My Teaching Philosophy
I recall one pivotal day during my student teaching experience. I had just finished explaining instructions for an activity in which we would be exploring Quaker culture, when a new student, Shayna, raised her hand. “Ms. Greenspan,” she asked, “why do we have to learn this?” I was surprised; no student had ever asked me that before. I felt put on the spot, but I knew it was a valid question. If the lesson was not related to the students’ lives outside of the classroom, how could I expect them to care about the task at hand?
Throughout my years at the Rutgers Graduate School of Education, I have learned about the importance of authentic instruction. As I plan my lessons, I need to keep Shayna’s question in mind. I must ask myself why I am teaching this material, and how my students can utilize what they learn. One of history’s greatest advocates of authentic instruction, John Dewey, wrote (over one hundred years ago) that we must create the school as a “genuine form of active community life, instead of a place set apart in which to learn lessons[1].” This demand still rings true today. Dewey posits that once we meet this aim, “knowledge is no longer an immobile solid; it has been liquefied. It is actively moving in all the currents of society itself[2].” I took this analogy to heart when I read it. I want the knowledge my students gain in my classroom to seep into their lives outside of school, and conversely, I want the experiences they have had in their own lives to have a respected place in the classroom.
To help my students relate to history, they must first understand that history is a construct; that ordinary people just like them have helped elevate the heroes we celebrate on national holidays, have written our history books, and have shaped our common narrative of history. From the first day of class, I want to stress to my students that history is an ever-changing and ever-expanding narrative. One way to get this point across is to treat the textbook as what it is: a secondary source. Too often, textbooks are introduced to students as a “Book of Truth.” I think that textbooks are amazing resources, and can constantly be used as “jumping-off” points. However, I think that educators need to teach students to critique textbooks just as they would any primary or secondary source. Edward Carr suggests that before studying history, we must study the historian.[3] This applies to our use of textbooks as well! It would be an interesting and beneficial process to have students briefly research the authors of our textbook, and deliberate how their backgrounds could have influenced the nature of our textbook.
It may seem that this practice would produce skeptics and cynics instead of enthusiastic social studies students. However, I propose that the opposite would take place under this practice. In this day and age, students are constantly exposed to multiple, and often opposing, interpretations of history. Whether they encounter these versions of history on television, on the Internet, within propaganda, during political campaigns, or during a history lesson, students need to understand why and how different interpretations emerge. I posit that without the tools to comprehend the construction of history, students will disregard the field altogether, doubting its merits and its authenticity. As Peter Seixas writes, “To historicize history is to understand that today’s methods for establishing truth are no more then today’s methods. And yet that is not to say we have no way of establishing a complex, multiperspectival historical truth for our time[4].” In other words, the fact that we have contrasting historical narratives does not excuse us from teaching history in a realistic way. Instead, we should approach history with honest eyes, and question why historical narratives have developed in specific ways. We must investigate what Carr describes as a dialogue between the historian and his facts[5]. I believe this can be an incredibly valuable process for young students of history, and can set an appropriate framework for subsequent, and more complex history classes in the future.
When giving my students the tools to analyze different types of sources (textbooks, primary documents, art, literature, etc.), my hope is that they will bring these skills into their lives outside of school. Critical thinking skills that help students succeed at writing persuasive essays in my class will help students form cohesive arguments in “real life.” Learning how to research and consider the validity of different sources will show students how they can become informed citizens years after they leave my class. By showing students that one event can be viewed form an infinite number of perspectives, they can come to understand how both conflict or coexistence can develop. Again, here, I am stressing the authenticity of my instruction.
In addition to teaching my students that history is ever-changing, I want my students to understand that they, themselves, can change history. They are “living” history. Therefore, to consider myself successful, I would want to inspire my students to develop their civic identity, defined as a “person’s sense of connection to and participation in a civic community[6].” According to Beth Rubin, students’ civic identities are greatly impacted by their daily social experiences, and their particular school environment.[7] As students experience incongruities between American ideals and the realities of everyday life, their confidence in a civic community can be at risk. Furthermore, this risk may be exacerbated if a student identifies with a marginal or minority group.[8] Therefore, instructional methods that confront these inconsistencies (instead of ignoring or glossing over them) can help ameliorate this risk and foster a belief that individuals have influence and autonomy in their communities at large.
To help students develop their civic identity, it is crucial that I connect the historical events of the past to present happenings in the world. In my classroom, I would require thoughtful reactions to and discussions of current events. However, I would not stop there. When students express distress over situations they see in their communities, or in the news, I would encourage action. This can mean educating their community about a topic, writing letters or petitions, organizing fundraisers, becoming members of organizations etc. I would be content with my teaching only if my students left my class at the end of the year feeling that they have something to offer the community, and that they have the tools they need to voice their opinions. I want my instruction to impact the daily experiences of my students, not just their academic experiences.
The Diane Ravitch supporters of the world might be dismayed at my “ode to authentic instruction.” They might mention startling statistics such as the fact that “nearly a quarter (22.6%) of students fail to name Richard Nixon as the President whose resignation resulted from Watergate[9].” This is an immense problem, and a slap in the face for social studies educators. However, I would argue that it is almost impossible for students to retain facts, or think about them at a higher level, if these facts are not made meaningful by relating them to students’ lives. A fact is nothing without its context. A student will find a factual history of the Palmer Raids of the 1920s more meaningful if, for example, the Raids are compared and contrasted to the USA PATRIOT Act of our generation. Under the guide of authentic instruction, students would then think in a broader sense, perhaps by debating the role of government in personal life, or questioning the extent to which a government can go in “protecting” its citizens. It is in this way that students will successfully recall the details of the past in a significant way.
As I speak about my students, I also need to consider myself as a student of the teaching process. I need to become involved in authentic learning as well. S.D. Brookfield suggests four authentic realms of focus for teacher improvement[10]. The first form is an individual endeavor; understanding myself as a teacher and focusing on my own knowledge. Exploring who I am as a teacher will help me understand my own biases, my own teaching styles, and my individual “areas in need of improvement.” One way to address any deficits in my professional skills would be to take advantage of professional development opportunities that help me quench my curiosities and expand my idea of effective teaching. Brookfield’s second suggestion, turning to scholarly research, is individual in nature as well. This can help me learn more about pedagogy, and can help me base my instruction on valid research.
A third, more cooperative realm of focus is to (either formally or informally) engage in constructive dialogue with fellow teachers and the administration. As a beginning teacher, I know I have much to learn. I know no better source to turn to than experienced teachers themselves, and the administrative personnel who have help guide those teachers.
Brookfield’s last method of improvement utilizes a source of indispensable critique; my own students. Getting student feedback is something that should take place frequently. It can be done in a very deliberate way (such as passing out anonymous surveys) or it can be done in a more casual way (perhaps a brief discussion or through a “suggestion” box). During my student teaching, I practiced all four of these techniques, and my feeling is that I need to integrate these practices into my first year of teaching even more.
With our focus on student input, I return to the opening scene in which my inquisitive student, Shayna, challenged that authenticity of my lesson. I tried to think quickly of the most appropriate answer as to why we were learning about Quaker culture. I explained to my class that our textbook seemed to exalt the idea of pacifism, while at the same time (in other sections) glorifying the “military heroes” of eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Our exploration, I told my students, was going to prepare us for a class discussion on the merits of either militarism of pacifism. In a broader sense, we were going to deliberate how two opposing values can exist in our nation at the same time. When we got to our discussion, the students seemed to grapple with the topic. Some of them defended national defense, while some applauded the morals of pacifism. Still others pushed themselves to come up with other examples of “opposing values” that coexist in our society (for example, one student brought up safety vs. personal freedom).
I was proud of my students for their level of comprehension of an abstract concept. I was also pleased with the level of engagement during the discussion. I attribute the success of the lesson to its applicability to the lives of the students. Of course they first needed to learn the cut-and-dry facts about Quaker culture, but these facts were then connected to broad concepts. I am a firm believer that facts only stay with students and expand their knowledge when integrated into the already existing schemas.
I consider it an immense responsibility to become a social studies teacher. The discipline has the capacity to open students’ eyes to the world around them by helping them develop their own ideas about the socio-historical events that have shaped their lives. It has the ability to teach students how to question, compare, and critique the statements of others. Social studies illustrates that the course of history is not accidental, and that we have a stake in the future. When these are our aims, students will be more engaged in social studies, and students will learn more. These goals can best be met by providing meaningful, authentic instruction. To abandon these goals is to sell the students short.
[1] John Dewey. The School and Society; The Child and the Curriculum. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990) 14.
[2] Dewey 25.
[3] E.H. Carr. What is History? (London: Macmillan, 1961) 24.
[4] Peter Seixas. Schweigen! Die Kinder! Or Does Postmodern History have a Place in the Schools? (In Knowing, Teaching and Learning History: National and International Perspectives. New York: New York University Press, 2000) 34.
[5] Carr, 24.
[6] Beth Rubin. “There’s Still Not Justice”: Youth Civic Identity Development Amid Distinct School and Community Contexts. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007) 2.
[7] Rubin 3.
[8] Rubin 26.
[9] Diane Ravitch and Chester E. Finn. What Do Our 17 Year Olds Know? (Harpercollins, 1988) 54.
[10] S.D. Brookfield. Becoming Critically Reflective. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1995) 28.
Throughout my years at the Rutgers Graduate School of Education, I have learned about the importance of authentic instruction. As I plan my lessons, I need to keep Shayna’s question in mind. I must ask myself why I am teaching this material, and how my students can utilize what they learn. One of history’s greatest advocates of authentic instruction, John Dewey, wrote (over one hundred years ago) that we must create the school as a “genuine form of active community life, instead of a place set apart in which to learn lessons[1].” This demand still rings true today. Dewey posits that once we meet this aim, “knowledge is no longer an immobile solid; it has been liquefied. It is actively moving in all the currents of society itself[2].” I took this analogy to heart when I read it. I want the knowledge my students gain in my classroom to seep into their lives outside of school, and conversely, I want the experiences they have had in their own lives to have a respected place in the classroom.
To help my students relate to history, they must first understand that history is a construct; that ordinary people just like them have helped elevate the heroes we celebrate on national holidays, have written our history books, and have shaped our common narrative of history. From the first day of class, I want to stress to my students that history is an ever-changing and ever-expanding narrative. One way to get this point across is to treat the textbook as what it is: a secondary source. Too often, textbooks are introduced to students as a “Book of Truth.” I think that textbooks are amazing resources, and can constantly be used as “jumping-off” points. However, I think that educators need to teach students to critique textbooks just as they would any primary or secondary source. Edward Carr suggests that before studying history, we must study the historian.[3] This applies to our use of textbooks as well! It would be an interesting and beneficial process to have students briefly research the authors of our textbook, and deliberate how their backgrounds could have influenced the nature of our textbook.
It may seem that this practice would produce skeptics and cynics instead of enthusiastic social studies students. However, I propose that the opposite would take place under this practice. In this day and age, students are constantly exposed to multiple, and often opposing, interpretations of history. Whether they encounter these versions of history on television, on the Internet, within propaganda, during political campaigns, or during a history lesson, students need to understand why and how different interpretations emerge. I posit that without the tools to comprehend the construction of history, students will disregard the field altogether, doubting its merits and its authenticity. As Peter Seixas writes, “To historicize history is to understand that today’s methods for establishing truth are no more then today’s methods. And yet that is not to say we have no way of establishing a complex, multiperspectival historical truth for our time[4].” In other words, the fact that we have contrasting historical narratives does not excuse us from teaching history in a realistic way. Instead, we should approach history with honest eyes, and question why historical narratives have developed in specific ways. We must investigate what Carr describes as a dialogue between the historian and his facts[5]. I believe this can be an incredibly valuable process for young students of history, and can set an appropriate framework for subsequent, and more complex history classes in the future.
When giving my students the tools to analyze different types of sources (textbooks, primary documents, art, literature, etc.), my hope is that they will bring these skills into their lives outside of school. Critical thinking skills that help students succeed at writing persuasive essays in my class will help students form cohesive arguments in “real life.” Learning how to research and consider the validity of different sources will show students how they can become informed citizens years after they leave my class. By showing students that one event can be viewed form an infinite number of perspectives, they can come to understand how both conflict or coexistence can develop. Again, here, I am stressing the authenticity of my instruction.
In addition to teaching my students that history is ever-changing, I want my students to understand that they, themselves, can change history. They are “living” history. Therefore, to consider myself successful, I would want to inspire my students to develop their civic identity, defined as a “person’s sense of connection to and participation in a civic community[6].” According to Beth Rubin, students’ civic identities are greatly impacted by their daily social experiences, and their particular school environment.[7] As students experience incongruities between American ideals and the realities of everyday life, their confidence in a civic community can be at risk. Furthermore, this risk may be exacerbated if a student identifies with a marginal or minority group.[8] Therefore, instructional methods that confront these inconsistencies (instead of ignoring or glossing over them) can help ameliorate this risk and foster a belief that individuals have influence and autonomy in their communities at large.
To help students develop their civic identity, it is crucial that I connect the historical events of the past to present happenings in the world. In my classroom, I would require thoughtful reactions to and discussions of current events. However, I would not stop there. When students express distress over situations they see in their communities, or in the news, I would encourage action. This can mean educating their community about a topic, writing letters or petitions, organizing fundraisers, becoming members of organizations etc. I would be content with my teaching only if my students left my class at the end of the year feeling that they have something to offer the community, and that they have the tools they need to voice their opinions. I want my instruction to impact the daily experiences of my students, not just their academic experiences.
The Diane Ravitch supporters of the world might be dismayed at my “ode to authentic instruction.” They might mention startling statistics such as the fact that “nearly a quarter (22.6%) of students fail to name Richard Nixon as the President whose resignation resulted from Watergate[9].” This is an immense problem, and a slap in the face for social studies educators. However, I would argue that it is almost impossible for students to retain facts, or think about them at a higher level, if these facts are not made meaningful by relating them to students’ lives. A fact is nothing without its context. A student will find a factual history of the Palmer Raids of the 1920s more meaningful if, for example, the Raids are compared and contrasted to the USA PATRIOT Act of our generation. Under the guide of authentic instruction, students would then think in a broader sense, perhaps by debating the role of government in personal life, or questioning the extent to which a government can go in “protecting” its citizens. It is in this way that students will successfully recall the details of the past in a significant way.
As I speak about my students, I also need to consider myself as a student of the teaching process. I need to become involved in authentic learning as well. S.D. Brookfield suggests four authentic realms of focus for teacher improvement[10]. The first form is an individual endeavor; understanding myself as a teacher and focusing on my own knowledge. Exploring who I am as a teacher will help me understand my own biases, my own teaching styles, and my individual “areas in need of improvement.” One way to address any deficits in my professional skills would be to take advantage of professional development opportunities that help me quench my curiosities and expand my idea of effective teaching. Brookfield’s second suggestion, turning to scholarly research, is individual in nature as well. This can help me learn more about pedagogy, and can help me base my instruction on valid research.
A third, more cooperative realm of focus is to (either formally or informally) engage in constructive dialogue with fellow teachers and the administration. As a beginning teacher, I know I have much to learn. I know no better source to turn to than experienced teachers themselves, and the administrative personnel who have help guide those teachers.
Brookfield’s last method of improvement utilizes a source of indispensable critique; my own students. Getting student feedback is something that should take place frequently. It can be done in a very deliberate way (such as passing out anonymous surveys) or it can be done in a more casual way (perhaps a brief discussion or through a “suggestion” box). During my student teaching, I practiced all four of these techniques, and my feeling is that I need to integrate these practices into my first year of teaching even more.
With our focus on student input, I return to the opening scene in which my inquisitive student, Shayna, challenged that authenticity of my lesson. I tried to think quickly of the most appropriate answer as to why we were learning about Quaker culture. I explained to my class that our textbook seemed to exalt the idea of pacifism, while at the same time (in other sections) glorifying the “military heroes” of eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Our exploration, I told my students, was going to prepare us for a class discussion on the merits of either militarism of pacifism. In a broader sense, we were going to deliberate how two opposing values can exist in our nation at the same time. When we got to our discussion, the students seemed to grapple with the topic. Some of them defended national defense, while some applauded the morals of pacifism. Still others pushed themselves to come up with other examples of “opposing values” that coexist in our society (for example, one student brought up safety vs. personal freedom).
I was proud of my students for their level of comprehension of an abstract concept. I was also pleased with the level of engagement during the discussion. I attribute the success of the lesson to its applicability to the lives of the students. Of course they first needed to learn the cut-and-dry facts about Quaker culture, but these facts were then connected to broad concepts. I am a firm believer that facts only stay with students and expand their knowledge when integrated into the already existing schemas.
I consider it an immense responsibility to become a social studies teacher. The discipline has the capacity to open students’ eyes to the world around them by helping them develop their own ideas about the socio-historical events that have shaped their lives. It has the ability to teach students how to question, compare, and critique the statements of others. Social studies illustrates that the course of history is not accidental, and that we have a stake in the future. When these are our aims, students will be more engaged in social studies, and students will learn more. These goals can best be met by providing meaningful, authentic instruction. To abandon these goals is to sell the students short.
[1] John Dewey. The School and Society; The Child and the Curriculum. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990) 14.
[2] Dewey 25.
[3] E.H. Carr. What is History? (London: Macmillan, 1961) 24.
[4] Peter Seixas. Schweigen! Die Kinder! Or Does Postmodern History have a Place in the Schools? (In Knowing, Teaching and Learning History: National and International Perspectives. New York: New York University Press, 2000) 34.
[5] Carr, 24.
[6] Beth Rubin. “There’s Still Not Justice”: Youth Civic Identity Development Amid Distinct School and Community Contexts. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007) 2.
[7] Rubin 3.
[8] Rubin 26.
[9] Diane Ravitch and Chester E. Finn. What Do Our 17 Year Olds Know? (Harpercollins, 1988) 54.
[10] S.D. Brookfield. Becoming Critically Reflective. (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 1995) 28.