1. Infant/Toddler
Without a doubt, the most fun I’ve had with this assignment has been using what we’ve learned in this course and observing my own son and, on a more limited basis, his similarly-aged cousins when we’ve visited them in their hometown on occasion. My son, Caelan, is now 19 months old and as such falls into the “toddler” stage of development. He is in the midst of exploring his autonomy, both physically and mentally, and often goes out of his way to “push the envelope” of behavior he knows his mom and dad don’t like. “No” is quickly becoming his favorite word, alongside “shoes” because he loves to walk, run, and explore. Nevertheless, he is still very much attached to both of us, but especially his mom, and will run through the house looking and calling for her when she is gone. It’s been fascinating to see him as he come more and more to grips with both spatial and object permanence, now knowing that he’s already looked in a given room or behind that door, and she wasn’t there.
Probably the most interesting thing about this more formalized observation of Caelan has been with his linguistic development. He is learning 3 languages at once: English from me, Mandarin and the local dialect Wenzhounese from his mom. He has very little trouble understanding all three, and has been doing his utmost to transfer that receptive understanding into active use. Notably, though he understands a concept or object in all three languages, he invariably chooses to say the term that is easiest. For “light,” he’ll say “’ite” rather than the Chinese “deng pao,” while for “picture,” he chooses the Mandarin “hua.” For “all done,” he chooses Wenzhounese, saying “a-ba” rather than the Chinese “mei le” or English.
To touch on Piaget’s assimilation into existing schemata, it has been interesting to note the ongoing refinement and guided correction of his own schemata (Carson 2003b). Caelan loves to look at the sky. Not too long ago, everything in the sky was either “moon” or “star,” but he has since been reclassifying what he sees up there based on the gentle corrections of mom and dad. Now he knows clouds are different from birds, and even leaves on trees. He continues to accommodate to the increasingly complex world he observes, and it’s fascinating to watch.
2. Preschool/Early Elementary School
Though I had hoped to observe a Montessori school here in Shanghai, the one I was able to find online did not see fit to reply to my inquiry. Fortunately, I was able to arrange a few observations at the Xinzhuang Campus of LeNing (Learning) English School. Since they had classes ranging from 4-5 year old pre-primary students, up through 12-13 year old students, I was able to observe a wide array of students’ cognitive and learning behaviors.
My observation of the pre-school students was in the classes of an American teacher named Dennis. He is a very active, and excited teacher who is very much of the notion that a class’ energy level and focus is a direct reflection of the energy put in by the teacher. At this age-range, and through most of the elementary level, the classes are 1.5 hours, broken into two 45-minute lessons. Each class focuses on one or two core concepts, and uses a variety of hand-on exercises, activities, and games to keep student interest and maximize exposure to the concepts of the lesson. In one of the earliest lessons I observed, Dennis’ class was brand new, only a few weeks into what was for many of their, their very first experience without mom in the room. Unsurprisingly, there were still episodes of crying and needing a parent to intervene. Mostly, though, Dennis did a very good job of keeping his class on-task and smiling, having a whole host of activities planned, and knowing when to change activities as attention spans began to wane.
A major focus in Dennis’ class, and each class observed at Xinzhuang was the teacher’s commitment to encouragement. Appropriately, his encouragement focused overwhelmingly on the attempt and the motivation of a student, the “effort and the joy of learning, not the person and not the product” (Carson, 2003a, p. 9). A student who happened to flawlessly know a word or idea was not lifted above the others who had a more difficult with the pronunciation of “kangaroo,” for instance, but was instead celebrated and rewarded equally to all the other students who put forth the effort into the activity and attempted the task. Learning objectives were paired with a reward activity – bowling with a big rubber ball, or throwing it into a basketball hoop, to list a couple – to encourage the children to try and stay excited about the material. As long as there was a good-faith attempt, the reward was given.
The disciplinary systems of the classes at Xinzhuang were of interest, and were largely compatible with Carson’s exhortation that lasting discipline replied on establishing and encouraging positive “patterns of behavior over time” (p. 10). Each class established and followed a predictable arc from beginning to end – the students clearly knew the format, and what was expected of them in each class. When misbehavior arose – as “all children misbehave occasionally” – the focus was not typically on punishment, but rather on correcting the behavior and refocusing the class on the appropriate activity (p. 6). There were a couple of occasions observed that did require punitive action. However, rather than simply doling out an arbitrary punishment, there was a clear of what the misbehavior was and why the child would now be losing a star next to his name. The explanation was given in terms that were at the level of understanding for the child, was then translated by the local teacher who assisted Dennis.
3. Later Elementary School
I was also able to observe several upper-level courses at the Xinzhuang LeNing campus. These were taught by a British national named Ian. These classes were, unlike the lower-level classes, broken into two distinct 45 minute parts, with one focused on verbal practice and pronunciation taught exclusively by the foreign teacher, and the other focusing on grammar and writing skills taught exclusively by the Chinese teacher. There were still large elements of the lower-level classes used here, games, participation, but the classes began to look and act more “class-like:” less frenetic running, and more focused practice on skills.
Ian, similarly to Dennis, would present the grammatical lesson point, and then encourage the students to repeat him, thereby engaging them in mimetic learning. From there, though, he differentiated himself from Dennis’ necessarily teacher-centric model and instead had the students take turns acting as the teacher, asking the other students questions based on the lesson and correcting them as they were able. It was, as it is in my own classes, notable to see the level of engagement and positive energy from the students in these environments. With few exceptions during my observation, the students needed little encouragement to participate and were genuinely excited about the class. Empowering them in a semi-democratic fashion is quite effective in getting them invested in their own learning. This was made all the more clear by my subsequent observations at other schools, which I discuss below.
4. Middle/High School
I was able to observe for a few hours at Xuhui Zhongxue, which encompasses both the middle school and high school-aged years. I was able to observe primarily Mr. Liu, who is a history teacher for the second and third-year students there. The differences between his – and the school as a whole – philosophy and that of our class, my lower-level observations, and that of my own school were pronounced.
Engagement between students and teacher was almost entirely one-sided. The students had clearly been conditioned to listen and accept what was coming from the front of the classroom, and rarely had much to say, ask, or do, other than listen to Mr. Liu’s presentation. Though my grasp of Chinese is limited, I knew the general topic being presented: Chinese history during the in Dynasty (roughly 1115-1230 CE). Though Mr. Liu did occasionally stop and ask if there were questions, the hour largely went by as a one-sided lesson of anti-Adlerian philosophy: students only engaged by and with the instructor, and said instructor acting not as a guide in a cooperative, equal society, but as the conduit of “Knowledge” to fill the students’ minds (Carson, 2003a). Though “rote is […] a valuable strategy for certain types of learning”, my impression of Mr. Liu’s class was that of rote and little more (Tenets, p. 2)
My other experience at Xuhui Zhongxue was somewhat more encouraging. I observed Mrs. Chen’s English class for grade 10 students. Her style was to some extent more intercommunicative, and more engaged than my previous observation. As is especially necessary for a linguistics class, there was far more interaction between teacher and student, as well as student to student, than Mr. Liu’s history lesson, and the students were obviously more engaged as a result.
Still, there was a major issue that bothered me at the time, but was able to better define after reading our week 8 texts. Specifically, that for a class about the English language, there was relatively little used. Only rarely, when defining specific grammar points did Mrs. Chen – and consequentially her students, too – break from Chinese. It seemed more a discussion about English, than a study of the language itself. Upon reading such tenets as “The primary cultural system in any society is its natural language” and “To learn a language is to learn a method of thought and a way of life”, it was made more clear: the structure of the class was fundamentally insufficient to give students a real window of understanding into the language they were ostensibly studying, or the cultures from which it comes (Tenet, p. 1). The students, by and large, clearly had a good grasp of the mechanics, rules, and procedures of constructing a sentence using English words. They were able to name and define tenses and forms I had never learned formally, yet in many cases struggled to string a sentence together orally, or pull key information points from a CD-based exercise. They were learning about the language, but largely ignoring or avoiding the language itself, Mrs. Chen included.
There was a noticeable divide in Mrs. Chen’s classroom as I observed it, between the students who clearly were focused, attentive, and largely seemed to understand the material presented… and those who were “phoning it in.” For one reason or another, there were several students… typically having situated themselves in the back or a corner of the classroom, who had long since decided that while they were required to be physically present in the room, their minds were under no such compulsion. The ones I noted were virtually nonexistent in the class, neither paying attention, nor being paid attention by the teacher. It was as though there had been an “arrangement” made between them: neither would, save for the most prosaic of rituals, acknowledge the other. It was a truly sad and demoralizing thing to realize.
5. University
I was fortunate enough to be able to visit Wenzhou Medical College, the school I had once taught at in Wenzhou, Zhejiang. Their School of Foreign Language was willing to let me observe a few classes with a teacher named Warren. Warren specialized in teaching upper-division English writing and public speaking. As most of the students he taught were English majors, there was a considerable degree of focus and expertise in his style.
It is still the case that, though WZMC is quite prestigious in China as a medical school, the school of foreign language (in virtually any university in this country) is primarily for women, and male students with scores too low for any other area, but families rich enough to ensure their entry into university. This remained in full effect as of my observation of Warren’s classes, and a general overview of the campus. Though there were several male student in some of the lower level classes I saw – I estimate less than 10-20% of a class, on average – by the upper-division courses that figure had shrunk even more to there point that there was only one or two males per class in Warren’s lessons, and with class sizes frequently exceeding 30.
Still, it was notable to see the difference in command and confidence these upper level students possessed when compared to the first or second-year students I both saw and at one time taught. Warren operated, though in a more authoritarian fashion than perhaps many college professors in the US, in quite a more democratic fashion than many of the Chinese staff I was able to see in my time again at WZMC. Students were encouraged to question, to discuss amongst themselves, and to be generally generative to the process of learning. And they responded quite well to this environment. Students I saw with their normal Chinese professors behaved, at least in passing, much as they had in the Xuhui high school I had observed: silent, attentive, receptive, with a mind to simply take notes and memorize the information therein. But with Warren’s class, that was not sufficient. Participation and contribution to discussion were encouraged, and critical thought rewarded. As such, the students had learned that, at least in that classroom, there was quite a bit of elasticity in their otherwise fairly rigid classroom relationship between one another, and with the teacher as well. There was a considerable degree of willful participation, questions and problems posed sheerly out of personal interest, and a general feeling of energy and interest that was lacking from so many of the classes I have observed in this period.
6. Adult Workforce
My circumstance precluded me from venturing very far from my own profession to observe and talk to the general adult population via their work environment. Largely I am restricted to my own field, which I realize is somewhat limiting. After all, the kind of Westerner who find themselves in China is a fairly narrow subset of their home population. Still, it was illuminating to discuss and listen to the other foreign workers with whom I was able to speak.
For many to whom I spoke, their sojourn in China was merely temporary. It was seen as a job, or a stop on an otherwise-continuing adventure. Most of the people I work with are as young or even younger than myself, and so it’s not surprising that many would lack direction, and are still in the midst of “identity diffusion” (Carson, 2011, p. 18). Teaching English abroad, at least in Asia, is not commonly thought of a “career” so much as a way to pay the bills while travelling or “finding” oneself.
Still, I was able to talk to a few people who defied the mold as had been teaching abroad for long stretches of time. For some, it was still just a paycheck, but for others it was a passion that they had realized: to disseminate their knowledge to those who wanted to learn it. As in any other field of teaching, there are few feelings of accomplishment quite like being a part of a child’s journey to understanding. It was heartening to see that such a spark could persist even in a few of those who had been in country for more than a decade.
7. Senior Life
Unfortunately, the idea of a Senior Citizen Center is utterly foreign to China. It quite simply does not exist in any meaningful sense. Instead, the elderly are – now more than ever – given the task of direct childrearing for their grandchildren, while the parents are off at work. For those less fortunate, that can sometimes mean working in entirely different provinces, and only seeing their families once or twice per year.
The only seniors I have ever been able to have any meaning access to, my grandparents-in-law, fit this paradigm exactly. They had been central to the rearing of my wife and her siblings, while their parents had labored for years on end. Unfortunately, I was not able to interview them, as one passed away recently, and the other does not speak Mandarin (much less English).
8. Summary
Though I know that my own observations are in many ways quite different from the average student in the NPTT program, I don’t think they are any less valuable. In the course of this exercise, I have been able to both compare and contrast the philosophies and theories of the psychologists and teachers we have studied against the dual backdrops of a culture that operates on a very different worldview, and a substrate of the educational system that is a mix of the two.
Though many of my observations were in direct opposition to the guiding philosophies of pedagogy we have been studying in the NPTT program thus far, that has largely served to reinforce the validity and necessity of those philosophies, from seeing the dangers and pitfalls of their absence. Moreover, when I have seen elements of them present in the classrooms I observed, their positive influences were made all the more apparent by their irregularity. With these lessons and observations, both positive and negative, I feel prepared to move forward in this program toward making myself a better educator.
Resources
Carson, R. (2003a) “Adlerian Social Psychology”, EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Carson, R. (2003b). An Introduction to Vygotsky. Bozeman, MT: EDCI 552 Coursepack.
Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching.
Carson, R. (2011). Early Field Experience Manual. Bozeman, MT: EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching.
“Tenets and Principles of Effective Learning Communities.” EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Semiotics, Symbolism, and the Classroom
Symbolic thought is at the heart of what it is to be human. Our unique ability to think beyond the immediacy of what our eyes see and our ears hear, and to put that against the context of a deeper realm of understanding, insight, and imagination is the defining characteristic of our species. Carson (2002) overviews the evolution of this capability from the simple expressive vocalizations and mimicry of the earliest humans, through the inception and growth of complicated and abstract thought systems and then writing systems, to our contemporary high-water mark of reflective capability.
One of the great leaps in human communication/cognition, Carson states, is the creation of alliterative devices such as simile, synecdoche, metonymy, and perhaps most importantly, metaphor. Long viewed by the likes of Aristotle as “unnecessary ornaments” to communication, it was eventually put forth that metaphor instead is a pivotal instrument in the interactive process of creating meaning and association in the world as we perceive it (p. 9). As an inherently imaginative process – the mind holding “two incompatible images […] together and try[ing] to make them equivalent” (p. 11) – metaphorical thought served as a lynchpin in a mind that “imposed itself on the world, and creatively adapted and shaped it” (Hawkes, 1972, p. 43) rather than passively accept an external “truth.” The human mind does this not only because it simply can, but also “because metaphorical thought and utterance sometimes embody insight expressible in no other fashion.” (in Ortony, p. 34).
This level of non-literal meaning of course abounds in every level of human cultural systems. Not only language, but art, music, architecture, and even science. Try as it may to eschew figurative language, it still must rely on “models, theories, thought experiments, idealizations, and other conceptual heuristics” in order convey ideas and “help the learner ‘see’” the observed truth in the absence of first-hand observaton (Carson, p. 16). The danger is, then, that this figurative model becomes “reified” – given as an example is the planetary model of atomic structures – as the actual truth, rather than “props designed to aid the imagination of the learner to understand what the presenter has gleaned from experience” (p. 16).
This is critically important for a teacher to keep in mind as they prepare for a classroom. It is not enough for an instructor to simply pour the concepts – figuratively – out on the students’ desks and say, “there, now figure it out.” Under such a naïve design, no matter how carefully a student studies and observes this raw data strewn about, they will not be able to reach the “correct” conclusion. While the hindsight of science’s myriad discoveries may seemobvious to our savvy, learned minds, in many cases they “actually run… counter to common sense and common observation” (p. 17). Such models are not simple, are not obvious, and in fact took “the concerted effort of generations of geniuses to create them in the first place” (p. 17). How, then, can a student be expected to do what generations of humans could not? They can’t.
As teachers, it is our job to assist students in acquiring and understanding as broad and as deep an array of schemata as they are able. This is not a process of mere dumping a load of knowledge onto their laps and telling them to learn it, but an active, reciprocal relationship of ensuring a student has “a broad range of mental experiences” shared by society, and just as importantly, can both find its relevance and interconnection with the other branches of human knowledge (p. 20). Powerful ideas, as we’ve seen in the epoch-defining motifs such as evolution, relativity, calculus, etc. can influence entire generations. But that can only occur if the minds of an era are capable of breaching the imposed containment of each discipline from the other, and make those metaphorical connections that have so permeated our species’ history.
References
Carson, R. (2002). Semiotics and symbolism. EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University,
Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Hawkes, T. (1972). Metaphor. London: Methuen.
Ortony, A. (ed.)(1986). Metaphor and thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
One of the great leaps in human communication/cognition, Carson states, is the creation of alliterative devices such as simile, synecdoche, metonymy, and perhaps most importantly, metaphor. Long viewed by the likes of Aristotle as “unnecessary ornaments” to communication, it was eventually put forth that metaphor instead is a pivotal instrument in the interactive process of creating meaning and association in the world as we perceive it (p. 9). As an inherently imaginative process – the mind holding “two incompatible images […] together and try[ing] to make them equivalent” (p. 11) – metaphorical thought served as a lynchpin in a mind that “imposed itself on the world, and creatively adapted and shaped it” (Hawkes, 1972, p. 43) rather than passively accept an external “truth.” The human mind does this not only because it simply can, but also “because metaphorical thought and utterance sometimes embody insight expressible in no other fashion.” (in Ortony, p. 34).
This level of non-literal meaning of course abounds in every level of human cultural systems. Not only language, but art, music, architecture, and even science. Try as it may to eschew figurative language, it still must rely on “models, theories, thought experiments, idealizations, and other conceptual heuristics” in order convey ideas and “help the learner ‘see’” the observed truth in the absence of first-hand observaton (Carson, p. 16). The danger is, then, that this figurative model becomes “reified” – given as an example is the planetary model of atomic structures – as the actual truth, rather than “props designed to aid the imagination of the learner to understand what the presenter has gleaned from experience” (p. 16).
This is critically important for a teacher to keep in mind as they prepare for a classroom. It is not enough for an instructor to simply pour the concepts – figuratively – out on the students’ desks and say, “there, now figure it out.” Under such a naïve design, no matter how carefully a student studies and observes this raw data strewn about, they will not be able to reach the “correct” conclusion. While the hindsight of science’s myriad discoveries may seemobvious to our savvy, learned minds, in many cases they “actually run… counter to common sense and common observation” (p. 17). Such models are not simple, are not obvious, and in fact took “the concerted effort of generations of geniuses to create them in the first place” (p. 17). How, then, can a student be expected to do what generations of humans could not? They can’t.
As teachers, it is our job to assist students in acquiring and understanding as broad and as deep an array of schemata as they are able. This is not a process of mere dumping a load of knowledge onto their laps and telling them to learn it, but an active, reciprocal relationship of ensuring a student has “a broad range of mental experiences” shared by society, and just as importantly, can both find its relevance and interconnection with the other branches of human knowledge (p. 20). Powerful ideas, as we’ve seen in the epoch-defining motifs such as evolution, relativity, calculus, etc. can influence entire generations. But that can only occur if the minds of an era are capable of breaching the imposed containment of each discipline from the other, and make those metaphorical connections that have so permeated our species’ history.
References
Carson, R. (2002). Semiotics and symbolism. EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University,
Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Hawkes, T. (1972). Metaphor. London: Methuen.
Ortony, A. (ed.)(1986). Metaphor and thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Building a Better Classroom: Teaching Our Epic Tale Through Carson’s Ourstory
Carson’s curriculum proposal, which he called Ourstory, is a unique and fairly unprecedented attempt to apply the cognitive theories of post-modern psychology and Vygotskian educational theories to the contemporary school system and its students. In it, he attempts to address one of the central underlying problems of the current public education system; namely, that at current there is little to no integration between lessons or classes, with each concept presented in a cognitive vacuum. With no overarching framework to tie ideas together, or method with which to relate to them, student are all too often cast adrift in a sea of facts and data points without a compass to guide them in an “insidious form of disenfranchisement” (Carson, 1998, p. 2). Without any sense of coherence or apparent relevance, many students simply throw up their hands in frustration and give up on vast tracts of human knowledge. This serves neither the student’s interests, nor the educational system as a whole.
“‘Which came first,” Carson posits, glibly borrowing from the classic conundrum, “the symbol or the concept?’ The answer is… neither, they arise together in a co-evolutionary process” (Carson, 2003, p. 12). This symbiotic relationship between the idea itself and the means to express it build upon itself, adding layer after layer over generations and, fortunately, giving us the necessary tools to relay those millennia of accumulated knowledge to an individual in a mere fraction of a human lifespan (p. 12). This ability to impart, however, is dependent on the dialectical relationship between teacher and educator, and its ability to relate the information garnered into a cohesive and relatable pattern for the learner. As the mind is inherently “a pattern-seeking and pattern-making mechanism,” it will tend to discard anything which does not fit into the “relevance agenda” it itself defines (Carson, 2002, p. 232, 240). Thus for an educational institution to most effectively reach its students, it must not only seek to present information and facts, but also to present them in a relatable and relevant manner.
Carson’s Ourstory seeks to fill this gap in contemporary curriculum. As the name of the program implies his proposal is to, beginning in middle school, present education as an interwoven and relatable “epic tale” of human empowerment, applicable to each student at the most basic level (Carson, 2002). By allowing students to “discover” humanity’s great innovations for themselves, and then relating back to a historical narrative, Carson’s program would grant students a “prescience of the benefits that they will obtain from such demanding work,” thereby precluding the question of relevancy in the mind of the student (p. 243).
There are, of course, certain ideas one must subscribe to if Carson’s proposal is to carry weight. For instance, one must be able to put aside the familiar Western-centric vision of scientific culture and achievement which permeates the strata of academia. Though the modern scientific conceptualization occurred in Europe, that was “but one phase of a process that has spanned thousands of years” and is “both in its origins and in its current global reach, a legitimate possession of all humankind” (Carson, 1998, p. 6). Another central idea to his proposal is that disciplines and ideas should not – and perhaps cannot – be adequately explored or understood in isolation from one another. Just as no discipline, breakthrough, or study occurred purely divorced from the history and simultaneous goings on of other disciplines, so too is any student’s understanding dependant on an overall understanding of events, rather than an overly narrow focus on sheer data. By finding that underlying current of relevance and mutuality early on, it would prepare students to enter high school and college ready “to engage in the more specialized study characteristic of these institutions without students feeling the kind of disconnection that comes from studying an abstract discipline out of context and without adequate background” (Carson, 2002, 243).
Ultimately the goal of education is to prepare the learning mind for what lies ahead by providing it a framework and basis from which to build its own ideas, solutions, and theories once those scaffolds and training wheels have been removed. This can only be accomplished if the learner is able to see the benefits and relevance to themselves ahead of time. Without such motivation, most people will make a simple calculation and determine that the cost of time, frustration, embarrassment, and effort isn’t worth the unseen future benefit. Carson’s Ourstory proposes to take the current flash card deck of data contained in public education and arrange it into a novel, an “epic tale” of humanity: relatable, memorable, and worthwhile. Despite the difficulties and potential drawbacks of such a proposal, it remains a powerful and viable idea.
References
Carson, R. (1998). “Ourstory—A culturally-based curriculum framed by history.” EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Carson, R. (2002). “The epic narrative of intellectual culture as a framework for curricular coherence.” Science & Education, 11. 231–246
Carson, R. (2003). “A Vygotskian Perspective on Culture & Cognition: A Reflection on How Tools Mediate Action .” EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
“‘Which came first,” Carson posits, glibly borrowing from the classic conundrum, “the symbol or the concept?’ The answer is… neither, they arise together in a co-evolutionary process” (Carson, 2003, p. 12). This symbiotic relationship between the idea itself and the means to express it build upon itself, adding layer after layer over generations and, fortunately, giving us the necessary tools to relay those millennia of accumulated knowledge to an individual in a mere fraction of a human lifespan (p. 12). This ability to impart, however, is dependent on the dialectical relationship between teacher and educator, and its ability to relate the information garnered into a cohesive and relatable pattern for the learner. As the mind is inherently “a pattern-seeking and pattern-making mechanism,” it will tend to discard anything which does not fit into the “relevance agenda” it itself defines (Carson, 2002, p. 232, 240). Thus for an educational institution to most effectively reach its students, it must not only seek to present information and facts, but also to present them in a relatable and relevant manner.
Carson’s Ourstory seeks to fill this gap in contemporary curriculum. As the name of the program implies his proposal is to, beginning in middle school, present education as an interwoven and relatable “epic tale” of human empowerment, applicable to each student at the most basic level (Carson, 2002). By allowing students to “discover” humanity’s great innovations for themselves, and then relating back to a historical narrative, Carson’s program would grant students a “prescience of the benefits that they will obtain from such demanding work,” thereby precluding the question of relevancy in the mind of the student (p. 243).
There are, of course, certain ideas one must subscribe to if Carson’s proposal is to carry weight. For instance, one must be able to put aside the familiar Western-centric vision of scientific culture and achievement which permeates the strata of academia. Though the modern scientific conceptualization occurred in Europe, that was “but one phase of a process that has spanned thousands of years” and is “both in its origins and in its current global reach, a legitimate possession of all humankind” (Carson, 1998, p. 6). Another central idea to his proposal is that disciplines and ideas should not – and perhaps cannot – be adequately explored or understood in isolation from one another. Just as no discipline, breakthrough, or study occurred purely divorced from the history and simultaneous goings on of other disciplines, so too is any student’s understanding dependant on an overall understanding of events, rather than an overly narrow focus on sheer data. By finding that underlying current of relevance and mutuality early on, it would prepare students to enter high school and college ready “to engage in the more specialized study characteristic of these institutions without students feeling the kind of disconnection that comes from studying an abstract discipline out of context and without adequate background” (Carson, 2002, 243).
Ultimately the goal of education is to prepare the learning mind for what lies ahead by providing it a framework and basis from which to build its own ideas, solutions, and theories once those scaffolds and training wheels have been removed. This can only be accomplished if the learner is able to see the benefits and relevance to themselves ahead of time. Without such motivation, most people will make a simple calculation and determine that the cost of time, frustration, embarrassment, and effort isn’t worth the unseen future benefit. Carson’s Ourstory proposes to take the current flash card deck of data contained in public education and arrange it into a novel, an “epic tale” of humanity: relatable, memorable, and worthwhile. Despite the difficulties and potential drawbacks of such a proposal, it remains a powerful and viable idea.
References
Carson, R. (1998). “Ourstory—A culturally-based curriculum framed by history.” EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Carson, R. (2002). “The epic narrative of intellectual culture as a framework for curricular coherence.” Science & Education, 11. 231–246
Carson, R. (2003). “A Vygotskian Perspective on Culture & Cognition: A Reflection on How Tools Mediate Action .” EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
From Nomad to Urbanite: Renfrew and the Rise of Human Culture through Sedentism
The transition from nomadic tribes of hunter-gatherers to sedentary communities is one of the more epochal shifts in the history of humanity. This shift in living conditions can be traced as the ultimate cause of Homo sapiens’ transition from foraging bands of a few dozen individuals, to the vast urban populations that have so defined our species throughout recorded history. In fact, this single innovation of lifestyle would be, according to Renfrew’s Prehistory: The Making of the Human Mind (2007), the central fount from which virtually all subsequent cultural and material developments would spring.
There is a curious “gap” in the understanding of our own evolutionary/ developmental process; while modern humans and their pre-Paleolithic ancestors are physically and genetically indistinguishable, there are cognitive light years of distance between the two groups. Moreover, the path toward complexity and higher-level cognition did not proceed a steady pace. Rather, there was a massive acceleration approximately 40-60,000 years ago (p. 71). From the perspective of physical ability – which includes the physical brain’s potential for development – there is no major genetic shift to account for such a jump; as Renfrew said, “all humans are born equal,” whether that be in 2012 or 80,000 BCE (p. 79).
Renfrew’s resolution to this “sapient paradox” is in the settling of the myriad migratory tribes of hunters into permanent communities. These would have been areas of plenty – abundant fishing near rivers or coasts, predictable and regular game, and enough edible vegetation to support a permanent population (p. 120). This predictable and convenient source of food allowed these communities to shift their foci from the day-to-day struggle for subsistence and tracking, and into the “tectonic phase” of development. This phase is further subdivided into mythic, material symbolic, and theoretic stages – marking the rise of oral traditions, abstract symbolic tool use, and formalized writing structures, respectively (p. 97).
With this shift, community members were freer to begin specializing their individual skills. No longer did someone have to be proficient at every societal skill – hunting, collecting, skinning, just to name a few - to be contributory, but could know devote far more energy toward the advancement of fewer and more intricate tasks. Further, a settlement allowed for the production of technologies far too complex or impractical for a nomadic clan; pottery, refined stone tools, and eventually metallurgy being some of the more concrete examples (p. 123). But this increasing complexity required its own increasingly complex symbolic system to understand it. Thus in “a co-evolutionary process” (Carson, 2003, p. 12), humans’ symbolic representations of their changing world themselves were adapted and rendered increasingly complex, nuanced, and meaningful. Mathematics and the abstract conceptualization of number, for example, arose from the “practical need to keep track of objects, such as sheep or goats, that people depended on for food” (Carson, 2003, p.5).” Whereas a member of a hunting tribe would undoubtedly have a concept of quantity, there was simply no need to keep an exact and running calculation of how many animals were in a herd, or berries were on a bush. In a sedentary society, however, with social interaction more specialized, commerce and trade – as well as its darker cousin, theft - would have become far more central to these communities. As such, the ability to keep track of how many pots one made, or how many goats were in one’s herd (and whether a few had suddenly gone conspicuously missing) became of paramount importance to these burgeoning societies.
As these tribes each made the transition into permanent settlements, the rapid advancement in specialization and technological innovation was coupled with a parallel explosion of social innovation (p. 106). With the basic necessities of life dispersed throughout an increasingly specialized network of people, individuals could afford to spend far greater amounts of time contemplating what “might be,” or “had been” or “will be,” rather than merely what was before them. Moreover, the symbolic tools created to define this world were becoming sufficiently intricate as to be able to express these sparks of imagination, artistry, and faith.
References
Carson, R. (2003). A Vygotskian perspective on culture & cognition: A reflection on how tools mediate action. EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Renfrew, C. (2007). Prehistory: The making of the human mind. New York: Random House.
There is a curious “gap” in the understanding of our own evolutionary/ developmental process; while modern humans and their pre-Paleolithic ancestors are physically and genetically indistinguishable, there are cognitive light years of distance between the two groups. Moreover, the path toward complexity and higher-level cognition did not proceed a steady pace. Rather, there was a massive acceleration approximately 40-60,000 years ago (p. 71). From the perspective of physical ability – which includes the physical brain’s potential for development – there is no major genetic shift to account for such a jump; as Renfrew said, “all humans are born equal,” whether that be in 2012 or 80,000 BCE (p. 79).
Renfrew’s resolution to this “sapient paradox” is in the settling of the myriad migratory tribes of hunters into permanent communities. These would have been areas of plenty – abundant fishing near rivers or coasts, predictable and regular game, and enough edible vegetation to support a permanent population (p. 120). This predictable and convenient source of food allowed these communities to shift their foci from the day-to-day struggle for subsistence and tracking, and into the “tectonic phase” of development. This phase is further subdivided into mythic, material symbolic, and theoretic stages – marking the rise of oral traditions, abstract symbolic tool use, and formalized writing structures, respectively (p. 97).
With this shift, community members were freer to begin specializing their individual skills. No longer did someone have to be proficient at every societal skill – hunting, collecting, skinning, just to name a few - to be contributory, but could know devote far more energy toward the advancement of fewer and more intricate tasks. Further, a settlement allowed for the production of technologies far too complex or impractical for a nomadic clan; pottery, refined stone tools, and eventually metallurgy being some of the more concrete examples (p. 123). But this increasing complexity required its own increasingly complex symbolic system to understand it. Thus in “a co-evolutionary process” (Carson, 2003, p. 12), humans’ symbolic representations of their changing world themselves were adapted and rendered increasingly complex, nuanced, and meaningful. Mathematics and the abstract conceptualization of number, for example, arose from the “practical need to keep track of objects, such as sheep or goats, that people depended on for food” (Carson, 2003, p.5).” Whereas a member of a hunting tribe would undoubtedly have a concept of quantity, there was simply no need to keep an exact and running calculation of how many animals were in a herd, or berries were on a bush. In a sedentary society, however, with social interaction more specialized, commerce and trade – as well as its darker cousin, theft - would have become far more central to these communities. As such, the ability to keep track of how many pots one made, or how many goats were in one’s herd (and whether a few had suddenly gone conspicuously missing) became of paramount importance to these burgeoning societies.
As these tribes each made the transition into permanent settlements, the rapid advancement in specialization and technological innovation was coupled with a parallel explosion of social innovation (p. 106). With the basic necessities of life dispersed throughout an increasingly specialized network of people, individuals could afford to spend far greater amounts of time contemplating what “might be,” or “had been” or “will be,” rather than merely what was before them. Moreover, the symbolic tools created to define this world were becoming sufficiently intricate as to be able to express these sparks of imagination, artistry, and faith.
References
Carson, R. (2003). A Vygotskian perspective on culture & cognition: A reflection on how tools mediate action. EDCI 552 Coursepack. Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching, Bozeman, Montana.
Renfrew, C. (2007). Prehistory: The making of the human mind. New York: Random House.
The Changing Landscape of Educational Theory in the Twentieth Century: From the Clockwork Mind to Relative Reality
The evolution of educational theory has developed and shifted correspondingly with both the philosophical and scientific advances of the twentieth century. Many schools of thought from intellectual giants Kant and Rousseau, through Montessori, Piaget, Cassirer, and Vigotsky have informed one another in the relentless search for a better understanding of the developing mind (“Influences and Trends” Chart). Our understanding of how the learning process is conducted in the mind – and correspondingly how the mind itself forms – have shifted radically from the theories that informed the works of earlier scholars and educators. In his 1982 publication Art, Mind, and Brain – A Cognitive Approach to Creativity, Howard Gardner explores this shift in perception from the constructivist theory of genetic epistemology through Ernst Cassirer’s revitalization of phenomenology, and finally with Nelson Goodman and his post-modern nominalist philosophies.
The ongoing refinement of pedagogy has been “from unique truth and the word fixed and found towards a diversity of right and even conflicting versions or worlds in the making” (Gardner, 1982, p. 42). At the dawn of the twentieth century, the understanding of the human mind’s development was wholly different from the modern conceptualization. Prominent thinking of the time was that a child was essentially a “‘little adult’ who perhaps knew less than an adult but reasoned in essentially the same way” (Gardner, 1982, p. 7). It was Piaget who finally demonstrated that the functionality of a child’s mind was fundamentally dissimilar that of an adult’s (Gardner, 1982, p. 7). Piaget, though unquestionably erudite, was ultimately bound by the notion that the mind functioned in essentially a clockwork fashion, and that the “vast realms of awareness” contained in unquantifiable vessels of feeling, art, and music were not important to understanding the mind (Gardner, 1982, p.14). Instead, they were “bypassed in this ‘civilized,’ streamlined, and even somewhat mechanistic view of human consciousness” (Gardner, 1982, p. 14). Thus, ultimately Piaget’s titanic efforts were stymied by his own limited concept of the mind.
It was Cassirer and his protégé, Susanne Langer, who would help the disciple move beyond that misconception. Rather than merely observing the static reality around it in an essentially passive way, Cassirer pushed forward the theory that the mind was instead an active agent in the process of generating reality (Gardner, 1982). Drawing on Kant’s theory of phenomenology, Cassirer breath new life into the idea that “Time and Space are not absolute, but are organizing schemes the human mind imposes on the chaos of sensory input” (“Language, Mind, and Community”, p. 11). The mind itself was a critical component in not only understanding reality, but also creating it in a meaningful sense. Symbols were not merely constructs and tools of humans to frame truths, but in fact were “the functioning of thought itself, vital creative forms of activity our sole ways of “making” reality and synthesizing the world” (Gardner, 1982, p. 43-44). As evidenced in the modern artworks of artists such as Picasso, O’Keefe, Monet, Pollock, and many others, observing the exterior world was an active process of generating and interpreting patterns, not of merely observing a singular frame of reference (“Language, Mind, and Community”).
Nelson Goodman applied this concept to the vehicles of human expression: art, music, and language. His system of Notationality assessed the syntactic and semantic criteria of those symbol systems, and found they almost all fell short of the “ideal” in one or more critical facets (Gardner, 1982, p. 57). Since “the status of [a given symbol] depends entirely on how one chooses to construe it,” perfect clarity is virtually impossible (Gardner, 1982, p. 55). Instead, the possibilities of multiple interpretations of even a simple squiggle or word render even the most precise attempt at objective understanding “chock-full of ambiguity, redundancy, and other necessary blurring of features” (Gardner, 1982, p. 57). Whether a wiggly line is a meaningless scribble, an important data point, or a priceless piece of art is not objectively answerable, but instead depends on the observer and the circumstance of its observation (Gardner, 1982, p. 59). And as such, any system of observation – be it scientific inquiry or artistic creativity – become a coequals in their attempts at understanding. The versions of reality we simultaneously see as we create and create as we see are constantly changing in concert with our own changing conceptions and influences (Gardner, 1982, p. 63-64). It is important to note, however, that Goodman was not a proponent of total relativism. Though he did not consider any one realm of knowledge inherently superior to another, he stressed that there were “fairer” cuts of the cloth we collective term reality (Gardner, 1982, p. 62-63). Determining what those “fair cuts” are remains an ever-shifting question.
References
Gardner, H. (1982). Art, mind, and brain -- A cognitive approach to creativity. New York: Basic Books.
“Influences and Trends in Twentieth Century Education.” Montana State University, North Plains Transition to Teaching Coursepack.
“Language, Mind, and Community – And exploration of the relationship between cultural tools and the growth of human consciousness.” Montana State University, North Plains Transition to Teaching Coursepack.
The ongoing refinement of pedagogy has been “from unique truth and the word fixed and found towards a diversity of right and even conflicting versions or worlds in the making” (Gardner, 1982, p. 42). At the dawn of the twentieth century, the understanding of the human mind’s development was wholly different from the modern conceptualization. Prominent thinking of the time was that a child was essentially a “‘little adult’ who perhaps knew less than an adult but reasoned in essentially the same way” (Gardner, 1982, p. 7). It was Piaget who finally demonstrated that the functionality of a child’s mind was fundamentally dissimilar that of an adult’s (Gardner, 1982, p. 7). Piaget, though unquestionably erudite, was ultimately bound by the notion that the mind functioned in essentially a clockwork fashion, and that the “vast realms of awareness” contained in unquantifiable vessels of feeling, art, and music were not important to understanding the mind (Gardner, 1982, p.14). Instead, they were “bypassed in this ‘civilized,’ streamlined, and even somewhat mechanistic view of human consciousness” (Gardner, 1982, p. 14). Thus, ultimately Piaget’s titanic efforts were stymied by his own limited concept of the mind.
It was Cassirer and his protégé, Susanne Langer, who would help the disciple move beyond that misconception. Rather than merely observing the static reality around it in an essentially passive way, Cassirer pushed forward the theory that the mind was instead an active agent in the process of generating reality (Gardner, 1982). Drawing on Kant’s theory of phenomenology, Cassirer breath new life into the idea that “Time and Space are not absolute, but are organizing schemes the human mind imposes on the chaos of sensory input” (“Language, Mind, and Community”, p. 11). The mind itself was a critical component in not only understanding reality, but also creating it in a meaningful sense. Symbols were not merely constructs and tools of humans to frame truths, but in fact were “the functioning of thought itself, vital creative forms of activity our sole ways of “making” reality and synthesizing the world” (Gardner, 1982, p. 43-44). As evidenced in the modern artworks of artists such as Picasso, O’Keefe, Monet, Pollock, and many others, observing the exterior world was an active process of generating and interpreting patterns, not of merely observing a singular frame of reference (“Language, Mind, and Community”).
Nelson Goodman applied this concept to the vehicles of human expression: art, music, and language. His system of Notationality assessed the syntactic and semantic criteria of those symbol systems, and found they almost all fell short of the “ideal” in one or more critical facets (Gardner, 1982, p. 57). Since “the status of [a given symbol] depends entirely on how one chooses to construe it,” perfect clarity is virtually impossible (Gardner, 1982, p. 55). Instead, the possibilities of multiple interpretations of even a simple squiggle or word render even the most precise attempt at objective understanding “chock-full of ambiguity, redundancy, and other necessary blurring of features” (Gardner, 1982, p. 57). Whether a wiggly line is a meaningless scribble, an important data point, or a priceless piece of art is not objectively answerable, but instead depends on the observer and the circumstance of its observation (Gardner, 1982, p. 59). And as such, any system of observation – be it scientific inquiry or artistic creativity – become a coequals in their attempts at understanding. The versions of reality we simultaneously see as we create and create as we see are constantly changing in concert with our own changing conceptions and influences (Gardner, 1982, p. 63-64). It is important to note, however, that Goodman was not a proponent of total relativism. Though he did not consider any one realm of knowledge inherently superior to another, he stressed that there were “fairer” cuts of the cloth we collective term reality (Gardner, 1982, p. 62-63). Determining what those “fair cuts” are remains an ever-shifting question.
References
Gardner, H. (1982). Art, mind, and brain -- A cognitive approach to creativity. New York: Basic Books.
“Influences and Trends in Twentieth Century Education.” Montana State University, North Plains Transition to Teaching Coursepack.
“Language, Mind, and Community – And exploration of the relationship between cultural tools and the growth of human consciousness.” Montana State University, North Plains Transition to Teaching Coursepack.
Comparing Erikson’s Ego-Psychology to Physical Human Growth Patterns
The question of how the human mind grows and develops is one that scholars have attempted to answer through the ages. It is of particular importance to educators, as success in their jobs hinges on being able to effectively reach and teach their students. As the secrets of the body and brain have become increasingly understood through both technological advancements and research methods, theorists such as Erik Erikson have put forth explanations of the mind’s direction and propensity to learn. Erikson, as discussed by Boeree (2006), was a proponent of Sigmund Freud’s theory of psychosexual stages. Erikson, though, expanded and refined Freud’s concept by dividing the fifth and final stage – called the “genital stage” by Freud – into four more nuanced progressions: adolescence, followed by young, middle, and late adulthood (Boeree, 2006, p. 7). He is most famous, however, for his development of the epigenetic principle, which states, “we develop through a predetermined unfolding of our personalities in eight stages [… and] like the unfolding of a rose bud, each petal opens up at a certain time, in a certain order, which nature, through its genetics, has determined” (Boeree, 2006, p. 6). Each stage laid the foundation for each successive stage. Thus if this genetically programmed order was interrupted or interfered with, it risked “ruining the development of the entire flower” (Boeree, 2006, p. 6).
More recent research and study of the mechanics of human physical growth pattern have at least partially validated Erikson’s model. Though the Freudian language of concrete “stages” and “crises” remain outdated, the human body and brain do go through a definite and predictable series of growth and development phases that correspond remarkably well to Erikson’s eight stages. The human growth charts published by The National Center for Health Statistics (2000), for instance, show a marked difference in growth rate between an infant and a toddler: after the first 6 months of life, both brain and body begin to slow their growth before stabilizing in the second year (NCHS, 2000, p. 1-4). This marks roughly the break point between the Eriksonian/Freudian stages I and II: from infant to toddler (Boeree, 2006, p. 7). Similarly, there is a clear delineation in growth between a prepubescent child and an adolescent, and again between an adolescent and a young adult (NCHS, 2000, p. 5, 6).
While there are no such easily recognizable physical shifts between a child in the anal-muscular stage, and one in the genital-locomotor stage, there is a distinct shift in both physical and mental ability. Very rapidly, both gross and fine motor skill are achieved and mastered and “the preschool child no longer has to make an effort to stay upright and move around” (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169). The skill set of a given 3-4 year old – running, jumping, throwing, as well as complex speech patterns - is so vastly beyond a 2 year old that it is easy to see where delineation between stages could be drawn, even in the absence of clearly demarcated physical differences (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169).
Of course, at no point in human development is there a true dormancy. Instead, even the clearest of changes are merely shifts in rate and type of growth over a given period of time. Even a stage theory as relatively well developed as Erikson’s suffers from the same limitations of language and rigidity of explanation. Boeree (2006) says:
It is very hard to definitively attribute the name “stage” to even such an obvious transition as adolescence. Onset of pubescent features can vary widely even within an individual, much less the population as a whole. The rapid growth typical of teens can start as early as 9 in girls and 10 in boys, or a late as 15 in girls, and 17 in boys (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169). Similarly, menarche, genital development, and pubescent hair growth have wide variation in their start and end points (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169). Rather than being a single definite stage, physical adolescence is a confluence of interconnected, but separate processes. It can be posited that mental development would follow a similarly unsynchronized pattern toward full development.
Though Erikson’s theories do not entirely align with the patterns seen in human growth, they do so on enough key points that they can provide a structure which “meets one of the most important standards of personality theory, a standard sometimes more important than "truth:" It is useful” (Boeree, 2006, p. 15). By taking Erikson’s theory of genetic determinacy together with the more gradated and continuous theory of Maria Montessori’s “absorbent mind” (Carson, 2002, p. 1), it is possible to see a potential pattern of mental development very similar to the corresponding physical development – a continuous upward and outward growth, punctuated by preprogrammed phases of accelerated progress and rapid change.
Resources
Boeree, C. (2006). Personality Theories: Erik Erikson. http://webspace.ship.edu/cgboer/perscontents.html
Carson, R. (2002). The educational wisdom of Maria Montessori. EDCI 552 Coursepack.
Bozeman, MT: Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching Program.
National Center for Health Statistics(2000). Human growth charts. Retrieved www.cdc.gov\growthcharts
Santrock, J. W. and Yussen, S. R. (1992). Child development -- An introduction. Dubuque, IA: William C. Brown. pp. 165-212.
More recent research and study of the mechanics of human physical growth pattern have at least partially validated Erikson’s model. Though the Freudian language of concrete “stages” and “crises” remain outdated, the human body and brain do go through a definite and predictable series of growth and development phases that correspond remarkably well to Erikson’s eight stages. The human growth charts published by The National Center for Health Statistics (2000), for instance, show a marked difference in growth rate between an infant and a toddler: after the first 6 months of life, both brain and body begin to slow their growth before stabilizing in the second year (NCHS, 2000, p. 1-4). This marks roughly the break point between the Eriksonian/Freudian stages I and II: from infant to toddler (Boeree, 2006, p. 7). Similarly, there is a clear delineation in growth between a prepubescent child and an adolescent, and again between an adolescent and a young adult (NCHS, 2000, p. 5, 6).
While there are no such easily recognizable physical shifts between a child in the anal-muscular stage, and one in the genital-locomotor stage, there is a distinct shift in both physical and mental ability. Very rapidly, both gross and fine motor skill are achieved and mastered and “the preschool child no longer has to make an effort to stay upright and move around” (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169). The skill set of a given 3-4 year old – running, jumping, throwing, as well as complex speech patterns - is so vastly beyond a 2 year old that it is easy to see where delineation between stages could be drawn, even in the absence of clearly demarcated physical differences (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169).
Of course, at no point in human development is there a true dormancy. Instead, even the clearest of changes are merely shifts in rate and type of growth over a given period of time. Even a stage theory as relatively well developed as Erikson’s suffers from the same limitations of language and rigidity of explanation. Boeree (2006) says:
If we stretch the meaning of stages to include certain logical sequences, i.e. things that happen in a certain order, not because they are biologically so programmed, but because they don't make sense any other way
[…]
And if we stretch the meaning of stages even further to include social "programming" as well as biological […] it is no longer a difficult matter to come up with seven or eight stages; Only now, of course, you'd be hard pressed to call them stages, rather than "phases" or something equally vague. (p. 15)
It is very hard to definitively attribute the name “stage” to even such an obvious transition as adolescence. Onset of pubescent features can vary widely even within an individual, much less the population as a whole. The rapid growth typical of teens can start as early as 9 in girls and 10 in boys, or a late as 15 in girls, and 17 in boys (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169). Similarly, menarche, genital development, and pubescent hair growth have wide variation in their start and end points (Santrock and Yussen, 1992, p. 169). Rather than being a single definite stage, physical adolescence is a confluence of interconnected, but separate processes. It can be posited that mental development would follow a similarly unsynchronized pattern toward full development.
Though Erikson’s theories do not entirely align with the patterns seen in human growth, they do so on enough key points that they can provide a structure which “meets one of the most important standards of personality theory, a standard sometimes more important than "truth:" It is useful” (Boeree, 2006, p. 15). By taking Erikson’s theory of genetic determinacy together with the more gradated and continuous theory of Maria Montessori’s “absorbent mind” (Carson, 2002, p. 1), it is possible to see a potential pattern of mental development very similar to the corresponding physical development – a continuous upward and outward growth, punctuated by preprogrammed phases of accelerated progress and rapid change.
Resources
Boeree, C. (2006). Personality Theories: Erik Erikson. http://webspace.ship.edu/cgboer/perscontents.html
Carson, R. (2002). The educational wisdom of Maria Montessori. EDCI 552 Coursepack.
Bozeman, MT: Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching Program.
National Center for Health Statistics(2000). Human growth charts. Retrieved www.cdc.gov\growthcharts
Santrock, J. W. and Yussen, S. R. (1992). Child development -- An introduction. Dubuque, IA: William C. Brown. pp. 165-212.
Summarizing and Reflecting on Dr. Carson’s “Beginning to Teach”
Dr. Robert Carson’s paper, “Beginning to Teach” (2003) covered many important points and considerations for a teacher beginning his or her career. He took the reader from the very first days of the job – which begins well before a student ever sets foot in the classroom – into a discussion of what it means to be a teacher, and how to best utilize the tools, mentors, and philosophies at our disposal to most effectively meet the goal of reaching and educating students.
Very early in the paper, Dr. Carson focuses on the outlook and attitude of the new teacher, and how that can define and shape both the class and work environments over the long term. Becoming involved both in the community and with one’s fellow staff, is emphasized. He stresses the importance of meeting and interacting not just with fellow teachers, but also the support staff of the schools that make that makes them run: “the vice principal, the office secretary, the librarian, the media specialist, the school psychologist, the lunchroom staff, the custodian, the teaching aides, the bus drivers, and all of your fellow faculty.” (p. 1) An open mind, and be receptive to guidance from one’s peers, he states, is not only good for learning new methods and strategies, but also in forming a positive relationship with them. No one likes a know-it-all, and certainly not a rookie know-it-all. (p. 2) Parental interaction, and forming a positive relationship based on the best interests of the students’ education are also critical to success. This requires professionalism, and open lines of communication, as well as an aiding respect for families’ personal values and norms. (p. 2-3)
Of course, the most frequent and important interaction takes place between teacher and student. Though they’ll rarely ask outright, students want and require are learning space that is “safe, friendly, and sane […with] stable, sensible boundaries that do not move or buckle under pressure.” (p. 3) If these requirements are not met, the students will neither trust nor respect the teacher and the classroom. Moreover, they want encouragement of real effort and recognition of actual achievement, rather than the “snake oil” of false self-esteem. (p. 4)
Dr. Carson them takes time to explore the ideas behind order and focus in the classroom, and begins the section suggesting that the class be participatory in establishing – and ultimately enforcing – its own “social contract.” (p. 4) He explains this should be working toward the goal of establishing a space within which the students are mentally willing and able to devote themselves to learning. Ideally, the classroom can serve as a collegial environment, psychologically distinct from the toils and tribulations of the rest of the world, where each student can focus and feel comfortable enough to “take risks, open up, share their ideas, [and] be willing to make mistakes.” (p. 6) As with the Lockean concept from which Dr. Carson takes the name, this classroom social contract requires the “consent of the governed” and must be agreed to and reinforced by the group itself. Though he discusses several strategies for behavior management and discipline, Dr. Carson advises that “the real goal is to get students to control themselves, and for the group to regulate itself and its members.” (p. 8)
Regarding curriculum planning, Carson gives the sage advice that one shouldn’t “try to reinvent the wheel.” (p. 8) Structure in lesson plans and assessing both the class and individual knowledge level at the beginning of the term is essential in achieving success with each student. Additionally, it is very important to determine in advance the “structural objective” of each lesson and to make it cover as much of Bloom’s Taxonomy hierarchy as possible to ensure the maximum understanding. He concludes this section by stressing that it is not enough to teach individual facts, but that it is also crucial to incorporate them into a larger understanding of the world; as he phrases it, “the larger, gestalt-like structures that constitute human culture, intellectual disciplines, and, for that matter, the human mind itself.” (p. 9)
I was very interest in reading Dr. Carson’s paper, and in the discussions the followed it. Moving forward, I would like to learn more about Bloom’s Taxonomy, and how to incorporate into lesson planning in as complete a way as possible. I am also eager to discuss methods of incorporating individual lesson into the “gestalt-like structures” Dr. Carson mentioned. At a more structural-planning level, I am interested in further looking at lesson planning strategies, especially the “backward” method mentioned on page 9. I am excited to move forward on these topics, as well as ones which have not yet been introduced.
References
Carson, R. (2003) Beginning to teach. EDCI 552 Coursepack. Bozeman, MT: Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching.
Very early in the paper, Dr. Carson focuses on the outlook and attitude of the new teacher, and how that can define and shape both the class and work environments over the long term. Becoming involved both in the community and with one’s fellow staff, is emphasized. He stresses the importance of meeting and interacting not just with fellow teachers, but also the support staff of the schools that make that makes them run: “the vice principal, the office secretary, the librarian, the media specialist, the school psychologist, the lunchroom staff, the custodian, the teaching aides, the bus drivers, and all of your fellow faculty.” (p. 1) An open mind, and be receptive to guidance from one’s peers, he states, is not only good for learning new methods and strategies, but also in forming a positive relationship with them. No one likes a know-it-all, and certainly not a rookie know-it-all. (p. 2) Parental interaction, and forming a positive relationship based on the best interests of the students’ education are also critical to success. This requires professionalism, and open lines of communication, as well as an aiding respect for families’ personal values and norms. (p. 2-3)
Of course, the most frequent and important interaction takes place between teacher and student. Though they’ll rarely ask outright, students want and require are learning space that is “safe, friendly, and sane […with] stable, sensible boundaries that do not move or buckle under pressure.” (p. 3) If these requirements are not met, the students will neither trust nor respect the teacher and the classroom. Moreover, they want encouragement of real effort and recognition of actual achievement, rather than the “snake oil” of false self-esteem. (p. 4)
Dr. Carson them takes time to explore the ideas behind order and focus in the classroom, and begins the section suggesting that the class be participatory in establishing – and ultimately enforcing – its own “social contract.” (p. 4) He explains this should be working toward the goal of establishing a space within which the students are mentally willing and able to devote themselves to learning. Ideally, the classroom can serve as a collegial environment, psychologically distinct from the toils and tribulations of the rest of the world, where each student can focus and feel comfortable enough to “take risks, open up, share their ideas, [and] be willing to make mistakes.” (p. 6) As with the Lockean concept from which Dr. Carson takes the name, this classroom social contract requires the “consent of the governed” and must be agreed to and reinforced by the group itself. Though he discusses several strategies for behavior management and discipline, Dr. Carson advises that “the real goal is to get students to control themselves, and for the group to regulate itself and its members.” (p. 8)
Regarding curriculum planning, Carson gives the sage advice that one shouldn’t “try to reinvent the wheel.” (p. 8) Structure in lesson plans and assessing both the class and individual knowledge level at the beginning of the term is essential in achieving success with each student. Additionally, it is very important to determine in advance the “structural objective” of each lesson and to make it cover as much of Bloom’s Taxonomy hierarchy as possible to ensure the maximum understanding. He concludes this section by stressing that it is not enough to teach individual facts, but that it is also crucial to incorporate them into a larger understanding of the world; as he phrases it, “the larger, gestalt-like structures that constitute human culture, intellectual disciplines, and, for that matter, the human mind itself.” (p. 9)
I was very interest in reading Dr. Carson’s paper, and in the discussions the followed it. Moving forward, I would like to learn more about Bloom’s Taxonomy, and how to incorporate into lesson planning in as complete a way as possible. I am also eager to discuss methods of incorporating individual lesson into the “gestalt-like structures” Dr. Carson mentioned. At a more structural-planning level, I am interested in further looking at lesson planning strategies, especially the “backward” method mentioned on page 9. I am excited to move forward on these topics, as well as ones which have not yet been introduced.
References
Carson, R. (2003) Beginning to teach. EDCI 552 Coursepack. Bozeman, MT: Montana State University, Northern Plains Transition to Teaching.
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