Taking Education’s Measure
by Tim Horn
I have had the distinct pleasure of teaching literally thousands of students. Every day when I went into class my goal was to make a connection to them so that they would learn more easily. Teaching is a difficult thing. You stand in front of a class of 25 or more students who all have different learning methods. As a teacher, you use multiple different modalities to reach the maximum number of students. Nonetheless at the end of the day you frequently went home wondering what more you could do.
For over 20 years that was the pattern my life followed. Every morning my feet would hit the floor with a renewed excitement that I could positively change the direction of one of my student’s lives. I never knew which student it might be so I did the sprinkler approach attempting to water the entire garden. As I scanned the class while presenting the material, I looked for engagement. That could be seen in a slightly furloughed brow. Other signs showing the necessary interest could be a smile or a knowing nod of the head. Each class I looked for these sorts of indicators.
Of course that was not all I was looking for. When a student was shaking his or her head or looking confused as if I were speaking Swahili, I would take note so that we could speak briefly after class. To call someone out during class could cause unnecessary embarrassment or pressure.
One of the brightest children I ever met was my nephew Noah. He is now 20 years old. I was never his classroom teacher but I feel qualified to discuss his intellectual capacity. My wife and I enjoy the theater. We have been fortunate enough to take a few trips to New York City and the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Canada.
On one of our trips to New York, we invited my nephew who was only 13 at the time. My wife and I are, let me think of the appropriate phrase, nerds . . . yes, that is it. We had decided to go to a performance of Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure. While this is not considered one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays, it is one that I truly enjoy. There are elements of irony that I have found truly engaging. The theatrical company performed the play with a minimalist style. The eight actors in the company played all the parts. Accompanying my wife, nephew and I were three close friends. All three of them were as familiar with Shakespeare as my wife and I.
At the end of the play, we went to a local restaurant to discuss the performance. My wife and I had truly enjoyed the play. When I asked my nephew what he thought of the performances he went into detail about how the relationships were presented in a way that did not necessarily fit the text. At this point in time I knew my nephew was getting reasonably good grades. Somehow I had always suspected that he was capable of more. In that small restaurant feeling relaxed and unpressured he went into the nuances of character development I would have expected from a college theater student.
As I looked at the others at the table, I could see how surprised they were with how observant he was. Hanging around me he undoubtedly had some understanding of Shakespeare’s work. But that could not explain how perceptive he was about the performances and how they related to the script. In my mind I had to ask why this intellectual heft was not being demonstrated at public school.
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The capability was always there. The capacity to put together diverse components and make astute assessments was present. Why on that day did it come out? Looking back on that I think I have a reasonable answer. He felt no pressure. He was having a casual conversation with people he knew enjoyed his company and would not judge him.
When he was at school he felt as if his every action was being evaluated. With every answer he gave, he was being graded and measured. That was not going on as he sat there at that bistro’s small table and ate his grilled cheese sandwich. When he saw how interested the five of us were at his insights, he began to open up with even more provocative analysis of the performances. Realizing he had a receptive audience his untapped ability was allowed free reign.
My most valuable lesson from over 20 years in a classroom is the fact my students teach me every day. Some of the answers they gave were technically incorrect. I’m very careful not to use the word “wrong.” The word “wrong” brings with it a lot of heavy baggage. It puts a stop sign in front of the people who hear it. That stop sign can become a barrier to learning.
When my students would answer a question incorrectly, I took that as an opportunity to see where they had gone off the path. When they could explain to me where their answer came from, I could go with them and reconstruct the path to the better answer. Even the act of taking the time to examine their reasoning improved its quality. Beyond that I was honoring their approach and not merely dismissing it. This showed respect to them that was reciprocated. As a teacher it was always more important to me to show my students how to learn then it was for me to merely supply the “correct” answer.
Since you have honored me by reading this far into my blog, I have a simple question for you. Who was the 13th President of the United States? All my fellow history geeks will shout out “Millard Fillmore!” That is the correct answer. So what? Does knowing every president in American history truly make you an educated person? Does knowing the periodic table of elements show your intellectual capability?
When a child goes through the doors of their school shouldn’t their goal be to learn how to learn? Wouldn’t that truly serve them better as we go through life? If a child goes to school with the goal of learning how to take information and apply it to their world they can learn a skill that will allow them to truly find success.
While I was in college one of the best teachers I had was a German professor named Herr Merrill. My grades in his class were never the best I had at the end of the semester. Yet I know that every day I left his class I had learned something.
He challenged me in a positive way to improve myself. While not being judgmental, he demonstrated to me that he would hold me accountable for my work. He let me know that he expected solid effort and execution. With that in mind, he created in me the expectation of a better capability than I was demonstrating. It has been nearly 40 years since I took his class and I still look at it as a positive experience. That experience cannot be quantified by a letter grade.
When our children come from their schools does it really matter if their papers are plastered with the letter A? Isn’t the true test of their education whether they can take the information that they gathered and apply it to their lives? Education is context. Millard Fillmore is a person who was President of the United States. That piece of information standing alone serves no purpose.
When a child takes the small pieces of information their teachers share with them and apply them to the world they live in, they increase the value of the information. Additionally they learn how to use it to build connections to other things in their lives.
I will leave you with one question I would like you to ponder. Take your answer and see how it applies to what you expect from your children as they come home from school. What should the true purpose of education be?
