Teachers like to talk. I was a teacher, and while I think of
myself as an introvert at heart….I have to admit, I like to talk. My parents
were teachers. My wife was a teacher. Talkers, all.
This shouldn’t be surprising. We know a lot of stuff, we’re
passionate about the things we know, and we like to share. We love to share. My wife and I drive our
friends crazy with constant book recommendations because OH MY GOD YOU HAVEN’T
READ THIS YET? YOU HAVE TO READ THIS!
In fact, my wife went through such painful book-talk withdrawal when she
stopped teaching that she started a podcast,
ten years ago, to talk about her favorite classic novels.
And me…well, you know what I do.
When we truly love the things we teach, there is something
beautiful and wonderful in the act of sharing. A treasure is more valuable when
it is shared and appreciated. And there is a long and distinguished history to
this aspect of teaching: the passing-down of law or information goes back at
least to Moses, if not further. Here, the teacher holds the gift of truth and
gives it to the students.
But there is another, equally ancient aspect of teaching
that we need to remember: not the dissemination of information, the giving of
gifts, but the asking of questions and prodding of students to discover answers
for themselves. This goes all the way back to Socrates, if not further. Here,
the teacher pokes and prods and questions and re-questions, to challenge every
assumption the student has, and make the student think their way past biases,
misconceptions, and errors, to find the truth.
Both aspects are important and real; both aspects are things
we’re taught to value. But the first one takes our attention so much of the time that we often forget
to value the second one.
If we believe that learning involves more than hearing and
repeating—that it requires some thinking, some processing, and some synthesis
of ideas—then we need to provide some time and space for that to happen. We
need to reduce our own noise and allow enough quiet space for students to
speak.
If we believe that students are not empty vessels, waiting
to be filled—that they bring rich lives and interesting brains to school—then
we have to make sure we leave some space for students to talk to each other,
and to us. And create a culture where they expect and want that to happen.
If we believe that teachers should be learners, and that
learners can be teachers, then we need to rein ourselves in, from time to time,
and do more listening than talking. It’s a scary thing, sometimes, but it
matters.
If we believe that formative assessment requires us to get
inside students’ brains and see not only what
they’re thinking, but how they’re
thinking, then we need to let them do more than answer a question. We need to
let them talk, and talk, and talk—to explain their approaches and justify their
solutions.
A great athletic coach knows when to demonstrate, when to
watch performance, and when to step in with feedback or a minor adjustment. They
spend a lot more time watching than talking, because they know that their
performance isn’t what matters; it’s the players that have to play the game.
Most of our students come to us thinking that their job is
to be the audience. We need to let them know that their job is to play the game.
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