As a child, I was never aware of any real ability I had, other than to get into mischief or catch cold. I discovered these rich talents early on. Even as a ten year old, I bumbled along with no appreciation of any real capabilities I might have had as a human being.
My grandfather used to take me fishing. I got a buzz from the wonderfully natural places we visited. My head got filled with the summer sounds and scenery of these spots. But I was hopeless at catching a fish, having too much compassion for the poor hapless creature to get any enjoyment from the event.
I recall stabbing my finger with a fishhook, being more astonished at how easily the needle-sharp device entered the tissue than the searing pain it caused. It stuck firmly, deep in my fingertip.
My grandfather was annoyed and looked at me sternly for a moment. He fumbled in the pocket of his fishing jacket and took out a small pair of pliers holding them tightly in his hand.
With his other hand, he grabbed mine and lifted the injured finger so high that my shoulder hurt. I watched to see what he would do. I thought he might pull out the hook with his pliers but I was too dumb and curious to close my eyes and brace myself.
He deftly pinched the hook in the jaws of the pliers and gave it a powerful and sudden twist. What I saw made my eyes pop.
Contrary to what I’d hoped, he didn’t pull out the hook. Instead, the business end of it reappeared through the tip of my finger – a tiny fluted barb, tinged with the blood that dripped from the newly pierced hole.
Grandfather carefully snipped off the barb with his pliers and swiftly pulled out the remains of the hook. He explained that the barb would have torn my finger apart if he'd remove it the same way it went in.
As I held my sore finger, wrapped tightly in a piece of bandage, I reflected on what it might be like for a poor fish who unwittingly takes the bait.
I stood beside a brooklet, that sparkled on its way, and there beneath the wavelets, a tiny trout at play, as swiftly as an arrow, he darted to and fro, the gayest of the fishes among the reeds below, the gayest of the fishes among the reeds below.
Angler there was standing, with rod and line in hand, Intent upon the fishes, a sportive fearless band, “`tis vain” said I “good neighbour, to fish a brooklet clear” The fish will surely see you upon the bank so near. The fish will surely see you upon the bank so near.
But skillful was the angler, and artful too, The crystal brooklets depths defying, he hid the fish from view, and then he skill renewing, the fishes unheeding took the bait, and I was left lamenting, my tiny troutlet’s fate, and I was left lamenting, my tiny troutlet’s fate.
Video - The Trout Daniel Barenboim, Itzhak Perlman, Pinchas Zukerman, Jacqueline du Pré and Zubin Mehta
I’ve been reflective in my thoughts on where teaching and learning, training and higher education have been leading us recently.
I find it curiously odd that there seems to be a cogent drift away from the value of qualification, in those who are actively engaged in creating educational and training resources. This, at a time when experience is already not held universally in high esteem.
By qualification, I mean a formal standard, diploma or degree, conferred by an authorised and antonymous education or training body.
By experience, I’m implying months or years actually practicing a discipline, in whatever role the position requires.
I have tremendous faith in the youth of today, so I’m not denying their worth and value. They have unbelievable potential and the future of the world as we know it lies undeniably in their hands.
But in the past decade or more, there has been a move away from recognising experience in the workplace. Fresh minds – and let’s not deny it, youth – and the promise of creativity coming from those, have been put above the true and proper value of experience.
And now, we might be misled into believing that qualification could also be discarded.
I put it to you, that by severing the effective combination of qualification, experience and innate ability of the potential appointee to a position in the workforce, we are not only doing a disservice to the workplace, we are putting the future of the world at risk.
Robert Winston got it right when he corrected John Campbell on TV3's Campbell Live today. John had remarked that he was learning a lot during his interview with Lord Robert, when the surgeon politely pointed out that he too was learning a lot.
Lord Robert is Professor of Science and Society at Imperial College, London. He made the point that the brain is an ever-changing organ where (learning) connections are being made all the time.
He said that when he left the TV studio, his brain would be different from how it was when he came in. This is because neural connections would have been made in Lord Robert's brain during the time he was in the studio. He would have learnt new things.
Empty vessels
'Filling jugs' has been a favourite metaphor for teaching and learning. It implies many things erroneously. Among which is that teaching is a one way process of transmitting knowledge from teacher to learner.
My teacher training lecturers at Moray House College of Education, Edinburgh, in the 70s, were before their time. They each passed on their message. But a common theme was that teachers should never stop learning.
Part of good pedagogy is sharing the journey with the learner. There is as much for the teacher to learn on the way as there is to be taught.
If ever there is an idea that is ‘learner centred’, that one is!
I reviewed my posts over the year, following Tony’s advice, looking for things that might be relevant to this. There are several recurring themes. Some I’ve also met on other bloggers’ posts. I've selected two main ones that are related - the quick pill and learner engagement. I’ve a lot of questions, and few convincing answers. We are often dogged by tradition when it comes to theories of learning. They are many and varied. But it’s too easy to discard time-honoured philosophies and replace them with something new and seemingly innovative. Thinking and learning
One theme that’s prominent is related to multi-tasking, among a series of other linked ideas that took my interest this year. It prompted me to think of how ideas on thinking and learning evolve in the first place.
The discussions I’ve followed on the merits and demerits of multi-tasking seem to be at cross–purposes to each another. Those who believe that it can be done effectively are seemingly oblivious to hard evidence that it just can’t be done.
The quick pill
Learning is not often easy. It nearly always involves concentration, thought and patience. A person looking for a learning panacea (don’t all learners do this as some stage?) may end up having to make a strategic choice, and stick with that long enough to see if it works. It doesn’t always work. It’s no different for the teacher who is looking for a quick pill to offer learners.
Teachers have a more difficult job in many respects, for they have first to assess the learners’ progress, and interpret these assessments to see if a method works. Teachers who believe that assessment is not required or who neglect the need for these are short-changing their learners and fooling themselves.
Learners who know something about metacognition may have more facile routes to similar destinations. But they also have to assess effectively their own progress before they know if a learning technique is any use to them.
The smorgasbord of tips and ideas to do with learning that learner and teacher confront, tends to be so much in-your-face - a plethora. And there are conflicting arguments in abundance over the merit of each tempting morsel – which one works for what situation, etc – everything from where the learning is sourced, to how it’s supposed to be assimilated:
Are books a good idea? Should learners be able to read AND listen to mp3s? Does listening to music really assist learning? What type of music is best if it does? Is the Internet a fast option? Can a learner listen to or watch instructional DVDs and read the Internet at the same time?
Does the learner have a so-called digital-immigrant’s barrier to accepting these learning technologies? If so, what can the learner do about it if they have?
What other barriers to learning can impede the progress of the would-be-learner? The list goes on.
Learner engagement
Another theme I’ve seen a lot of this year is learner engagement. Again, a whole set of questions arise out of this.
What is it that hooks the learner? How can the hook be put to further use? Is there a way of maintaining an effective level of engagement once initiated? Is it individual engagement or is a community more likely to achieve a better level of success?
What influence does the support of the learning environment have on learning? Are parents, partners or other significant people important to the learner when it comes to motivation?
What circumstances are best for learning – situational or isolated instruction? Of these, are the benefits associated with either, dependent on the occasion?
I find this difficult. I’ve covered so much ground this year, it’s a hard task to prioritise and select the most significant ideas or the most interesting thoughts, for I’m really not sure of their relative importance.
They are all fascinating in their own captivating way. The practice of the good teacher is to select, revise and re-activate from past actions those that work best in the ever-changing environment of learning.
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet – William Shakespeare
Evening Standard columnist, Frank Furedi, believes that the educational crisis facing Britain today is in part due to the way objective academic standards are being defined and asserted in the classroom.
His claim is that society seems “to have given up on adult authority and the idea that the person who knows best in the classroom is the teacher.” He believes that “education requires the conscious and regular imposition of adult authority.”
I was reminded of Furedi’s opinion when learning recently of the debate over the move by principals and teachers in some New Zealand primary schools to have pupils call them by first name. Some teachers believe that learners bond better with their teacher when they call them by their first name.
Anthropologist James Urry claims that removing the age-based hierarchy empowers children before they have the social skill to cope with it.
Canterbury College of Education associate dean, Barry Brooker, was reported as saying that using formal titles develops a demarcation between teachers and students that gives teachers the authority to do their jobs properly.
Do teachers need authority to do their jobs properly?
At The Correspondence School of New Zealand (TCS), a distance education centre, learners always refer to teachers by first name.
When I first took up a teaching post at TCS, this idea was new to me. I’d taught in different secondary schools for many years before then.
In all the schools where I taught, in Scotland and New Zealand, students called their teachers by their surname: Mr Roberts, Mrs Gill, Miss James, etc.
When I graduated PhD, the principal of the Edinburgh High School I was teaching in announced to the school that I was to be called Dr Allan, from now on. I've been addressed as Dr Allan, or Sir, by students in every face-to-face school I’ve taught in since.
But I had no problem when my students called me Ken at TCS. The policy of the school was that students always referred to teachers by first name.
Other distance education centres do the same. And you know, it seems to work. I find that learners relate to me with at least as much respect as I had earned while teaching in face-to-face schools.
Are face-to-face schools so different that students calling their teachers by first name can damage the potential for effective student–teacher relationships? What do you think?
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