First of all, let me start by saying that I really enjoyed the time I spent with Dr. Burns. He's this genius of a man, and a big shot in the world of academia, but he never treated the Thunder-pups like we were inferior. Rather, we were equals. He seemed especially intrigued how I used a Muslim legend in my pedagogy statement rough draft, and he talked to me about it a few times. He even flattered me by asking if I wouldn't mind sharing it during his workshop. As it turned out, we didn't have time for me to share it, but just the sentiment was touching. He was just a nice, down-to-earth, pleasant guy to hang out with. I came home and told my family that he was the perfect embodiment of the kindly old grandfather, the kind of grandpa everyone wants because he's generous, funny, and smart, but not the kind of grandpa everyone is blessed to get. I know I sure didn't! My grandpas were crotchety and mean.
So I attended his workshop. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I thought I'd hear some interesting revelations about the art of teaching writing. I don't think that was the case, but I did learn a new word: propadeutic. The best I can figure, it is the rhetorical equivalent to the Boy Scout motto, "be prepared." Dr. Burns explained that it was the theory of being prepared to engage in hermeneutic and heuristic processes. I'd like to know more about this.
Dr. Burns had us break into small groups to discuss a time we felt fear in our lives and a time we dealt with a reticent student. Well, since I'm not a teacher yet, I've never had to deal with a reticent student, but during this exercise, I reflected on myself last year. Although I consider myself a good student, I struggled terribly. So what Dr. Burns said about fear resonated with me. I was terrified my troubles were going to buy me a one-way ticket out of the program. I think the events of that entire semester tore me down to nothing, but only so that I could be re-built as a stronger and smarter person. Kind of like the Million Dollar Man.
Still, upon reflecting on my own experience as a reticent student and listening to my group and the entire class share their experiences, I realized that everyone must have that moment at least once in their life, that one moment that made them feel sub-mental and stupid, like they were incapable of learning. Dr. Burns said we should try to remember that time from childhood where we felt fear in order to learn empathy for students experiencing fear. But I think we should remember that one moment when we felt reticent so that we can understand what they're going through. This would allow us to think about what our teachers did that either pulled us out of our rut or made things worse, and we can apply that knowledge to our practices. For me, I'll never forget Dr. Eskew channeling Yoda when he told me "you must unlearn what you have learned." His remark struck me as funny, and I mentioned it to him. This led to a discussion how all the great philosophers all said similar things - Yoda, Jesus, Aristotle, etc. - and that somehow made me understand where I went wrong. Everything just clicked. I still don't know why. It was just like that time when I was struggling in high school physics, loving the science but not comprehending the math, but when I woke up one day, I just understood. When I'm a teacher, I want to impart that bit of pop-culture wisdom to my students because it helped me overcome the most humiliating experience of my academic life.
Listening to the class talk, I realized there are a lot more reticent students than I thought. This played to what we also talked about in my group, about where does a teacher draw the line between trying to empathize and giving up? It was like that old saying: you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink. But what if it's not as simple as that? What if it's partially due to the teacher?
Not long ago, my daughter was constantly struggling in school. She's a smart kid, but she's got ADHD, so she's high-maintenance. I was getting a phone call every other day from her teacher or her principal telling me just how awful she was. Every morning, she'd invent some mysterious illness just so I'd keep her home from school. She was truly convinced her teacher hated her. I didn't believe that until I went to her classroom for her Halloween party, and I saw that the woman had shoved her desk in the back corner, facing the wall, and far from her own desk and the other kids'. "Gabby," I said, "how long have you been back here?" "Weeks," she replied. No wonder she hated school! I finally believed her teacher hated her. Her teacher was a very young woman, fresh out of college, and almost certainly had no experience dealing with ADHD kids. After talking with her, it was clear she didn't want to teach the kids with issues, only the ones that could do what they were told like mindless automatons. I immediately demanded a new teacher. Since my daughter has switched classrooms, she hasn't had any problems.
In the college setting, I wonder how many students are lost because they were paired with a teacher who just didn't have the patience to deal with them. How many could have gotten it, if only they had been paired up with a teacher who cared enough to try? And how many teachers have made students feel dumb and worthless because it was harder for them to learn than for other students?
Anyway, returning to the workshop, my only criticism was that it didn't last long enough. I don't feel like an hour was enough time to really get involved in any serious classroom training. But, for the time we did have, I enjoyed myself and appreciated the chance to get to know my classmates and teachers better. And I also appreciated Dr. Burns beginning the workshop with something along the lines of Sacred Writing. I'm not terribly good at creative writing on the fly, I have to think about it for a while, so I didn't finish his Texas anthem. When I get more time, however, I will try to finish it for him. His exercise was just one more example of what we've been talking about all week: that academic writing is creative too.
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