Life Writing: Making Sense of My Teaching Practice

By Stephanie Bartlett

I very much believe in connections... keeping my eyes open for possibilities leads to an enjoyment of both the micro and the macro moments of gratitude and realization, both in my personal and professional life. These quotes jumped off the page at me in Wanda Hurren’s essay Kissing Lessons:

Currere: to run the course...the method of currere is a strategy devised to disclose experience so that we may see more of it and see more clearly. With such seeing can come deeper understanding of the running, and with this, can come deepened agency.
-William Pinar and Madeleine Grumet, Toward A Poor Curriculum

“Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” Rumi, “Spring Giddiness” (as cited in Hurren, p. 43)

I have always loved Rumi’s poetry and have a growing appreciation for the root meaning of words, so I immediately recognized that spark of interest offered from these two quotes.  Here was the connection and the hook I needed to read on. Teaching lives in a space between tension and exhilaration, gratitude and doubt. The profession is not, as many would believe, merely a job: it is a vocation that draws upon our deepest stores of energy, compassion, drive, ambition and passion, and keeps educators in a constant search of self-improvement. Are we running from stress and the demands of the profession as we work to create the best practice, the best techniques, the best lessons?  Wanda Hurren writes “teaching runs in my family. Run seems a fitting verb choice. Throughout my life I have been living in a space between running to and running from teaching” (Hurren, p. 44).  Staying put and linking our lives and family experiences with our teaching practice as a means to discover our pedagogical beliefs is an exercise that I am learning to embrace as part of the fabric of the teaching profession.

My reasons for going into teaching almost twenty years ago were very simple. I loved children and, quite frankly, I didn’t have a better idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I am the only teacher in my family and until recent years have had the somewhat misguided sense that I had to justify my choice of careers.  The practice of teaching did not come naturally to me but my relationship with my students did. Sadly, studies during my Bachelor of Education did not involve a rigorous pedagogy that I would expect new teachers to experience. I mistakenly thought that I would graduate from Teachers College with a handbook, a how-to manual, telling me everything that I needed to know to set up a classroom and be a “good” teacher. Instead, bereft of my imagined handbook, I had to make my own way, drawing on instinct and the help of colleagues. And so, my career began with one foot in the door of the classroom with all the passion and determination that is part of my makeup, and the other out in the world, promising myself that I would leave teaching if I ever found anything “better” or the moment that I realized I was just “putting in time.”

Somewhere in about my fourth or fifth year, I found a spark and a colleague to share it with. We discovered a literacy resource that inspired us to evolve our practices and share with our colleagues. This was my first pivotal moment as I discovered the world of pedagogical research and began to design my classroom as a lab where I could play and discover as a means to develop my best practice. Consciously, I still thought that once I put the work in and fine tuned this practice, I would be set for the rest of my career. Subconsciously, I was running from that cornerstone of traditional teaching, always in search of teaching methods that were more natural, more real, more organic, more...fun?

Fast forward another five years to a very challenging year with my grade one class. Emotions ran high as I tried one technique after another to help my students and help myself have an “easier” year. As teachers, we worry about our students’ home lives, their learning difficulties, their social interactions. We search and search in our very beings for ways to help them, to help ourselves survive the experience. Is it possible to maintain distance in order to maintain our emotional wellbeing? I don’t know. My solution was to leap back into research and go with my gut. This was my moment of truth as I changed directions and truly began running towards teaching with all the energy, compassion, drive, ambition and passion that I have to offer. I flipped my practice, allowing students the time and space to create with their hands, and a chance to offer their voice to the direction and scope of our learning.

Another five years has passed and during that span of time, I have continued running towards my best practice with a deeper understanding. My work in post graduate studies has provided me with the confidence to design a program based on achieving long term creative development of the student, with a deep understanding of curriculum and the discovery of the roots of my pedagogical beliefs. Returning to the quote at the top of the article that drew me in,  I am running the course. My deeper understanding of the running and the deepened agency comes from a better understanding of myself and what I bring to my profession (as cited in Hurren, p. 43). My quest to better understand and make sense of teaching has led me towards a joining together of my personal and professional life. This makes teaching an extension of me and who I am.

As for the space in which the practice of teaching dwells, “it’s actually not a bad space. There’s lots of room in it; thankfully, plenty enough room to kneel and kiss the ground...” (p. 50). Looking at the moments of gratitude and self-realization that teaching has brought to me over the years and how it continues to enhance my life, how could I run from this? I think of all the special moments we share with students, giving us insight into their development, and indeed my own. What I learn from teaching blends into my life lessons. What I learn from life, I weave into my teaching practice, making what was just a career choice into an integral piece of my very being.

References:

Hurren, W. (2012). Kissing Lessons. In  Chambers, C.M., Hasebe-Ludt, E., Leggo, C., and Sinner, A (Eds.), A Heart of WIsdom: Life Writing as Empathetic Inquiry (p. 43-50). New York, NY: Peter Lang Publishing, Inc.

Pinar, WF & Grumet, M. (1976) Toward a poor curriculum. Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt

Rumi, J. (1995). Spring Giddiness. In C. Barks, with J. Moyne (Trans.), The essential Rumi (p. 36). New York, NY: Harper Collins.

Getting My Feet Wet...Inching Back into the World of Poetry

Story # 361 C

  By Stephanie Bartlett

Or was it # 259 B?

Favourite stories told to cousins

by our parents- calling out numbers

was part of the fabric

we wove together around

the table which sat 4 or 24, depending.

We younger ones didn’t know

our elders except through

stories. Told. Retold.

Again and again.

Held close by warm wood

walls, crackling fire reflected on windows,

adding punctuation to loud,

animated conversation, a hush

shimmers as she begins to talk.

Interrupted by mock outrage

“Here we go again.”

“I think that is the wrong number!”

Then hush again as we listen. To grasp

a small memory, a shiny stone

to add to the collection. Just ordinary stories.

Is there such a thing? Small snapshots

to breathe life

into those who gave us our common

meeting spot where we still gather.

And this here is the story.

Of family. It isn’t just

another number. That we tell it IS

the story. That we gather to

listen. Retell. Again and again.

Becoming Truvy - A Dip in the Creativity Pool

As part of my personal and professional exploration of CREATIVITY, I decided to go to a cold-read audition for the well-known film and play, Steel Magnolias.  I read for a couple of the roles but felt an immediate connection to the character of Truvy as the words flowed out of my mouth. Shortly thereafter I was offered the role and thus began my creative journey into becoming Truvy.

            I am a Drama teacher in my professional life and I try to make sure that I practice what I preach whenever possible. Going to a cold-read audition was part of walking that talk. I also tell my students that I would never ask them to do anything that I wouldn't be willing to do or haven't tried myself. Memorizing hundreds of lines, scheduling rehearsals into my life, and leaving time for things that pop up was all part of the big picture. This would definitely be the type of thing that students would have to do as well upon being cast in a role (within school or other).

            Part of becoming Truvy was trying out different iterations of her persona and experimenting with what this might look like, sound like, and read like on stage. Luckily, we had a patient director that allowed the cast this luxury of exploration time within our rehearsal process. The more iterations and trials of Truvy through the months of rehearsals lead me to become her fully and completely. (The blonde bouffant wig did assist! *see photos below*)

            There were little and large things that I discovered during the process of becoming Truvy that gave me insight into how my students might feel. I realized that I would be a better director and teacher as a result of acting in the role of Truvy. For example, simple assumptions in the rehearsal space can really throw you as an actor once you get to the performance space (managing the set, location of props, movement on the stage, projection of voice, etc.) Allowing appropriate time for self to manage the transformation into a character is also an area that I need to be more mindful of in the future as a teacher/director. Becoming Truvy was a great reminder of the type of learning can happen involving creativity and I am thankful of the gleanings I was able to note.

Just Play: The Maker Education Movement

By Erin Quinn

You may have heard the words "Maker Education" recently in the education field. The maker movement focuses on the design process, and allowing students to learn by doing. It reaches into disciplines like science, technology, engineering, art, music, and even tinkering and do-it-yourself-ing.

Making has always been a part of the way kids learn in my classroom, but the maker education movement becoming more a part of the mainstream education conversation has helped affirm the fact that this kind of learning is useful and valuable.

My school board, the Calgary Board of Education, has recently offered a series of making workshops for teachers. I have signed up for every single one of them. The way the workshops have been structured speaks volumes about the way this kind of learning must be done: the majority of the workshops were allowing us, as teachers, to play and get our hands on the various tools for learning through making.

This has reminded me of the importance of we, as educators, in experiencing the kind of creativity we wish to inspire in our kids. It is so important for us to put ourselves in the same positions we are asking of our students. We need to play, too. We need to tinker, too. This type of learning is an inquiry in itself.

Here's what I made in the workshops I've taken.

I learned how to use conductive thread to connect an LED light to a battery.

And I learned how to wet felt roving wool to make a felted bowl.

I made a car from a rapid prototyping system called Open Beam.

I played with an electronics system called Little Bits.

I learned how to use an Arduino system to make a motor go.

Living Creatively Helps To Teach Creatively

By Stephanie Bartlett

It's been over a year since I surprised myself and all who know me by publishing a book of poetry.  Since then, poetry has been a way of life but I have had to wiggle into it like a comfy chair and let it seep through the corners of my heart and life.  You see, when I wrote and published, I had a mere seven months to figure the whole thing out from start to finish, including how to write a poem!  I was so stressed to meet my publishing deadline that I burned myself out, wrung dry of any words or ability to write.

Reassured by other poets that this was somewhat normal, I accepted my loss of words...to a point.  I have struggled with scheduling in regular writing time, but have made sure to journal in prose.  I have found that I can still write a beautiful poem but now the poem lives in me and writes itself about a particular topic that is burning to be expressed.  I am just the vehicle to the words, rather than looking for the words to describe a situation.  This does not happen often but I am always somewhat surprised when it does.

Lately, when my thoughts wander, I am thinking about poetry and new possibilities.  I cannot just yet think about writing enough to compile another collection, but I have plenty of work that I didn't use last year.  My original pre-inventive structure was to create a book of poems that would tell the story of my family. My poetic journey took a left turn and the collection was very different from the original intent.   The time is right to delve into my poems, the B-sides if you will, and compile a work that honours my family. 

How does this help my teaching practice? When I am living the creative process, I am better able to recognize the different strands of creative development in my students.  Creativity helps to ground and inspire me, and naturally feeds into my teaching practice.  How good is that?

Tales from the Treefort

We talk about how important it is to model creativity so that we can recognize it in our students. Nurturing our own creative practice can be hard to fit into a busy life but I am a writer and sometimes I just get the urge to write. This is the latest. Enjoy.

Tales of a Tree Fort

by Stephanie Bartlett

Walking down the cottage road known as the “Back Road,” all seems to be what one might expect on a quiet afternoon, midweek on a hot summer day.  The sound of cottagers chatting, boats on the lake, birds chirping and the occasional car. If the curious eye notices a lone orange pylon on the side of the road, and veers into the forest to investigate, this is the moment when one slides into another reality.

Slip into the cool woods, climb the steep hill with the railing and follow the clean and well-maintained trail through the maple grove…and prepare to be suitably impressed.  For in these woods lies a small community built by the kids on the Back Road. The group of children consists of cousins and friends who spend endless amounts of time together engaged in old-fashioned fun.

 Like most people who buy cottages, we bought our cottage to have our own special place on the lake.  There was a back lot across the road attached to our property that we enjoyed for the privacy it gave us, but we never really knew what to do with it until the kids started to want to explore back there. As parents, we decided four summers ago to provide tools and the materials and allow the children to tinker and discover.  Summer number one began with fairly regular parent supervision, with the adult serving as a guide. Once the building site was chosen, a rudimentary platform was built. The kids were, after all, only six and four.

 The following summer, we provided the safety talks, some supervision and a daily inspection of the building site to tighten screws and reinforce structures. A real tree fort began to take shape. Towards our last day of that summer, the gang wanted to have a bonfire. The answer? Absolutely not and our reasons were many: the fort was in the middle of the forest, there was no water source to put out the fire, and kids weren’t allowed to build fires, to name a few. They disappeared into the woods without argument, only for us to be invited back at the end of the day.  What we found amazed us.  A fire in the middle of the woods? No problem. The kids had cleared a large spot to the point where there was not a single leaf.  They had clipped any branches that were close and dug a fire pit, surrounded by rocks dug out from the forest floor. They had gone so far as to build benches, with cut and stacked firewood underneath, and even carved marshmallow sticks. And the no-water problem? That was addressed by the presence of a large garbage can, buckets and a plan. If they were allowed to have the fire, they would truck water up from the lake back to the tree fort to fill that bucket.  And the icing on the cake was the railing they built to get up into the woods, knowing that one of the parents experienced severe knee pain. We were convinced.

 

Once the date and time was set for THE BONFIRE, the kids were highly engaged with the excitement of planning their first official gathering, which sadly, would be our last day before heading home two provinces away until the next summer.  They created a loop of mountain bike trails, made welcome signs and gates, and planned the menu. By the time the adults arrived, we felt very much like guests and our hosts were bursting with the pride of ownership. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows and washed them down with juice.  Tours were given, as children proudly explained their role and the tasks that they had done to help make this a reality.  Real tears were shed at the end, as the door to the tree fort was locked with a nail to hold it shut and the last gate on the path was lowered.

                            

The third summer began with a more sophisticated level of creativity, tinkering and problem solving.  As soon as the out-of-province gang arrived, the tree fort was open for business.  The kids collected scrap wood and brought it over.  The cottage collection of tools migrated from our basement to the back forty, and proceeded to be considered “theirs.”  There was an easel set out to sketch plans of ideas that could and would take shape. Small details were added to the tree fort, such as hooks, hinges and windows. Additions, both big and small, were added, and then taken away. The sounds echoing out from the woods this year were music, hammering, sawing and laughter.  Connor, a close friend on the road who lives there all year around, arrived with his lawn tractor and a trailer full of tools, wood and a portable stereo.  The kids had it made.

 As the tree fort became a metaphor for freedom and independence, more creativity began to happen.  This is problem solving in a very real sense. Think of an idea, experiment, analyze whether it worked, collaborate and try again. The kids built a playground: swings, tire swings, and teeter totters, all by trial and error. Plans for a second level and another tree fort nearby began to take shape. When they needed to climb higher, they built a ladder; when they needed to take a break from working, they played on their playground.  They became so engaged that sometimes we parents had to cajole the kids to come out of the woods and enjoy the water. Trips to the marina changed irrevocably. We were now being hounded to go to the marina to get nails, not just ice cream.

 That summer, there was no question about scheduling bonfire parties. One mid-summer, a moonlight fire and one to close the tree fort for the season.  The kids set the dates, carried endless buckets of water back for the fire, planned the menus and prepared the food.  The guests showed up each time, anticipating the hard work proudly on display and a good time.

 Adults and kids alike knew by this time that we had something really special at work.  We are raising our children in an era where we don’t let them explore and wander the way we did when we were young. As Gever Tulley of the Tinkering School in San Francisco says, “challenges will arise that are usually developmentally appropriate. “ (Tulley and Kelly 2012). He points out that children will build to make their dreams a reality, not necessarily to make something that “works.” For the exception of the screw nails for safety, the kids built the entire structure and surrounding “toys” independently.  By allowing kids to tinker, we are allowing them to engage in their dreams and to reconcile those dreams with the reality around them.

 And so, as we begin to set our plans for next summer, I am wondering what will take shape in and around the tree fort this time. I know that my own kids have already started to reflect, as well as to think forward but they have yet to articulate any plans.  That could be because the magic happens within the beauty of collaboration and they need both the setting and the gang for the dreams to take shape.

Citation:

Tulley, Gever. "The Arc, Learning by Making and Learning by Inventing." Educating for Creativity: A Global Conversation. Ed. Robert W. Kelly. Calgary, Alberta, Canada: Brush Education, 2012. 39-51. Print.

Blow, Blow, Blow Your Boat

by Stephanie Bartlett

A play-based program is the ultimate backdrop for the most incredible learning opportunities.  It is our job as educators to pay attention and listen carefully. As facilitators, we  can then offer tools and experiences for students to become mindful learners, all in the midst of play.  Take boats, for example.

Over the course of the last couple of months, B, H and C have often sat and drawn pictures of boats.  We have hung them on the wall near our water table and I have waited for the right moment to take their learning to a deeper level.  It all came together this week when many students were involved in a pirate game.  They created treasures to hide and drew maps for everyone to take part. (Hello, collaboration!!) For two days, I watched and listened carefully, wondering how to decide the best way to guide their thinking. I asked my three students to sit the next day and draw plans for boats they could build.  Their plans initiated a class discussion about motor boats and sail boats, and pirate ships, of course!

 B went to the next step and created a materials list.

The next day, B arrived and spent a large amount of time building a model boat out of popsicle sticks, telling me "I thought and thought at home about how I could build a boat with buttons, popsicle sticks and string. This boat collects garbage on the ocean and I need to build a claw on the back."

Coincidentally, my colleague mentioned earlier in the week that she had many students who were very taken with machines, motors and boats in particular.  There was my point of convergence. We could create boats together!  As a team, we have decided to offer the opportunity to students in all three of our kindergarten classes to work together. Today, we had two parent volunteers come in and set up an area with materials, paper and writing tools to draw plans and a tub of water to test for seaworthiness. Knowing that sparks catch fire, we started this idea with the interest of a few students, knowing that others would jump on board, so to speak. The environment was focused and highly engaged. There was a quiet hum of happiness and excitement, peppered with observations, in the most natural form of analytic thinking and feedback.  

"I think your boat is leaning too far to one side." 

"How can I get my boat to move?" 

"You need some wind. Can you blow?"

"Mine is sinking." 

"My boat is heavy on one side. It keeps leaning."

Some students drew plans and then proceeded to build without referring to their plan.  There is an interesting focus point for the next projects, always keeping in mind that some learners are unable at this point to articulate what their plan is before they execute and we believe that is ok.

Others, drew their plans and build their boats accordingly.

Genius Hour has been very fluid in my class this year.  My original intent was to spend every Friday morning engaged in different projects.  In the ever-changing world of Kindergarten, if students are protopying an idea or developing an idea, they are not all going to put it away until the following week...they will keep playing until they are ready to discover new things or play with different people.  So, on Fridays when I have two parent volunteers, I now create the space and provide the materials for students who are experimenting with certain ideas. 

As educators, we can help students discover new concepts and play with intention. Teaching without themes in the traditional sense of the word is perhaps best understood through the lens of creative development.  The vocabulary and disposition of creative development is the common thread that helps my students to open their minds and apply the skills we are learning in a very real context that is relevant to them.  

What's next? On Monday morning, when the students enter the room, their boats will be waiting for them.  Will they return to their boats and continue tweaking their models? Will others have decided that they would like to build another prototype? Will they play with their boats in the water table? Will some draw another picture or write a story? Will they naturally group the different types?

One thing is certain: I will be nearby, listening to the feedback and analytical development and watching the magic of engaged students, waiting for the next possible spark.