Tag Archives: community

Landscape Survey

I chose a metaphor about 21st Century learning being similar to a living topography in my writing to date, which is different from the flat world view of some i.e. Thomas Friedman.

There is definitely more information available in our world and it comes at us much faster, but my view is one that of textured and layered world and not flat. This uses the etymological roots of topic linked to topikas and topos. In this sense, we engage topics which are alive and there multiple meanings continually emerge, one for each person in the learning environment.

I am challenged by the thought my understanding is not the only one that applies. I only need to turn to nature and see what John Brehm pointed out in this poem. I constantly survey landscapes as communally a better world hopefully emerges, not through a unified understanding, but one diversely rich and humane. I am called to remember others see things from a particular and unique perspective that is their own, not mine.

And what about this boulder,

knocked off the mountain top and

tumbled down a thousand years ago

 to lodge against the stream bank,

does it waste itself with worry

about how things are going

to turn out? Does the current

slicing around it stop itself mid-

stream because it can’t get past

all it’s left behind back at

the source or up in the clouds

where its waters first fell

 to earth? And these trees,

would they double over and

clutch themselves or lash out

 furiously if they were to discover

what the other trees really

thought of them? Would the wind

 reascend into the sky forever,

like an in-drawn breath,

if it knew it was fated simply

to sweep the earth of windlessness,

to touch everything and keep

The Bridge

As I write or is the verb dissertate, two early themes emerge: bridges and the ecological nature of classroom. In learning, there is an ongoing bridging from place to place, from time to time, from subject to subject, and from you me and back again.

A bridge we forget is one that takes inside our self. Learning is constant transforming. We are always changing yet we are rarely aware of change. It is like a fish in water, it just happens.

It is important to be mindful and present in learning. What are the changes? What does this bridge between you and me change in each of us? We never become one and it is in the in-between spaces on those bridges that we find the newness of our self when we linger.

Octavio Paz’s poem reminds me of bridges that fill learning spaces, an ecology of learning. There is a rainbow in, over, and between learning as I learn who I am, the world I live in, and the beings I share that world with.

Between now and now,
between I am and you are,
the word bridge.

Entering it
you enter yourself:
the world connects
and closes like a ring.

From one bank to another,
there is always
a body stretched:
a rainbow.
I’ll sleep beneath its arches.

A Ritual to Read to Each Other

I finished my first weekend of classes today. An emphasis is respectful dialogue in ways that honour the other person. In this way, we to listen and not think of our next response. Perhaps, reaction is a better way of understanding that thinking process.

We critique our work in the group. For example, we share our dissertation statements and, as we are in the early stages of writing, they are a little rough around the edges at times. We try set aside the emotional attachment we form with our work so we can listen to the voices offering help.

William Stafford wrote this poem and the last stanza is profound. When we listen deeply, we move out of the darkness more easily towards the stars we seek.

If you don’t know the kind of person I am

and I don’t know the kind of person you are

a pattern that others made may prevail in the world

and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,

a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break

sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood

storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail,

but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park,

I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty

to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,

a remote important region in all who talk:

through we could fool each other, we should consider–

lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,

or a breaking the line may discourage them back to sleep;

the signals we give–yes or no, or maybe–

should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

Riding Lesson

I learned two things
from an early riding teacher.
He held a nervous filly
in one hand and gestured
with the other, saying “Listen.
Keep one leg on one side,
the other leg on the other side,
and your mind in the middle.”

He turned and mounted.
She took two steps, then left
the ground, I thought for good.
But she came down hard, humped
her back, swallowed her neck,
and threw her rider as you’d
throw a rock. He rose, brushed
his pants and caught his breath,
and said, “See that’s the way
to do it. When you see
they’re gonna throw you, get off.”

I came across a new poem today and the message reminded me of being in the classroom. Yesterday, I read an article about things students remember teachers for and they are relational i.e. humour, kindness, compassion, a good listener, etc.

Kathy comments I was a good junior high teacher, because I am an overgrown adolescent. In that way, I retained a sense of humour about the learning I did with kids. When I messed up, similar to the last lines of this Henry Taylor poem, I would often say, “I planned it that way.” Over time, the students would respond in kind.

We learn because we get up, dust ourselves off, and get back to living our lives. In French, the word for experiment is expérience and life is that. Life is unpredictable with its twists, turns, and we will be bucked off metaphorically and it is richer when experienced fully. Humour and forgiving ourselves when we fall off are important. Kindness begins at home with us and extends outwards.

Shaking the Tree

I wrote and scrambled a bit today. I was unsure of where I was with the dissertation process yesterday and then it seemed, as I set the books down and wrote, things fell into place more easily. I read material on complexity theory and its related sciences. The classroom, the school, and all their relationships are complex beyond even the simplest complex system the science can describe. Social systems are so complex we cannot to take them to scale. Basically, it boils down to what happens in one school, perhaps a classroom, is unique to that place and that time.

In the midst of all this complexity, I skimmed Facebook and found a poet, Jeanne Lohmann, I had not read before. She writes about the deep interconnectedness we share with each other, the world, the universe, and what exists beyond. And, everything depends on everything. When we shake that tree, something else, many other things, respond. In the holy things, we find wholeness.

Vine and branch we’re connected in this world

of sound and echo, figure and shadow, the leaves

contingent, roots pushing against earth. An apple

belongs to itself, to stem and tree, to air

that claims it, then ground. Connections

balance, each motion changes another. Precarious,

 hanging together, we don’t know what our lives

support, and we touch in the least shift of breathing.

Each holy thing is borrowed. Everything depends.

 

Sweet is the Oneness

I just finished writing the first draft of a short paper on complexity and the teacher’s practice. Much of this is not new. A classroom has the potential to become a community. It is about the needs of each student within a classroom and their personal lived histories. Around that community has the potential to emerge. I cannot plan for it. I can wish for it. Community grows out of the livingness of our lives when we linger on bridges that link us and we while away time in those moments. This is different then when someone chooses a team with a specific goal in mind.

Those are not my thoughts. I added to the thinking of Hans-Georg Gadamer, Max van Manen, David Jardine, and Ted Aoki. I found  complexity is something we have talked about throughout history, yet we it treat like it is new. I looked for a poem that fit my writing. The first poet that appeared was Rumi and he led me to this beautiful poem about the oneness of community.

If ten lamps are in one place,

each differs in form from another;

yet you can’t distinguish whose radiance is whose when you focus on the light.

In the field of spirit there is no division; no individuals exist.

Sweet is the oneness of the Friend with His friends.

Catch hold of spirit.

Help this headstrong self disintegrate;

that beneath it you may discover unity,

like a buried treasure.

A Time to Talk

Robert Frost’s poem foreshadowed a need to make real human contact. There are times we need to move beyond the virtual realities, set the hoe down, and engage in those friendly visits. Human contact in the form of sound, touch, smell, and visuals is a human need that cannot be overlooked. It is a sensual place and space to be. It touches our spirit and makes us whole.

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Dream Boogie

Stony Creek, where I taught for almost 15 years, was a special place. It does not exist other than in name only. It was a place where parents, students, and educators met and learned together. It was a place that defied the way ‘traditional schooling’ was done. The goal was to meet each child where they were in their learning and not force the child to fit the learning. For most of the time I was there, I taught and learned (those are not inseparable if we allow them to emerge together) in a way I could only dream possible. For those years, the dream was not deferred. It was real, but fragile as all dreams are.

I enjoy Langston Hughes and his wonderful poetry. Each year, I chose a poem or two from his wonderful writing and shared it with the students. I found that if I share my passion for learning and what excited me in my learning students and parents reciprocated. We lived and learned in community not in school. This is one of the poems I shared from that place.

Good morning, daddy!

Ain’t you heard

The boogie-woogie rumble

Of a dream deferred?

Listen closely:

You’ll hear their feet

Beating out and Beating out a —

You think

It’s a happy beat?

Listen to it closely:

Ain’t you heard

something underneath

like a —

What did I say?

Sure,

I’m happy!

Take it away!

Hey, pop!

Re-bop!

Mop!

Y-e-a-h!

At the Threshold

A colleague of mine, Laura Kinkead wrote this beautiful poem which is appropriate for this time of the year. As we await the New Year, there is a feeling of being at the threshold. It is a time to reflect on what and who is important in our lives as we enter the New Year.

The poem is a reminder that what brought me to this point serves to ground me. It is the people and things that have expressed their love in many ways that allow me to find moments of solace, abundance, and opportunities to linger as I cross each new threshold. I am gently reminded to listen to the soft voice from within that reminds me of the richness of life.

Summer’s abundance within me

and Winter’s rest ahead of me,

I linger

At the threshold,

What beckons me, pulls me forward,

calls deeply,

longingly,

What little voice reminds of what has come before

What do I gather up, too precious to part with,

And what do I leave behind

glad to rest beneath the soil

to become the rich humus of tomorrow

I stand with the the sun’s warmth upon my face

as the wind pulls another leaf slowly to the ground

 

Children

This is my first Christmas not teaching, but I think of what it means to be in the classroom frequently and the impact adults have on children. Children are nature’s gift. They are the future and need to be nurtured and cherished in that respect. Christmas is a time we can remember the gifts we sometimes take for granted for the rest of the year. It is a time to pause and recall the reason for the season. It was a particularly important gift brought to us in the form of a child that we can see and understand in the form of our children.

Children–

Nature’s gift;

Craft and hone–

Appreciate their future;

Nurture and cherish–

Under watchful gaze mature,

Cradled in loving community.

Elders shepherd;

Care and tend–

A most precious flock

Share wise words

Open hearts

Act prudently

Generous, ceaseless, joyful work