DECEMBER! AGGHHH!

Well, I can't quite believe it, but my last post here was in August.  AUGUST! That was winter.  That was the cold, dark depths of what makes Dunedin Dunedin. That was before the crazy exam season for seniors, including preliminary and actual NCEA exams. And, of course, marking, marking, marking.  Welcome, December.  You are a gift to teachers!

What I also love about December is that finally I can read.  By this I mean, I have the time to read.  I can read for pleasure and I can read to inform my teaching practice. 

At the moment, I'm getting into audiobooks.  This was triggered by need and curiosity - a long road trip driving between Dunedin and Christchurch and back again in a weekend.  There is an extra dimension to audiobooks; a scary variability - the narrator.  If the narrator grates, it's unlikely that I'll keep listening.  That voice! Richard Flanagan's The Narrow Road to the Deep North was my choice for the drive, and I was reassured by the fact that the book was read by Flanagan, too.  So, I reasoned, even if I didn't like his voice, it was being read the way intended when written. 

It was so enjoyable listening to this year's Booker winner in this way.  It opened up a new (but, of course, old) way of enjoying stories for me.  In the past, when it's come to storytelling, I've always favoured reading over listening (unless you count my writer husband spinning another good yarn at the dinner table.  'Tell us another story about when you were in India!' says Esme (aged 5), yet again.  Solomon (aged 15) groans and rolls his eyes, yet again.  But he is always secretly interested). 

In the Secondary Teaching and Learning Guide for my subject area, English, the key concept areas are Identity, Communication, Story and Meaning.  This guide is well worth devoting some holiday time to this December.  The guide says this:

Story

People use oral, written, and visual English to tell stories, and to read, hear, and view the stories of others.  Our stories define us. When our stories connect with the stories of others, our lives change.

I agree.  Stories define us.  Stories help us empathise.  Stories are yet another form of creativity - vital in life and for living (and certainly in the classroom and in education.  Have a look at the video in this post.  Ken Robinson explaining this again - it's an old favourite).

I thought a lot about this as I listened to a story in a different way - via audiobook rather than reading.  When we read we decode via a range of semiotics; we make meaning using signs and symbols on a page - words.  When we listen we are still decoding and still engaging with semiotics - but it a different way.  This got me thinking about signs and symbols a little more, too.

The New Zealand Curriculum has some fabulous aspirational guidelines in the 'Values' and 'Key Competencies'.  It says this about signs and symbols:

Using language, symbols, and texts

Using language, symbols, and texts is about working with and making meaning of the codes in which knowledge is expressed. Languages and symbols are systems for representing and communicating information, experiences, and ideas. People use languages and symbols to produce texts of all kinds: written, oral/aural, and visual; informative and imaginative; informal and formal; mathematical, scientific, and technological.
Students who are competent users of language, symbols, and texts can interpret and use words, number, images, movement, metaphor, and technologies in a range of contexts. They recognise how choices of language, symbol, or text affect people’s understanding and the ways in which they respond to communications. They confidently use ICT (including, where appropriate, assistive technologies) to access and provide information and to communicate with others.

So, of course, listening to language is as vital as reading language.  That is why 'listening' is as valued as 'reading' in the New Zealand English Curriculum Area.  'Understanding, using, and creating oral, written, and visual texts of increasing complexity is at the heart of English teaching and learning. By engaging with text-based activities, students become increasingly skilled and sophisticated speakers and listeners, writers and readers, presenters and viewers.'  

I guess that listening to Richard Flanagan's charming Australian drawl is another text, another life experience, that has led me again to the New Zealand Curriculum, and once again I find myself reflecting on and thinking about my teaching practice in response to this.

Conclusion?  Perhaps more oral texts in class.  And maybe I'll start with The Narrow Road to the Deep North.




'Civilisation is a race between education and catastrophe.' H.G. Wells

Year 10 Speeches

 

I've just this minute finished teaching my Year 10's, who are in the middle of presenting their oral texts to the class.  This has been an interesting experience; one that has been quite different from similar tasks with my Year 9's.  

At our school, we stream in the Junior School.  My Year 9 is a top class, whilst Year 10 is middle.  I have mixed views on streaming - of course, there are positives and negatives for both.  But I would mostly argue and believe that while streaming is generally great for the top kids, it's not so much fun for the others.  I've been with classes who have said 'we're the cabbage class, miss', and others who know they are top and have an arrogance to boot. If you think of yourself as the 'cabbage class', how do you fly?  Do you even bother? It reminds me of a great TED talk I watched recently, in which a teacher described convincing a class that they were the best class (even though most believed they were not).  You can find Rita F. Pierson's talk 'Every kid needs a champion' here.

Whilst my Year 10's are not the so-called 'bottom' class, they know they're not the top.

For oral texts this year, I wanted to try what I had tried with my Year 9's - that is, opening up the floor to them to choose how to show me what they know.  After extensive teaching and discussion around presentations/speeches/oral texts, I asked them to put forward some suggestions.  I must say, they weren't that keen. Where Year 9 lapped up choice and offered several creative ways to present work, Year 10 almost shut down.  Not to be deterred, I reflected that perhaps that needed slightly narrower parameters to start to feel safe enough to offer up their suggestions.  So I limited it to: a TED talk scenario in class, a motivational talk by a coach or captain at half time, a pecha kucha presentation, or a good old fashioned speech on something they were interested in. We looked at lots of examples of each of these, and they all seemed quite interested.  I was looking forward to seeing what they would come up with.

All chose speeches. I guess it was safe.  But I wonder if, by streaming our classes, we don't allow all students to feel safe enough to creatively experiment. In the end, I want them to choose a format that they like (or, at the very least, have chosen!) but it's been a very interesting experience for me observing both my junior classes and their enthusiasm and reticence balanced equally on between both classes.  The only difference I can see is the streaming.

Senior Exam Week

And so we send our seniors off the week before preliminary examinations with the best wishes and the highest hopes that they will put in the work necessary to do well.  I always try to refer to these mid-term school exams as preliminary - we usually have 20 students or so who need to access these results as derived grades for NCEA.  It's a fine line between encouraging students to take these as seriously as NCEA for that reason, and not freaking them out about a three hour assessment held two months before their learning journey ends! This year I've pushed for all students at Year 11 and 12 to try everything, see how they go and assess it from there.  

In addition, our school prizes are decided on the back of these examinations.  If students only sit two of three papers, they pretty much eliminate themselves from the running at Prizegiving.  Such pressure.

I really encouraged my students to write practice essays and email them to me over the weekend.  As is the same most years, I received four essays from classes that total 70 students.  I guess you can only offer your services at this time - they have to take you up on your offer. I live in hope that I will receive more closer to NCEA. In the weeks leading up to these exams, we do lots of practice 'testing' - forced time constraints in class - to make sure that they are at least writing some essays in the lead up.

I have become more and more enthused about Unfamiliar Texts as the years progress.  I've done some concentrated teaching around this standard this year, and my Masters student teacher also did some great work with my Year 11 class.  I'm marking 127 (all Year 11!) Unfamiliar Text papers after the exam on Wednesday morning - wish me luck!  As you English teachers out there know, that's actually 388 answers, with three unfamiliar texts in each student's paper. Woohoo! I'll be a marking expert by the end of the week. I'm looking forward to seeing if some of my teaching adjustments pay off for my students.  The inquiry cycle in action!

Last year I marked most Year 11 Unfamiliar Text papers, and found it to be amazing professional development as far as my teaching was concerned.  By the 80th paper, I sure knew what I was looking for, and plans were swirling around in my head around the teaching I could do around what I'd learned.  I'm really looking forward to similar enlightenments this year.

Good luck, all students out there!  Show us what you know!

Book Review #2

And here is a second review in my quest to 'walk the walk'.

http://booksellersnz.wordpress.com/2014/07/28/book-review-a-song-for-issy-bradley-by-carys-bray/

A Song for Issy Bradley

By Carys Bray 

 

There are no words. That is what is written in Claire’s journal after her young daughter Issy dies from meningitis. And there really are no words to describe reading her death, and the excruciating nature of this experience for characters Claire, her husband Ian – a Mormon bishop – and their children Zippy, Alma and Jacob.

The first half of this book is exact in exploring the profound trauma of grief. That this grief comes from the death of a small person really takes your breath away. It is every parent’s worst nightmare that their child – not yet fully grown and full of potential – could not just be sick, but dying, before ever reaching his or her human potential. Bray captures this exquisite pain and explores it from all angles with grace and, believe it or not, humour. The point of difference here is that this family is a conservative Mormon one, and Ian, the father, is a bishop in the Mormon Church.

Claire is Issy’s mother. She is a latecomer to the Mormon Church, after meeting and falling in love with Ian whilst at University. This ‘outsider’ status was a relief for me, as a non-religious reader. All other characters in the book grow up in the Mormon Church, and I would have found it harder to understand the absolute pervasiveness of religion in the story without Claire and her life before becoming ‘Sister Bradley’. After Issy dies, Claire emotionally checks out and takes to Issy’s bunk bed for the foreseeable future. Claire’s physical protest at the death of her youngest daughter feels real – like a challenge to a god that seems to have very little discretion when it comes to pain, suffering and death. Whilst the other family members struggle in different ways, none of them question God as Claire does, with a refusal to continue with life post-Issy.

Of course all family members struggle, and it is the surviving three children and Ian who try to get on with life as they experience this profound grief. Alma just wants to play football, but is haunted by images of his youngest sister fetching the ball. Jacob believes so hard in God that he is determined to resurrect Issy and make everything all right again. Zippy is the responsible, teenage sister who is expected to cook all the meals when Claire emotionally falls apart and takes to Issy’s bed permanently. Some of the humour comes from the depictions of expectations of teenage girls in the Mormon church, although these are somewhat tragicomic: Zippy in her mother’s wedding dress at a Mormon fashion show, where all teenage girls are wearing relations wedding dresses, and promising chastity at a time when hormones are obviously all over the show. And then there is Ian, the most fundamental believer of them all. Every action and decision taken by Ian comes from a place of God – a Mormon God – as he too struggles with Issy’s death.

Ian would be an easy character to dislike. Early in the book he provides religious reasoning for everything that is happening and seems very sure that Issy’s death is as it is meant to be. His life’s soundtrack is provided by the Tabernacle Choir, a touchstone of peace and reassurance in his Mormon life. However, Bray counters his religious beliefs with enough perplexed humanity for the reader to understand that he is as lost as Claire, but is trying to manage it as best he can through the filter of his belief in God.

It is obvious that Carys Bray has a personal understanding of growing up in a fundamentalist Mormon family. Bray’s experiences both shape and care for this work as she poses questions about the Church and the place of organised religion in children’s lives. These are explored in a sympathetic way, especially through her characters and their personal struggles in the face of indescribable grief and pain.

For a situation in which there could be no words, Bray seems to have found the right ones.

Something a little different: a book review

I think it's important as an English teacher to be practising what I am preaching.  I do this mainly by writing book reviews for the Booksellers blog.  I thought I'd post a few here for you.  I'll include the link to the original publication, too.


http://booksellersnz.wordpress.com/tag/purgatory/

Purgatory by Rosetta Allan

According to Catholic doctrine, when you are in purgatory, you are destined for heaven. But purification is necessary, so as to achieve the requisite holiness before paradise is reached. Unfortunately for John Finnigan, the 10 year-old murdered youth of this book, purgatory is also a place of suffering or torment. He can’t touch anything, and he finds himself alone once the bodies of his mother and two brothers, who initially share purgatory with him, are discovered. Perhaps purgatory is being left alone, abandoned by those closest to your heart. Or maybe it’s eternal boredom, the ultimate lesson in find-something-to-do that mothers have mouthed from time immemorial. ‘It’s so boring out here, we’re all getting ratty … nothing to do but fight,’ declares John on the second page. His journey, whilst in this state, from utter boredom to appreciation of the smallest things - owls, cats, pohutakawa trees - is an interesting one.


Rosetta Allan uses first person, present tense ‘ghost narration’ to place us dead in the centre (pardon the pun) of John’s world. ‘No one knows we’re dead, except him,’ states John in the first 50 words of the novel, ‘We’re the dead Finnigans’. So of course, the next question is, who killed John and his family in 1865?


And so John’s story is alternated with James’. James Stack, whose life seems tough from the start. But not as tough as John’s - John is dead, after all, and James has the gift of life. James’ story is told in third person, past tense. This creates distance and gifts a traditional voice to the events of his life. Nothing really seems to go well for James, who follows his sister across the world, with her woollen, lace collar in his pocket. As the collar disintegrates, so do aspects of James’ life. But all the while we are reminded: he is alive, at least. It speaks to Allan’s skill that important moments, such as how John and James’ lives intersect, are subtlely rendered and not easily guessed. Well, I was pleased by this, anyway.


My over-arching fascination with this book came from the knowledge that these events actually occurred. Eleanor Catton’s The Luminaries was the most recent book to remind me of the richness of our history and how untouched it has remained, in literature, until recently. Or, sorry, maybe it is only just starting to be explored in fiction well. Living in Dunedin means hours can be spent perusing the settler exhibitions at Toitu (Otago Early Settlers’ Museum), Allan’s book is another reminder of the life of old characters in old photos that otherwise could remain historic artifacts of a time long-gone. Allan has explored her family history in a fictional way that reminds those of us from ‘other’ places (be it two or five generations back) that we were once settlers, that life was hard, and the world was a very different place.

The brilliant imaginings of students who are free to create

 

This is just a short entry to showcase the work of a Year 9 student.  We have been looking at the film Invictus during the past few weeks, and I asked my students to fill in the gaps for us - teach us about things we may not know about.  I provided a list of topics, but told them this was a starting point only and if there was any other topic they wished to teach us about, that would most likely be fine.

I told the students they could present this in any way they saw fit - they were restricted only by their imaginations.

One student made this: an apartheid fence.  He asked the class to write their opinions on what they thought it would feel like to be black during apartheid, and also, white.

He then asked the class to tie their thoughts to the 'apartheid fence'- black on one side, and white on the other.

This was an amazingly thought-provoking and cleverly thought-out idea.  Gone are the days of speeches being the only form of presenting work.

 

Free range learning and self-direction

 

Today I had a great discussion with my Year 12 class about the restrictions of the timetable on their learning.  Interestingly, this was instigated by them.  I looked shiftily from side to side and then casually behind me to see if there was a big fat poster somewhere declaring that 'this rush is madness! These bells aren't respecting our work!' But no such headline existed in Room 1, and so we sat and talked a little.

'Oh how I wish we could start at 10 am,' said one.  'Yes,' agreed another, 'and finish at 4 pm,' he added.  Another student, who attended Wellington High School in the past, shared that this was already done at his old school, and that it was great.  'Hard for some parents dropping kids at school, though,' he admitted with a fine sense of pragmatism.  'A lot of parents need to work.'

'You know, at some schools, the timetable is a lot different, and classes aren't just run subject-to-subject, hour-to-hour,' said I.  I could almost hear their thinking, figuring out how that would work.  'So you get blocks of time to devote to projects.  Imagine how much writing you could get done on this portfolio if you had two hours to spend on it.'  There was a lot of nodding.  I left it there.

I'm always delighted by how much wisdom can come from teenagers.  They know that there are different things that work for them, and feel sometimes that they are the square pegs being shoved into round holes.  It's so important to instigate conversations with them to get them thinking about other ways of being; conversations that encourage them to think critically about the status quo - especially if it isn't working as well as it could be.

So while this post isn't so much about the practical ways in which my classes and I are considering free range learning and self-direction, it certainly is about both topics.  It's about students who mostly know what works for them, but don't have the chance to challenge the status quo in their education, because it is so entrenched.  One hour.  A bell.  Some days, it's 50 minutes.  Six or seven bells a day.  And we start at 8.55 and you must be here or else.  Not to mention that your hair must be a certain length and within a certain range of colours ...

I want my students to challenge absurd systems and rules, but mostly, I would like them to offer new solutions that work for them.  I wish students could be included in discussions around their day to day realities - it is their reality, after all!  Free range learning, for me, means exiting the cage.  Self-direction and student agency will come when we start to trust that teenagers, on the whole, have some great ideas about how their days should be structured. 

When those six or seven bells ring throughout a school day, we are telling students that what they are working on isn't important.  That what IS important is regulation and compliance.  There is no way you can be a free range learner if what you're learning is how to enter and exit the cage, and not to complain.  If we expect more from them, then we have to give more to them.  

Goodbye Graduate Diploma in Teaching at Otago University ...

I've just read that Otago University are cutting teacher training for what appears to be fiscal reasons.  The courses that are set to go are the one year Graduate Diploma in Teaching and the four year Bachelor Degree in Education Studies.  I don't know much about the four year programme, but I do know a heck of a lot of good teachers that have graduated from Otago with the Grad Dip in Teaching.  This one year programme was an excellent way for those with degrees to choose teaching as a career path.  'What's the problem?' I hear you ask.  'Isn't the brand spanking new Masters of Teaching and Learning also a one year course?  And wouldn't you graduate with a lot more learning, kudos and bang-for-your-buck than from its poor sibling Grad Dip?'  In theory, yes.  But I think the emphasis should be on the 'brand spanking new' part of that discussion.

The Masters of Teaching and Learning is a good idea.  But, in practice, it is a newborn babe who keeps waking in the night to tired parents and a dark sky.  Nobody expects a new programme to be perfect from the start - everything new needs time to grow. Sound pedagogy and understanding needs reflection and support.  It is precisely because of this that removing the tried-and-true Grad Dip whilst the Masters finds its feet seems, to me at least, to be a dire mistake.

I have a Masters student in my classroom.  Not much - I'm certainly not what I or they would truly call a 'mentor teacher', but that suits me fine - for the above reasons.  I'm happy to support my lovely student when she comes into my classes three times a week.  But I also know that it was a casual arrangement from the organiser of Masters students at our school.  Casual in a 'let's try this - we've never done it before, but it MIGHT work out okay,' kinda way.  At three times a week, I can cope with that.  But it's all been pretty laissez faire. I guess I'm okay because I'm sure that this course will improve with time, wisdom and support.  But also, crucially, because I have thought a lot about how much I will allow in my classroom beyond observing.  I also know (well, let's now make that PAST tense now - knew)that the Grad Dip programme is there (WAS there) pumping out (excuse the crass term) fabulous teachers in a tried-and-true programme that was rigorous, challenging and that supported working teachers to help student teachers learn. Please don't get me wrong - my Masters student also appears to be fabulous.  But the vision and goals of the course frankly seem opaque and neophytic.

There are many schools here in Dunedin who have questioned the administration and expectations of the new programme, and think them unrealistic and unsustainable (in their current form).  A teaching colleague of mine at another school in Dunedin described the rejection of the Masters programme at her school as the Principal standing up and saying 'who would like to take on a Masters student (or two), with all the marking and mentoring that goes with that level of instruction, for pretty much no pay?  On top of your teaching?  Anyone?  No-one?  Good, let's move on with today's morning briefing, then.'

Again, I repeat, I am not saying that the Masters of Teaching and Learning will not be all that it's cracked up to be.  It may.  But at the moment it has glitter, it has sparkle, it has those high heels on that everybody wants to wear.  The Grad Dip, in its sensible, flat, reliable shoes, can't complete with that new glamour.  I worry that this fun-time girl may not be all she is cracked up to be.  That may just be because she is underage at the moment, but removing what works and limiting choices because the bucks need saving is utterly ludicrous and stinks depressingly of a distinct lack of foresight.

Winter in the Deep South - we are serious, but still making things!

 

I know I'm not alone when I say it's kind of busy around here.  The end of the second term in the deep south of the South Island of New Zealand is around the shortest day of the year - tomorrow.  We'll be celebrating around these parts with the Midwinter Carnival on Saturday night, and I may just crack out the mulled wine recipe.  It is, after all, pretty cold.  

And what does that mean for school? Tired, sick students.  Not all of them, of course, but a decent throng are out each day - 'M' code (for 'medical') is well used.  I'm downing Vitamin D, multivitamins and Vitamin C as required, but, still, everything can feel quite serious.

I'm continuing on with 'maker culture' - I'll admit to having temporarily left Twitter and the excellent professional dialogue I was fervently following for a while because the practical day-to-day has been persistently and incessantly calling.  But that's okay - it is my job and I love it a lot (yesterday I taught, whipped off to a Spelling Quiz and raced back to school for parent teacher interviews.  Just a 12 hour day there.  I'm almost pleased that my daughter has chickenpox and I am on parent duty today). So maker culture is still in my head.

I'm realising that I do a lot of this in classes anyway, and have throughout the years. The example in this blog entry is of straightfoward posters - but it's still an effective tool in my arsenal.

Here are my Year 10's producing their interpretations of 'hamburger essays'.  Their brief (and we discussed this word in relation to having a client; this approach was interesting to them as they were the 'knowledgeable' class providing information for other students) - and I was the client - was to design and produce posters to explain essay writing to all other students who use my room. They could work in groups of two or three.  Or alone, if they were that way inclined (none were).

But first, they had to write an essay with the right structure.  Then they had to 'reconstruct' essays that I choose with the best structure (I had cut the paragraphs up - it was a simple ordering exercise, but they loved showing how they knew the order).  Finally, they had to use those paragraphs within the hamburger poster, and label (introduction, body paragraphs with S.E.X.Y. parts).

I am really pleased with how students engaged with this activity.  And I guarantee they now know how to write an essay, too. Plus I get pretty things on my walls.  I love that part, too.  Their work, their room.

 These students chose collage.

 The early design stage!


 

 Making. Stay hydrated.

 One body paragraph as lettuce.  As with real hamburgers, they could choose their fillings.

 My reluctant students deciding on font.  Gangsta - engaged!


 

 Sesame bun or no sesame bun?  Forrest Gump essay in progress.

 Unidentifiable red filling.  Just like McDonalds, then.

Intricate lettuce details.

Maker culture - student engagement

Here are some pictures of my Year 9 class creating to show their understanding of the novel Galax-Arena.

 The Galax-Arena - with batteries to make the gymnast 'perform'!
 

 Character posters and visual plot 'understandings'.

 The battery-powered gymnast is at the front.  The student is problem solving because his choice of material (paper) is too light.  Reinforcement needed!

 Boys working on a breakdown of costs for the Galax-Arena.

This was a wonderful mini-project full of self-direction, creativity and 'making'.

Student engagement - what does that mean again?

After watching my Year 9 class actively participate in the third of six hours on a self-selected assignment, I'm thinking a lot about student engagement.  I had the pleasure two days ago of saying to a student 'you can only do this for homework if it's fun for you'.

Shouldn't that be one of the measures of value in education?  That is, intrinsic motivation and interest from the student? 

The assignment is a rubric - much choice is given.  For my class, I asked that they selected three activities.  Because this is a class of high achievers, I did not stipulate that they MUST complete particular activities.  I was really interested to see WHAT they would choose if given full permission to follow what appealed.

The rubric is for the novel Galax-Arena by Gillian Rubenstein.  It can be found here.

What I've discovered is that students are 90% engaged in an authentic way - I have been sitting at the back of the class and listening to conversations around the room.  90% of these are about the novel, and it warms my English teacher heart to hear debates ranging from the nature of goodness to how we treat animals in our society.

Edglossary.org talks about 'student engagement' as being a potentially difficult thing to define, with variations from school to school:

 

It should be noted that educators may hold different views on student engagement, and it may be defined or interpreted differently from place to place. For example, in one school observable behaviors such as attending class, listening attentively, participating in discussions, turning in work on time, and following rules and directions may be perceived as forms of “engagement,” while in another school the concept of “engagement” may be largely understood in terms of internal states such as enthusiasm, curiosity, optimism, motivation, or interest. 

 

My measurement is definitely the latter rather than the former (although the first is naturally occurring anyway!) -  enthusiasm, curiosity, motivation and interest are all words I would use to describe how this class is responding to choice.

It also shows me that, in a system that controls student bodies - with one type of table and chair, bells that go on the hour, every hour, defined timetables that cannot be deviated from - students desire choice and, yes, even power over some aspects of their day.  I believe that the more we can hand over to them in this way, the better it is for both student and teacher.  How can we expect young people to take ownership of and responsibility for their lives if we continue to do it all for them in this way?  It just doesn't make sense to me.

Markus Zusak (author of The Book Thief) on the importance of failure

Yesterday I chanced upon this TEDxSydney 2014 talk in which Martin Zusak, author of the hugely successful novel The Book Thief, shares his views on failure.  It is inspiring and, as is so often the case, fell into my lap at the perfect time.  My Year 11 classes are both in the middle of creatively writing, and some are inevitably confronting moments in their work that appear to be 'brick walls'.  By this I mean they come to a point where they think their ideas are 'dumb', 'stupid' or worthless.  Or sometimes it's a problem that they just don't know how to solve.  I do not believe that it is my job to solve those moments for them - that, in fact, those moments are actually the most valuable.  The sense of accomplishment that comes from overcoming what seems insurmountable is where the learning and forward momentum truly occurs.  There are so many times when students get me to read their work and say, 'where should I go next?'  My answer is always 'what do you want to say in your writing, and how can you best say it in this moment?  What will serve you best here if that is the message you want your reader to get?'

If I tell my students what to write next instead of allowing them to experience that frustration that Zusak talks of, I rob them of a chance to feel truly triumphant (and I also produce 20 to 30 pieces of writing that are, in essence, my work, not theirs).  There's very little learning value in that.

Thanks Markus Zusak for helping me articulate that to my students today.

(And thanks to http://pairadimes.davidtruss.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Learning-and-Failure-datruss.png for the above image - this is shared under the Creative Commons license).

14 things that are obsolete in 21st century schools

I've just come across this fabulous article from an Icelandic teacher.  There is some fabulous food for thought here.

Click here to view the article.

The Finland Phenomenon - a high-trust model

'It took 25 years'.

 

I've just finished watching this fairly comprehensive film on the Finnish Education system.  Whilst from a distinctly American perspective, there are many innovations to reflect on as a New Zealander.

Here are what I think are some of the highlights of both the system AND the film.  Please, watch for yourself and add your own!

• All food at school is free – this is one indicator of how wrap-around systems and social services are imperative for functional learning.
• All teachers have Masters qualifications and rigorous in-class experiences and observations (as well as time to reflect both collaboratively and individually).  Teaching is a highly-sought career.
• Less is more – the curriculum sounds very similar to New Zealand's, with a national curriculum that allows for a school curriculum without tension.  Importantly, there are longer class times, and fewer classes in the day.  Class sizes are smaller than in New Zealand - 20 or fewer.  Homework is viewed differently (especially compared to the American system). 
• Motivation is high in students, possibly because there are many choices and the arts are well-integrated.
• There are comprehesive vocational education system choices. This means students are not valued more for choosing academic pathways - 55% do this, whilst 45% choose to learn in a more practical environment.
• The whole education system works as a high-trust model – teachers as treated as the professionals they are. Otherwise 'what is the point in having them so highly trained?'
• And, finally, some concluding words from one of the Finnish educators interviewed:

‘Concentrate, read, dream, talk, understand, reason; find solutions yourself.’  Innovate!

Hobsonville Point Secondary School

 

I was lucky enough to visit Hobsonville Point Secondary School and have a look at their brand new facilities.  Whilst incredibly impressive, what was equally great was the future focus on innovative teaching and learning. 

Here are some photos from my tour during the BYOD Conference held there this year.

 Great locker bays for students.  Including charging docks for BYO devices - bring your own lock and take off when finished.

Lots of glass - sunshine and 'big picture' perspectives for students out the windows!  Allowed (even encouraged?!) to dream.

Huge new gymnasium.

Seating choices galore.  Interestingly, I'm pretty sure Principal Maurie Abraham told us that staff didn't have any input into furniture choice.  The contractors did well!

The staffroom space, which leads down into the open cafeteria area for all.

I love the airy hall that connects all spaces.  And I love the unconventional lights zig-zagging down the line of the building.

One of the great things about so much glass is the potential to use it as brainstorming space.

Teachers are like gardeners and Twitter

I've been spending a bit of time on Twitter lately, which is a new thing for me.  Thanks to roller derby, Facebook is probably my 'go-to' social media, but I have a love/hate relationship with that.  What I like about Twitter is the ability to be sent in other interesting directions, without having to 'hear' too much from the 'tweeter' (!)  Just now an educator I'm 'following' re-tweeted the above video - short but sweet and inspiring.

I've also been interested in the '#hackyrclass' (or hack your classroom') revolution that has inspired teachers recently.  Claire Amos at Hobsonville Point Secondary School came up with the idea.

Claire's amazing blog is here.

Claire is an inspiring educator.  You only need look over her blog to see how much she cares about the state of education in New Zealand.  Here is her talking about 'Realising the future of education'.

Claire Amos: Realising the Future of New Zealand Education from Festival of Education on Vimeo.

And here are the slides that accompany this presentation.

Realising the Future of Education from Claire Amos

Welcome to my world!

Welcome to my blog.  I'm moving some of my posts from a private G-site at the school I work at to this, a more public (and, I feel at least!) user-friendly reflective tool for my teaching practice.  I'm a teacher in Dunedin, New Zealand, at a co-ed secondary school.  I want to use this blog to play with ideas and remind myself that teaching is inherently creative.  I believe that the way we are educating our young people is mostly based on an outdated model of education that is, thankfully, starting to be questioned nationally and internationally.

To start with, here are some clips that offer me inspiration. Ken Robinson has some words to share on education, creativity and revolution, and Stephen Fry discusses language.