#reading about

Hmm…

It’s been about a year since I’ve written anything on this blog. I’ve also drastically reduced my edu-reading. There are a whole lot of reasons for my absence which can be distilled down to this:

I took a job with our school board that was a bad fit. It left me depleted and wondering why I ever got into the field of education.

...And then a year with some really cool kids happened. 

I started to heal, and return to myself.

Instead of reading about education. I slowed down and listened to my students.

I'm still not ready to post regularly, but I'm feeling more connected and I’m starting to feel like I once again have things to say.

So...

Yesterday, My friend Bart Vanslack, passed me this post by Mark Chubb, and asked me for my thoughts.

How Not to Start School - Click to Read

Here they are.. thoughts from a grade 2 teacher.

Overall, the article is a good and positive piece, but I had one major, lingering thought after reading it:

I reject the premise that kids are learning less at home. 

They might not following the Ontario Curriculum, but my students are cooking, planting and growing, trying out hobbies, connecting with family members. These are all learning opportunities. Heck, even watching Netflix can be a huge opportunity! Moreover, these are all experiences that are very hard to replicate in Ontario schools.

So instead, maybe we should start the next school days with:

What did you learn at home?  How did you spend your days? 

When teachers validate at home learning (experiential, hands-on, relationship filled), they unearth a powerful set of leverage points. They can say things like “when you baked, how did you measure?” How about, “who did you video chat with? What did you learn from that person?” They can even say “what did you learn from show x?” 

When we think about things that students “aren’t learning” we’re engaging in unproductive discourse. It leaves us guessing where to start. Yet, when we flip that notion on its head - when we look for things that kids ARE learning away from the classroom - we start to identify learning that we can built upon.

Asset-based thinking gives us a starting point that honours prior knowledge and gives all teachers a place from which they can build.

Small balls of C-4 plastic explosive were often substituted for the fuel tablet, as it produced a hotter flame.

Taste "a little better than a boiled potato"

Early in the war in Afghanistan, among the international troops who mingle at Bagram Air Base, a single French 24 hour (three meal) combat ration (cassoulet, perhaps, with deer pate and nougat) could be traded for at least five American Meals Ready to Eat.

Dessert unit D-3 (Bread): White Bread. (There were no alternatives).

On July 24, 2009, with news media and dignitaries in attendance, Moak opened the forty-year-old can and ate the contents. He noted that the pound cake still looked and smelled like fresh pound cake.

Soldiers in Special Operations units used to hoard B-1 peanut butter in empty ration cans to make improvised smoke candles while on long patrols. Being extremely oily, the peanut butter burned with ease, and could be used to boil water for coffee, although it left a greasy black stain on the bottom of the canteen cup.

One of the most beautiful parts of my home, Canada, is its rich diversity. We’re blessed with variety.

Superficially, we can see diversity in food, languages, and clothing. On a deeper level, we can see it in perspectives, ideas, and values. I often marvel at how well-suited Canada is to understanding others.

However, just because we’re well suited to understanding others, that doesn’t mean that it’s easy to do. As a teacher, as a family member, as a friend, I often hear stories from others describing difficulties in communicating effectively with their nearest and dearest - nevermind strangers! Just because we want to understand others, it doesn’t mean that we are always able to do so.

... And that’s why a book like Drawn Together matters. Check out this synopsis:

“When a young boy visits his grandfather, their lack of a common language leads to confusion, frustration, and silence. But as they sit down to draw together, something magical happens-with a shared love of art and storytelling, the two form a bond that goes beyond words.”

The book makes me think of a group of educators (Nada Aoudeh, Mandy Lau, and Debbie Donsky) and some very important work that they have done with some English Language Learners in their board.

To get a better idea of the project, take a look at their website.

It’s a real-life version of Drawn Together: educators and students working to build empathy through art.  In a country well-suited to understanding each other, this is the kind of work that helps us make good on that potential.