Well, here I am again. First day of school. This time, as a teacher. I have been fortunate to land a contract teaching job that will begin in a week and a half.
There's a lot of excitement. And a little nervousness. What on earth will I do every single day with these minds? But mostly I'm excited. I'll be teaching core French to students from grades 4-8. Most of my students have had little to no exposure to the language. I'm starting right from the beginning. I love that I will get to set their attitude and outlook about a class that traditionally has a bad rap here in Ontario. I very purposefully applied for this contract at this school. I was looking for mentors who would be able to understand my vision of teaching and would be willing to support and challenge me as I wade through unexplored territory. I have seeds of ideas that have great potential (I hope). There is an art project, a video pen-pal exchange, an innovation challenge, and a humanitarian outreach. I am embracing an active and game approach to language learning. I am building the classroom around self-assessment and reflection. I am connecting students to people in the community. I am laying a foundation for communication and global citizenship. I feel that from a jumble of ideas, real work is starting to emerge. I am prepared for success and bracing for failure. It can't all go perfectly. If it does I probably haven't pushed far enough, settling for "safe" instead of aiming for innovation. I hope this journey equals inspires me and my students.
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![]() Over the past two months, my 12 year old has dived deep into the world of Rubik's cubes. It began with him buying one 2x2 cube. With a desire to learn how to solve it, he went online and discovered that you have to learn a series of algorithms, and depending on how the cube is mixed, perform a sequence of algorithms that will eventually solve the cube. Once he mastered the 2x2, it wasn't long before he was saving his money and doing some online shopping comparisons to buy himself a 3x3, followed by speed cubes (faster, better versions), followed by a pyramid and other oddly shaped "cubes." Each one required a new set of algorithms to learn, which he studied and memorized each evening. The next logical step was then to start timing himself. Without an "official" timer platform used in competitions, he started to design his own using cardboard, duct tape, and a timer on his tablet. This design went through several iterations before it evolved into the one he uses now. But it didn't end there. His friends started asking how he solved the cubes, so he began to make videos to post online, walking through viewers on how to learn algorithms and when to use each one. After that he began to develop his own algorithms: ones that were simple enough to memorize, ones that helped you skip steps, or ones that were so repetitive you didn't have to memorize so many (that was for me.) As I look back on these last two months, it makes me wonder: this could very easily have been a genius hour project. He learned something, he designed something, and he shared it with others. All the elements of project-based learning, and it was completely self-driven. While I appreciate the science lessons and math tests he had this year in school, I look at this Rubik's cube "project" and really that the learning he has done through it will be longer lasting and more valuable than most of what he did this year. Even if he forgets how to solve a cube down the road, he has learned valuable research, marketing, financial, critical thinking, creative, presentation and communication skills that will be applicable to almost anything real world he has to accomplish. ![]() Project-based learning inspires me in so many ways. I love that kids get to dig deep into authentic topics and really work their brains as they explore and challenge themselves. But I've struggled along the way with one thing: PBL and second language instruction. I'm bilingual and I always expected I would be a French immersion teacher. What I had a hard to envisioning is how such a heavy-language process (PBL) could be executed in a setting where students don't have the vocabulary or capacity to express high order thinking. Project-based learning is at its best when students are really stretching themselves and this is difficult to do in a second language. I remember doing a student exchange to France when I was in grade 12. In Canada, I considered myself fully bilingual. I had never had trouble speaking or understanding French. I had excelled in French class. I was ready to engage in an authentic setting. But when I landed in my small southern French town, I realized how limited my language really was. Teachers were asking interesting questions but I didn't have the ability to express the fullness of the ideas I was forming in English in my mind. So I shut down. So if I, who had very competent language instruction and engagement for 10 years felt such dejection, how much more would young children just beginning experience those negative emotions? For a few years now I've examined, researched, challenged ands struggled with this problem. (Of course, as a PB learner I've never been put of by a problem that needs solving). And for the first time I have come to a view of French language instruction that fits perfectly with the PBL ideals. The world reality is that we live in a global community. Learning to communicate with other languages is going to be imperative in the future. In this way, I feel the drive of my French classroom needs to be communication. Research shows that children who learn a second language when they are young actually train their brains in the skill of language acquisition, which means that learning a third, fourth, etc. language becomes much easier in the future. While parents and students (and teachers and administrators) may feel that learning French is not applicable to their education, the truth is learning to communicate with people who speak other languages is critical. This means a shift in my goals in the classroom. Here are some of my initial ideas of what this might look like: 1. Letting go of perfect grammar. "Park...me, you, us go...tomorrow?" Did you understand what I was trying to say? Of course you did. As I have travelled around the world I have discovered that people are very kind when trying to communicate with someone who doesn't speak their language. No one ever looked at me with contempt at my poorly constructed phrases. In fact, I witnessed empathy and encouragement and appreciation that I was really trying in an unfamiliar language. 2. 20% time for any language acquisition. With Mandarin, Spanish and Hindi being the most used languages in the world, I can see the reluctance to learn French. While it is culturally important, it is globally a little irrelevant. But if my focus is shifting from "learning French" to "learning to communicate with other languages" then French simply becomes one vehicle. Many children will start to show interest in learning languages other than French, because of personal experiences or relationships. I can see using the "20% time" (Google) model to encourage students to use what they are learning about learning a second language in class (through French) to learning a new language of interest. There are many online courses to learn a plethora of languages and teacher encouragement may be all that is needed. 3. Authentic opportunities to speak the language. Students rarely have the opportunity to see the real need to communicate in other languages, especially given the current ubiquitousness of English in our world. Again, though travel, I have seen that in most capital cities in the world English gets me by. However, once you head out of the main cities, I have been surprised that that English disappears. When people speaking different languages need to talk to each other, two things need to happen. The listener needs to work hard to interpret what is being said, and the speaker needs to work hard to use words that express a specific idea. Neither person needs to be perfect. But even if I'm speaking in my first language, I need to adjust how I speak, the words I use, and the way I structure my sentences if the person opposite me doesn't speak English. Authentic opportunities to speak with someone in another language will increase students' understandings on how communication changes both as the listener and speaker in first language or other languages. 4. Project-based learning. Okay, you know I had to slide this one in. There are lots of challenges around communication in other languages. The ease of travel is shrinking our world and odds are our kids will have an encounter with someone who is having to learn a second language for some reason. There are a thousand inherent challenges with communicating in a second language - let your students explore and work to provide solutions! Opportunities for high quality inquiry and projects for real world problems abound in second language instruction. 5. Use the cultural lens. Learning about how and why we communicate in different languages does not restrict the teacher or students to speaking/listening skills. Empathy and understanding of culture, countries, and history of languages will do wonders for engagement in French classes. This exploration can be done in English without fear that you have abandoned your focus. When students see the value of the language they are learning they will engage more deeply in the language part. Terri-Ann Gawthroupe FSL French Teacher Education UGDSB I was engaging in a lively debate this week about children's attitude toward school. I lamented that for most students school is something to be endured, and how sad it was that the majority of a child's life must be spent in tortuous endurance. I wished that school was a place kids would be excited to return to instead of a place where the clock was watched and kids cheered at the final bell as they ran from the prison walls. (Okay, I'll admit it's a little dramatic and hyperbolic, but I was trying to make a point). I was countered with this: well of course kids would rather be at home playing video games. They would rather have fun than work. It's the human condition. Would you rather dig holes or go to Disney? But why can't school be Disney?
Why does school have to be digging holes? This is what I feel I fight against all the time. For me, one of my favourite things to do is learn and read and discover ideas about education and engage in lively conversation as we dream about the possibilities. That's my Disney. Every couple of years I learn a new instrument. That's my Disney. When someone has a brilliant new metaphor that helps me understand how the human body works. That's my Disney. When I push myself to ride my bike on a challenging course. That's my Disney. When I apply food theories and create a new meal that my family loves. That's my Disney. When I hear a quote that challenges my current mindset and I mull it over with someone. That's my Disney. I have never equated learning new things with the drudgery or monotony of digging holes. While learning experiences are often filled with challenges that take endurance, or practice that is repetitive, the synaptic connections of firing neurons in my brain is exhilarating. It pushes me through and creates an insatiable appetite for more learning. Some may critique and say that school can't be all fun and games. I'm not using Disney as a metaphor for the entire day being filled with fun. I'm using it to describe a place where every students wants to be. Where at the end of the day you have to drag their tired bodies home and they wake up at the crack of dawn eager to return. So this is my design challenge as a teacher: how can I help my students feel like coming to school is like going to Disney? As I come to the close of a five-week experimentation in Project-Based Learning, I find that I have been equally challenged and validated in regards to this delivery method of curriculum content.
What I have had confirmed is the benefit of student engagement. I visited ten classrooms and in every single one the students were more invested than ever in what they were doing. Student voice and choice validated the students as learners in the classroom. They felt connected to the curriculum in a way that said “this truly has something to do with me.” They did not struggle to interpret the teacher’s vision. Instead the teacher let the students lead. I have discovered how open the curriculum is, how many paths these studies could take. I feel even more committed to responsive teaching in my own practice. Kath Murdoch’s practice of having a “tune in” time before diving into a topic has opened my eyes to how just submersing ourselves in exploring initial ideas gives me the opportunity to really listen to what the students are saying and thinking. Then I can identify an angle of interest. There are really so many ways to explore the curriculum material we need to cover. I have developed a sense of how freeing the curriculum is, rather than sometimes common view of shackling. I have also seen the benefits of student-led assessment. Rather, I prefer the terms “evidence of learning” and “celebration of learning.” I see evaluation as a mountain the students are climbing; instead of an averaging of marks throughout time, the goal is rather to simply make your way toward the high standard that has been set. Every student is climbing toward that standard, but they may come at it from different starting points and climb at different rates, but the commitment must be to allow the student to give evidence of learning during the climb and show the culmination of knowledge at the end of the journey. I have struggled through how to deliver an effective mathematics inquiry program. I’m not sure there is any way to “do math” other than “doing math.” Most of the teachers I observed had also come to the same conclusion. Math, for the most part, stands apart in a PBL classroom. A professor once told me that these mathematic concepts took thousands of years for mathematicians to develop; how long will it take children? I saw a lot of focus on application and a desire to “find the math” in everyday life as often as possible, but the treatment of the curriculum was, for the most part, very traditional. Structuring the day has looked quite different in PBL classrooms. Just like the Kindergarten program requires “large blocks of uninterrupted play,” PBL classrooms try to have large blocks of uninterrupted inquiry. A daily schedule would have one block that included math and daily prep, and then two large blocks devoted to inquiry, PBL, project, Wonder (the blocks go by many names). In classrooms that where students are largely working independently, this allows for students to “get in the flow” and stick to a task while they are engaged and progressing without having to move at the sound of a bell. One real challenge I faced is when to let the students go and when to rein them in. When developing skills like creativity and critical thinking, or when students are working to collaborate or communicate, it is dangerous to rush them. And yet there is value in learning to work within the confines of a schedule and to meet deadlines. The most valuable skill I have developed (and continue to develop) is that of an effective feedback process. I can see the futility in asking students to complete work which they hand in on a due date and that is the end until it is returned with a big red letter grade on it. There is no project, no work, no paper, no presentation that can be everything it could be after one shot. Our students deserve the opportunity to receive and apply feedback multiple times. Learning how to give feedback that is kind, helpful and specific is no easy feat. I have keenly observed a teacher engaging in this process and have stumbled myself through it, constantly reaching, learning and growing. I have a long way to go, but it is a great gift I will give my students if I can master it well enough. One new question that I will apply to my teaching practice is: what is the best use of my time? I had never considered that before I design a lesson to ask myself “am I doing something better done by someone else? Is there a better way I could be spending the precious resource of my time and experience?” I observed a teacher who valued one-on-one conferencing more than lecturing. In his words “I could spend this period delivering content about the human body. But there are engaging videos and books that can do just that. What books, videos and the internet cannot do is respond personally to the students in my classroom.” To this end, he gathered resources and provided graphic organizers for students to walk their way through content so that the teacher’s time could be maximized. My greatest learning curve was the importance, or imperativeness, of teacher collaboration. Before now, I have always felt a little in isolation in these somewhat unorthodox ideas. I figured that once I had a classroom I would find myself alone in my PBL method and to be honest, I was okay with that. But having had the opportunity to collaborate with teachers and engage in meaningful ideation has been firing. I now have a deep yearning for community that I hadn’t previously experienced as a teacher. These weeks have been a gift to me as a teacher that most educator’s rarely get. To have visited innovative classrooms, picked the brains of creative teachers, and devoured more books and resources in one month than I have ever done before has filled me to capacity.
![]() As I study the documents prepared by the Ontario Ministry of Education, I’m left feeling that they are at odds with each other. The 2017 document “Achieving Excellence: A Renewed Vision for Education in Ontario” emphasizes the importance of experiential education: learning connected to real life. The opening quote reads: “We want schools…where students will feel free to dream about their futures, where they are able to connect their passions with possible career options, and where the opportunities and resources needed to support these decisions are provided.” All throughout this document that peers into the future of education, the writers acknowledge that the school model needs to change. They are asking educators to “create more relevant, applied and innovative learning experiences that spark learners’ curiosity and inspire them to follow their passions…[and lay] the foundation for children and students to gain the experiences, skills and knowledge needed for success, now and in the future.” Reading through the mandated curriculum documents, there are glimpses of these ideas made manifest in highlighting “big ideas” and application, but the reality is that most teachers still feel tied to a content heavy meal they need to get into their students before their nine months is up. In one PBL class that is focused on citizenship, community and connecting to real life experiences (as outlined in the front section of the social studies curriculum), the teacher has found that the specific content hinders those bigger goals. Students aren’t necessarily connecting to those specific facts in the way it is laid out. Instead, through a purposefully-designed year long program, the teacher has found a way to make social studies make an impact both on his students and local senior citizens. And yet, the problem exists: the prescribed curriculum must be covered. The answer has to do with understanding the value of the teacher in the classroom. “I don’t feel my time is best spent giving out content that computers are now easily able to give. Often, a well-made short movie can deliver the content in a much more interesting and accessible way.” Science and history topics that don’t tie into the overarching program he has set up are complete by students at their own pace. He created a series of digital worksheets that ask students to ask questions on certain topics, watch videos to learn more, and then reflect on what they have understood. “As I teacher, I can provide specific, relevant feedback, help a student create personal projects and goals, help problem solve, and teach learning skills. These are all things a computer can’t do.” As I study the curricula by grade more in depth, I am always searching for those connections that can be made to synthesize a compartmentalized program into a coherent learning experience. But often it feels like I’m trying to jam together puzzle pieces that simply don’t fit. I acknowledge the experts in their field that have labored at the grueling task of distilling down the most important facts and skills related to each school subject in order to create little mini-experts. I know what it is to be passionate about a topic and to want others to love what I love. But I wonder if, in primary education especially, we are missing the forest for the trees. I believe we need to ask ourselves the question: at what age are children developmentally ready to absorb subject-specific curricula? Creativity. Critical thinking. Collaboration. Communication. These are the four “21st century” skills that educators champion as the necessary competencies to succeed in the emerging innovation and technological era. With Google at our fingertips, the need to cram knowledge and facts into our brains is gone. What will be more valuable is the ability to ideate and use that knowledge in creative ways.
Here’s the irony in it: these four 21st century skills abounded in children right up until the last 20 years. If you dropped into a home at the turn of the 20th century, or listened in on a Saturday afternoon in 1950, or peeked in on almost any group of children at most points throughout history, you would observe creativity, problem solving, productive chatter and children working together. This was the work of children for hundreds of years. Why now, when these skills are emerging as imperative to the workforce, do we suddenly have to teach these things to children? I can pinpoint two major changes in the way children live: one, helicopter parenting has slowed down children’s development of problem solving skills; two, the pervasiveness of media is impeding creativity, collaboration and communication. While doing dishes yesterday, I was looking out the window over the sink at two of my children and three of their friends (ages 3-8) playing. They had devised an obstacle course for the dog, which of course led to all the children trying to complete it. The two eight year olds took a running leap at a broom lying sideways across two chairs. The six and five year olds followed. But the poor three year old had legs just a little too short and she fell head over into the deck. My body jerked itself toward the door, but I stopped myself. There were five kids out there; I wanted to see what they might do on their own. The three year old burst into tears. She pulled up her pant leg to reveal a bright red scrape (no blood). The older children gathered around and began to assess the situation. Someone patted her on the head. Two debated over the severity of the injury. Two casually glanced and then continued on playing. Over the next five minutes, the four other children kept returning to the three year old to check in as she sobbing abated to a small hiccup. The three year old alternately inspected her wound and watched the others playing. Eventually she pulled herself up and continued on. The moment has stayed with me. I had to consciously fight the instinct to rush in and solve the problem for the kids, but in doing so I witnessed the full capability of these young ones to problem solve (think critically) about the situation and handle it on their own. This thought led me to consider children today versus children 30 years ago (and going way back into history). 30 years ago, childhood looked very different. Children were given free range; they filled the hours of boredom by making up their own games (creativity). They pulled together to tackle challenges like building a fort and figuring out a neighbourhood pickup baseball game (collaboration). They spent endless amounts of time out of earshot of adults, sharing ideas and dreams and even a little trouble (communication). And when they got into trouble, big or small, they came together to figure out how to get themselves out of the sticky situations (problem solving). 30 years ago, 50 years ago, 100+ years ago, children had 21st century skills in spades. They would never have had to be taught how to be creative, collaborate, communicate, or solve problems. The truth is, these aren’t skills unique to the 21st century. For the first time, they are skills that are integral to the work force. And for the first time, children are growing up without those skills inherently developing within them. ![]() "Show of hands...who got that question wrong?" A half a dozen hands shoot up. Without fear, reserve, or trepidation. "So do you see where you went wrong?" Heads nod. A few neighbours share their whiteboard to illustrate something quickly. "What do you still need to practice? Do you know what your next step is?" The teacher dismisses everyone from the circle to complete a personal assessment on the math concepts they have been learning. Each student logs into a computer and fills out a small checklist. "I don't understand this concept." "I understand bits of it." "I understand it all." "I understand it and can teach it to someone else." Each checkmark also requires proof. A statement indicating why the student feels they are at that level in that specific skill. "I know my 1-6 times tables but I get stuck on the 7 and 8 tables." "I helped a friend with how to build a multiplication array." "I didn't know where to start on the word problem today," "I got stuck part way through and needed to use a key to unlock my block." The self-assessments are honest and accurate. Why? I believe it is because there was absolutely no shame in not "being there yet." This idea is sometimes called "The Power of Yet." I do not understand yet. I am not quite there yet. But I will be soon. Admitting you don't know something won't result in a bad mark, it will result in needed help, the opportunity to review, a chance to practice and then show evidence of learning. To create this climate in the classroom might be the most valuable task I can do to equip my learners to be ready for anything. To be released of the fear of a bad mark because you don't know yet means students won't sit in silence, won't try to fly under the radar, won't hide in the back, won't cheat for a good mark. True learning happens when they are free to move forward. |
Terri-AnnPersonal reflections on project-based learning. Archives
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