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.
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.
