Tag Archives: School

On My Mind

With the Band

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Not too long ago, I wrote about how I’ve started playing guitar again after a rather long time away. My playing is pretty quiet and private, but I can strum chords, read music, and enjoy rhythm. I like the feel of the strings under my fingers and the growing strength in underused muscles of my left forearm.

To some extent, it was this reinitiated enjoyment that led me to say yes, after several days of thinking it over, when an email went out asking for colleagues who could play an instrument or sing to join in a band that will perform at our upcoming arts and music festival.

To another, and perhaps greater, extent, I thought about how much we expect from students in terms of taking risks, being uncomfortable, doing something new. The last significant time I had been in that position, I learned to climb and it has left a profound imprint on my life, one far beyond what I could have imagined. That was a number of years ago now, and maybe this was a good time to be there again. Maybe this was the opportunity to shrug away the shyness and uncertainty and to join a group of nice people, many of whom do not consider themselves musicians, and try a new thing.

And so I said yes.

That was how I found myself playing guitar in a band.

Until now, my playing with others had been limited to other guitars, a group of us sitting around on a couple of social occasions after a meal and some drinks. An unstoppable grin spread across my face when I first heard my tentative guitar playing alongside drums, saxophone, piano, bass, flute, and vocals. Unsurprisingly, my playing grew more confident and louder, and it didn’t take long for me to switch from acoustic guitar to electric, which I haven’t played since I was a teenager.

And there I was, playing electric guitar in a band.

Over the several weeks in which we rehearsed weekly, I found myself singing along while playing, attempting different strumming patterns just for fun, and watching my colleagues instead of my fingers. I slipped into the mindset I’d developed during years of theatre and dance: “If you make a mistake,” my directors and choreographers said, “make a loud mistake.” There’s really no hiding a mistake on an electric guitar, I thought. But, as one of the music directors reassured me, there were a lot of us playing.

And that was the point. The point was to play together as a group. The point was to blend with the group, to be part of the harmony holding the song together. Not confident or well-practiced enough to have a go at one of the solos, I was content to sit far in the background, keeping a rhythm. What I had to do was pretty elementary and with each week I felt more confident and better at ease.

And if I’m honest, I also felt proud. By playing guitar in front of others, talented music teachers and colleagues among them, I had overcome a hurdle that had always stood in my way. I didn’t need to be afraid of playing loudly anymore because there I was, doing exactly that. I wouldn’t say I plunged into the deep end, but I definitely splashed around to an extent that I never had before. In doing so, I had been uncertain and taken a risk, exactly as I expect my students to do. A little bit of empathy there.

When I first replied to that email, I thought about how excited I am when I talk to new people at the climbing hall or when people come to yoga class for the first time. I’m excited for them because I love the thing they’re trying out and I want them to love it, too. When the music teachers invited us to play, they were excited to share something they love. Their excitement was infectious, the energy in the room invigorating, and the laughter warm and welcoming.

One with the band.

Germany

A Sweet Start

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Over the weekend I had the opportunity to participate in the wonderful German tradition of the Schuleinführung, the beginning of school for children entering grade one. Also known as Schulanfang, this is the point at which a child becomes a schoolchild. This is a long-awaited moment and the celebration when it finally arrives is a testament to that. Endlich Schulkind! proclaimed decorations, cards, and an invitation we received.

Part of Alles Gute zum ersten Schultag, or wishing a child well on the first day of school, comes the tradition of presenting the child with a Zuckertüte, or cone filled with sweets, gifts, and perhaps school supplies. The cones are often made of highly decorated cardboard, but can also be rather fancier and made of fabric with the name of the child embroidered. Some are as tall as 85 centimetres, out of which quite a few goodies are excitedly unpacked. However, as my German teacher pointed out, a Zuckertüte is also a way to sweeten the serious responsibilities that are about to begin.

On the Saturday before school starts, the soon-to-be grade one children and their parents attend a ceremony at school in which names are called and the Zuckertüten, lovingly prepared by the families in advance, are presented. In the afternoon, the parties begin. Amidst Kaffee und Kuchen and later dinner, guests greet the child, who has been trained to give handshakes and say thank you, and present more gifts and supplies to help a child enter their new phase in life. On this particular swelteringly hot Saturday, plastic pools and children running around in various states of undress were a feature of both parties we attended, as were tables of adult relatives and friends enjoying a range of beverages.

After some time at the first party located in the village firehouse, we remained at the second until after midnight, leaving long after the fireworks that were allowed only because rules in villages are relatively relaxed. At that late hour, some children were still occupied with various painting pursuits and one couple managed a few dances until laughter got the better of them. As is custom in Germany, we said goodbye to each table on our way out, having done just the opposite upon arrival. Everyone is greeted, regardless of whether you know one another or not.

This element of community is something I really enjoy about social events here in Germany, and it was absolutely lovely to be a part of a Zuckertütenfest, the celebration of a child moving forward in the world. For the first of what will be many moments, children get a hint of what is to come, of how they would be expected to comport themselves. This is a big change, an exciting one, and that is indeed something to celebrate.

Zuckertüten have a long history in Germany, and there are regional differences along former East-West lines, as well. (Interesting reading in German here and English here.)

Weimar – July 2021
Education

What I Learned from Action Research

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I started my graduate work in education the day after I accepted my undergraduate diploma, the day after my parents and I packed my school things into the car and I unpacked into my childhood bedroom. I spent that summer working my usual summer job, taking the first required courses of my Master’s degree, and applying for every teaching job that I could find. By the time summer ended and I had secured a teaching job for the fall, I was decidedly less enthusiastic about said degree and wasted little time in letting my advisor know. At the time, my coursework seemed too theoretical, too academic, too highbrow, and no match for the reality of being a new teacher. Balancing the time spent on teaching work and coursework meant that all other time ceased to exist, and I was in no state to actually learn much from the early stages of my degree. But I did, though I didn’t recognize it until much later.

In the second semester, at a time when I was decidedly more focused as a result of surviving the first months of teaching, one of our required assignments was a very traditional action research project. Action research has several theoretical frameworks, but the basic idea is that a teacher does research based on what is going on in a classroom and takes simultaneous action. Reflection is a key component of this process, and the hope is that transformative change will occur. Looking back, I don’t remember much of the paper I submitted, but the experience of doing action research indeed transformed the way I understood teaching and learning, a transformation that is a core component of my practice today. As a rule, I do not recommend being a first-year teacher when entering a graduate program, but I cannot deny that being a first-year teacher during my graduate program (and then a second-year teacher, which makes a remarkable difference) meant that I was malleable, enthusiastic, and highly motivated. This project caught me at a good time.

As it was, I was very lucky to be teaching a psychology elective course to grades 11 and 12 students. In the first semester of the school year, I taught one section and my department chair taught another, giving me someone to lean on. In the second semester, at the time of my action research project, I was having the wonderful experience of having taught something once and being able to revise it, a process I still very much enjoy. I was now the only teacher of this course, meaning I could really do whatever I wanted. Unlike the history courses I was also teaching, which culminated in state exams, this psychology course had no specific requirements aside from a broad set of standards. I was constantly trying to juggle the amount of information I felt responsible for giving my students in history (my approach to teaching and learning has changed dramatically in twelve years!) and psychology was a breath of fresh air. What if, I wanted to know, I took a step back and let my students lead?

For my project, my students and I divided up the psychology syllabus and students chose one topic for which they’d like to lead a discussion at the end of the unit. I don’t remember what the requirements were or what I expected students to hand in, but I do remember that it worked. I sat quietly in the back, taking notes as my students sat in a circle and went through the list of discussion questions their classmates had prepared. I remember one student who recorded herself having a conversation with someone about her topic, someone whose perspective she thought was missing, and playing it for her classmates before asking for their feedback. I remember my students really looking forward to each discussion, for the opportunity to share knowledge and draw conclusions. And I remember that the discussions got better over time, the students more prepared, the participants more involved. Ultimately, I concluded, my students didn’t need me to give them information. There was a whole lot they could find out and build and create on their own.

In terms of action research, I’d learned that a teacher can hand over to students and that this is an effective way to learn. A teacher creates the foundation, scaffolds, models, and supports, and this allows students to construct knowledge on their own. Beginning with this project, I began to understand the importance of both structure and flexibility, of the balance between time and resources. I learned that developing interpersonal skills is a part of learning and not an addition to it, and that mistakes and misconceptions are part of the learning process and not something to fear. I got used to saying, “I don’t know” in class and finding answers became a group activity.

As the world has changed, so has my approach to teaching and learning. This has also had to keep up with the way students have changed, and these changes have been dramatic. But at the end of the day, there is a lot that has remained the same. Learning is still a partnership and a process, and students need to know that they are critical partners in the process. Their devices know far more than I ever will, and my role is not to provide that information or to pretend I can keep up. Rather, my role is to raise young people who know how to work independently and together, who ask and answer difficult questions, and who see themselves as part of an interconnected community. I didn’t draw those connections in my action research project a dozen years ago, but I did learn that I could trust the young people who, for better or for worse, trusted me. And that has made all the difference.