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Month: June 2010 (page 2 of 3)

life, flight, an empty nest

We had a nice time this spring watching an American Robin family come of age. All three eggs survived, they hatched, and grew at an alarmingly fast rate. Then they took flight. We still see them hopping awkwardly about the yard–following mama bird looking to her to show them where the good [singlepic=595,350,350] Aidan and the empty nestworms are, but we know this won’t last long. Soon they will loose their mottled breasts of youth and grow to raise their own families. It happens quickly.

Behind, our winged friends left this nest. The American Robin abandons it to build a new one once the chicks have flown. Then she begins the arduous task again. But such a treasure is a labor of love and one worth keeping should six-year-old hands find their way to it–the perfectly round inner cup, a lip of packed mud, Japanese lilac petals adorning the spray of outer twigs, grass, and the odd piece of string.

Aidan wants to save the nest in a cardboard box so that we can preserve the memory and the wonder of it all, but secretly we all hope the robin returns to our lilac tree, if not this year, then the next, so we can watch again as she cares for and raises her family. If not, we’ll have our packed away memory to peek at from time to time in the shadows of its box.

confessions of an unschooling college professor

I am an unschooling dad–a life learner. This is the life my wife Chris, my six-year-old son Aidan, and I embrace quite fully. I am also a college professor–part of a state-run institution of higher learning. How can I reconcile these contradictions? How can I on one hand eschew “teaching” as a somewhat rude imposition when it comes to my son–allowing him instead to pursue his own interests, to figure out who he is and who he wants to be at his own pace, to learn naturally with only gentle guidance from his parents, to embrace the joy of life and learning without being continuously tested, evaluated, and judged–but then on the other hand participate as an agent of institutionalized schooling and get paid for it? This is something I wrestle with on a daily basis.

I find a good deal of comfort in that theoretically by the time people find their way to my college classroom, they are choosing to be there. It’s not mandated by law that they go to college. While on the surface, this gives me comfort, I know full well that in reality many if not most of the students are not their of their own free will but, instead, are being pressured by their parents or others to attend. Even if the students have freely chosen to pursue college, I’m quite certain that most would choose to opt-out of the required freshman composition course if the institution and state would allow this. The fact of the matter is I have a captive audience–quite literally–as my course is the price of entry to opportunities that lay beyond it.

I’m already a bit of a guerrilla teacher in that I bring into the class a good deal of criticism of traditional schooling experiences to get the students to begin questioning their own views and values on this matter. I try to use my own moral dilemma to deepen the discussion and to invite students to help me solve this problem. It works pretty well, but in the end I still feel like an agent of the state as I pass judgment on student work, assign grades, and decide who is worthy to benefit from the opportunities of passing my class and who is not. On some level, this just does not sit well with the “free-range” approach I find myself taking with the education of my own son. I feel somewhat hypocritical as my values clash at times with the procedural mechanisms of state-run schooling.

Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely believe in education (in all forms), but also in the fundamental right for one to pursue their own brand of education–to pursue their passions freely and not to be forced into certain educational experiences before one can gain access to a better life. I believe that all people should have the chance to learn freely, at their own pace, setting their own course, and without fear of judgment.

As I work to negotiate the tricky middle ground between state-run higher education and authentic learning, I am trying to develop a personal code of ethics to guide me. Below is what I’ve got so far.

In my interactions with students, I will strive to uphold the following:

  • I will make explicit my views on learning and education, attempt to make clear my struggle to avoid duplicity in what I say and do, and try to raise critical awareness in others regarding personal freedom and responsiblity in learning, education, and life.
  • I will offer choice as much as possible to allow students to explore personal interests in their writing, while encouraging them to try new things and venture down unfamiliar paths with a spirit of adventure and curiosity.
  • I will make use of “contract grading” focused largely on the degree of engagement in the course rather than on the judged quality of the writing itself. This will allow me to more authentically and honestly respond to the writing of students as a fellow reader in the class. The “terms” of the contract will be as clear-cut as possible and will be agreed upon at the outset of the course to allow fully informed students to opt-out before they begin if they choose.
  • I will treat students with respect and work hard not to hold myself above them. I will encourage them to do the same.
  • I will work to cultivate honest conversation, community, creativity, and service in and out of the classroom.
  • I’ll will work with students to design learning experiences that have relevance beyond the “exercise” of the classroom and that can positively affect the lives of others. I’ll support students in their writing and learning efforts.
  • I will be kind and empathic and ask others to reciprocate.
  • I will not obsess over arbitrary rules but work hard to ensure fairness for everyone.
  • I’ll work to foster positive relationships with students as fellow human beings and to avoid the traditional adversarial trappings in the way teachers and students interact.
  • I’ll seek to communicate honestly with students and avoid combative stances–whether defensive or offensive.
  • I’ll enjoy what I do.

All right, so it’s a work in progress. Perhaps I spend far too much time agonizing philosophically over my job and my interactions with others. I suppose it’s all in the spirit of trying to be a better person…. Like I said, it’s a work in progress.

rush: a consistent presence

Since I was 15 years old, the Canadian rock band Rush has been a consistent presence in my life. (That’s over 20 years now, but who’s counting?) I was introduced to their music at the beginning of my teenage angst years, and it was their music which played no small part in my surviving those years. I listened to them religiously well into my early twenties–at times exclusively, as in my mind they were the one and only great rock band of our times, something pure, something worth listening to and being influenced by. Since those years of late adolescence, I’ve branched out considerably in my musical tastes and interests, but I still reserve a special place for Rush. These guys are a class act. I’ve always admired the way they can enjoy absolute success in their work with such longevity (over 40 years now!), but have eschewed celebrity and avoided the trappings of the rock music industry. They are level-headed, fun-loving guys as far as I can tell, who have much to say musically and lyrically and–despite all the pressures they’ve faced along the way–have never compromised their integrity, their artistic vision, or who they are as individuals. Check out this recent interview from QTV.

I think today, I’ll introduce my son to 2112. Perhaps Rush will have the kind of staying power in his life that it has had in mine. In the words of Neil Peart, “Reflected in another source of light, when the moment dies, the spark still flies, reflected in another pair of eyes.”

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