As I get knee deep and face to face with the reality that in just a few weeks I'll be student teaching, I am coming to the realization that learning to teach is something that an infinite number of years in school will never fully accomplish. As I scramble to figure out what the heck I am going to do, I rack my brain, searching for the meaningful things I gleaned from the numerous hours spent in class that will come to my rescue now. And for some reason, the only thing I can come up with is "motivation."
I have been reading some great books, "From Ordinary to Extraordinary," by Ken Vieth, "The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain," by Betty Edwards, and "How to Be an Explorer of the World" by Keri Smith as well as this fabulous article my mentor teacher directed me towards. As I read through these ideas about how to get kids creative and how to present problems in the art classroom, I realize that these sort of philosophies and modes of teaching are wonderful and meaninful and great for our kids-- and they are things that I as a teacher can only come to master through experience. As I've been emersing my nerdy little mind in these books, I've wondered how much of these models were covered in my few semesters within the School of Education and the Art Department. Why didn't they give us more training in setting up a lesson this way? I think to myself. I don't know. Maybe they did and I didn't hear because my sensory functions were still recovering from the late night before in the painting studio. Maybe I just need a few more years of "doing" before I really understand.
Regardless of the ability of a classroom to teach me everything I need to know abou the nitty gritty of teaching, I've come to many a good thought. One struggle I've been facing in writing my units and lesson plans for the coming semester has been in the area of organization-- how do I put all of these ideas swirling around down on paper in such a way that my advisors, the state, and administration will understand what is going on in my classroom and in such a way that I know what I am supposed to be doing with all of these young faces looking attentively in my direction.
So, based on the advice of my mentor teacher, these great texts, and what I already know about lesson planning, I came up with this little sequence to help me frame my lessons in a way more conducive to introducing art as a "problem to be solved."
Class:
Lesson:
Problem to be addressed:
Resources Available:
-- Instructional Support
-- Materials
Learning Goals:
--Skills
--Concepts
Assessment:
Sequence/Procedures:
An aspect of Vieth's book that I'm really enjoying is the presentation of art process as problem solving, such as "Given two weeks, how can you transform an ordinary door knob into a work of art?" I think an approach that focuses more on an innovative aim is a great way of getting kids away from seeing art class as a place for people born with the talent of realistic rendering to a place where everyone gets to uncover thier own creative ideas. Art is no longer about creating a marketable product, but engaging in a creative process. Which is really what it is about, isn't it?
I learned the value/concept of pursuing a visual problem a few semesters back through the completion of the final for my figure painting class. The whole time, I struggled through the class, bored and uninterested in painting the figure. Throughout the semester, our instructor was showing us examples of artwork, saying, "look how this artist focuses on pattern, how this artist makes the figures look bony or weighty or ghostly." I didn't get it until the end-- I realized my painting was never going to be a success until I solidified my aim. What was I working towards? The obvious answer was "self-portrait"-- that was the assingment. But as an artist, I realized I have to dig deeper than that. What vocabulary was I hoping to expand? What was the problem I wanted to solve?
I think this idea of "visual problem solving" rarely makes its way into the k-12 classroom. Art is about going in and finishing projects that look pretty. But I think we need to trust our students with more advanced thinking-- and ultimately this is the type of thinking that is going to get them hooked on a level below the surface. Art is not about external experiences as much as it is about the struggle through the process of solving a problem. Making a goal and working night and day, sketch after sketch until our fingers bleed. This is what good artists want-- to move forward, they enjoy the struggle of finding it out. And we need to be training a generation of students who understand the joy found in this process.
26.7.09
25.7.09
In five days, I'll be loading everything I've decided to keep from the garage sale pile and stacking it up in the basement of my new house. Three more mornings of 4th grade complaints and Theater club, three more afternoons of the aggressively researching third graders. Ten days of travel and reunions with old friends. seven days to unpack it all, finish lesson plans, and then eight weeks of high school. eight weeks of elementary school and then to the open unknown.
I've wondered a lot this summer about whether or not I can compare the challenges of B.A.S.E. Camp to those of teaching full time. I've wondered if much of the stress of this summer has come from the disorganization of staffing, scheduling, planning, and administration. I've wondered if the difficulty of the kids has come from the season, the heat, the activities, the culture of camp, or the population of kids in constant need of all-day care, love, and attention while their parents are at work earning minimum wage. And I've wondered if it is me.
One of the greatest frustrations this summer has been the process of sorting out how strict to be. How tight do I need my limits to be and where do I allow those limits to flex? How do I be firm without being rigid or tyrannical? Where is the line between creating a fun, relaxed atmosphere and allowing children to overstep their boundaries? What happens if students never get to the point where I can trust them with the freedom to take part in certain experiences that I think would be great for them? How much do I need to expand my trust in my students? Where is the line between being in control and being controlling? Am I being too involved in solving problems that students would learn from solving on their own? Is there a place where a student is simply beyond my reach? When is a consequence less effective than simply ignoring a behavior? When are boundaries too controlling and when do they truly create a structure in which a child is brought up in a positive way?
This set of questions seems to plague me daily as I wonder if I will be able to answer them in such a way that allows me to be a great teacher. One of my passions and subsequent fears in teaching is the dangerous potential we have as educators to provide either positive or negative experiences for children in the process of discipline and structure.
One of the first lessons I realized I need to learn this summer was surrounding the issue of consistency and action. I used to think I was pretty firm until I met this group of kids who are constantly challenging me. One of the first things I realized is that I was much too nice. Not being sure about what my expectations are and what is okay and what is not okay makes it hard to stand my ground when kids decide to argue and reason. Although it is still surely a process, I am learning that simply maintaining consistency and following through on my word is so important, even when I haven't quite figured out how important the particular issue is in the grand scheme. For me, teaching kids to trust my words is always at the heart of the issue because it is only in this trust that I am able to provide good things for them in the end. Now that we find ourselves at the end of the summer, I see some students have begun to trust my word and I've been able to spend more time on a personal level with them rather than immersed in argument. Others, however, are still a daily battle and I realize that it may take more time than we have together for them to get to the place where they learn that those in authority are placed there to help them move forward in life rather than simply keeping them from having fun. And all I can do is hope and trust that I have made some small progress that will be continued by their next teacher, mentor, and parents.
Something I often notice when working with the kids at B.A.S.E. Camp is how much power I have. Mostly, I observe this when playing a sport or board game-- how easy it would be for me to overpower my eight-year-old opponent. I find myself teetering on the all-important temperament of how intensely I play, how hard I throw, how much I need to win in such a way that challenges each child without taking advantage of their delicate stage of development. It always amazes me when I sit down and think about how obviously small their experience is and how much I have to come down from my level of age, development, and education to get on thier level.
The other day, I was talking to one of our kids about our Classroom Lead, the person who makes all major decisions for our class group and takes care of most administrative aspects of our particular group of kids. Usually, the class leads wear polo shirts rather than the plain blue t-shirts the rest of the staff wear daily. On this day, however, our lead was only wearing a T-shirt and the child on the swing next to mine observed this, wondering "Does he usually wear that shirt?" I told her no, explaining the wardrobe requirements of a Classroom Lead and explaining what that title meant. "So that means that he get's to do whatever he wants, right?" my dear little friend asked.
I was struck by her question as it reveals a lot about how many children, and people in general, view authority. Power generally means that one is able to use said power in any way they see fit, which one might typically expect to be in a selfish manner. When I was in high school, my mom lent me a book by Max Depree on Leadership, in which I came across the following quote:
"To be leader means having the unique opportunity to serve those that allow the leader to lead."
An elementary view of power and authority views leadership as an ultimate freedom, access to opportunity, and rights to treat others and things as they please. This idea is, in a basic way, accurate, but it misses an essential characteristic of such a role. The ultimate role of a leader requires one to use this ultimate freedom, access to opportunity, and rights to treatment in such a way that serves the good of the whole of the group. Unlike my young friend's assumption that our Class Lead can do anything he wants in a self-serving way, the truth is that much of his job requires a self-sacrifice for the 25-30 children and staff under his care. To be in power in a classroom or otherwise requires the insight into the needs of every person placed under his or her care and the skills to act upon it in such a way that no person is harmed.
That being said, I've had to consider much of my choices in terms of rules, expectations, and consequences in light of the group as a whole. I often find myself asking students to stop doing things that are not inherently wrong, but because if the whole group were to enter into the action, it would be impossible to accomplish the good we as staff have in mind for them. Teaching and management require me daily to think in a more communal, less individualistic way, opening my eyes to the needs and good of many people, including my fellow staff members and the other children under their care.
This summer has certainly been a thought provoking, challenging experience. Working with these kids has provided an ample supply of questions to fuel years of research ahead. It has often been difficult not to be too hard on myself this summer as I come home after a rough morning and wonder what went so terribly wrong. I am excited, however, to take what I've learned this summer and apply it to the next step of my journey as I step, once again, into a wholly different dynamic at a new school, with new kids, in a totally new situation.
I've wondered a lot this summer about whether or not I can compare the challenges of B.A.S.E. Camp to those of teaching full time. I've wondered if much of the stress of this summer has come from the disorganization of staffing, scheduling, planning, and administration. I've wondered if the difficulty of the kids has come from the season, the heat, the activities, the culture of camp, or the population of kids in constant need of all-day care, love, and attention while their parents are at work earning minimum wage. And I've wondered if it is me.
One of the greatest frustrations this summer has been the process of sorting out how strict to be. How tight do I need my limits to be and where do I allow those limits to flex? How do I be firm without being rigid or tyrannical? Where is the line between creating a fun, relaxed atmosphere and allowing children to overstep their boundaries? What happens if students never get to the point where I can trust them with the freedom to take part in certain experiences that I think would be great for them? How much do I need to expand my trust in my students? Where is the line between being in control and being controlling? Am I being too involved in solving problems that students would learn from solving on their own? Is there a place where a student is simply beyond my reach? When is a consequence less effective than simply ignoring a behavior? When are boundaries too controlling and when do they truly create a structure in which a child is brought up in a positive way?
This set of questions seems to plague me daily as I wonder if I will be able to answer them in such a way that allows me to be a great teacher. One of my passions and subsequent fears in teaching is the dangerous potential we have as educators to provide either positive or negative experiences for children in the process of discipline and structure.
One of the first lessons I realized I need to learn this summer was surrounding the issue of consistency and action. I used to think I was pretty firm until I met this group of kids who are constantly challenging me. One of the first things I realized is that I was much too nice. Not being sure about what my expectations are and what is okay and what is not okay makes it hard to stand my ground when kids decide to argue and reason. Although it is still surely a process, I am learning that simply maintaining consistency and following through on my word is so important, even when I haven't quite figured out how important the particular issue is in the grand scheme. For me, teaching kids to trust my words is always at the heart of the issue because it is only in this trust that I am able to provide good things for them in the end. Now that we find ourselves at the end of the summer, I see some students have begun to trust my word and I've been able to spend more time on a personal level with them rather than immersed in argument. Others, however, are still a daily battle and I realize that it may take more time than we have together for them to get to the place where they learn that those in authority are placed there to help them move forward in life rather than simply keeping them from having fun. And all I can do is hope and trust that I have made some small progress that will be continued by their next teacher, mentor, and parents.
Something I often notice when working with the kids at B.A.S.E. Camp is how much power I have. Mostly, I observe this when playing a sport or board game-- how easy it would be for me to overpower my eight-year-old opponent. I find myself teetering on the all-important temperament of how intensely I play, how hard I throw, how much I need to win in such a way that challenges each child without taking advantage of their delicate stage of development. It always amazes me when I sit down and think about how obviously small their experience is and how much I have to come down from my level of age, development, and education to get on thier level.
The other day, I was talking to one of our kids about our Classroom Lead, the person who makes all major decisions for our class group and takes care of most administrative aspects of our particular group of kids. Usually, the class leads wear polo shirts rather than the plain blue t-shirts the rest of the staff wear daily. On this day, however, our lead was only wearing a T-shirt and the child on the swing next to mine observed this, wondering "Does he usually wear that shirt?" I told her no, explaining the wardrobe requirements of a Classroom Lead and explaining what that title meant. "So that means that he get's to do whatever he wants, right?" my dear little friend asked.
I was struck by her question as it reveals a lot about how many children, and people in general, view authority. Power generally means that one is able to use said power in any way they see fit, which one might typically expect to be in a selfish manner. When I was in high school, my mom lent me a book by Max Depree on Leadership, in which I came across the following quote:
"To be leader means having the unique opportunity to serve those that allow the leader to lead."
An elementary view of power and authority views leadership as an ultimate freedom, access to opportunity, and rights to treat others and things as they please. This idea is, in a basic way, accurate, but it misses an essential characteristic of such a role. The ultimate role of a leader requires one to use this ultimate freedom, access to opportunity, and rights to treatment in such a way that serves the good of the whole of the group. Unlike my young friend's assumption that our Class Lead can do anything he wants in a self-serving way, the truth is that much of his job requires a self-sacrifice for the 25-30 children and staff under his care. To be in power in a classroom or otherwise requires the insight into the needs of every person placed under his or her care and the skills to act upon it in such a way that no person is harmed.
That being said, I've had to consider much of my choices in terms of rules, expectations, and consequences in light of the group as a whole. I often find myself asking students to stop doing things that are not inherently wrong, but because if the whole group were to enter into the action, it would be impossible to accomplish the good we as staff have in mind for them. Teaching and management require me daily to think in a more communal, less individualistic way, opening my eyes to the needs and good of many people, including my fellow staff members and the other children under their care.
This summer has certainly been a thought provoking, challenging experience. Working with these kids has provided an ample supply of questions to fuel years of research ahead. It has often been difficult not to be too hard on myself this summer as I come home after a rough morning and wonder what went so terribly wrong. I am excited, however, to take what I've learned this summer and apply it to the next step of my journey as I step, once again, into a wholly different dynamic at a new school, with new kids, in a totally new situation.
19.7.09
a hot summer ends with winds of change
"How is your summer going?" I've been getting this question a lot lately and the best thing I can think of to say is "fast." It seems like for all the days I counted down towards the end of the season a year ago, I am making up for it now by wondering how I will get everything done before this one turns into fall. Ten days from now, I'll be finishing my last day with B.A.S.E Camp. Eleven days from now, I'll be moving my stuff into my new apartment in Boulder. In twelve days, I'll be leaving with my friend to Kentucky. A few days after that, I'll be catching a flight to Boise for a wedding. In twenty one days, I'll be arriving back in Fort Collins, where my car will be waiting for me to drive down to Boulder and unpack my boxes. In one month minus two days, I'll be walking into Silver Creek High School, dressed professionally, and begin student teaching.
But before any of this, though, so much of summer has happened. Between learning all kinds of lessons about relating to kids and classroom management, I've been preparing my psyche for student teaching and I've been thinking about the personal goals involved in the complete change in lifestyle that lies ahead for me. I've been thinking about student teaching in light of the habits that I want to develop in terms of personal balance when I enter a life of full time teaching.
Throughout my coursework, in both my studio practice and teacher education, the issue of balancing your life as an artist and a teacher has been constantly on the table. And throughout said coursework, I was thinking to myself, "I don't really care about maintaining a personal artistic practice-- I want to teach more than I want to take the risk of putting myself out there as an artist." I think, truly, I'd been telling myself that I'll never be a "real" artist anyway, but a "real" teacher, now that I could forsee.
But something funny has happened to me-- in the last six months or so, my whole view of myself as an artist has totally changed. I feel as though I've been swept up by a current that I cannot control and yet it is carrying me to wonderful places. A lot of people say that even in the summer, they don't get the artowork done that they want to do. And yet, somehow, in then midst of my crazy schedule and all I've set out to do this summer, I've completed almost six paintings. I've almost done as much this summer as I did during the Spring Semester for my four credit class. There has been a shift in me that can't help but paint. Without any pursuit on my own, I've ended up showing my work for the entirety of June and July and have been so encouraged by those who see it. I've sold two paintings and have a few more interested offers.
As for my work with kids this summer, I feel like I've learned a lot, but many days I hope that teaching doesn't require this constant dilligence to provide consequences. Some days, I feel like the full extent of my day is expended on warnings and consequences that there is no room left for fun or relationships. It is hard.
But before any of this, though, so much of summer has happened. Between learning all kinds of lessons about relating to kids and classroom management, I've been preparing my psyche for student teaching and I've been thinking about the personal goals involved in the complete change in lifestyle that lies ahead for me. I've been thinking about student teaching in light of the habits that I want to develop in terms of personal balance when I enter a life of full time teaching.
Throughout my coursework, in both my studio practice and teacher education, the issue of balancing your life as an artist and a teacher has been constantly on the table. And throughout said coursework, I was thinking to myself, "I don't really care about maintaining a personal artistic practice-- I want to teach more than I want to take the risk of putting myself out there as an artist." I think, truly, I'd been telling myself that I'll never be a "real" artist anyway, but a "real" teacher, now that I could forsee.
But something funny has happened to me-- in the last six months or so, my whole view of myself as an artist has totally changed. I feel as though I've been swept up by a current that I cannot control and yet it is carrying me to wonderful places. A lot of people say that even in the summer, they don't get the artowork done that they want to do. And yet, somehow, in then midst of my crazy schedule and all I've set out to do this summer, I've completed almost six paintings. I've almost done as much this summer as I did during the Spring Semester for my four credit class. There has been a shift in me that can't help but paint. Without any pursuit on my own, I've ended up showing my work for the entirety of June and July and have been so encouraged by those who see it. I've sold two paintings and have a few more interested offers.
As for my work with kids this summer, I feel like I've learned a lot, but many days I hope that teaching doesn't require this constant dilligence to provide consequences. Some days, I feel like the full extent of my day is expended on warnings and consequences that there is no room left for fun or relationships. It is hard.
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