I used to think that a good educator was someone who had undergone a lot of training, who had a massive arsenal of teaching tools and methods that can be utilized to bring to life the most boring lessons and the most bored students.
In the many years that I was a teacher, I spent countless hours on self-improvement. I joined Toastmasters to improve my public speaking skills. I attended talks by good speakers to study their techniques. I would even record lectures and practice delivering jokes and amusing anecdotes.
I envied a colleague, at that time, who was a chemistry teacher. On the first day of class, she would mix two chemicals and produce a small explosion, guaranteed to turn the head of even the most disinterested teenager in this startling display of fire and smoke. But I taught English Literature, so instead of fireworks, I had a little comedy routine injected into my orientation of the class rules and objectives. That usually brought chuckles all around.
When we were taught how to make lesson plans, the lecturer wanted us to account for every minute that we were in the classroom. We were not to waste a single minute on “free time” — we had to make sure that there were various activities to fill in even the smallest gaps of time so that the students would “always be learning.”
They, and I, could not have been more wrong.
Our current model of education sees children as empty vessels waiting to be filled with the “knowledge” that educators have, or as aimless little creatures needing an educator to guide them and show them the way.
That is why education today focuses so much on the educator, because the belief is that the educator holds the key for learning. The more that an educator can do — the more techniques, the more lessons, the more strategies — the better he or she is as an educator.
This is why education is failing — our model is wrong.
Children are not empty vessels nor aimless brats. They come into being with boundless energy, unabashed curiosity, and a seemingly limitless amount of persistence all dedicated to one thing — to understand themselves and the world around them. That is why they like to touch everything, to smell things, to put things in their mouths. That is why their eyes grow wide when they see a new creature, a lizard or a frog. That is why their ears perk up when they hear a strange sound, perhaps a doorbell or a trumpet or a piano.
As they grow older, they continue in this quest. They learn how to talk. Some learn how to read. They learn to converse and interact with other people. They play games. They run around. Their bodies get stronger and they have better control over their limbs and fine muscles in their fingers. They ask endless questions and like to try out new things.
Email me at andy@freethinking.me. View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.