Entry # 24:
If students don't see the curriculum
connections, who's fault is that?
"Blurring Boundaries" sounds a little like "fuzzy math"
-- like something imprecise. but in this case, it's the way Cris Tovani
describes our modeling of vital connections for our students, the missing
links between their separate classes, and the knowledge and skills they
need to make authentic meaning.
In her new book, I Read It,
But I Don't Get It, Cris talks about observing a young man who couldn't
understand an equation in science and was told to think about algebra. The
young man dismissed the advice because he was unaccustomed to thinking about
math in science class. No one had ever told him that mathematics was the
languiage of science.
I have spent years wringing my hands about my students' lack of transfer,
about the ways they don't connect one lesson or period to the next. Maybe
I've been barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps they've learned precisely what
we've been teaching with our separate classes and our seemingly unrelated
curricula.
In middle school, and even more so in high school, teachers seem to treat
their area of the curriculum, their syllabus, as sacred and distinct. It's
almost as if any admission of linkages will diminish their expertise, their
reason for being. Given this atmosphere, is it any wonder that our kids
respond in kind?
A fundamental difference
How did this compartmentalization of knowledge become synonymous with expertise?
When did this competitive climate develop? I know that a few years ago as
a science teacher with a visiting artist in residence, I incurred the wrath
of my colleagues by pulling kids out of their classes. It was a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity for the kids, they even came to school on Saturday, but some
teachers really resented the disruption. They thought I didn't appreciate
the importance of "their" work.
While I certainly made some mistakes on that project by making assumptions
and not involving the whole team in the advance planning, there was clearly
a fundamental difference in the way we saw the actual work of learning,
who owns it, how and when it takes place etc.
Last year, I was frequently on the other end of the dynamic. As a tech teacher,
a minor subject, kids came late to class constantly because they needed
to copy homework, talk to a teacher, run errands...you get the picture.
The attitude was that my class was just fun and games on the computer and
didn't need to be taken seriously.
I had a rude awakening as a teacher of a minor subject. Minor meant,
as one student told me, "I don't have to pass your class to get promoted"!
Since my approach was driven by learning vs. grades, I was brought up short
by this thinking. I felt devalued.
Maybe we need whole school discussions about learning and how it takes place.
We definitely need to revisit our own reading and comprehension processes.
Digging into my own experience
When an assignment is made to read the chapter in the textbook and answer
the questions at the end, what's the purpose? Are we exposing students to
content for the sake of exposure? Are we trying to help them understand
something? Is the whole chapter equally important? Do we just need an easy
way to assign homework or class work?
Tovani's book has sent me on a reflective dig into my own experiences as
a student. I'm thinking about the way(s) I learn and the ways I don't. For
example, I prefer to read historical fiction to learn about key periods
in history. I especially like to read about the experiences of folks who
aren't usually given much play in the history books -- the women, the people
of color, the people who worked with their hands as well as their heads.
I learn from stories, from art, from music. I enjoy putting it all together
with the "facts" that are generally taught as the important information.
I was able to memorize as a kid, so I was successful in school, but it wasn't
the rote learning that helped me understand the lessons. It wasn't the names
and dates that made me love learning.
How do my colleagues define learning? Are there people who really think
that being able to scan history, science or whatever like the big winner
on Jeopardy is our ultimate goal for our kids?
Do we need citizens who can recite all the big battles and symbolically
represent all the elements or do we need adults who can discuss the costs
of war and our need to avoid it ? Do we ever stop to have these discussions,
these thoughts?
When we tell kids to think harder, when we imply that they're just being
lazy and expecting us to do all the work...what do we really mean? Are comments
like these really an admission of our own confusion? Have we examined the
ways in which we learn important information, the ways in which we use the
skills we claim are so critical for their success? Do we bother to make
the connections ourselves?
I remember taking a class called "The Art & Science of Teaching"
as an undergrad and being intrigued by the "blurring" of these
two seemingly distinct approaches. I also remember feeling a little insulted
by the basals and textbooks that explained everything I should say and do
in my classroom.
I don't make meaning in lock-step fashion, why would I want to teach that
way? Cris Tovani shares strategies not recipes, and I am excited by the
possibilities her approach offers.
One step removed
While it is true that others have talked about double entry journals, the
use of sticky notes and the like, these mechanisms have not been embraced
by many of our students. It's as if we offered them the utensils and the
cookbook, but not the smells, tastes and experiences of the foods or the
joys of cooking them.
Whenever I shared my thinking, my love for my subject matter, my excitement
in reading and learning, to a new class, it surprised my kids. After a while,
they'd tease me about all the books, all the movies, but I do think they
caught the fever in my class, not all of them and not all of the time, but
more often than not.
Reading and writing about comprehension is making me miss my students. My
classroom was like a living laboratory for me, I learned a lot there. I'm
one step removed in my new job, but some days it feels more like miles.
Last night over dinner I told my husband I wanted to develop a summer reading
program. I think I'll work on that idea today. I'd like to develop a transition
program for kids who are moving up to middle school. I'm not clear about
the management side, where we'll find the funds, but I know the kids need
a leg up and I know that I need to try out these comprehension strategies
with real kids, not just on paper or in meetings.
[Editor's note: Deb is co-moderator of the
new MiddleWeb listserve.]
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