(no subject)
He simply stands there, quiet, mischievous, the contained rebel, the dignified motherfucker, nothing more and nothing less than a greying man who is a true connoisseur of life (but of course too smart and real for silly words like that), who acts and lives and creates his own purpose and doesn't spout the bureaucratic bullshit that has become all too comfortable.
He speaks in stories, never lectures. It's always as if we were going to experience pungent joy, hardship, existentialism, and living at full-speed and through this vehicle who stands there, a little slumped, always enrapturing, instead of just going to ed class.
You are the stranger, not the authority. Going in to an unknown classroom to teach is not Jesus materializing in front of the uncouth savages to impart morality and goodness. This is not the civilize-the-savages program. At best, you will not be instilling anything new in the children, but rather helping to weave and bring to light joys and possibilities, self-respect and value that is already within themselves.
Be a troublemaker in the service of your students, he says. What's more important--school district mandates, or the dignity and growth of your students? Find what speaks to them. Take the imps and don't force a lot of crap rules or facts on them. Give them time, patience, interest. Value them. Don't show them, help them to discover, to question. You can't stand in front of them an unquestioning authoritarian God, and hope for them to learn critical thinking and questioning without you as the model.
He pulls out objects and passes them around to the class from a sort of mythical bag of tricks. Such common things, but in that moment they have taken on magic. What is this? Where is it from? What is its story? And we seemlessly begin discussing the environment, the justice system; he has us at his fingertips, and he, to us, is the magician and the sage, while he stands there in amazement and curiosity looking at each of us.
Oh man, my homework is to glue/decorate/make a wooden toy cupboard into something that I can use as a springboard to create engagement and launch into an education unit, any kind I want.
Suh-weet. also, i want to grow up to be this guy.
He speaks in stories, never lectures. It's always as if we were going to experience pungent joy, hardship, existentialism, and living at full-speed and through this vehicle who stands there, a little slumped, always enrapturing, instead of just going to ed class.
You are the stranger, not the authority. Going in to an unknown classroom to teach is not Jesus materializing in front of the uncouth savages to impart morality and goodness. This is not the civilize-the-savages program. At best, you will not be instilling anything new in the children, but rather helping to weave and bring to light joys and possibilities, self-respect and value that is already within themselves.
Be a troublemaker in the service of your students, he says. What's more important--school district mandates, or the dignity and growth of your students? Find what speaks to them. Take the imps and don't force a lot of crap rules or facts on them. Give them time, patience, interest. Value them. Don't show them, help them to discover, to question. You can't stand in front of them an unquestioning authoritarian God, and hope for them to learn critical thinking and questioning without you as the model.
He pulls out objects and passes them around to the class from a sort of mythical bag of tricks. Such common things, but in that moment they have taken on magic. What is this? Where is it from? What is its story? And we seemlessly begin discussing the environment, the justice system; he has us at his fingertips, and he, to us, is the magician and the sage, while he stands there in amazement and curiosity looking at each of us.
Oh man, my homework is to glue/decorate/make a wooden toy cupboard into something that I can use as a springboard to create engagement and launch into an education unit, any kind I want.
Suh-weet. also, i want to grow up to be this guy.