Saturday 14 March 2015

For Mr Smyth and Form 7 History

Well, I am writing my first assignment for the course I have started. It is one of those fluffy - 'write about an experience as a student and draw lessons from it' tasks.

I wasn't looking forward  to it, as I was stuck and I struggle to write with authenticity in tasks like this. I find them a bit contrived... but once I really started to think of a time when I was a student and how it had impact on me, there was one real go to moment.

Form 7, History with Mr Smyth. Maybe my favourite class at College. One that I had talked about my friends with over the years and still laugh at.

I had a nice trip down memory lane and when I got writing, realised what a massive impact this class - the people, my friends and the teacher, had on me.

Thanks for being awesome classmates. I am lucky to still count some of you as close friends.

To Mr Smyth, you grumpy, opinionated, National Party voting, outy belly buttoned man. Thanks for being my teacher.

Thanks for changing my life.

__________________________________________________

One particular episode of teaching and learning has had particular relevance in shaping, not only my own beliefs in teaching and learning, but also that of the career path I would eventually take. As a History student at Mount Maunganui College the teacher, and the course itself, would have a powerful effect on my world view and those of my class, but would also serve to demonstrate the dynamics of the teacher and student relationship. 

In terms of the teaching and pedagogy of the class, we were introduced to and engaged in effective debate and discussion. Throughout the year our teacher created an environment conducive to debate. Not only did he choose an environment where he got his students from out behind our desks physically, he worked to do this mentally. His effective use of questioning, moving from different perspectives and his insistence that we develop and defend our response, shifted us from simple assertion to dialectic. Debate became involved and drew in others ideas and opinions. The teacher responded to easy platitudes and generalisations with challenge, which invited response, humour and heated exchange 

The learning context contributed to the exploration of our own beliefs and was an effective compliment to this pedagogical approach. The context was focused around 19th Century New Zealand History, which initially we complained bitterly about. We were not interested in our own stories and were thirsty to find out about the world around us. A single critical incident radically challenged this complacency and doubt. We were collectively complaining about our year's subject to a relief teacher, who duly listened to our angst about the relevancy of New Zealand History. The teacher then responded passionately, challenging our viewpoint; the ignorance and paucity of our own knowledge about our country, our cultural prejudice and our socio-economic position in society. This was a direct affront to my own worldview. I did not see myself as ignorant, middle class and I was proud of my own Maori heritage, yet there was sting in her words. That one incident forced us to re-evaluate our beliefs and confront how we understood our place in our culture and society. It enabled us to open our minds to an entirely different perspective of New Zealand, a country we thought we knew. We were able to approach our study of this context with an open mind. 

With pedagogy that helped us into this space of discovery, challenge and justification, our exploration of the learning context became exciting. We found that we were just as thirsty to find out about who we wereThe class became a re-examination of how we learn and what we learnt. 

What is so powerful and why has it remained such an important narrative in my own teaching practice, is that this teacher and class demonstrate key lessons and issues in the formation of my own philosophy of teaching.   

Firstly, there was a shift in the pedagogical locus of the classroom. This was the first time where I felt the power dynamics of learning tip from teacher to student. There was acceptance and encouragement of student led discussion. Often we would argue amongst ourselves for long periods of timewhile the teacher would moderate and facilitate. This student-centred approach to learning, where I was engaged as the leader of my own learning was a dramatic departure from what I had come to expect. A student centred approach to learning became a key motivation in my own teaching practice. 

Also, this class taught us about academic resilience and relationships. We had to negotiate between the personal and the conceptual and learn how to build arguments based on what we knew, in addition to how we felt. It was not simply our interpersonal dynamic that was examined but also the dynamic of the teaching relationship. The lesson I take from this is the complexity, depth and delight of the role of a of teacher. Our teacher was very different to most us: in age, background, and, politics. He enjoyed goading and challenging us. He revelled in our difference and so did we. Despite our difference and sometimes outright disagreement, we had a collective sense of trust and integrity. This class showed the importance of the dynamic between teacher and student and how, despite diversity in perspective and background, the essential nature of trust in forming meaningful learning relationships. 

Furthermore, this was a crucial time in my own personal development and understanding of the power of perspective, teaching and social justice. It was a class that encouraged me to articulate who I was and what was important to me. It was the foundation of my understanding of social action and change, anfurthermore, the recognition of the cultural and historical tradition of these movements in New Zealand. It would be the beginning of my own interest in social justice and as a passionate advocate of New Zealand history. 

As young people ready to finish compulsory education we were impatient. We were for ready for interaction and a shift from the didactic, industrial model of schooling we were so familiar and dependent on. We were also complacent and arrogant in our comfortable perspective and worldview. We were challenged, albeit with support, clever facilitation and in an environment of trust; we were pushed. Therein lies the powerful lesson for me as a teacher; it is the profound influence that you can exert on the identity and future of your students, that is equally inspiring and frightening at the same time. 

This teacher influenced my identity and how I viewed myself. It shows the ability of a teacher to affect social change through the teaching and learning process. This year had a profound impact on my future and career path.It was then I settled on my desire to become a teacher, a teacher of New Zealand history. The impact that this teacher had on my own life is powerful and serves to illustrate the unintended consequences of teaching. The strongest and most lasting lesson I can draw from this experience is the power of the 'unintended consequence', which is the privilege and the responsibility of being a teacher.

Wednesday 4 March 2015

Fulbright Reflections 1 - Texas & NDSG


Godbless America and Texas!

Howdy y'all.
This post sees over 3 weeks since end to the conference I attended in Edinburg, South Texas. The group who convened the conference is called the North Dakota Study Group (NDSG) and is a group of around 160 progressive, liberal educators, and those who are interested in education. It was a three day conference with a number of workshops, discussion groups and field trips. Here are some of my thoughts on what I experienced over the three days. They are my ramblings and a kind of diary for me. They allow me to reflect and make sense of all I experienced over my three weeks in the States, warts, spelling mistakes and all!

People.
I was a little anxious about what type of people I would be working with: would they be interesting, accessible, would I understand their particular context, would I get shot in Texas? Yes to all except gun wounds. It was a very diverse group, both in terms of culture, socio-economic background and profession. There were lots of academics, educators and people from non-profit organisations, activists and just the plain interested. This of course led to some interesting dynamics and allowed me some insight into the intersection of race and education and how it manifests itself in society here.

Mariachi - fulfilling a lifelong dream!

Llano Grande Center
Firstly it hurts to spell centre the other way around. Probably as much as it was annoying how I instinctively went to the passenger side of the car only to find someone had inconveniently installed a steering wheel in the way. I digress. The center is a non-profit organisation that 'seeks to revitalize the community through youth'. It has become a focus of community, outreach and education in the Rio Grande Valley and as such, was the host for some writing work that the guys had come to visit were a part of. It was my first night and I came straight from the airport. I was exhausted and could have gone straight to bed. Instead, here was a group of really smart people talking of things of which I had little experience. It is only through the generosity of spirit and inclusion that I was able to keep my eyelids open! The group was sharing their experiences of using social action, or how they may, to engage their respective communities, which were diverse. It was my introduction to many inspiring people but also to the powerful sense of mentorship and support that would wrap around me throughout the trip. Here was a stranger in their midst and they did not hesitate to share and include. It was immediately disarming, I was intimidated walking into a group of people had shared such passion and intellectual strength. I needn't have worried. Thanks to all who welcomed me that night, especially the Guajardo brothers - who are a phenomenon. It was a wonderful introduction into the kind of discussion and brain/soul food I was to have throughout the conference.

Working at the Llano Grande Center/Centre

Race #1
Throughout the conference I felt this was a pervading undercurrent that run through proceedings. Whether it was addressed directly through workshops and discussion or we could see it during field trips and informal gatherings - race was partner to all that happened. At one stage we had Racial Affinity Group meetings, which separated the group into White and People of Colour. A moment of decision was forced. I identify as NZ European/Pakeha and NZ Maori. I am clearly not a White person, but ironically neither am I technically a Person of Colour - I am lily white and surburn, Sometimes genetics plays out in different ways. So here is a large group of People of Colour and people with colour. As we sat in a big circle I was acutely aware of the colour of my skin and it made me feel uncomfortable. I felt tension and during the warm-up activity people asked me what I was doing here and probably thought I was just a crazy New Zealander. It was a an open discussion and I made the decision that rather than sit here feeling like an impostor, I would address the issue directly. I told the group that they may be wondering why a sweater-vest wearing (fashion crime I know) lily white boy was doing sitting in the room and everyone burst into laughter - the sense of relief and break in tension was immediate. I explained and asserted my right to sit in that room, along with a couple of lame jokes about not being in the oven long enough and big white elephants in the corner... but it was an interesting situation for me personally. Never had I felt so uncomfortable and so many eyes on me in a professional situation. My sense of not-belonging and resulting not-wanting-to-be-there was profound. Which leads to my reflection on the nature of race and race based discussions as I saw it at this conference.

Discourse on race is extensive: newspapers, television but there is a distance created by the geographic divide between communities or the need to rationalise peoples own discomfort that became evident. Like anywhere else the US is very tribal, people of a feather and all that, but this is exacerbated by size - you can be very separate and develop quite happily because there is the room to do so, in addition, the country's continental nature makes the likelihood of contact less likely, or impossible, if you choose not to leave your community. There is a buffer of geography but also the intellectual buffer. I can sit quite comfortably in my armchair in Massachusetts and soundly condemn what is happening in Sandford without ever having to confront a reality. It is easy to say I am this and I believe this - to deal in the grand statements and generalities but how do we react when we are confronted? Viscerally. There was so much emotion and tension generated in our discussions around race and it was moving and disturbing. The 'angry Black man' was made real for me, the undocumented Latino, was more than a news report. That made a lot of people uncomfortable. There was heat, passion, disagreement. One group I was in was interesting and illustrates this difficulty. Almost every attempt by two Black members to share and explain an experience was met by an elderly Jewish woman by a 'me too', but more than showing empathy I really felt there was a reductive and defensive element to the tone and language of the conversation. There was so much hurt on both sides that rather than listen and accept there was too much anger at that this pain was 'unheard'. It was almost 'competitive trauma'. It became evident in listening to peoples journeys that there were just not fora available to discuss this safely. I listened to a colleague who had one fair son and a darker son and who worried more about the darker boy and was wracked with guilt, her honesty was deeply moving, as was the fact she shared that this was the first time she had verbalised her dilemma.

More on race in the US in a later post.

Rio Grande Valley Dive-bars

The dive bar next to the hotel, which had its own retro, plastic waterfall ambiance, was the Cubbyhole. Needless to say it was inappropriately named for the duration of the conference... It was in all of its run down splendour a perfect illustration of the impossible cultural intersection of the Rio Grande Valley. I watched a band made up of well-dressed latino play Australian heavy metal and British pop in the style of the American deep South. Talk about culture mash-up! My only regret is that I decided to make a late-night visit to another Texan institution What-a-Burger... Texas toast and onion rings with tartare sauce is not an experience I am in a hurry to repeat.

School bus. The weird looks I got because I was so excited. A design icon.

Gators in Lingere and Cooking Auto-Alfresco

Two of my most amusing and perhaps confusing encounters were at the Echo Hotel in Edinburg. It is a grand sixties creation and has a certain retro appeal - though with no irony whatsoever.
In the lobby appeared a stuffed alligator unusually posed next to a painted bar scene. If this wasn't strange enough it was dressed in very sexy lingerie. Hoping I hadn't stumbled into a twilight zone episode or furries convention I walked on affecting the casual stride of the amused and slightly anxious. However, the next day she was joined with a companion - a very 'putting on the ritz' kinda guy, with a top hat and monocle. Splendid. At least Lingerie Gator will not wander this world alone. It turns out the Valentines Day celebration was Cajun themed. Obviously. What is Valentines without taxidermy and sexy undies? There are around 200 local Rotarians who would disagree with me and when they are line dancing without irony. Wearing plaid and cowboy hats very seriously. Chances are they wont take kindly to my ironic criticism. All power to them really.

The second experience woke me at 5:30am in my first morning. A loud, cussing, explicit conversation between two guys with thick Southern accents on the merits of their relationships. I stepped outside to be confronted by two men in cowboy hats having a bbq on their pickup. They shot some hostile glances, sizing me up and nodded in unison. Luckily my accent is immediately disarming as they cannot place it accurately on things they kill. We exchanged nods and small talk and I scuttled back into my room. I did notice that they were cooking cans of beans in the cans and slabs of meat. Welcome to Texas I guess!

Lupe
I had the opportunity to visit LUPE an agricultural workers union. It was started by a famous Latino leader Cesar Chavez and gave a platform and voice to the agricultural workers, who were exploited in their work. We heard their stories, their organising and shared a meal together. The Rio Grande Valley is predominantly Latino and the culture is evident and dominates this part of Texas. It was interesting to view the interplay between place and culture and the fact that a border makes a heck of a difference in the outcomes and lives of those living either side. There were many moving testimonies of those who had grown or come to the US in varying circumstances; some organised, some desperate. The people at LUPE made me value how although I have had disadvantages: race, sexuality and especially socio-economics,  But that I have also had privilege: skin colour, education, social mobility. There were so many examples of those who had leveraged their own privilege and opportunities, often against great adversity, to forge a future. It was such a humbling experience for me to bear witness to these stories. It sounds spiritual, because there were elements that tapped deeply into my own sense of self and belief. People never cease to amaze me. Moreover, I guess it reaffirmed the obligation I believe one has in sharing and supporting those to help leverage and realise their own opportunities or navigate them through their challenges. It reaffirmed my commitment to social justice. Which explains why I am now a member of the LUPE union... I do have life insurance in the US now though!

LUPE. Solidarity forever!

The conference was incredible. The spirit and welcome I received was amazing and set the scene for the next step on my journey - to travel into stormageddon and North Carolina.