"You need to change your attitude young lady!"
I hated hearing that. Every time I hear it about to come out of my mouth I change the phrase. Not the meaning necessarily but I've never uttered those words in that order.
Every time I heard them as a adolescent, child, teen, young adult whatever, I never understood what it meant. I have very real memories of thinking and even asking when young and sincere then older in insolent, "What does that mean? Change my attitude? How?"
Don't you remember feeling so passionate that words couldn't express all those thoughts, ideas, feelings, worries, desires, needs, hopes, fears? I remember being so weighed down by what was happening in me and around me that I thought I'd either implode and suck reality into the black hole of myself or explode and paint the walls and ceiling with my soft matter. Violent and dramatic but real to me, my young and passionate self.
I always ask my student teachers to quest around the memory banks and find who they were while in high school. (For most of them it is less than a handful of years to bypass in the memory.) I also ask them to think about what their drama-mates were like. Who their teachers were. What kinds of interactions did they have? To really consider what moments in time were world-rockers, ground-shakers, attitude shifters. Grab those moments, memories and use those phrases, thoughts, emotions to create those moments for their own students. When you see a student leaning on the self destruct button, dig deep.
I've had a bit of an attitude adjustment this week myself. I had a rough patch and needed my ground shaken a bit. I was casting my crumminess about with little results then was gently and probably unintentionally tweaked into remembering what I'm about. It wasn't what he said it was how it was said. It wasn't a probing assault, it was a sincere mirror held up before me reflecting myself 10 months or a year ago, back upon me. I recognized who I work so hard to be and thought, I know how to be that! But I'm a adult I have years of self for reference. While my students feel grown and independent (I remember it so well.) they don't have wisdom.
One conversation, a few hours reflection, a good night's sleep, and I know my emotional keel will hold steady for a while. If not, I have a collection of people who I look to for perspective adjustments when necessary. My students deserve people in their lives who have the compassion to listen and nudge or when necessary diffuse like a bomb. Can I do that? Do I? Can it be taught? I try.
Gotta go to Prom!
Friday, November 25, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
It's all about the WHY
I spent a very blustery day yesterday at Storm King, being scolded by an art historian, getting my giant sculpture groove on. It was an amazing place with a very interesting history. If you are looking for an artsy (super kid friendly or not) day trip I highly recommend it. Although you will have to wait until the spring as it closes on November 13th. Sorry for the tease.
Why am I telling you this, other than to prove I get out and see stuff too? Imagine walking under a giant rectangle being precariously suspended by another giant rectangle 7 feet off the ground in the middle of a huge meadow. You see this and have to ask yourself "why?".
We could tell that 1000s of people had done what we were doing, standing under the suspended cube cringing and reaching, for a fun photo op. We laughed and poured over the photos later. Fun really is a predominant theme of the center. When you ask yourself the over all "why" of Storm King I think it is readily apparent unlike the "why" behind many of the artworks.
I don't remember having the opportunity to ask "why" in high school. I remember my first philosophy class in college and all it was was "why". I loved it! I'm one of those people who can't remember facts and detail unless I have a relationship with them and that relationship is born of "why". If I don't have the why there is no logical place in my brain to store the information. It just gets ejected, like so many 80s casingles, even though I may need the reference later. I'm pretty sure this is one of the reasons why I went from being a typical C student, doing just enough to get by, to a Dean's List college student. It was all about the "why" for me. Frankly, it still is.
Why did I become an art teacher? It is sort of thrown around in those earlier paragraphs but the story is kind of a sweet one so I'll tell it here. The 3rd grade curriculum in the late 70s must have had a unit about careers. We were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up and then had to figure out a way to try that career out for a week. Most kids picked something that their parents did and followed them to work one day. I'm not really sure where the thought originated but I decided I wanted to be an art teacher like Mrs. Goodrich our elementary school art teacher. She was an old bat. I'm not kidding. She wore long skirts and orthopedic shoes with short steel-wool hair and glasses. I know she was just counting down to retirement. If I had to guess, I'd say she hated her job. I LOVED her! She had the goods! She had markers, and crayons in lots of colors, and contact paper in all sorts of shiny fun. Glue, not paste, and yarn I could cut however I liked. I don't remember a single project but I remember getting goose-bumps listening to her squeaky cart rolling down the hallway getting closer and closer to my kindergarten classroom. (My kindergarten teacher had us in the palm of her hand!) If one person could inspire such joy in me I wanted to be that person in my future!
That was how it all started. 4 year old Annie sitting on the kindergarten carpet with her green-shirt and goose-bumps over Mrs. Goodrich's art supplies. It wasn't that she was a great teacher, it wasn't a trip to France to look at art, it wasn't a need to teach the world to think outside the box. (I hate that phrase.) It was the pure joy of creating and the need to offer that joy of creation with others that made me want to become an art teacher.
Why am I telling you this, other than to prove I get out and see stuff too? Imagine walking under a giant rectangle being precariously suspended by another giant rectangle 7 feet off the ground in the middle of a huge meadow. You see this and have to ask yourself "why?".
We could tell that 1000s of people had done what we were doing, standing under the suspended cube cringing and reaching, for a fun photo op. We laughed and poured over the photos later. Fun really is a predominant theme of the center. When you ask yourself the over all "why" of Storm King I think it is readily apparent unlike the "why" behind many of the artworks.
I don't remember having the opportunity to ask "why" in high school. I remember my first philosophy class in college and all it was was "why". I loved it! I'm one of those people who can't remember facts and detail unless I have a relationship with them and that relationship is born of "why". If I don't have the why there is no logical place in my brain to store the information. It just gets ejected, like so many 80s casingles, even though I may need the reference later. I'm pretty sure this is one of the reasons why I went from being a typical C student, doing just enough to get by, to a Dean's List college student. It was all about the "why" for me. Frankly, it still is.
Why did I become an art teacher? It is sort of thrown around in those earlier paragraphs but the story is kind of a sweet one so I'll tell it here. The 3rd grade curriculum in the late 70s must have had a unit about careers. We were asked what we wanted to be when we grew up and then had to figure out a way to try that career out for a week. Most kids picked something that their parents did and followed them to work one day. I'm not really sure where the thought originated but I decided I wanted to be an art teacher like Mrs. Goodrich our elementary school art teacher. She was an old bat. I'm not kidding. She wore long skirts and orthopedic shoes with short steel-wool hair and glasses. I know she was just counting down to retirement. If I had to guess, I'd say she hated her job. I LOVED her! She had the goods! She had markers, and crayons in lots of colors, and contact paper in all sorts of shiny fun. Glue, not paste, and yarn I could cut however I liked. I don't remember a single project but I remember getting goose-bumps listening to her squeaky cart rolling down the hallway getting closer and closer to my kindergarten classroom. (My kindergarten teacher had us in the palm of her hand!) If one person could inspire such joy in me I wanted to be that person in my future!
That was how it all started. 4 year old Annie sitting on the kindergarten carpet with her green-shirt and goose-bumps over Mrs. Goodrich's art supplies. It wasn't that she was a great teacher, it wasn't a trip to France to look at art, it wasn't a need to teach the world to think outside the box. (I hate that phrase.) It was the pure joy of creating and the need to offer that joy of creation with others that made me want to become an art teacher.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Trepidatious
I'm trepidatious.
I'm always trepidatious before working with a new college student. It's not because I've had poor experiences, in fact I've had many many wonderful people in my classrooms over the years. I worry because I always wonder if I'm good enough to be their teacher. I wonder about this often enough with my own high school students never mind a budding teacher. This person who needs guidance and inspiration along with encouragement, stability, flexibility, understanding, and TIME. Oi! Why do I do this to myself?
I do it because, in teacher speak, it makes me a more reflective practitioner. It makes me think about the "why" in what I do. Why do I great my students by name whenever I can? Why do I keep snacks in the closet? Why do I teach drawing at the beginning of the school year? Why do love teaching? All these things that after a few years of teaching I just did and couldn't really remember why. When I thought about the why I reconsidered a few of my practices. Some have stayed and I have adopted a few practices that I've admired from other teachers who shared their why.
Why am I blogging about this? I could join the masses with a food blog, I could start a blog about successful art lessons, or some other such typical blog. I chose this topic because even after 15 years of teaching and more than that many student teachers, I'm still trepidatious. If I am, so may be others. Other excellent teachers who are fearful or hesitant to help a college student make the transition from student to teacher. I don't blame you. It's one more responsibility heaped upon your plate. However, our craft (yes craft!) needs to perpetuate it's greatest practices and how better than to teach them to the next generation of teachers?
I'm always trepidatious before working with a new college student. It's not because I've had poor experiences, in fact I've had many many wonderful people in my classrooms over the years. I worry because I always wonder if I'm good enough to be their teacher. I wonder about this often enough with my own high school students never mind a budding teacher. This person who needs guidance and inspiration along with encouragement, stability, flexibility, understanding, and TIME. Oi! Why do I do this to myself?
I do it because, in teacher speak, it makes me a more reflective practitioner. It makes me think about the "why" in what I do. Why do I great my students by name whenever I can? Why do I keep snacks in the closet? Why do I teach drawing at the beginning of the school year? Why do love teaching? All these things that after a few years of teaching I just did and couldn't really remember why. When I thought about the why I reconsidered a few of my practices. Some have stayed and I have adopted a few practices that I've admired from other teachers who shared their why.
Why am I blogging about this? I could join the masses with a food blog, I could start a blog about successful art lessons, or some other such typical blog. I chose this topic because even after 15 years of teaching and more than that many student teachers, I'm still trepidatious. If I am, so may be others. Other excellent teachers who are fearful or hesitant to help a college student make the transition from student to teacher. I don't blame you. It's one more responsibility heaped upon your plate. However, our craft (yes craft!) needs to perpetuate it's greatest practices and how better than to teach them to the next generation of teachers?
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