The Last One ("Friends" reference!): Collaboration as a resource for improvement and the maintenance of my mental health

For my final entry of the course, I wanted to reflect upon the benefits of the collaborative process we have undergone in these blog groups over the past couple of months. I wanted to see if I could find additional information for why communal approaches to education are so useful. I came across a video from Pear Tree Education Inc. about the benefits of different collaborative relationships in the school system that touches on a lot of the benefits I believe I have received from my group. The ones discussed in this video focused on student and student collaboration, teacher and student collaboration, and teacher and teacher collaboration. For the purposes of my topic, however, I want to focus specifically on teacher and teacher collaboration.

 So with that being said, you can skip to 4:35: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-12mquzsHl4 

Some of the benefits of collaborating with other teachers in the profession as mentioned in the video were the co-planning of curriculums, discussing classroom and student challenges, sharing different teaching approaches to help improve teaching styles, having a resource for feedback concerning various teaching methods and lesson plans, and finally (and I believe most importantly!) having someone who understands your position and has the same level of expertise and passion.

I say the last point about having someone who understands your position is most important because let’s be honest—teaching is NOT an easy job. And anyone who thinks it’s easy probably isn’t doing it right. Knowing that there are other people around me who are experiencing the same problems and stresses that come with the profession really helps take the edge off. And while I have yet to be given charge of my own classroom as a certified teacher, I feel that I have benefited immensely from my collaboration with other education students. Every time I get together with my blog group, I’m reminded that my concerns are not unique. I am not alone in my stress, I am not alone in my doubt about whether I will be a good teacher or if I even want to be a teacher when all is said and done.

It’s actually quite therapeutic.

 If I did not have the support system that I feel like I have formed not only through my blog group but with all of the incredible people I have gotten to know this year, I also don’t think I would have the sound mental health that I have been able to maintain right now.

Another aspect of the video that really caught my attention was the discussion about deterrents to teacher collaboration. It was mentioned that people often shy away from collaborative work because they feel like they are being forced to compare themselves to other people and thus run the risk of feeling inferior in the presence of someone they believe to be better than themselves. In order to combat this approach, the video talks about the benefits of comparing in that it encourages you to improve your skills and adopt new ones. The video reminds us that life doesn’t always have to be a competition, and if we are able to put pride aside to accept our weaknesses and deficiencies, there’s a much better chance that we will be able to improve as both teachers and human beings more generally.   

In my blog group, we have a nice mixture of different educational backgrounds: some math and science, English, geography, and even a bit of physical education. Everyone brought different strengths to the table and we were able to feed off of each other and think in ways we never would have if we were not given this opportunity.

I come from an English background. As an English student, the bulk of my social interactions at school take place among other English students with similar English brains. While every English student is of course unique in their perspectives, it was really interesting to see how people from math and science approach different tasks and educational issues.

In addition to these differences, I was also really interested in the fact that regardless of these nearly opposite subject areas (math and English), we all seemed to share similar concerns, opinions and anxieties about the teaching profession.

I really would have never guessed that I could get along so well with people who love a subject that I am afraid I can never and will never be able to tolerate.

So with all of this being said, I want to give a big shout-out to my fabulous group members. You guys are awesome. Don’t forget me when you all become amazing teachers and I’m nothing more than a starving no-name writer living on the streets, okay? Or if I do end up teaching by some miracle, I really hope that the teachers I have to work with don’t suck and are as cool as you.

PS: GOOD LUCK and GOD SPEED with those curriculums! May the force be with you, the odds be ever in your favour, and whatever other encouraging words you can think of. THE BLOGS ARE DONE!  

Here is the final picture of my educational journey: a fragment of my graduating class in grade 12 French. I'm the shy, awkward-looking one in the back row, second from the right.  If I'm connecting this to collaboration, it's impossible to learn a new language without others. As many "others" as there are in this picture though, I still don't know French.

To master, or not to master: The potential tragedy of integrated curriculums

Chapter 5 of the text asks: “In a science essay, for example, should the English teacher be considered a valid assessor of the science content?” (147)

But what I want to know is: should a science essay be considered a valid demonstration of prowess in English?

I have created a little dialogue to illustrate my skepticism:

Professor: Just to get us started with our study of Julius Caesar, can anyone tell me some of the common themes of Shakespearian tragedies? 

First-year English class: …

Professor: *Looks around the room at one hundred blank faces* No one can think of anything?

First-year English student: *Raises hand*

Professor: Yes, you sir in the back!

First-year English student: I’m sorry Professor, but we never learned about Shakespeare in our school. We just learned to write essays and stuff in our science and history classes.

Professor: *Drops dead*

Okay, so my example might be a little exaggerated, but this is a real concern! If you’ve decided to implement an integrated curriculum, how are you going to make sure that this messy laundry pile of subjects are all given the same amount of attention when thrown together in the machine we call education?

Alright, I’m done with analogies and metaphors now, I swear.

What my little dialogue was trying to illustrate is that teachers have to be really careful with how they attempt an integrated curriculum to avoid creating subject hierarchies. If you’re trying to teach literacy skills by integrating them into a science unit, how can you make sure that one subject isn’t overpowering the other?

In Chapter 5 of the textbook, the issue of assessing various subjects in an integrated curriculum is addressed: “How do you make a distinction between social studies and science, for example, when teaching the concept of cause and effect? For many teachers the answer is that they do not differentiate. Rather they give a ‘mark’ for concept development in both science and social studies.” (146).

I have a big problem with this framework. Sure, the students are coming away with knowledge about how “cause and effect” work, but the concepts of “cause and effect” in social studies compared with “cause and effect” in the sciences is a completely different animal. How can you possibly give students the same mark in both subjects when you think about trying to understand, for example, a “cause and effect” principle in physics (not even going to attempt a detailed example here, I’ve blocked grade eleven physics permanently from my memory) and a “cause and effect” principle in sociology? One is based on a rigid framework of mathematical equations and formulae, while the other is based on research and data collection. But hey, if you understand what “cause and effect” means in general, that’s all you need! Here’s your A+, now run along and be whatever you want to be!

I can assure you that my competencies in the idea of “cause and effect” in sociology is leaps and bounds ahead of my understanding of “cause and effect” in physics. It just doesn’t work.

Based on the positive results that seemed to have come out of most of the research we found on integrated curriculums in our class discussion, I’m not dismissing it altogether. I would just argue that integrated curriculums belong only in elementary schools where learning strategies and thinking skills are more important than actual in-depth concepts. If I’m in grade twelve and I’m hoping to pursue English post-secondary, I don’t want to be getting my English curriculum through writing an essay about science. When you get to high school, you’re bordering on specialization. It’s way too risky to attempt an integrated curriculum when it’s becoming increasingly important for bodies of knowledge to transcend to upper years.  There’s too great of a chance that subjects will be slighted or undermined in the mix.

And as much as I would have rather studied different texts in replace of Shakespeare, I’m extremely grateful for the knowledge I attained (no matter how painful it was at times). And I’m even more grateful that my English competencies were never judged through my science, or history, or math, or physical education competencies.

Gym teacher: I would like you to do as many laps around this gym as there are lines in Hamlet’s soliloquy!

Me: See? It just doesn’t work. 

Since this week's entry talks specifically about high school, I thought I would speed up my educational journey a little bit to the secondary years. I'm pretty sure this was that physics class I've mentioned. I'm smiling here but I'm actually crying on the inside, I assure you.

“All I ever wanted to do was write books. Why are you making me do algebra?”

From as early as senior kindergarten, where I had only the most basic comprehension of spelling and sentence structure, I knew I wanted to write. Words came naturally to me and I found this level of satisfaction in writing that I could not find anywhere else. I remember beaming when I showed my Grade 1 teacher that I had used two pages for the first time on a single journal entry. As much as I enjoyed other subjects and learning in general, I wanted desperately to improve my craft. When I got home from school, I would bind pages and pages of printer paper together with scotch tape and write these mini books about everything from bunnies to superheroes. I had a clear passion for literature. I did well in math, but you couldn’t hope to catch me attempting algebra problems for fun in my spare time. Until now, I never considered the possibility of student choice in learning. I never questioned the fact that we were being told what to learn, whether we like it or not, because the leaders of our country had decided that it was important. While I agree that receiving a well-rounded education in multiple subject areas is necessary, I want to explore some of the suggestions made in the text for student-directed learning and propose my own idea for how schools might foster both a child’s natural tendencies towards a particular subject or subjects, and the need for a balanced education.

In Chapter 4: Exploring Inquiry and Interdisciplinary Models, student-centered inquiry learning is discussed. This pedagogy encourages a shift to where “…students are posing and pursing their own questions” (97) as opposed to being forced to answer teacher-proposed questions on topics they may or may not be interested in. When teachers prepare inquiry learning activities, they allow neither curriculum nor their own interests to interfere, and they actively seek to ‘“go where the kids’ interests are”’ (97). From a young age, students are already getting an idea of where their academic strengths and interests lie. Since we are all in a program where the selection of a certain discipline is required, I want to know: how long did it take you to realize that you enjoyed your subject area? How long does it take for an English person to realize their love of literature, and how long does it take for a Science person to realize their competence in math?

With this in mind, I want to know why we need to suffer twelve years before we finally get a substantial choice in what we learn. I realize that many people don’t recognize their occupational callings right away (I’m still confused…) but we at least have an idea of where we thrive, and what we like. Why not have students as early as elementary school spend half the day learning a variety of subjects, and then allow them to branch off and pursue the subject they are most passionate about for the second half of the day? In the second half of the day, students could explore topics of interest using a model similar to inquiry learning and have the opportunity to truly master their craft under the tutelage of teachers who also share that passion. As further support for a program such as this, the text also discusses the use of Genius Hour and mentions its previous success in the workplace:  “Another example of student-centered inquiry is Genius Hour. This is a grassroots movement inspired by Daniel Pink’s (2011) observation that employees were much more productive and creative when they were given free time to follow their own interests” (my emphasis, 102). I highlighted the terms “productive” and “creative” here because these are two qualities that we have been discussing as the very top of the hierarchy of knowledge. If students are given the opportunity to explore the topics they actually want to explore, there is a much greater chance that they will rise above memorization of concepts that they won’t remember or care about the next day, to being so engaged that they actually want to create something new out of the knowledge they have acquired.

It’s also important to note that students are not bound to one subject for the second half of the day, either. The student may choose a subject for that day that merely satisfies curiosity. Even if some students do not have the same level of passion for a subject area that I had, they are given the opportunity to find that passion by receiving the freedom to explore whichever subject they want, to whatever extent they want.

This might be a little bold to propose…but maybe if students were given a chance like this, they might even have less difficulty choosing a career path in the future.

Call me crazy! It’s just an idea!

But all I can say is that if I had been given the time to nurture my English and creative writing brain the way I had wanted, I probably would have saved myself a lot of time suffering in biology and chemistry thinking I was going to be an orthodontist…

I suppose there are some who are just better suited for it than others. So why not roll with it?

Another kindergarten shot! And of course, I'm the one on the far right who is apparently fascinated by the peace sign. Even from this age you could sense the creative soul waiting to be unleashed!

They say the journey is more important than the destination, but where the heck are we all going?

Throughout Chapter 3 of Interweaving Curriculum and Classroom Assessment: Engaging the 21st-Century Learner, I noticed that a major emphasis was placed on establishing expected learning outcomes before planning the curriculum for a given subject. In Stage 1 of the “Backward Design,” teachers are instructed to “identify what are the most important things for students to Know, Do, and Be at the end of the learning period” (62). While I believe it is important to set goals for students, I think teachers need to be cautious about how this is employed and allow room for unexpected learning outcomes. What may be deemed an “important” learning outcome by the teacher’s standards may not end up being at all relevant to the student in the long run.  

As I came across that quotation, I thought about that tired, clichéd expression that says “it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey!” This made me wonder: assuming that each student’s academic journey is unique, does this not also mean that their destinations (ie. What they get out of the curriculum at the end of the learning period) is not different as well? In the “Backward Design,” a clear hierarchy exists whereby the destination (in this case, the student’s ability to demonstrate what the teacher deemed “important” throughout the learning process by means of an assessment task) is elevated above the importance of the journey (which refers to the knowledge and skills the student picked up throughout the learning process). My argument, then, is that the process of learning and the unique knowledge students accumulate by the end of the learning period is far more valuable and even more memorable than anything the teacher decides to be “important.”

In the end, what is “important” is relative.

I came up with an analogy to better explain my take on this issue. I compared the concept of designated learning outcomes to this idea of a “journey” and a “destination”. I thought of it in terms of people planning a trip to Florida. While everyone who has ever been to Florida has their choice of destination in common, their trips are always completely different. Some people choose to take a plane, while other people choose to drive. Some people go to Disney World, while other people go to the beach. Some people return home with stories about the excitement and thrills, while other people return home with stories about the weather and relaxation. Just like you can’t expect people going to the same place on vacation to return with the same experience, likewise you can’t expect students to come out of their educational experience with the same learning outcomes.

Taking all of this into consideration…would this not mean that assessments in general are entirely flawed practices? Who is the teacher to say what is important? Building off of the example of the history lesson in the textbook: who’s to say that the knowledge of “the key characteristics of Canada between 1885 and 1914, including social and economic conditions” (64) is more important and more worthy of evaluation than the collaborative skills the student gained while networking and discussing historical issues with a classmate?

While Daniel may have actually adopted a genuine fascination and passion for history, which will eventually lead him to pursue the subject in post-secondary, Taylor may have only ultimately taken away a lesson on procrastination as a result of a poor mark from a last-minute effort on her history assignment.

Which student has more than likely met the goals of the learning outcome, and which student has not?      

Your guess is probably correct.

Now: which lesson is more valuable?

Perhaps, not so simple…

To push this even further: as adults in university, what do we remember of the information we obtained in elementary and even high school? For me, I can say with the utmost conviction that most of the knowledge I was evaluated on throughout elementary and high school (no matter how well I did!) did not transcend into my later life. The most noteworthy memories I have of my educational experiences center on peer and teacher relationships and just how I figured out how to coexist and get along with other people. I learned what to say and what not to say, how to function in groups without being overly dominant, and how to obtain and maintain a positive rapport with my teachers (to name a few). In addition to relationships, I learned the value of hard work and dedication to the learning process and how it is positively correlated with success.

At this point, I’m left at a loss. I understand why it’s important for a teacher to establish learning outcomes in order to maintain the focus of the lesson, and I also know that the “Be” of KDB helps to address some of these big-picture learning outcomes (like in the history curriculum, students are expected to “be responsible, active, informed citizens in the 21st century,” which is arguably more likely to transcend into later life). However, this still does not resolve the inadequacies of judging student learning based on one desired outcome, or destination.

To return to my analogy: students are ending up in the same places, but are getting there and experiencing these places differently.

As teachers, how are we supposed to fairly and accurately assess learning when arguably some of the most important lessons are learnt outside of our desired outcomes?

I have no answer. But the more I think about it, the more critical I am of assessment as a fruitless and inaccurate “assumption” of student learning, that ultimately bears no real semblance of individual success.    

For this week, I have chosen my junior kindergarten class photo. I'm the one on the bottom row (I was always too short for the middle or top...), the fourth one from the left. Quite the attractive bunch, weren't we? All decked out in our 90's garb and all! See now...these kids know where they're going in life!

“I’m smart, you’re dumb. I’m big, you’re small. I get A's, you get D's. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Who picked up this allusion to the 1996 film Matilda? For my example, I have altered the quote somewhat, but the meaning remains the same. With both Matilda’s struggles with her father and students’ struggles with the school system, sometimes there really is nothing that can be done. Granted, in the idealist world of children’s movies, Matilda does in fact end up breaking free from her abusive parents. But for students who are trapped in a school system that is not conducive to their needs, the abuse just keeps on coming. It’s not a happy ending. The underdog doesn’t succeed. And the ‘A’ students stay smart while the ‘D’ students stay dumb.

In my other Education courses, the idea of “equity” over “equality” has come up a lot in both direct and indirect ways. The indirect ways have proven to be of most interest to me, especially in the case of Chapter 1 of Susan Drake, Joanne L. Reid and Wendy Kolohon’s (2014) Interweaving Curriculum and Classroom Assessment: Engaging the 21st-Century Learner. While the concept of equity is never formally discussed, the section about the relevance of personalizing education in order to allow different learners to thrive really stood out to me. How often in your educational experiences can you say that you have seen an instructor alter their teaching methods for different students? Have you ever seen a teacher administer different means of evaluation (for example, a test for some and a project for others) to assess his or her students’ knowledge on the same topic? I know I haven’t. And it makes me wonder: would doing something like that be considered fair?

What exactly is fairness? Is it choosing one mean of instruction and evaluation for everyone in order to stay in-line with the idea of equality? Or is it allowing students to demonstrate their knowledge in whichever ways personally suit them in order to be equitable? According to the text, “Fairness does not always mean standardization – the same assessment tasks or the same assessment criteria for everyone” (p. 21). When I think about equity being used to combat the struggle between the perpetual ‘A’ and ‘D’ students, it seems like a wonderful idea in theory. But then I consider how this idea would actually work in practice, and all I can imagine is frequent complaints that one student has it easier than another or that some students are being challenged more than others, etc. How would a teacher answer to these complaints? How could this method be justified, if it’s even justifiable at all? Is it possible to be equal and equitable simultaneously?

Lucky for me, I was able to adapt easily to our current education system. From as early as junior kindergarten, I approached school with this innate thirst for knowledge and determination to succeed. With these attitudes, along with continual positive reinforcement from instructors and peers throughout the years, I have made it to my fourth year of post-secondary education unscathed. Sure, there have been challenges along the way, but I’ve always been able to pull through. With this in mind, I’ve been starting to ask myself how I’m going to be able to respond to those students who did not take to schooling as naturally as I did. If I can’t relate to them, how will I be able to approach their learning with sensitivity and understanding? How will I be able to teach them when what has always worked for me, doesn’t work for them?

There’s nothing that my students can do about the educational methods I choose to employ, but I know there’s something I can do about it.

I just have to figure out what that is.

Since this is a journey of self-discovery through my experiences in 4P19, I thought it would be fun to add personal photos of my educational journey thus far. So for my first blog, I have none other than the first day of school. In case you're wondering, I'm the dorky-looking one on the left who looks like she has no idea what she's in for.