The Heart of Teaching: A Matter of Perspective
This week my two Social Studies classes have been discussing the importance of perspective in the study of history. The first key in getting middle schoolers to understand perspective is for them to know what it means. I'm big believer in word parts, or stems. The first thing we do is break down the word perspective into its parts. There are two stems from the vocabulary program we use at our school in the word: per, meaning through, and spec, meaning look. So we know that the word perspective involves looking through something. And I like to think of perspective as a pair of metaphorical glasses. We wear many pairs of metaphorical glasses, which color our perception of the world.
We go on to list the ways our metaphorical glasses are created: by our families, our age, our life experience, how many episodes of Spongebob Squarepants one has seen, proportion of time spent on Tumblr, and so on and so forth. This part of perspective is pretty easy. Because, after all, it is very easy to see and talk about your own perspective. So then we move on to differences in perspective. I ask them what makes my perspective so different from theirs. And they get that I'm older, I'm a mom, I know more, I do different things in my free time, etc. But this year I got a new response. We talked about the fact that I'm a teacher and they are students. And then I said, "Well, let's try to see from each others' perspectives. What can you tell me about your perspective about the Civil War?" The responses were pretty much as expected. It was so long ago, it's not really relevant to my life, I already learned so much during the day it's hard to focus (from a 4th period student), etc.
But what floored me was their response when I asked what they thought my perspective was. I asked, "Why do you think I want you to learn about the Civil War?" For a few minutes, crickets chirped. Finally someone said, "Because you get paid more if we understand it." I wondered if they all thought that. There was general consensus amongst the group. I was momentarily stumped. And I wondered if, all this time, our problem in education has been a perspective problem.
If students, and by extension, parents, and by extension, politicians who are elected by parents, think that the reason I want students to learn about the Civil War has anything at all to do with my paycheck, then I have failed to communicate the true purpose of education. I couldn't care less if next year none of the students I teach this year remember that the Civil War took place between 1861 and 1865. It is immaterial to me if they remember that there was a battle in Shiloh, or in Gettysburg. It doesn't matter to me if they remember who the important generals were.
The reason that I want every student to know about the Civil War is because I never want there to be an opportunity for our country to be splintered and torn into war again. I want to make sure that every generation knows that there was a horrible, morbidly ironic undertone to Thomas Jefferson's declaration that "all men are created equal." I want them to know that Abraham Lincoln said more in ten sentences that came from his heart than do most politicians in carefully crafted speeches full of million dollar words and platitudes, simply because what he said was honest. I want my students to know that the boys who went into battle on both sides were not much older than they are now, and that even though nearly 150 years have passed, their concerns were much the same. This is the heartstring of education, and it cannot be tested, and it cannot be bought, but it must be taught. It must. For us to fail to teach the humanity of our content is to fail to educate.
It is my great fear that the Common Core has ignored this most important facet of education. By reducing any content to its lowest common denominator; by making education about only the head instead of the head and the heart; by reducing complex efforts to make sense of the world around us to a checklist of skills, Common Core places the heartstring of education on the chopping block. If that string is allowed to be cut, we will all suffer for it.
I was reduced to tears by the answer that I would get paid more if students learn about the Civil War. May we never have such a cheap, tawdry view of what we do every day. We are shaping human beings, and maybe that can't be tested, and maybe it can't be quantified into a data point, but in the long run it is what matters. It is a matter of perspective. And, as educators, we must try in every way we can to make known the fact that we do what we do because we love children. We love learning. We believe that the underpinnings of the disciplines we teach make the world a better place. We know that the most important things children learn in our classrooms have much more to do with the heart than with the head. But we cannot assume that others will understand this perspective if we do not tell them. I cannot say for sure that it will make any difference. It did to my students. Will it to their parents? To politicians? To all of those terrifying trolls who lurk in anonymity on the Internet just waiting to accost the comment section of any news about teaching conditions? I don't know. But we cannot afford not to try.
We go on to list the ways our metaphorical glasses are created: by our families, our age, our life experience, how many episodes of Spongebob Squarepants one has seen, proportion of time spent on Tumblr, and so on and so forth. This part of perspective is pretty easy. Because, after all, it is very easy to see and talk about your own perspective. So then we move on to differences in perspective. I ask them what makes my perspective so different from theirs. And they get that I'm older, I'm a mom, I know more, I do different things in my free time, etc. But this year I got a new response. We talked about the fact that I'm a teacher and they are students. And then I said, "Well, let's try to see from each others' perspectives. What can you tell me about your perspective about the Civil War?" The responses were pretty much as expected. It was so long ago, it's not really relevant to my life, I already learned so much during the day it's hard to focus (from a 4th period student), etc.
But what floored me was their response when I asked what they thought my perspective was. I asked, "Why do you think I want you to learn about the Civil War?" For a few minutes, crickets chirped. Finally someone said, "Because you get paid more if we understand it." I wondered if they all thought that. There was general consensus amongst the group. I was momentarily stumped. And I wondered if, all this time, our problem in education has been a perspective problem.
If students, and by extension, parents, and by extension, politicians who are elected by parents, think that the reason I want students to learn about the Civil War has anything at all to do with my paycheck, then I have failed to communicate the true purpose of education. I couldn't care less if next year none of the students I teach this year remember that the Civil War took place between 1861 and 1865. It is immaterial to me if they remember that there was a battle in Shiloh, or in Gettysburg. It doesn't matter to me if they remember who the important generals were.
The reason that I want every student to know about the Civil War is because I never want there to be an opportunity for our country to be splintered and torn into war again. I want to make sure that every generation knows that there was a horrible, morbidly ironic undertone to Thomas Jefferson's declaration that "all men are created equal." I want them to know that Abraham Lincoln said more in ten sentences that came from his heart than do most politicians in carefully crafted speeches full of million dollar words and platitudes, simply because what he said was honest. I want my students to know that the boys who went into battle on both sides were not much older than they are now, and that even though nearly 150 years have passed, their concerns were much the same. This is the heartstring of education, and it cannot be tested, and it cannot be bought, but it must be taught. It must. For us to fail to teach the humanity of our content is to fail to educate.
It is my great fear that the Common Core has ignored this most important facet of education. By reducing any content to its lowest common denominator; by making education about only the head instead of the head and the heart; by reducing complex efforts to make sense of the world around us to a checklist of skills, Common Core places the heartstring of education on the chopping block. If that string is allowed to be cut, we will all suffer for it.
I was reduced to tears by the answer that I would get paid more if students learn about the Civil War. May we never have such a cheap, tawdry view of what we do every day. We are shaping human beings, and maybe that can't be tested, and maybe it can't be quantified into a data point, but in the long run it is what matters. It is a matter of perspective. And, as educators, we must try in every way we can to make known the fact that we do what we do because we love children. We love learning. We believe that the underpinnings of the disciplines we teach make the world a better place. We know that the most important things children learn in our classrooms have much more to do with the heart than with the head. But we cannot assume that others will understand this perspective if we do not tell them. I cannot say for sure that it will make any difference. It did to my students. Will it to their parents? To politicians? To all of those terrifying trolls who lurk in anonymity on the Internet just waiting to accost the comment section of any news about teaching conditions? I don't know. But we cannot afford not to try.
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