Friday, February 16, 2007

Today...

...I rolled my eyes at a student.

I have a tendency to become over bearing and even condescending when talking about a passionate subject but I have always noticed that when I am speaking to an audience from a certain level of authority, I can adopt a comfortable demeanor. It is how I am able to successfully teach people about things I am knowledgeable about. I think the problem arises when I speak to peers and I am under the assumption that they should be as knowledgeable about a particular subject or that their arguments should be as good as mine or better. If this is not the case, sometimes I can be pompous.

However, I have the ability to take on a nonthreatening persona when I stand in front of a class, I think, because I am under a different assumption that these people have a desire to enrich themselves even if they generally don't show it. I know this isn't wrong or even too ideal; Students, under certain circumstances, can accomplish some pretty extraordinary feats. It's this assumption that I am able to have undaunted patience to try different things to spark their interest. If I am successful at this then my job is easy and incredibly rewarding.

The problem, that I noticed today, is that it might not be an unrealistic assumption that causes me to be condescending. I think it has something to do with openness or effort. Openness is essential for people to embark on mutual discovery of different perspectives. Passion can be involved but only when there is a sense of reciprocity where I want to hear what you have to say, not so I can disagree but so I can compare your perspective to mine and others in order to investigate logical implications. This is in the hope of discovering new ways of thinking about a subject that might make more sense than it did before. I like to think of it in terms of the literal meaning of the word philosophy, 'the love or pursuit of truth.' All too often people close up because they feel their ideas were attacked just because of some disagreement or strong counter arguments.

Effort, on the other hand, is important for me to recognize in a person because it represents their internal motivation or will to improve themselves and the world around them. If I encounter a situation where I perceive that another person just doesn't seem to care, try to see other perspectives, gives up when faced with positive confrontation or gives up when faced with confusion, I first feel a sense of deep frustration because I see it as an attack on my passion for meaningful conversation and then judge them because I feel they are wrong to give up. Sometimes, my reaction to feeling hurt is to take a negative demeanor where I patronize them.

Today...I had the opportunity to create a lesson that I feel very strongly about. They lesson was on one problem but it was a problem that was about finding a well reasoned strategy and then justifying it. I introduced this new kind of math problem to them by saying that too often math is left in a vacuum where relevancy is rarely discussed or poorly discussed. Problems arise everyday and some have solutions and some seem to not have any solution or many solutions. I started the lesson with a simple question: "What is a problem?"

During my third lesson two female students, that often express their negativity during class, made a few comments that struck at the heart of my passion and enthusiasm. When they moved into a group activity one expressed that she "didn't know what the hell I was talking about" and that she didn't understand why I was talking about "social sciences." I tried to explain to her that I was trying to broaden the class to encompass many different ideas and to bring in other subjects. She did not hide her disapproval. While presenting a possible solution to the problem I asked a question which was more of a rhetorical question to highlight an important part of the problem. They both made comments about how confused they were and how much they thought what I was doing was stupid. I rolled my eyes. Being frustrated, I asked if they would have rather I started the new chapter and went to a lecture style class. Expecting that they would choose this type of lesson I was understandably surprised when they voiced their opinion to start the new chapter. Not able to continue with the solution I addressed the whole class positively about why I believed that what I was doing was important. I needed to take my frustration and vent it in a way where students were not attacked. It worked (at least for me) and I continued the lesson.

Why do I believe they were so unhappy with the lesson? I think they don't want to be challenged. They have gone their whole lives never being challenged in school. High school is merely a necessary step to get past in order to go to college or start working. They don't want to exert that type of effort. They want me to give them answers so they can regurgitate it on the test. Too bad they can't even do that very well. I want to get them in a room and shout, "What do you want from me?" They were not open to a different kind of lesson and they didn't want to expert much mental effort to figure out a real math problem. This got to me. But after reflecting I have come to this conclusion: We failed these students. I believe that if I show them something different, if I show them what math is really about, then they will eventually come around and start being engaged in their learning experience.

2 comments:

gluedbranches said...

hmmm. Do you really want them to shout?

gluedbranches said...

Tom, I'm so surprised that you don't like poetry, despite how similar it is to solving a math problem.


Poets write poems, configure and reconfigure words and combinations of words until a message comes through,
a story is told, an emotion felt, an image drawn.

Until it works.


You want your students to branch out. The answer lies in poetry - something you are not interested in at all.

If you allow yourself to be engrossed with it, you will experience, and therefore learn, something that you perhaps did not realize before about reaching your kids.