On egnagement

Tales from the classroom

Some three years ago, your correspondent turned in a paper for his language arts class at a crossroads. The past year had been spent going through countless worksheets focusing on the straightforward four-square writing technique. Your correspondent complied – his interest and work in a state of decay.

Once more – the doldrums. The assignment about to be turned in was not the mind numbing norm; indeed, he feared failure. Paradoxically, he wrote a letter to explain his intentions and views on the matter. Its relevance has far exceeded its original purpose.

“Writing is not meant to be a simple fill-in-the blank process, but that is what I have experienced. I have found the nature of my writing so repetitive (to the extent that I am ultimately just substituting words in an ad-lib) that it lacks life.” Melodrama aside, the letter was received with applause. Formulaic writing, the teacher responded, should be viewed as a “stepping stone,” that “should not be abused with overuse.”

More telling was the admission that “most if not all [of your classmates] will not be able to step off of this stone for years to come.” It is shocking to the extent of scandal when one recognizes that the classmates in question are enrolled in an honors course (trend noted). Are these not the same students your correspondent has seen conduct themselves in a manner polarized by that of the work they produce – thoughtful, aware, and energetic; more than capable? Indeed, it is a woeful underestimation of potential.

History class is much of the same: too often, your correspondent's peers are reduced to passive learners. Feigned interest is more appropriate. Or a reading class where students were expected to sit down, read, and answer several review questions – more focused what was done and said, than what much of anything means.

It is ironic, your correspondent notes, that outside one classroom door, a sign quotes Tobias S. Gibson's claim that “Small people talk about other people. Great people talk about ideas.” Even then, the questions were not collected – how long after not finishing the work did the book lay unopened as well?

Of course, it is not all gloomy – the history class from the year before saw to lively debates. What then makes for the difference in teachers? It would seem to be a matter of comfort and insecurities. When the teacher feels they cannot control their class without submissioning them to notes and definites – yes, control is achieved for some time, but at what cost before it is written off by their students? Is it not unsurprising that these are the same teachers that fill their days with videos to an extent far greater than any other teacher – in any subject?

It is an illogical predicament and a self-fulfilling one too. Students who write the class off as boring confirm their disinterest in test scores. What more can be done but to dig in and give more worksheets? Engaging students is not a burden – unskilled teachers may say otherwise – it should be a liberation. For when students are engaged, the teacher can reduce their role.

Relevancy can be achieved. It can be mastered, harnessed, and compelled to produce. The goal as teacher or policymaker is not to indulge in the absent-minded pursuit of creating relevancy, but enabling it. Teachers constantly praised for 'making learning fun' denotes their exception from the mean.

Relevance cannot be found in a textbook of Seven Strategies for Highly Effective Readers, covered with annotations and diluted questioning. In an honors course, no less, what aspect of this schooling is advanced? Is it not an intrinsic character of advanced readers to naturally utilize these techniques? Conformity is the essence. Only briefly is this situation a bargain for both sides: the ease in which the class completes this demeaning work produces an instinctive response by the teacher – increase the amount of work.

The question of relevancy extends beyond many barriers, in delivery and content versus the maturity of the student, the nature of the times, and the ability of the student. One has already witnessed the inability to maneuver with such change – a framework for enabling relevancy will prove to be far more enduring than the talking points thrown into a curriculum.

It is most amusing that this framework – and the clearest indicator of what schools lack – can be found in the likes of social-networking sites. In spite of their presumed ills, these services have capitalized on the very nature of what education could and must be: they offer the means and openness in terms of access and openness of standards that allows anyone to utilize the system to meet their interests and needs.

For a web page, it amounts to harnessing the site to create a unique profile. It is the users, not the providers who produce the content that is so compelling. Technology has enabled users to control the nature of their experience; indeed, these services are the embodiment of efficient systems – with minimal cost, they are nothing more than the framework from which all else develops. Where they profit, education would mark gains in competitiveness.

Even within this same metaphor the clear advantage of school systems over such websites – that children are compelled to go to school, the effects of schools that are not relevant produce far worse consequences than losses in ad revenues: children drop out. Social networking sites manage even to assess its community – that is, by the amount of friends and buzz surrounding a particular site.

All this, after all, is nothing more than an attempt to wrong Robert Morley. “Show me the man who has enjoyed his schooldays and I will show you a bully and a bore.”