When I teach reading, I have to consider the research on reading and on child development in general and wellbeing and supporting children who have experienced trauma and a myriad of other areas. Teaching – wonderful but complex. The art of teaching is using what we know from the science in all areas and working out how and when to apply it, then checking to see what impact it has had in our context, with our complex humans and all of their needs.
Why do we teach children to write and what do we want to get out of it? Misty offered:
- transforming ourselves
- transforming others
- transforming communities
- transforming systems
It is interesting to look back at my three points of:
- Structure of online learning
- Communication between school and home
- Play and social spaces
At home, the resilience prevalent first time around quickly dwindled. Second time around what became paramount was anything social and creative. At the end of term, the class had a party. This sparked a round of cooking and requesting things from the shops. Sadly, such opportunities were few and far between. What is interesting is that I do not really think this is any different to how things are normally, instead it is just more visible I guess.
I really liked your closing point:
It’s awful but an adventure at the same time
Like how the rings of a tree cut open can show the impact of drought, it will be interesting to see what impact of all this will be on students and on the profession. It certainly is an adventure, but maybe it always was.
There has been a lot said about building back better and taking on some of the learnings, however the one thing that concerns me is that we take on some of those time consuming habits without recognising the additional work involved.
Social and conventional media has been overflowing in the last few days with pictures of kitchen tables covered with assorted books, pens and laptops with accompanying text about how parents are coping with their new role as direct supervisors of their child’s education. (Please note, I didn’t use the term ‘home schooling’ which this blatantly isn’t.)
This is completely understandable – I can imagine how overwhelmed many parents must feel, particularly those who are juggling multiple children and who are attempting to work at home themselves. For some parents, their own experiences of schooling may not have been completely positive which also could be providing an added layer of potential stress.
I thought I’d put out there a snapshot of the other side of the equation, to balance out the narrative and provide a well rounded picture. I will acknowledge that this is only my snapshot and that this looks very different for many colleagues who are attempting to do this while also supervising their own children’s learning – a whole other overflowing kettle of fish.
A little acknowledgement, particularly from leaders who are talking about whether or not to close schools, that children aren’t alone in those buildings and aren’t those most at risk in this scenario would go a long way towards making us feel like the significant contribution and risk we’re taking is being seen and appreciated.
I can only hope that I am providing as successful and useful an experience for my pre-service teachers as I was lucky enough to receive on my teaching rounds and I look forward to continuing to strive to be an effective mentor to our growing teachers.
Your point about going beyond the phonics debate is important. One of the best things that I have been a part of is. Although the intent was to improve aspects of literacy, the prime focus was to work collaboratively to identify strategies for the context at hand. I sometimes feel that those who jump to THE solution, whichever it maybe, are unwilling to allocate the time and resources to build the capacity of those in the classroom.
In regards to your closing question:
Are literacy levels actually dropping or is what being literate looks like changing in our modern, digital world?
I am reminded of something that Clive Thompson said in Smarter Than You Think:
Before the Internet came along, most people rarely wrote anything at all for pleasure or intellectual satisfaction after graduating from high school or college. This is something that’s particularly hard to grasp for professionals whose jobs require incessant writing, like academics, journalists, lawyers, or marketers. For them, the act of writing and hashing out your ideas seems commonplace. But until the late 1990s, this simply wasn’t true of the average nonliterary person. The one exception was the white-collar workplace, where jobs in the twentieth century increasingly required more memo and report writing. But personal expression outside the workplace—in the curious genres and epic volume we now see routinely online—was exceedingly rare. For the average person there were few vehicles for publication.
What about the glorious age of letter writing? The reality doesn’t match our fond nostalgia for it. Research suggests that even in the United Kingdom’s peak letter-writing years—the late nineteenth century, before the telephone became common—the average citizen received barely one letter every two weeks, and that’s even if we generously include a lot of distinctly unliterary business missives of the “hey, you owe us money” type. (Even the ultraliterate elites weren’t pouring out epistles. They received on average two letters per week.) In the United States, the writing of letters greatly expanded after 1845, when the postal service began slashing its rates on personal letters and an increasingly mobile population needed to communicate across distances. Cheap mail was a powerful new mode of expression—though as with online writing, it was unevenly distributed, with probably only a minority of the public taking part fully, including some city dwellers who’d write and receive mail every day. But taken in aggregate, the amount of writing was remarkably small by today’s standards. As the historian David Henkin notes in The Postal Age , the per capita volume of letters in the United States in 1860 was only 5.15 per year. “That was a huge change at the time—it was important,” Henkin tells me. “But today it’s the exceptional person who doesn’t write five messages a day. I think a hundred years from now scholars will be swimming in a bewildering excess of life writing.”
Personally, my digital move with literature circles was to get students to complete their notes in a collaborative document. This was in a time before Google Classroom. It was a bit hit and miss. I think in hindsight that I really needed to work on the trust aspect to it all a bit more.