Pre(R)amble to a Philosophy of Education
I never studied pedagogy in a formal setting. So my “philosophy” is by no means systematic. In fact, it’s a bit impressionistic: stringing together concepts from my liberal arts education with truisms gleaned from my brief career as a teacher. What follows might read better as highlights than anything else.
Early on, I was introduced to the notion of multiple intelligences. While I have only skimmed through Howard Gardner’s work, I believe I’ve come to know his meaning by living in my various classrooms and, thus, wholeheartedly agree with his ideas. It seems like the absolute truth to me that every student’s mind operates differently. I would even add that for certain age groups particular types of learning are more appealing than others. For example, Kindergarteners, for the most part, require kinesthetic activities due to their sprightly dispositions and attention spans. Whenever I plan a lesson or unit, I try to present the information in as many ways as possible—in order to offer my students multiple handles to access and form meaning and knowledge for themselves.
I encountered constructivist theory while working at Columbia University's School for Children. My general understanding of constructivism is twofold (and watered down): the learning is student-centered and the students must build and acquire knowledge for themselves. On the whole, I agree with these tenets. In practice, though, I find that balance is extraordinarily important. The teacher, too, needs to feel some ownership in his classroom. I enjoyed leading discussions and lecturing as much as assigning group work. I think a good Socratic method is not necessarily "traditional." There is a time and place for every lesson that sits on the philosophical spectrum. (While I acknowledge the distinction between teacher-directed and student-centered, I believe that the best lessons blur this dichotomy.)
Upaya is an Indo-Tibetan concept that translates from Sanskrit as "useful means." In the Vimalakirti Sutra, the hero exercises upaya when he runs off with 10,000 maidens to help them reach Zen. Along not too dissimilar lines, I have come to adopt upaya as a virtue of teaching. For me, this concept means flexibility in approach. Learning is deeply contextual. Being able to "read" a classroom and determine the best way to present information is a tremendous skill. Variety, to the same extent as routine, is essential. I always look for new, fascinating, and fun ways to disclose materials.
I read Ralph Emerson's essay on self-reliance in my junior year of high school. His acceptance of man as a political animal and advocacy for individual autonomy has stuck with me throughout the years. In the classroom, I aim to help my students become independent thinkers. So often a student desires to please her teacher. "Is this right?" she'll ask. Teachers can either say yes or no, or say something along the lines of "…use your best judgment." I'll say both. But, in addition, I might tell her that she is incredibly smart and must trust herself to find the correct reply. This extra boost, I believe, helps a student grow her awareness as a problem-solver and independence as a thinker. Self-reliance also helps students take risks: that space where the most learning occurs.
Lastly, I would like to list some kernels of wisdom I've received over the years. (1) Always decide ahead of time what crucial idea you want the students to take away from a lesson. (2) Always be ready to throw your lesson out the window. (3) Listen, value, and respect what the students have to say. (This is, perhaps, most important to me.) (4) Celebrate mistakes. (5) and (6) are somewhat contradictory. The former is: Never teach a lesson that would bore you as a student. Yet, I am most thankful that a dear colleague counteracted that measure with: Every lesson need not be great; some can be just average.
Early on, I was introduced to the notion of multiple intelligences. While I have only skimmed through Howard Gardner’s work, I believe I’ve come to know his meaning by living in my various classrooms and, thus, wholeheartedly agree with his ideas. It seems like the absolute truth to me that every student’s mind operates differently. I would even add that for certain age groups particular types of learning are more appealing than others. For example, Kindergarteners, for the most part, require kinesthetic activities due to their sprightly dispositions and attention spans. Whenever I plan a lesson or unit, I try to present the information in as many ways as possible—in order to offer my students multiple handles to access and form meaning and knowledge for themselves.
I encountered constructivist theory while working at Columbia University's School for Children. My general understanding of constructivism is twofold (and watered down): the learning is student-centered and the students must build and acquire knowledge for themselves. On the whole, I agree with these tenets. In practice, though, I find that balance is extraordinarily important. The teacher, too, needs to feel some ownership in his classroom. I enjoyed leading discussions and lecturing as much as assigning group work. I think a good Socratic method is not necessarily "traditional." There is a time and place for every lesson that sits on the philosophical spectrum. (While I acknowledge the distinction between teacher-directed and student-centered, I believe that the best lessons blur this dichotomy.)
Upaya is an Indo-Tibetan concept that translates from Sanskrit as "useful means." In the Vimalakirti Sutra, the hero exercises upaya when he runs off with 10,000 maidens to help them reach Zen. Along not too dissimilar lines, I have come to adopt upaya as a virtue of teaching. For me, this concept means flexibility in approach. Learning is deeply contextual. Being able to "read" a classroom and determine the best way to present information is a tremendous skill. Variety, to the same extent as routine, is essential. I always look for new, fascinating, and fun ways to disclose materials.
I read Ralph Emerson's essay on self-reliance in my junior year of high school. His acceptance of man as a political animal and advocacy for individual autonomy has stuck with me throughout the years. In the classroom, I aim to help my students become independent thinkers. So often a student desires to please her teacher. "Is this right?" she'll ask. Teachers can either say yes or no, or say something along the lines of "…use your best judgment." I'll say both. But, in addition, I might tell her that she is incredibly smart and must trust herself to find the correct reply. This extra boost, I believe, helps a student grow her awareness as a problem-solver and independence as a thinker. Self-reliance also helps students take risks: that space where the most learning occurs.
Lastly, I would like to list some kernels of wisdom I've received over the years. (1) Always decide ahead of time what crucial idea you want the students to take away from a lesson. (2) Always be ready to throw your lesson out the window. (3) Listen, value, and respect what the students have to say. (This is, perhaps, most important to me.) (4) Celebrate mistakes. (5) and (6) are somewhat contradictory. The former is: Never teach a lesson that would bore you as a student. Yet, I am most thankful that a dear colleague counteracted that measure with: Every lesson need not be great; some can be just average.
posted by AJV at 11:32 AM
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