Speaking of having friends for tea (my last post), I did actually have a tea party "Get to know you" meeting. A student's mother suggested it since she knew her daughter would run from any meeting about school, but would skip to a tea party. I smiled at the brilliant idea and felt the seeds of how to create a more relaxed first session plant themselves in my imagination. How would I search for clues in this new setting? I saw myself a bit like the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland bringing up my easy-to-answer though random questions during a chit-chat about the weather, American Girl dolls, and Disney on Ice.
I practiced in my head..."What a beautiful snowy day. What season do you like?" No, that wouldn't work. Maybe, "...American Girl dolls are so cool, do you like to read the books or just look at the catalogs?" Now that sounded just plain weird.
I decided to let the process lead us and look for the signs of learning struggles within our conversation. Soon I found hints of learning stresses sprinkled within the crumbs of oatmeal-butterscotch cookies and reflecting off the pitcher of lemonade. Floating in and out of ideas and stories, we found our way to talking about school work, learning, and the frustrations in reading and math. Moments later we were out of our chairs doing a few activities, glad to be working off the chocolate covered pretzels and gingersnaps. Amongst paper, crayons, and multi-colored plastic gems, we laid a path to lighten her load while learning. Feeling refreshed, we said our goodbyes and a few hours later I received a phone call which was the best gift of my afternoon. An excited mother repeated that on their way home her smiling daughter had said "Mommy, I think I'm going to start liking school now." Now that's my cup of tea.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Picasso and Hawking for tea
As a learning coach, I've met and learned with many children and each one has surprised me in a delightful way.
On our first meeting, I ask to spend a couple hours getting to know each other before we begin our adventure in discovering how they learn. As we chat about life, I observe where their eyes move, how long they pause, if they move their hands, feet, and for a dozen signs, searching for clues to how they process information and make decisions. I've done it for years now, and fall into a quasi-meditative state during our conversations.
A few weeks ago, I was caught off guard when I met the student I loving refer to as Picasso. Actually, since my student is a she, I should change my reference to Georgia O'Keefe, though Ms. O'Keefe wasn't as avant-guarde. (Ok, so Picasso was a cubist, just walk with me here.)
As I listened to Ms. Picasso explain how she likes McDonald's lattes and Michael Jackson, I interjected with a question about what colors she likes. (I purposely stay away from the word 'favorite' as the idea of choosing just one answer places unnecessary pressure on some people.)
"The colors I like right now?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied, thinking that she probably liked a different color when she was five or six.
"Well, since we're in winter, I like white, green, red, and gold."
"Since we're in winter..." I pondered aloud, "you mean, you like other colors in the spring?"
"Yea, in the spring I like yellow, light green, and pink and in the summer I like a fluorescent blue and...
I recorded her responses for each season as I lost my mental footing. As my mind searched for a pattern that fit her answers, I noticed we were sitting in silence.
"What animal do you like?" I asked, hoping to land my swirling thoughts and refocus.
"Right now is winter, so I like the white rabbit because it goes with the white, green, red, and gold"
Ms. Picasso continued to give a palette of answers to each question, and as I took notes I dropped mental bread crumbs to assure myself that I would be able to find my way back and toward a pattern that would connect us with her thought process. As she put on her coat to leave, I placed her answers on a canvas and knew that no "paint by number" educational process would work for her. I took my notes, dropped them into her file folder and picked up the information for my next new student.
Moments later, after greetings and introductions, I explained how we would be getting to know each other and started by asking some basic questions.
"How old are you and what do you like to do?"
"I'm 13," he answered, " and I like virology."
"Virology?", I repeated, hearing the word for the first time.
"Yes, the study of viruses. Though I also like chemistry, physics, and astronomy," he continued.
"Ah, yes. Just a moment," I added, "I'll be right back."
I stepped outside the room and, like a wet dog, shook from head to tail.
"It's time to start over," I heard myself think, "Picasso had to leave and I think Dr. Stephen Hawking may have dropped by for a visit."
On our first meeting, I ask to spend a couple hours getting to know each other before we begin our adventure in discovering how they learn. As we chat about life, I observe where their eyes move, how long they pause, if they move their hands, feet, and for a dozen signs, searching for clues to how they process information and make decisions. I've done it for years now, and fall into a quasi-meditative state during our conversations.
A few weeks ago, I was caught off guard when I met the student I loving refer to as Picasso. Actually, since my student is a she, I should change my reference to Georgia O'Keefe, though Ms. O'Keefe wasn't as avant-guarde. (Ok, so Picasso was a cubist, just walk with me here.)
As I listened to Ms. Picasso explain how she likes McDonald's lattes and Michael Jackson, I interjected with a question about what colors she likes. (I purposely stay away from the word 'favorite' as the idea of choosing just one answer places unnecessary pressure on some people.)
"The colors I like right now?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied, thinking that she probably liked a different color when she was five or six.
"Well, since we're in winter, I like white, green, red, and gold."
"Since we're in winter..." I pondered aloud, "you mean, you like other colors in the spring?"
"Yea, in the spring I like yellow, light green, and pink and in the summer I like a fluorescent blue and...
I recorded her responses for each season as I lost my mental footing. As my mind searched for a pattern that fit her answers, I noticed we were sitting in silence.
"What animal do you like?" I asked, hoping to land my swirling thoughts and refocus.
"Right now is winter, so I like the white rabbit because it goes with the white, green, red, and gold"
Ms. Picasso continued to give a palette of answers to each question, and as I took notes I dropped mental bread crumbs to assure myself that I would be able to find my way back and toward a pattern that would connect us with her thought process. As she put on her coat to leave, I placed her answers on a canvas and knew that no "paint by number" educational process would work for her. I took my notes, dropped them into her file folder and picked up the information for my next new student.
Moments later, after greetings and introductions, I explained how we would be getting to know each other and started by asking some basic questions.
"How old are you and what do you like to do?"
"I'm 13," he answered, " and I like virology."
"Virology?", I repeated, hearing the word for the first time.
"Yes, the study of viruses. Though I also like chemistry, physics, and astronomy," he continued.
"Ah, yes. Just a moment," I added, "I'll be right back."
I stepped outside the room and, like a wet dog, shook from head to tail.
"It's time to start over," I heard myself think, "Picasso had to leave and I think Dr. Stephen Hawking may have dropped by for a visit."
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Surfing Curiosity
Tae Kwon Do is a wonderful art that meets force with force and, for me, made interesting bruises that took on a life of their own. As my belt color changed, I found that trying to force my opponent to change their direction meant pain and a "HA" yell every now and then.
As a home schooling parent, I connected this feeling to how "teaching" could follow a similar strategy. I was blocking any attempt that was not going in my chosen direction instead of looking at what was wanting to happen for learning to occur. It was the martial art of Aikido that helped me learn how to go with the flow. Using the momentum, and learning how to help redirect a momentum towards the target, is much less painful then trying to force it towards an ambiguous target.
Curiosity is the momentum of learning. It is organic and wild and hungry. It is much easier to move a target then to harness and hogtie the momentum of curiosity. So, I have learned to "surf curiosity" and be on the edge of its powerful surge. Staying on top, most of the time, and letting its momentum take me, and the learners, where I want to go. The ride will be less direct, though it is more fun and more meaningful.
As a home schooling parent, I connected this feeling to how "teaching" could follow a similar strategy. I was blocking any attempt that was not going in my chosen direction instead of looking at what was wanting to happen for learning to occur. It was the martial art of Aikido that helped me learn how to go with the flow. Using the momentum, and learning how to help redirect a momentum towards the target, is much less painful then trying to force it towards an ambiguous target.
Curiosity is the momentum of learning. It is organic and wild and hungry. It is much easier to move a target then to harness and hogtie the momentum of curiosity. So, I have learned to "surf curiosity" and be on the edge of its powerful surge. Staying on top, most of the time, and letting its momentum take me, and the learners, where I want to go. The ride will be less direct, though it is more fun and more meaningful.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
"Don't give an answer unless there's first a question."
The title of this blog is a good summary of how I approach learning and education.
Curiosity and wonder are the beginning of learning. They are the spark that lights our interest and awakens a hunger inside us to understand. Without them...the flavor of whatever we are learning is more bland; harder to digest and unfulfilling.
Whether I learn with children or adults, I believe my first step is to connect with their interest and help them connect with their passions. I start with what they are naturally curious about and bridge that to what we have been asked to learn together.
Curiosity and wonder are the beginning of learning. They are the spark that lights our interest and awakens a hunger inside us to understand. Without them...the flavor of whatever we are learning is more bland; harder to digest and unfulfilling.
Whether I learn with children or adults, I believe my first step is to connect with their interest and help them connect with their passions. I start with what they are naturally curious about and bridge that to what we have been asked to learn together.
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