Thrills and Thrills and Thrills!

I will be in Berkeley Sunday night/Monday morning! Although it won't be my first time in Berk, I am especially excited to get away this weekend and explore the city. The Santa Clara bubble is too much to handle sometimes. I can't WAIT. Indian food, Pegasus Books, and my dearest cousin, here I come!

Education and Culture

Thought spill, go. I want to be an English teacher; where do I start?

I. The Dream

As an educator, what would my goal be? Should teachers reward academic achievement or effort? Initially, I leaned toward the former. This is problematic. From the standpoint of a university student who has been privileged enough to participate in higher education and been taught to learn competitively, academic achievement seems like the obvious choice. But in teaching younger grades, such as elementary and middle school, I also think it's important to instill the intrinsic motivation in students necessary for them to ever truly learn beyond what it is put in front of them. Here is the dilemma: what do you do with the high school students? When do we transition from praising stalwart efforts to actually achieving academic skill? Earlier on, I would think...perhaps I don't know enough about developmental psychology and all of that to draw any real conclusions. What does one do with the student who tries and tries and tries, but never produces quality work? Or the student who misses class, disrespects the material, yet produces outstanding work? I don't know.

II. The Dream -- Refined, and...Unclear

Okay, so when I first started testing teaching English as a career choice, I imagined myself teaching in my old high school (which is a place of secondary education radically different from others in terms of attitudes, acceptance, and so forth--I was blessed to have attended a high school that was so intent on fostering my personal growth as well as my academic growth). As I've learned a little bit more about classroom structures and philosophies of education, I'm beginning to see how things aren't so cut-and-dry. I think some high school teachers' dreams are to teach the Advanced Placement classes, where students are eager and willing to learn--whether it be for the sake of learning, or for the sake of getting into a good college--nonetheless, generally speaking, students in Advanced Placement classes tend to do better in school. That one's not difficult to understand. What about the others?

III. Culture

So the more I poke at this whole teaching thing, I find myself being pulled toward teaching bilingual students, or perhaps students who tend to struggle with English more than my high school classmates who on the whole, represented the group of English-speaking middle-class Americans that I think most educators shape their curriculum around. Here's another problem. In a high school English class, which seeks to enrich both mastery of the English language as well as an understanding of literature, how much effort do we put into making the classroom a place of mutual cultural respect, tolerance, and enrichment, while giving students the tools to operate "successfully" in American society? It is a shame that our culture prides English as much as it does, but it is a reality that we must face. So, what do we tell the native Spanish speaker who loves to read, yet has not developed the extensive vocabulary of the native English speaker next to him/her? Yes, perhaps my job would be to teach English, but to what extent? The native Spanish speaker may have a profound understanding of the common themes in literature, maybe even moreso than another English-speaking student, but to what extent would I recognize this understanding, if not communicated through "standard, middle-class English"? What if she communicates her ideas with outstanding precision--in Spanish?

IV. Belonging

Some may believe that an educator's sole job is to teach the respective material to students to develop understanding, skills, whatever. I agree with this description of responsibility, but as active workers in an environment as people-centered as a high school, those who work in schools would be remiss not to make strong efforts to create a sense of belonging in the high school. How does this come about, outside of the classroom? Would it be appropriate, or even effective, for teachers to try and develop students characters and ethical decision-making skills as well as a thriving storehouse of academic knowledge? (Note: When talking about "morals" and "ethics", I am referring to a more basic level of treating others with respect and academic integrity, not the gritty stuff dealt with in larger-scale politics). I'm considering beyond the basic classroom poster that says, "This is a safe zone." Is it important/good for teachers to discuss these issues with students?

V. Last thoughts...

Should higher level philosophy courses be taught at high schools? At which grades? Is this sort of inquiry dangerous? Would students rise to the challenge?

1:06

sometimes, our arms are all we've got to wrap ourselves in
and it don't matter how many times we're gonna try,
but these hearts keep swellin,
keep swellin loud n clear.
they haven't asked about it in awhile,
they haven't asked why my eyelids stopped flutterin'
they haven't wondered why the walls so tall now,
and it's kinda nice on this side of things,
it's kinda quiet.

humility/hubris

Montaigne and Huemer were wary thinkers. They strived to avoid the sort of epistemic hubris that dogmatists exuded, and in doing so, challenged the very concept of knowing. I am not sure why I feel so unsettled.

There is this mental/oral blockage that rises slowly and inhibits my speech, particularly occurring when in the presence of academic faculty, and I'm not sure why. Well, I am completely sure why. Specifically in the field I have chosen to study, there is a handful of selected few students that possess extraordinary stories, extraordinary abilities to think and communicate their thoughts with a precision and elegance that baffles me. I know that some people are just smarter in certain ways, but that doesn't change my frustration (if anything, it adds to it). I like entertaining the thought of learning so much more that all there is that is left to do is teach. I love it, in fact. There is nothing that I have felt more deeply invested and interested in than what I am studying now.

I guess there is one part of me that thinks, "Well then, go on and study it. Do it. Live it." But the other, much louder and larger part screams in defiance, reprimanding my selfish pursuit of knowledge (what the hell is the point? as if I don't isolate my thoughts enough already!). I do not think I can compete with other thinkers of my time. I just don't. And if you know me, you should know that I am usually optimistic, occasionally cynical, often-moved, sometimes sad, yet rarely do I consciously and willingly accept an attitude of defeat, from myself or from others. So here it is, for the first time in a long time: an attitude of defeat.

Why do I let speaking trouble me so much? It is frustrating, to be able to form my thoughts so easily on paper, sometimes easily in class, but consistentlywith severe difficulty when alone with someone of higher academic standing; aha, hello deep-seated insecurity...

Perhaps that is one of my less tangible dreams: to understand. And I know this is foolish in so many ways--understanding these theories and thoughts, if anything, can be isolating. I see that already in the faces and mannerisms of my fellow students--the world is one that no longer values these questions, and as he put, "it is also one that fails to understand that all other subjects originated from philosophical inquiry." He was frustrated.

That is where the philosopher's arrogance comes in, and it is foolish and prideful to honestly believe that one discipline yields more importance than any other, but perhaps it is also foolish and prideful not to acknowledge one that serves the others in so many ways. I guess I am frustrated--with myself, with my studies, with what I have chosen. I am frustrated in a silly way; I have chosen all of these things, intentionally and consciously. I guess, I am more afraid then frustrated. Of what? I am not sure....not sure at all.

staedtler

Recently, I have been overwhelmingly introspective and involuntarily outgoing, all too conscious of the words I have said and the words I haven't said, and not conscious enough of the words I choose to say. I wanted to write earlier, in hopes of flushing out some muddled thoughts, utilizing this whole public blog thing as a sort of self-constructed mandate to be more explanatory, but after thinking too hard about all of it, I sort of just laughed and stopped thinking. After all, who the hell do I think I am, thinking about me so often?

Is too much introspection selfish? I am not proud of my pride, but I won't deny it—there is some sort of strange triumph I feel in giving time and respect to my thoughts, to allowing myself a few moments of reflection in days in which there should be no such leisure, but it is shameful and silly at the same time. Who am I to think that what I do is worth thinking about?