl http://www.therandomthoughts.com
Valdosta, Ga 31602
(C) 229-630-0821 /\ /\ /\ /\
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/ \/ \_ \/ / \/
/\/ / \ /\ \
//\/\/ /\ \__/__/_/\_\/
\_/__\ \
/\"If you want to climb
mountains,\ /\
_ / \ don't practice on mole
hills" - / \_
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