Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else and root out everything else…. Stick to Facts, sir! (C. Dickens, Hard Times)
Call me a cockeyed optimist, but Covid-19 has presented us, both personally and professionally, with two invaluable gifts: time and opportunity. As I noted in a letter to parents shortly after we had transitioned into home isolation and its concomitant restrictions, I hadn’t just stepped out of the proverbial box, I had discarded it. If I once deemed most constructivist learning theories impracticable in a proficiency-based system that tailors curricula to grade-level benchmarks, a new prism invited a fresh perspective. On March 15th, the familiar confines of my classroom and whiteboard were supplanted with a virtual, digital, abstract and, hence, boundless space. I soon realized that the world had, indeed, become my pedagogical oyster.
I should preface this article by disclosing that, last year, I taught advanced 7th-, 9th- and 11th-grade classes at a religious school for girls in Jerusalem. Most of my students, native and non-native speakers alike, exhibit an array of skills and interests that reflect a drive to succeed. Therefore, while disciplinary issues tend to be the exception in my ability groups, grades are often given disproportionate weight by students who view them as a measure of their worth. For some, grades are an end in themselves, for others, the means whereby one thrives or survives in a stagnant education system that continues to impart Dickensian Industrial Age values. Covid-19 has afforded us a singular opportunity to graduate from uniform collectivism to student-centered constructivism, from studying for tests to learning for growth.
The trouble with the future is that it usually arrives before we’re ready for it. Arnold H. Glasow
The Covid-19 crisis abruptly cast the nation, its economy and social institutions into a state of emergency and uncertainty. Seemingly overnight, students and teachers were yanked out of classrooms and thrust into a thoroughly unfamiliar environment. Some adapted more quickly than others. Many are still struggling. And yet, what emerged in lieu of an archaic, uninspired system of education was one that forced us to leverage new and readily available technological resources, whether we liked it or not. All at once, we were asked to choose between distance teaching and distance learning. All at once, we were forced to ask ourselves not “What will I teach?” but “How will my students learn? How will my choices of process and product best serve them in constructing and inculcating the knowledge I wish to impart?” After all, isn’t this what we were trained to do? Yes and no.
Friedrich Nietzsche observed that the present is equally informed by the past and the future. It therefore stands to reason that, in our so-called Start-Up Nation, the education system should be placing a premium on anticipating and adapting to the future even as it emphasizes the influence and legacy of our past. This, however, is not the case. If nothing else, the pandemic exposed a state of unpreparedness and technological illiteracy in an entrenched, shortsighted system that has privileged convention over progress. Absent curricula that could both anticipate and adapt to a rapidly changing landscape, the Ministry of Education was caught flat-footed as were teachers whose training and experience suddenly felt inadequate if not obsolete.
Whereas a corporate career spanning more than two decades did little to prepare me for this role, it did shape what might now be called my teaching philosophy. To begin with, I find the term “classroom management” jarring. It smacks of discipline and control in an environment that should be nurturing and constructive. Just as the manager of an account team in a public relations firm is tasked with creating and orchestrating a community of sorts that is conducive to the cooperation and creativity of its members, so, too, the teacher must guide, facilitate and motivate. Students are not – and should not be – objects to be managed or “little pitchers… to be filled so full of facts;” they should, instead, be the subjects of reflection, inquiry and productivity.
To that end, the curricula I developed last summer for my middle school classes were founded upon a clear objective: transforming my students into active, autonomous, confident learners. If language teaching – and learning – often feels like a Sisyphean task, Bloom’s taxonomy is an apt metaphor for the unconquerable hill – unconquerable, that is, in a system that fails to treat learning as a proficiency, a skill to be taught, practiced and perfected. Listening is not retaining. Effective notetaking is not transcription. Repetition, recall and regurgitation do not constitute meaningful learning. Inference, analysis and evaluation do. Why, then, are students not taught how to summarize a lesson or to formulate meaningful questions? How might students construct new knowledge absent the ability to explore, revise and transfer familiar concepts between disciplines? How might we, their teachers, utilize their informal education and innate skills to engage, excite and encourage?
The early days of the Covid-19 lockdown raised these and other compelling questions about the process and practice of pedagogy. As I sought to address them, they became the focal point for my revised 9th-grade curriculum – a series of six asynchronous tasks designed to expound and challenge theories of learning. Six tasks that I envisioned as a journey whereby Socratic inquiry, critical thinking and problem solving would result in the construction of knowledge and meaning. My students were about to become the architects of their own education. And they were about to do so in English.
What Is School For?
This question is deftly examined in a spoken word video by American rapper and civil rights activist, Prince EA (aka Richard Williams). At any other time, in any other circumstances, my students would have readily agreed with the opinions proffered by the artist; but, after a week at home, I asked them for a defense of traditional schooling. I expected some to resist. None did. All underscored the social value of education – specifically, classroom dynamics and recess – which several deemed integral to their need for structure and a sense of security:
| Maayan R. |
| “School may be annoying sometimes, but it also has many things that make us happier and wiser.” |
| Hadas |
| “School helps you feel like you are part of a framework and that you are not alone.” |
| Hadaria |
| “I need a framework to feel useful and productive.” |
The video, it should be noted, criticizes both the product and process of education as it advocates for a life skills curriculum. Yet, even as the girls acknowledged the merits of these skills, few explored when and how they should be taught. I was ready to give the envelope another push.
By March 22nd, isolation and excessive screen time had begun to take their toll. I, therefore, decided not to schedule a synchronous lesson for a second week. Instead, I equipped my students with simplified explanations of the flipped classroom and various learning theories – including constructivism and multiple intelligences – and asked them to consider how distance learning had changed their understanding of and/or feelings about education. Piaget, Vygotsky and Gardner had shown them how to engage with knowledge, to imagine a student-centered curriculum and themselves as empowered, confident and effective learners. If I feared these theories might exceed their cognitive abilities, the girls proved they were more than up to the task. All embraced the experiential, interpersonal and intrapersonal processes of inquiry, and most gained a better appreciation of their own needs and abilities through Gardner’s multiple intelligences. Ultimately, the notion of active, personalized learning resonated with all:
| Tamar | |
| “When I have been through some learning process that I have led by myself, I remember it better and enjoy it more.” | |
| Elah | |
| “I would like a photography class where I could go out and take pictures. Then, the teacher could sit with me and explain what is good about the photo and how it could be better.” | |
| Maayan C. | |
| “Personally, I find teaching very helpful (which I think is like the interpersonal intelligence). If I teach anything – another student, my poor sister, or even a doll – it helps me get the material.” |
Choosing to forgo synchronous lessons – and, thereby, conversation – for two weeks would have been unthinkable before the pandemic. Whereas language acquisition is a skills-based cumulative process, language proficiency is the sum total of receptive and productive skills – input and output. Thus, what we teach a child (input) becomes meaningful only when she owns and uses it (output). For the EFL teacher, this means that one’s teaching philosophy must be grounded in a holistic approach to language, and, indeed, mine had been before I discarded the proverbial box. Fortunately, by the time we finally met to discuss what they had learned, several of my students understood that I had flipped the classroom, and that they, in turn, had constructed meaning from the information I had imparted. Now, they were fully engaged and eager to proceed.
With four weekly hours once again at my disposal, it was time to shift the balance further. My students were tasked with researching new concepts and applying them to those already learned and experienced. We then gathered to discuss and delve deeper into their findings. Task 3 introduced the girls to formal and informal education, soft and hard skills, and their relevance to the transfer of learning. As expected, their work revealed that students who participate in after-school enrichment programs and youth groups are better able to articulate the value of an informal education and its contribution to their performance both in and beyond school.
| Ye’ela | |
| “If I went to an after-school program, I think it would be something like Express Yourself Through Art…. I’d get to know myself better, and that would help me deal with stress and pressure.” | |
| Hadas | |
| “I participate in Scouts, and it’s a central part of my life. In Scouts, I’ve learned how to deal with school trips and make the most of them, and it has given me a lot of confidence in life, so it’s easier for me to make friends.” | |
| Hadaria | |
| “My informal education is contributing a lot to my performance in and out of school. I have several enrichment programs, and I personally feel that my knowledge, empathy and ability to think outside the box come from there.” |
Once we had added conversation into the mix, our project became both an individual and collaborative search for answers as my students formed their own opinions and claims about the efficacy of their shared educational experience. And now that they had thoughtfully analyzed and evaluated their curriculum, it was time to find out whether they could propose the means to improve it – to transfer theory to practice.
The Pedagogical Playground
In preparation for their final assignment, Task 4 challenged the girls to think like a teacher. Asked to tackle the school subject they found most boring or difficult, they could revise the product and/or process using any of the learning theories or methods in their newly acquired arsenal. Their vision of a student-centered classroom had, at last, begun to take shape, and their ingenuity, in some instances, was scintillating.
Adina doesn’t like math because it “is less learning and more memorizing.” She would make it more accessible and fun by taking students to a playground – or, perhaps, the pyramids in Egypt – to learn geometry. Elianna would explore the chemical reactions that occur when baking a cake. And Maya would use literature to teach students to communicate effectively and respectfully because “literature is not like math; there will always be conflicting opinions.”
At this point, the students intuitively appreciated that knowledge and meaning are best constructed through activity, creativity and teamwork. All that remained was to furnish them with the tools and terminology needed to explain how and why. Three videos and a post-viewing assignment (Task 5) prepared the girls to assess the benefits of the student-centered classroom, PBL and blended learning. Our three-month journey was nearing its climax. Three months during which we questioned, debated and deliberated the past and future of education. Their education. And mine. To what end?
For their sixth and final task, the students could either design a curriculum or lesson plans for three school subjects in unrelated disciplines. How might they make a boring subject interesting or imbue convention with creativity? Although Constructivism is not pedagogy, how we perceive, construct and acquire knowledge is the cornerstone of educational practice. And, as such, I was eager to see how my students would draw on their personal experience, culture and/or worldview to shape, test and share their ideas.
Roni, a devotee of the band Queen, introduced a physics class on the speed of light and the relation of time and space with their song ‘39. Several students conceded that the government curriculum could not be changed but sought ways to give it value beyond school. For Nili, learning that occurs outside the classroom – history in a museum or science out in nature – is more likely to engage the senses and be retained. Maayan C. similarly looked to the experiential value of a civics course in which students would collaborate in the creation of a city or country and tackle issues of legislation, justice and related crises. All the girls ultimately envisioned an interdisciplinary approach in which information is collectively acquired, evaluated and shared with their peers.
Last September, my plan was to develop my students’ productive skills in English while transforming them into active, autonomous, creative learners. Covid-19 changed the means and arguably bettered the result. For, even as it continues to cast a pall of uncertainty over the future of Israel’s education system, my 9th-graders’ perspective of education will never be the same.
My so-called “conversational classroom” falls squarely within the theory of social constructivism which underscores the learning that occurs as a result of this interaction. Simply put, interactive discourse promotes learning, and learning is an active process wherein students are the actors and the teacher facilitates. Here, the method, if not the motivation, recalls elements of Socratic questioning and Plato’s dialectics. And, for the language teacher in particular, any experience that stimulates the student’s constructivist learning objectives is one in which both teaching and educating occur.
* * * * * * * *
Timna Hurwich teaches English at the Evelina de Rothschild upper school in Jerusalem. She is also a partner and teacher in a private after-school enrichment program for gifted children.
Copyright © 2020 Timna M. Hurwich. All rights reserved