My Education Rationale; or, My Reason for Learning

“Certainty is illusion, and repose
is not the destiny of man.”
- Robert Cunningham

 

Forward

      It occurred, or shall I say reoccurred, to me recently that my schooling, as is, is not fulfilling the goal of my education. I have put my thoughts aside while I have been processed through a system of contrived checks and balances that intends to prepare me for a career that has been envisioned as necessary and important. What I can't get past is how this system has failed to recognize me as an individual who may not wish to follow the path that so many have followed before simply because that is the way it has always been done. Though this paper is meant to be a rationale for why I intend to teach science as I would, I find it much more important to defend the rationale for why I choose to learn as I do. In a sense, this paper is not so much on how I think all others should learn, but a reflection on how I learn best and how my beliefs align with the true goal of education, which is “developing the powers of reasoning and judgment, and generally of preparing oneself or others intellectually for mature life.”¹ What I hope you, the reader, get out of reading this paper is a better understanding of who I am and why I do what I do. If you are faint of heart, please proceed with caution.

Introduction

      As may be known, I am a non-traditional student, and by this I do not mean that I am 42 years-old and going back school because I got laid off from work. What I mean is that I don't look at education in the same way that schools expect me to see it. For clarification purposes, when I write, “school” or “schools,” as stand alone words, I don't mean a single teacher or principal; I mean all teachers, principals, librarians, administrators, politicians, lobbyists, parents, and even the students themselves. I make this distinction because I see schools as John Steinbeck saw banks in his masterpiece, “The Grapes of Wrath,”

Bank spokesmen:  “We're sorry.  It's not us.  It's the monster.  The bank isn't like a man.” 

The tenant men:  “Yes, but the bank is only made of men.” 

Bank spokesmen:  “No, You're wrong there – quite wrong there.  The bank is something else than men.  It happens that every man in the bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it.  The bank is something more than men, I tell you.  It's the monster.  Men made it, but they can't control it.”²

     Currently, I view public education as a less than efficient system of Twinkie factories where the students are the pastries and the content-that-every-student-needs-to-know-to-succeed-in-life is the cream filling. I would like schools to be places where learning and growing is fostered in an environment that is conducive to such acts without mandates on what specific sets of knowledge should be digested like fiber that will shortly be passed on as unrecognizable excrement. “The business of a school is not, or should not be, mere instruction, but the life of a child.”³ wrote George Dennison in his book, The Lives of Children. If George is correct, as I believe he is, then my mind is befuddled as to why our schools have placed so much emphasis on curriculum and doing well on tests. George continues, 

“Now what is so precious about a curriculum (which no one assimilates anyway), or a schedule of classes (which piles boredom upon failure and failure upon boredom) that these things should supersede the actual needs of the child?” ⁴

     I do not attempt to say that the things which are taught in school are useless, for experience has taught me otherwise, though I have learned most of what I need outside of school, but that schools operate under the assumption that students will not learn what is not forced down their throats. Learning “is not a mule that can be made to walk by beating it.”⁵ From life experiences and classroom observations, I have reason to believe this assumption is not only false but counterproductive as well. I can't count how many times that I have observed a student refuse to do an assignment because the teacher steered away from a topic or learning activity, that the student found intriguing, in the interest of covering more of the scheduled material. Recently, I observed a classroom where several boys came in arguing about what constituted a true “ghetto.” The boys asked their teacher what a “ghetto” was; and instead of telling them that she needed to get started with the lesson, she took several minutes to explain where the term “ghetto” came from and how it had evolved over the years to fit our current definition. The boys appeared satisfied and the lesson started without further interruption. “...do not save time, but lose it.” wrote Jean-Jacques Rousseau.⁶ Had the teacher tried to start the lesson without first addressing the current interests of her students, she would've ran the risk of creating a “smoldering, fretful resentment with which teachers are so familiar, a resentment that closes the ears and glazes the eyes.”⁷ 

     In 5^th grade, I couldn't understand for the life of me why when a number was multiplied by a fraction that its product was less than the original number. I knew the recipe for getting the right answer, but I fell behind because I simply didn't understand why it was so. Soon, I became disgruntled enough that I refused to do any of my other work. I stayed in for several days during recess pouting until Mr. Petersen, my teacher, seeing my frustration, agreed to stay inside for recess to help me understand the concept. It took him only one 15-minute recess to help me; but it makes me wonder that if I had not been so damn stubborn, would I have gotten the attention that I and every other student rightfully deserves? In the years since, there have been many similar cases where I have not cared to act so stubbornly for the reason of allowing the teacher time to skim the surface of the numerous subjects that compose his or her curriculum.

      Ever since the fraction incident, I have found myself searching for a deeper understanding of how and why things are as they are, and not that they are just because. As a result, I often find myself bored to death in classes where I am told in a subtle or not so subtle way exactly what I need to know to pass the test. John Holt wrote of this counterproductive practice in his book, “How Children Fail,” 

    “Not only does the examination racket do harm by making students feel that a search for honest understanding is beside the point; it does further harm by discouraging those few students who go on making that search in spite of everything.  The student who will not be satisfied merely to know “right answers” or recipes for getting them will not have an easy time in school, particularly since facts and recipes may be all that his teachers know.  They tend to be impatient or even angry with the student who wants to know, not just what happened, but why it happened as it did and not some other way.  They rarely have the knowledge to answer such questions, and even more rarely have the time; there is all that material to cover.
        In short, our “Tell-'em-and-test-'em” way of teaching leaves most students increasingly confused, aware that their academic success rests on shaky foundations, and convinced that school is mainly a place where you follow meaningless procedures to get meaningless answers to meaningless results.” 8

Why I go to school?

      The larger part of my education has been spent in the “Tell-'em-and-test-'em” environment that I truly dislike; nonetheless, like most students, when I am out of school for several months I feel a hankering to return. Some would conclude that this is because school is easier than real-world work, I disagree. Others would say that it is the social aspect of school that keeps me coming back, to which I would give a nod. And a few, a very few, would say that it is for enjoyment – enjoyment of learning, of challenging myself, of opening doors, of expanding my views, of “associating with the most cultivated of [my] contemporaries,”⁹ and of engulfing myself in the culture that flows through the college like a summer breeze. These are the real reasons that I attend college or school in general. Each semester I enter into the halls of school with a zest for life. Oh, what wonderful things I will experience, and I do to a great extent; however, there usually comes a point each semester, about two-thirds of the way through, when I come to the realization that I haven't learned nearly as much as I may have had I not attended class. Not that any specific teachers can be blamed for this, though I would like to place the blame squarely on their shoulders, because as I whole-heartedly believe, education is in the eye of the beholder – I control my own education. I find that my greatest learning comes from the classes that I elect to take for enjoyment and growth rather than for my major, the organizations that I choose to get involved with, and the persons that I acquaint myself with. The courses that are required by my major rarely provide more for me than busywork, rigmarole, or “hoops” to jump through. All for what? A shiny piece o' paper that certifies that I successfully completed the obstacle course called "college" in a satisfactory manner. This raises the question, “If I so despise the courses which are required of me and the degree which merits them, why don't I simply take the courses that I elect and leave college without bothering to obtain a degree in a similar manner that John Steinbeck did?” It is an important question and I will attempt to outline my reasons (or better termed, “excuses”) for working towards a degree:

1. If I ever wish to become a full-time teacher in the public education system, it is required of me.
2. My contemporaries continue to praise and prod me into the teaching profession saying, “You'd make a great teacher.” Which is debatable.
3. The counselors that schedule my classes always attempt to schedule my classes as if I really care to follow the strict structure that is required of students to graduate from the College of Education.
4. My elders tell me, “You'll get a better, higher paying job if you have a degree.”
5. And finally, for lack of care to create a larger list, because my parents want to be able to tell their friends that their son is making more of himself than becoming a bum.

      I continuously wrestle with the idea of dropping my major in order to more easily pursue the courses that intrigue me and that I believe will behoove me as I pursue a life of happiness and benevolence. About a year ago, I asked a prospective candidate for the President of North Iowa Area Community College (NIACC), “What did you want to be when you were growing up?” In what appeared to me as a very carefully calculated response, she told the audience and I that she had wanted to be a teacher. She then turned the question back on me, and without hesitation I replied, “I always wanted to be a bum.” The audience laughed as I figured they would; nevertheless, my answer was a truthful one. I don't want to become a homeless bum that most associate the word with, but rather a “rucksack” bum that Jack Kerouac described in his book, “The Dharma Bums,” 

 “See the whole thing is a world full of rucksack wanderers, Dharma Bums refusing to subscribe to the general demand that they consume production and therefore have to work for the privilege of consuming, all that crap they didn't really want anyway such as refrigerators, TV sets, cars, and general junk you finally always see a week later in the garbage anyway, all of them imprisoned in a system of work, produce, consume, work, produce, consume, I see a vision of a great rucksack revolution thousands or even millions of young Americans wandering around with rucksacks, going up to mountains to pray, making children laugh and old men glad, making young girls happy and old girls happier, all of 'em Zen Lunatics who go about writing poems that happen to appear in their heads for no reason and also by being kind and also by strange unexpected acts keep giving visions of eternal freedom to everybody and to all living creatures.” 10

      It was at the age of 12 after reading, “My Side of the Mountain,” by Jean-Craig George, that I pledged to live the simple life, to enjoy in life all that cannot be bought and nothing that could. In many respects I have lived a simple life, but in many more respects I have lived a life contrary to my pledge. In much the same way, I have forgone my goals of education in the interest of pursuing the goals of others. Too long has this gone on!

      As I began to write this rationale, I realized the error of my ways and made a promise to myself that I would get out of the rut that I am currently in. So, next semester instead of taking all of the drab classes which my major requires I am enrolling in classes like rock climbing, acting, and photography. Aside from classes, I am planning to audition for the Half-Masted improve group; looking for a place to live outside; volunteering at the animal shelter; reading more on education and life; attending more concerts; going to more museums, spending more time on my bike or in the outdoors; and, generally, living more of the rucksack life that I have envisioned for myself. With a little thought and introspection, I just may discover the higher truth that I am looking for.

Why teaching interests me?

     After high school, I entered into the Building Trades program at NIACC. While in the program, I learned a great deal about residential and commercial construction in class but more through my internship; however, as I worked with crew members and classmates, I couldn't help but observe that their conversations mainly revolved around sex and money, both of which they received little of. Not caring much for either of those things which they so dearly cherished, I knew that I could not stay in the field and enjoy life. I finished the program and started working on an Associate of Arts Degree in business. It wasn't a full-semester before I realized that business wasn't my cup o' tea, either. I wanted to make a positive difference in the lives of people, and education was where I thought that I could make the biggest ripple. I chose middle school science because I love learning about the natural world and I know that middle school aged children have not been, in most cases, irreversibly hardened by the “Tell-'em-and-test-'em” philosophy of schools. I found out, once I was in the teaching program, that to become a teacher and stay a teacher that I had to jump through a seemingly endless number of hoops. 

     Again and again this idea of “hoop jumping” comes up in conversations with both peers and educators. Why? Is professional life just a series of hoops at various heights to jump through in order to succeed, or is there more to it than hoop jumping? I tend to believe that there is more, and so I dedicate myself to finding and proclaiming a different way. No, I can't change the whole system by myself; but I can start a ripple, and ripples make waves. Arlo Guthrie outlines a plan to create such a ripple in his song, “Alice's Restaurant Massacree [sic],”

“...if you're in a situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into the shrink wherever you are, just walk in say, "Shrink, You can get anything you want, at Alice's restaurant."  And walk out.  You know, if one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and they won't take him.  And if two people, two people do it, in harmony, they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them.  And if three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in singin' a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an organization.  And can you? Can you imagine fifty people a day,I said fifty people a day walking in singin' a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out?  And friends they may thinks it's a movement.  

And that's what it is, the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it comes around on the guitar.”¹¹

      Now, I not going to write a song, per se, to sing to the masses like Arlo; but there is no reason that I can't help others realize how many schools hinder the learning of children and how they can be improved. Does that mean I will? Who knows? Maybe I'll die in a car accident tomorrow or become a hopelessly lost vagabond. Nobody can see the future, nor should they because that would remove one of the great mysteries of life and prevent people from living for today. If I; when I; and even if I don't become a teacher, I will always do my best to persuade others to approach life and learning as something to cherish and strive for daily. For that is really the reason why teaching interests me.

The end of my rationale

      I want to end this rationale paper with the Teacher Education Student Affirmation that I recited, by choice, at the UNI Teacher Education Induction Convocation, 

 “Today I begin the process of becoming an educator. 
I take the first step into a profession
which lays the living foundations upon
which succeeding generations build their lives. 

I therefore dedicate myself
to the advancement of learning,
for I know that without it
 our successors will lack
both the vision and power to build well. 

I dedicate myself
to the cultivation of character,
for I know that humanity cannot flourish
without courage, compassion, honesty, and trust. 

I commit myself
to the advancement of my own learning
and to the cultivation of my own character,
for I know that I must model in my own life
the ideals that I have dedicated
myself to promote in others. 
In the presence of this gathering,
I so dedicate and commit myself.” 12

     And so I have already dedicated and committed myself to the cultivation of my own character and the advancement of my own learning. Now, I must pursue a course of action to help others so dedicate themselves to the cultivation of their own character and the advancement of their own learning. Thanks for reading what I had to say; and remember, I'm pulling for you because we're all in this together.

Bibliography

1Dictionary.com Unabridged. “education”

2Steinbeck, John. The Grapes of Wrath. The Modern Library: New York. 1939, p. 45.

3Dennison, George. The Lives of Children: The Story of the First Street School. New York: Random House. 1969.

4Dennison, George. The Lives of Children: The Story of the First Street School. New York: Random House. 1969.

5Holt, John. How Children Learn. New York: Delacorte Press/Seymour Lawrence, 1983.

6Emile; or, On Education Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. Emile: or, On Education. 1762.

7Dennison, George. The Lives of Children: The Story of the First Street School. New York: Random House. 1969.

8Holt, John. How Children Fail. New York: Merloyd Lawrence, Delta/Seymour Lawrence. 1982.

9Henry David Thoreau. Walden; Or, Life in the Woods. Boston: Ticknor and Fields. 1854.

10Kerouac, Jack. Dharma Bums. New York: Harcourt Brace. 1958.

11Guthrie, Arlo. “Alice's Restaurant Massacree [sic]”. 1967.

12Teacher Education Induction Convocation handout. 2009.