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A Teaching
Odyssey: Sailing to the Straits of Teaching through the Gales
of Academia
Presented as a part of an AERA - Division K Symposium: Taking Action: Studies of Teaching and Academic Experience in Schools of Education, New Orleans. Paper later published Journal of Professional Studies 2 (1), 45-54. August, 1993. Standing outside Bailey Hall, watching the grass and the trees rhythmically respond to the strong Kansas wind, feeling my heart quicken with the hint of new adventure; I contemplated my new assignment as teaching supervisor. As I reflected on these prospects, I likened my experience to Odysseus as he began his odyssey home. Like Odysseus, an adventure of untold proportions awaited my colleagues and me. Of course, we had not been at war for 9 years over beauty and possessions, but had certainly encountered conflict over belief and action. No evidence exists, in journal or in memory that I thought of myself as anything other than a supervisor last August when the journey began. With no delusions of grandeur, desires for heroic action, or secret hopes of recognition, I wanted only to lead the colleagues entrusted to me, through the channels of teaching, on a smooth, yet insightful ride. I never saw myself as a hero, but as a possible model for living a life at least attempting to match belief with action. I never saw myself as unusual, although my colleagues often commented on my different approach to teaching. And I never imagined that I would be writing this paper exploring aspects of teaching in quite this way. Heroes are often characterized with larger-than-life descriptors - the broadest smiles, the widest shoulders, the strongest arms, the brightest ideas - but the heroes I will portray in this text are ordinary. They are bright and beautiful and outstanding in their own unique ways, but what makes them so special is their ordinariness. According to Campbell (1988), heroes do not always set out upon these journeys to slay the foe or find the treasure, sometimes the journey just happens in the everyday lives of people --- like teachers. Over the course of our journey together through the pages of this chronicle, I plan to recount our (my colleagues and my) navigational experiences through the vicissitudes of teaching. Along the way, I will explore our understandings about teacher knowledge as well as probe the notion of a theory of practice. At the close of our journey, I will suggest that the improvement of practice may be a noble destination, but the multitude of obstacles in our path can impede our progress. Fortunately, my colleagues and I could provide necessary lifelines to steady each other over rough water. HERO DEFINED Since August, I have viewed our experiences as an odyssey and, of late, I have come to label them as acts of heroism. Rank (1914) suggests that we are all heroes at birth. Elaborating on this notion, Campbell (1988) claims that heroes breathe life into something that is bigger than themselves. He describes a hero as a person physically or spiritually capable of looking beyond the normal range of experiences to bring back a message to others. Usually heroes have loyalty, temperance, and courage as qualities. Importantly, heroes do not have to be god-like in order to achieve the heroic stature that Campbell describes, but they must follow their vision. Heroes' lives, as defined by Campbell (1956), follow a cycle of events which includes: a call to adventure, which may or may not be a spiritual experience, helpers, who may be positive or negative forces, tests which examine the heroes' abilities to achieve goals, a descent into the world navel - the dark side, yet sacred place of power, a flight away from the truth revealed in that dark place, a return to the real world with the elixir, the idea or information or medicine to solve the problem (pp. 245-251). This call often comes when something has been taken from someone or when someone feels they lack certain experiences because it is not available or not permitted. In response, heroes embark on extraordinary adventures to recover what has been taken or discover the cure. The journey always has trials, tests, and ordeals to discern whether the heroes have courage, knowledge, and the potential for the adventure. Along the way, helpers appear to support or hinder the adventure. Helpers that support any hero do not provide answers but show way toward truth. According to Campbell (1988), loss of self is the biggest test because when we acknowledge ourselves, we undergo true heroic transformation. In heroic myth, this struggle often takes place in the world navel, a sacred place of power, yet envisioned as a dark place (The river Styx, for example). Throughout the adventure, transformation, which occurs during the trials themselves or through enlightening discoveries, is important, particularly during a vision quest, a search for self. As heroes continue their adventure they discover themselves, their own beliefs and ideas, and begin to reject the system's impersonal claims on them. In the end, for the hero, the adventure is its own reward. Campbell (1988) offers this call to heroes: "Any world is a valid world if it's alive. The thing to do is to bring life to it, and the only way to do that is to find in your own case where the life is and become alive yourself (p. 149)." And to this call, we responded. As Odysseus had his helpers and hinderers along his journey home, so do we - ourselves. Unlike Odysseus, we returned to our home revitalized by our comrades, not alone. In truth, we all represented Odysseus, off on a gallant adventure to find ourselves and our place in the world. As Odysseus confronted his dark side to be reborn, so did we and do we everyday as we engage in our classroom experiences - revealing our vulnerabilities and transforming ourselves. THE HEROES' ADVENTURE In August, we set sail on our teaching adventure just as Odysseus and his crew did from the harbors of Troy. Energized, breathless with anticipation, and full of promise, we embarked upon our journey. Unlike Odysseus, who returned home alone, we survived. In retrospect, I can say that we lost only one colleague. Unable to face her demon, she abandoned the voyage full of blame and venom for those who attempted to help her. An elementary school served as our vessel. A new structure replete with all of the accouterments of the adventure - up-to-date computers, the newest gadgets, the latest teaching manuals, large classroom areas, and students. Together my comrades and I journaled, discussed, and explored the terrains of our experiences as well as documented our conversations. To best detail our adventure, I offer two different, but important aspects of our odyssey: the challenges experienced and the knowledge gained. Significantly, we all have dual roles on the adventure - hero and helper - none of us are one or the other, we are both. My experiences will add a layer of experience, as I entwine my academic folly into the adventure. My comrades are: Melina, Kellie, Carolyn, Dolly, Calli, Jane, Maia, Shana, and Linnasa. Seven of these young heroes traveled with me throughout the year and one hero joined the voyage midway through the year; only Linnasa refused the call. These young women are typical white, middle-class students with backgrounds in elementary education. Some have a specialty in special education. In truth, we are not a select group, but thrown together by kismet. Perhaps, in fact, if given a choice, we would not have selected each other as comrades. For Linnasa, I know that to be true. So, there we were in August, turning and swaying as the waves of experience roiled around us. Our vessel seemed sturdy and we felt ready for adventure - the call had sounded. THE CHALLENGES EXPERIENCED Teachers, particularly my comrades, confront the dark side - to be tested - every day as they enter their classrooms. Every day they must be available and ready with lessons and support for those students that they serve. Every day they are tested to delve deeper into themselves and explore what they know and who they are. Each time they stand before their students, they are vulnerable and potentially open to a new experience. In this section I will describe some of the challenges experienced during our odyssey to the straits of teaching. I could not ask for better comrades on an odyssey. They are strong, clever, and for the most part, willing to probe their actions or question their beliefs. To guide them on this expedition, I ask questions - about their teaching philosophy, their practice, and their responses to their teaching. To guide me in the exploration of my own practice, they question my practice and respond critically to my ideas. So, to our call we respond every day with figurative shield and sword at the ready to fend off the demons of indifference to descent into the "belly of the whale", to confront our own selves and find new meanings. Finding Ourselves In a discussion about teaching experiences, we explored the restraints on the teaching practices of teacher interns. It became clear that under the watchful eye of the cooperating teacher, they felt they could not be themselves. In an almost choral response to the topic they said:
When I asked how they might improve that situation they all agreed that they could develop stronger ties with the cooperating teacher, but that one fact remained - the ownership of the classroom belonged with the cooperating teacher. For the students, ownership represented a critical key to overall classroom comfort - or was it another test for the students to pass? Do they need to explore these classroom elements and issues of ownership more carefully? Was their concern about their cooperating teachers simply a disguise for novice fears and insecurities? When probed, they continued to agree that in their own classroom, they would follow their own leads - and not that of others. Calli's journal sums up these feelings:
Who should you be in front of the room? Confronting ourselves, figuring out how to present our subject matter, working on reaching our students, can be very stressful on your novices, particularly for students that have strong desires for success. So, as they stand before the room, trying to find balance as they respond to the waves, they face their challenges. My own experience examines confronting self at a different level. For me, aligning my beliefs and actions remains the most critical element for teaching. I do battle with demons on every trip to the classroom. In my journal I suggest:
CAPTURED As we venture along our odyssey, we are captured over and over again. It seems that some part of our heroic call involves our own questioning of our own experience. And sometimes others question us. To illustrate this I will share three examples: Calli's defense, Maia's notions, and my own blindness. these examples offer a range of ways we bind ourselves and struggle to release the binding of our self-imposed chains. Dependency on the text challenged our classroom ownership. To some degree, the text serves as a shield - a breast plate if you will, because I often found them clutching it to their breasts during lessons. It seems to serve as a security shield, something they could use to protect themselves from exposing too much of themselves in the classroom. When I ask my comrades about teaching beyond the text, they often state that they want to do that. Calli, for example, says that she "wants to, but her cooperating teacher wouldn't like it." For the most part, that answer represents a consensus response, feeling constrained by self-imposed boundaries. They agree on the importance of moving beyond the text is important, and that idea certainly aligns with their philosophies about students and education, yet the students are captured - captured by the comfort of the text and captured by their concern for the cooperating teachers' remarks. Calli's Defense Calli grappled with this all year. Shocked when I first mentioned this notion of hiding to her, Calli said "this is not how I want to teach..." yet with every observation, that is what I saw. Over time, Calli attempted to align her beliefs with her actions - to put down her security shield. She keeps saying "I don't want to teach like that, but I do..." And she questions why she does it. She has yet to determine why she does it in a conscious way, although I am sure it has to do with levels of security. Just recently, in fact, I observed a lesson that fairly sang. While she had not relinquished the text - it was off to the side. She involved the students and items from the room and she moved freely without a tether. In becoming conscious of the contradictions between her beliefs and actions, Calli could consider possibilities. Maia's Notions Sometimes we capture students within our images of how our classrooms should be. Unfortunately, that inability to see beyond our frozen image can affect our vision of the students as well as affect their progress. Maia was not the only comrade to fall into this trap, but she offers a good example. Maia taught in a non-graded setting with students ranging in level from k-2 grades. Among her students was a young boy named Lance. A sweet-faced imp, Lance could set everyone on edge or laughing depending upon the moment. For Maia, from the moment she saw him, he was too young for school. As a result of this notion, she captured Lance within her image - and couldn't release him. Certainly Lance was lively, but not ready for school? Maybe school wasn't ready for him! Regardless, in her journal Maia wrote:
A week or so after these entries, I observed Maia. What I saw during this teaching episode was Maia frequently reprimanding Lance. Often, she interrupted her lesson. From my perspective, Lance was not the problem. Two older children continuously niggled him with pinches and pokes. Additionally, because he was small, these two students would sit up on their heels (they were on the floor) and close together so Lance could not see the book being read. Maia never addressed these children, but she did reprimand Lance. When we discussed the lesson later, Maia immediately blamed Lance for the management problems and when I presented my perspective, she could not see it as a possibility. Maia struggled with this image all semester. Although toward the end she did develop an affection for Lance, she also mired herself and her student into an unfortunate swamp. Unfortunately, I am not sure that Maia ever freed herself from this binding - and I do know that there was group consensus among the teachers within the room about Lance. Both the teachers and the student could not move. Maia broke loose from this swamp only when she changed classroom locations at the semester break. Blindness I, too, experienced blindness with my students. While observing Melina, I was taken by the out-of-control nature of the episode. Students were calling out, the cooperating teacher seemed agitated, and the direction of the lesson was not clear. As I observed, I wrote with great speed in an attempt to record events. I wanted Melina to know what was not working in her classroom. In what could only be described as a transformational moment, suddenly I realized that I had been blinded by a traditional notion that a quiet classroom is a learning classroom. Suddenly I realized that students were participating and asking questions AND that Melina was nonplused about the environment. She was engaged in the poetry lesson and so were the students. I was breathless - both from the blindness and the vision. I had locked Melina in a tradition notion - one I do not necessarily want to promote - and suddenly I released myself. An additional benefit to this experience was the discussion with my comrades about blinding myself with notions. HELLZAPOPPIN'1 Adventurers can not always predict the terrain into which they will travel. I am sure that Odysseus would have avoided Circe's island if he had known the dangers lurking there. So, too, would we have avoided changes, but classrooms and students are not predictable. On one day in February, I entered Hellzapoppin' several times with different students. As I observed them, the superficial experience seemed quite mundane, but in the deep structure of the moment, it was a gold mine of amazing proportions. On this day, I watched my comrades in situations I have not seen them in before - mostly handling special needs kids - and I kept asking myself - how do they define learning? Why are they doing the lesson that way? And I asked those questions in ways I had not previously considered. Clearly these students had not made connections between theories of learning, their own theories of learning, and the lessons they had designed. Shana's Choice As the lesson began Shana, of course, was deeply involved in the setting. She guided the students to the circle area and sat down in the rocking chair to present the lesson on poetry. Serenity abounds when she is in front of the room. Her gentle voice and quiet prodding engaged these third grade students in the lesson. Yet, with the wind singing through the windows on one of the first truly warm days of the year, Shana had a challenge for attention. She asked questions about the feelings of colors, and the tastes of colors, and the sense of colors. As she lured the students into the lesson, she also unintentionally drew the students toward her in the room. They crept forward. Two particular students, with no particular plan, ended up next to each other in front of the room. (They had started out at the very back of the room.) Both have reputations as distracters, yet they listened, sort of, creating only a modicum of noise. Suddenly without warning, in the middle of a purple poem, the female student rapped her legs and arms around the male student in a tight clinch and began to yell "we're getting married, we're going to get married". Shana continued reading. The voices began to rise and the paraprofessionals normally in the room were nowhere to be found. (I began to wonder whether I should intervene. I decided not to do so, it was her classroom.) She continued to read. As time passed (really nano-seconds that seemed like hours), and as she continued reading, Shana rose from her chair and gently, quietly shook the students and told them to return to their original seats. They did (sort of). Interestingly, the students appeared to pay closer attention to Shana during the event than they had been done prior to the event. She handled the situation with grace and surprising calm. In later questioning, Shana talked about the purpose of the lesson and the influence of the event. We both felt that the students were not taken too far off task by what occurred. Actually they seemed used to it. And really, the purposes of the lesson - to encourage young poets to create - was fulfilled. At the end of the observation, I was momentarily glad that I only worked with adult students. I felt that my comrade had made a valiant effort in teaching. The Rainforest Revenge On the same day in March, I revisited Hellzapoppin'. Just as the level of predictability disappeared in Shana's class, it was absent in Kellie's class as well.2 When I walked up to the classroom door, I knew that this was not going to an ordinary lesson. Overnight Kellie had created a rainforest. She had a river and treetops and a lovely arrangement plants - all cut from paper. She had clearly worked hard to create a beautiful environment. But, as I walked toward the classroom, it was obvious that the students were being admonished for something. Apparently, they had misbehaved at recess. Once that had finished, the students in Kellie's class received the "body odor" lecture from the cooperating teacher. In addition, the room next to Kellie's room was preparing for a surprise party for the teacher - and the walls are paper thin. About this time, Kellie started to look sick. Kellie planned to take the students out into the open pod area to work because the rainforest was there. The environment she had so carefully planned, had disappeared with the first admonishment. And with the loud voices of the partying students, their rainforest was not quiet. I could see Kellie's mind working. She was continuously attempting to weigh the directions of the lesson. Of course, about the time the silly-string reached the floor as she was giving critical directions, all hope of student attention disappeared. Several times she attempted to pull them back into the lesson, but nothing was going to combat the outside energy. Kellie held up well. She kept moving forward with the lesson, attempting to reach as many students as possible, while corralling the other students. She succeeded. Interestingly, although the students did not appear to be attending - the information gathered by the students and the projects produced by the students were excellent. When I asked her about the lesson she said "I never lost hope..." Later she pointed out that "the learning and the effort did shine through" because of the work submitted by the students. She also said in a very straightforward manner, "sometimes, some things are not going to work out." When I asked her what brought her through the experience, she said "I just got to thinking about it...." and she described her reflective process. Once again, the heroes survived their challenge. In each case, the students could have given up or retreated, but they did not do that. They persevered. They confronted themselves - and external forces - with success. Hall of Mirrors My own experience in Hellzapoppin' was more subtle. I looked out at my students and I struggled with a search for context:
In this journal excerpt and throughout the year, I contemplated ways to discuss how we are framed by our experiences. I wanted to find ways of talking with my students about issues that might not be familiar to them. I could see myself and my students from my different perspectives In early March, one student, Dolly, provided me with this opportunity to explore the reflective process in different ways. My journal detailed the event:
This event provided me with a multi-sided view of my teaching. I could see my personal view of learning that involved engagement and attentiveness as well as my definition of a supervisor as one who should probe and press students to consider alternatives. Additionally, I made connections with past experiences and recognized the importance of reflection and the connections made with our histories. Although my language and reflection might be more sophisticated, the interpretation of each exploration remained the same -- in our own reflective ways, we tried to make sense of the classroom context. Each of us wanted to understand what we saw. Missing In each of the previously described scenarios, my colleagues willingly confronted themselves and willingly considered alternatives. Linnasa, however, did not do that. She never looked at her self, her practice, or her subject matter knowledge. Instead, she chose to blame her cooperating teacher for providing too rigid an environment, or me for ruining her career, rather than look inward to her own contribution in the matter. Whenever I queried her practice, she responded with, "but she or you or they..." Of her own practice, she said:
From the selected journal entries I hoped to demonstrate the stilted focus of one who did not heed the call. Linnasa focused on external forces, not internal. Although she did sometimes talk about practice, the conversation always turned to those people who had interfered with her work and ideas. In response to Linnasa, my own journal addressed ways of working with student teachers:
Indeed, the school principal, a valued helper on our odyssey, spent several hours with Lines offering support for and suggestions about her teaching. I, too, observed her often. After each observation and follow-up discussion, Linnasa returned to her same teaching patterns. She could talk and change her talk, but her actions never followed. Linnasa never answered the hero's call. In contrast, she mired her self in accusations against those who offered support. She ignored questions about herself and her practices or opposed them. "I'll do what I have to do," she said, "I just want to get out of here." The Heroes' Toast Most of us arrive safely home again, transformed by our experiences. In a final gathering, we raised our glasses to the people who contributed to our learning and explored what we had learned. When asked about the value of reflection and group relationships, we suggested:
Clearly the study group conversations and our discussions about teaching served as a support for this group of heroes. These meetings helped us weather the perils of the journey. THE KNOWLEDGE GAINED At the beginning of this paper, I indicated that I would explore the use and value of self-study in teacher education. After presenting a brief description of successful field experience component, I presented work by my student colleagues and myself gathered in a year-long study to provide evidence of the use of these methodologies in a teacher education setting. To that end, we gained an untold wealth of knowledge and perspective as we worked together throughout the year - about our practice, about our students, about our selves. Interestingly, this knowledge falls, for the most part, within the categories of: context, theory, and beliefs. As we considered context, each of us attempted to find our place within our classrooms. While we might generally be familiar with classrooms, understanding the context within which we find ourselves represents a critical issue for the examination of practice. Personal theory-building moved each of us more deeply in the teaching experience. How did we accomplish the lesson? Why did that strategy work? When I arrived on the gray, cut-stone ever-blossoming, intoxicatingly green campus three years ago I brought high hopes and grand expectations. Now I could be about my life's work - as the more experienced teacher, I drew more readily upon my prior knowledge gathered from experience or from my readings. My colleagues, however, also engaged in theorizing about their work - trying new strategies and testing new ideas about teaching. Together, we pooled our experience and our ideas to form a learning synergy that encouraged us in our inquiry. What knowledge has been gained? Besides probing these issues of context, theory, and beliefs, self-study emerged as an essential component in helping the student teachers find their place within the profession of teaching. Looking inward at what they know and why they believe and what they theorize, supports their change process from student to teacher. Self-study by the supervisor/professor involved not only fosters a common link in the process, but helps the supervisor/professor improve her/his own practice. Key among the knowledge gained and the lessons learned on this journey, according to my colleagues and myself, is the recognition of the teacher as generator of knowledge. I must specifically advocate self-study for teacher educators as one way to breakdown barriers between teachers and teacher educators. Rather than seeking outside sources to study, I suggest that teachers and teacher educators examine their own practices in their own classrooms. As teacher educators come to understand how they teach, they can better inform their students about the learning-to-teach process. Ultimately, this study reinforces the current calls in the literature (for example, Cochran-Smith and Lytle, 1990) to redefine our understanding of teacher knowledge as well as reconsider our respect for teachers' understandings of the classroom. As we redefine teacher knowledge, we must look again at how teachers think about their classrooms and theorize about their practice. Along with that, we must reconsider teachers' place in the study of teacher knowledge and recognize that teachers have powerful contributions to make to that study. Field experiences focused on context, theory, and beliefs will help introduce student teachers to the knowledge that they have and the experiences they need. 1 When I was a child, my grandmother often talked about a vaudeville play she attended in New York. According to her story, the audience never knew what to expect because at any given moment, members of the audience might jump up and be members of the cast. The unpredictability both excited the audience and set them on edge. That is certainly a description of the experiences of my comrades in their classrooms.
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