Nakkula Chapters 2 and 3

So far in graduate school, as far as educational gurus go, I've connected most with Diane Ravitch.  She was profiled in The New Yorker last year and she has a new book out, which was reviewed by Jonathan Kozol in this past week's Sunday New York Times Book Review.  Ravitch used to be all for standardized testing, and now she's against it.  I like her most because she was able to admit she was wrong.  This is such a rare thing in education!  It seems like people's egos are extremely fragile, and she doesn't care about hers.  Hooray!  Her blog rules, and I'm sure I'll use it to help me write my graphic novel on learning.  I'm ordering this book to the library after I finish this sentence.  Here's my post on Nakkula for the week!

At the beginning of Chapter 2, Nakkula wrote about how adolescents and adults in education are both learning.  This idea is counter-intuitive to the common adage that we as teachers need to be experts in our subject areas.  Perhaps we know much about the material.  However, we need to know much more about the world of adolescents and how to present that material.  That is an on-going learning process and Nakkula describes this as more of an interactive approach, as a growing opportunity, as opposed to the normative idea of a ‘quiet student sitting in a chair listening to an expert teacher talk’.

                I thought that this was a smart way for Nakkula to frame these chapters.  Interacting with students isn’t a simple under-taking and there aren’t any simple answers.  There are many complex behaviors occurring at this point in a person’s life.  Nakkula discusses the idea that a person starts with an individual idea of oneself, and attempts to understand his or herself, while at the same time fitting themselves into society.  The idea of a ‘misfit’ is the space between the individual development and social psychology.  What kinds of experimentation does a person have to make in order to reach equilibrium between these two posts?

                This developmental stage also branches out into how adolescents struggle with anxiety from another equilibrium that’s out of wack: how to “balance the need to be distinct from family/friends/society with the simultaneous need to establish and maintain meaningful relationships with significant others. (21)” There are so many students with anxiety problems that I find it hard to believe this theory is the only reason that they are faced with this mental obstacle.  But it does make me re-think what constitutes anxiety.  Perhaps it manifests itself in other ways that I hadn’t previously considered.  I understand a little more now why students try to be cool or try to stand out.  They’re trying to both be distinctive and belong, all at the same time.

                Nakkula mentions one way that adolescents attempt to find orientation in this disequilibrium is to find something authentic, a true way to live.  This renders them susceptible to fads or charismatic leaders.  This was an interesting way to look at adolescent culture and reminds me of the students who took a photo on their phone of The Walking Dead pin while I was at the mall.  Is The Walking Dead a fad?  Is there a deeper reason why adolescents are drawn to this show?  I wonder if marketing researchers know this about adolescents and the ways they behave. 

                This all has to do with how an adolescent sees himself or herself.  Nakkula describes this idea of identity as four different types of statuses that people encounter in their lifetime.  Someone with a foreclosed identity status is comfortable with their place in society and has trouble exploring.  I thought it was important to note that someone with a foreclosed identity status is resistant to challenging their status, and needs to be helped without judgment.  Diffuse identity status is the opposite – someone who doesn’t identify with anything specifically, is a chameleon, and does little reflecting.  I thought it was an interesting idea that Nakkula says we shouldn’t tell students what to do in situations.  Rather, we should hear what they have to say, and “it would be more effective to ask them about their experiences in these various settings, listen to their struggles and thrills, then help them to hear the moments about which they speak with the most passion” (33).  We have discussed how important passion is to the learning process in class, and now I can see a little more clearly where that connection comes from.

                An interesting thought that I took away from the moratorium identity phase was that adolescents try to emulate role models during this crisis, yet the emulation is a fleeting solution.  They end up finding themselves in their achieved identity when “the identity crisis is resolved and the commitment to the selected identity is high” (38).  I also thought it was worth noting that these ideas on identity are in a constant, dynamic cycle, and they aren’t just exclusive to adolescents.  This is something we do as adults, too.  It isn’t a simple linear phase.  There’s constant change going on.

                Nakkula continues writing about behavior and identity in chapter 3.  He writes about the various forms of experimenting and risk-taking involved with teenagers.  Again, he mentions a difficulty in equilibrium, this time between the dependency of teens on their parents’ world and the impulse to create their own world.  They start focusing on risk-taking to help define their own world.  This certainly can be positive and negative, depending on who is guiding these students through their risk-taking.

                Students learn through modeling their behavior after others.  Much like learning school material, this learning occurs through scaffolding.  They also learn about risks through scaffolding.  Nakkula writes about positive scaffolding only occuring through consistent and challenging activities that help build skills and personal development.  These achievements are missed when there is an excess of psychological entropy, or the blocking of energy to do complex thinking.  Flow experiences occur when these energies are unblocked.  This started sounding a heck of a lot like Scientology, and my dubious alert system started going off.

                This is where I started to lose Nakkula a little bit.  He argues that students get involved in bad behavior because their flow states are only opened up when involved in reckless behavior.  It’s the responsibility of the teachers to build scaffolds to lead to positive risk taking, and positive flow states, or we run the risk of students only connecting to bad behavior.  This is an incredible leap of faith here.  If there is anything I’ve learned in these chapters, it’s that students have complex, complicated lives that we have to do our best to understand.  It seems unrealistic to expect teachers to be the only people in their lives to prevent them from engaging in bad behavior.  Their families don’t have anything to do with this?  I think that is one of my major beefs with Nakkula: doesn’t a student’s family background count for something?  I think teachers can help, but we can only do so much.  I agree we need to be cognizant of positive risk-taking.  That I can get behind.  But we need to be met half-way.  Maybe I’m misreading something here, but Nakkula seems to be saying that poor teaching leads to reckless behavior in adolescents, and that makes zero sense to me, from my experiences.  Hopefully this slight irritation will become more understandable in the up-coming chapters.         

Nakkula vs. Campoy

The beginning of the first chapter of Michael J. Nakkula’s “Understanding Youth” included several thought-provoking concepts and ideas that struck me as an interesting way to understand how adolescents learn.  Later in the chapter, I started getting a little frustrated with some of Nakkula’s ideas, but once I put them in the proper context, I began to understand where he was coming from, even though I didn’t quite agree with his reasoning.

I remember being bewildered in high school.  I was over-stimulated and didn’t know what was going on half the time.  The idea that adolescents learn through ‘theoretical thinking’, made sense to me. I still sometimes learn through the idea that “assumptions … are tested through real-world, trial and error experimentation” (2).  I’m a trial and error type person and I could understand where the author was coming from with this idea.

Tested knowledge was another concept that resonated with me.  Tested knowledge occurs when students are “constructing implicit theories about their classroom, the adults in their lives, their peers, and, by extension, forming theories about themselves” (3).  I liked how Nakkula noted how complicated students’ lives are in this period of their growth.  There isn’t one simple equation with students.  Each need carefully calibrated algorithms in order to help understand them.  This is one of the major challenges as a teacher, a concept that Nakkula attempts to build on later in the chapter.

I enjoyed reading Nakkula’s ideas on the construction of adolescence.  This idea includes students’ process of “creating themselves and the worlds they inhabit” (5).  I thought it was important in this part that Nakkula includes the point that this process is THEIRS and it’s THEIR world.  I think, as teachers, we sometimes forget that part about adolescents.  We’re merely another figure in their world.  I sometimes lose track of this idea and think that students should treat my classes as the most important part of their day.  That’s not reality. 

                Considering I’m (supposedly) a writer, I had already thought about Nakkula’s concept of making and co-creating narratives out of our lives.  However, Nakkula is able to eloquently translate this concept into an easily communicable idea:  “[t]he construction of one’s life…occurs through and gets held together by the evolving stories we tell ourselves and the ways in which these stories become internal guideposts for ongoing decision-making, everyday behavior, and self-understanding” (6).  I think Nakkula nails this concept here, something that English teachers can take advantage of, when necessary.

I started getting a little less gung ho about Nakkula’s ideas when he started writing about Vgotsky and the meeting of the minds.  The idea of interpyschological  development makes sense: “each individual mind develops within the context of other minds by which it can be influenced” (9).  This idea seems logical enough.  However, Nakkula and Vgotsky start to lose me with the ideas on ‘scaffolding’ and ‘zone of proximal development’.  How can we accomplish these concepts of ‘reading students’ minds’?  That seems like an incredibly idealistic goal.  When there are 20-25 students in the class, it seems hopeless to categorize or determine where students land.  Every student is so different, so dynamic, so complicated, that there just isn’t enough time in the world to analyze each one.This is a nice theory, yet it’s incredibly hard to gauge a whole class. 

I reread this part of the chapter again after writing this part of my post.  I think Nakkula and Vgotsky might be trying to write about practicing these concepts with individual students as opposed to the entire class.  If this is what they’re getting at, then I can understand their point of view. 

I always try to gauge the knowledge in my classes, through pretest activities and discussions.  However, there are always going to be students who don’t quite have the same background knowledge.  I think we need to expect these students to speak for themselves if they’re having trouble.  Self-advocacy is an important element to learning.  We aren’t mind readers.  We can read the room, read body language, and just use our instincts to get there.  But we have to be met half-way by our students.  I've found that exit slips are incredibly helpful to get inside my students' minds.  

Campoy’s first chapter from “Case Study Analysis in the Classroom” was less thought-provoking but I did have a few comments on a few of hisideas.  Campoy was discussing a troublesome student, and a teacher not successfully dealing with the student’s behavior.  The teacher discovered the student was having trouble at home and “it caused [the teacher] to wonder how children with horrendous home lives (several in that same classroom) ever learned anything at all” (4).  I’ve had students that fit this description and I’ve found that some of them flounder, while others find solace in school.  It’s a break from their tumultuous home lives.  They see their friends and aren’t at risk of being yelled at by their parents.  With the rise of cell phones, this distancing is much harder.  

Campoy crossed over with Nakkula in some parts.  Campoy discussed the idea that of constructing our own narratives: “[f]rom the earliest times, life stories have been important in understanding ourselves and relating the importance of what we do (MacIntyre, 1984)” (5).  These ideas certainly resonate with me, both on an educator level and on a student level.      

I believe strongly that the best way for new teachers to learn their craft is by doing it.  I think case studies can be a helpful tool in the classroom, yet nothing can replace good ol’ experience.  Campoy somewhat edges towards the idea that case studies will completely help new teachers become better.  I disagree – I think new teachers already have too much on their minds.  Reading this now is much more appropriate, since I actually have brain energy to process the ideas. 

The last quote from the Campoy chapter that resonated with me was his idea that “[t]his is just the beginning for you, because, as teachers such as Vivian Paley (1990) and Parker Palmer (1998) describe, the journey to becoming a teacher can also be a journey to discover your truest self as a human being” (9).  This reminded me of Ayers’ book and one of the overall themes that I’ve taken from this course so far.  As much as we want to think that it’s our students that control our fate, in the end it really is up to us and how we want to fashion our worlds, whether it’s our classroom or our real life.  

Ayers Part 2

On page 74, Ayers writes: “So here’s my dilemma: I need to reconcile two opposing ideas within a limited space.”  He is referring to the Sisyphus-like struggle of attempting to be creative while teaching while also sticking to the standards.  The quote reminded me of this famous F. Scott Fitzgerald line:  

"The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function."

                So how do we reconcile these difficulties?  Do we give up and only do creative assignments and forget about the standards, consequences be damned?  Or do we go straight for the standards, ignore the engaging personalities in the room, and satisfy administration?  Obviously, we have to find a happy medium, a place where we abide by the standards, and yet have a dynamic approach to teaching those standards.  This reminds me of the course I took last summer with Lesley Bogad.  We discussed how to use new technology in the classroom while also walking the standards line.  I actually haven’t experienced any problems so far with this, since the Common Core curriculum seems to be driven towards using technology and media.  But this is something I’ve been thinking about this past summer and during this new school year.   

On p. 79, Ayers writes “The thing to do I have discovered is to learn from the bees themselves.”  This is from the anecdote about a beekeeper needing to be aware of the variety of how bees work, and how different hives work in different ways.  Ayers was making the analogy that caring for bees is a lot like caring for students.  I appreciated the metaphor and have been attempting to use that philosophy in my classroom.  In fact, I’ve been using exit slips and have been finding them to be incredibly useful, especially the questions students ask that I’ve missed.  They help fill in the gaps.  For example, I was teaching about a bare-knuckled fighter, John L. Sullivan, who was an Irish immigrant’s son in the 1880s.  I told the students that the Irish were discriminated against because they were immigrants, which is common in our history.  I didn’t explain further.  There were a few questions about this on the exit slips, and I realized I had under-estimated their background knowledge on the subject.  Exit slips have been an easy way for me to see how my students have been learning and what else they want to learn about the subject. 

  

On p. 87, Ayers greets his administration with a good ol’ “Boy Howdy!”  This phrase is most likely a sarcastic remark to them entering his classroom.  “Boy Howdy” was the tagline for a 1970s semi-popular rock n’ roll magazine, Creem.  The editors and writers are considered pioneers of what we now call alternative/progressive-minded culture.  What does this have to do with teaching, Corey?  Well, I’ve been hesitant to look at teaching in the alternative/progressive way that I’ve learned about from alt magazines like Creem.  Yet, it seems like students do respond positively to assignments when they’re more hands-on and creative, or ‘alternative’.  I have to strike a balance with this, as well.  I’ve been hesitant about going in this direction, I’m but am making my way there.

On p. 97, Ayers writes “Greatness in teaching, too, requires a serious encounter with autobiography.  Who are you?  How did you come to take on your views and outlooks?...Of all the knowledge teachers need to draw on, self-knowledge is most important.”  This quote resonated with me more than anything else in the book and is one of the major points I’ll try to take away from this reading.  I’ve been avoiding telling students about my personal life in any capacity.  I thought that being impersonal was a smart way to keep an arm’s distance away from students, to avoid being their ‘friends.’  In fact, I’ve found giving away small tidbits about my personal life makes it easier to build a bridge to my students, to connect with them, and therefore make them comfortable with me.  I think building these relationships will help improve the learning that goes on in my classroom.  Students won’t hesitate to talk to me if they have questions.  All in all, I hope keeping this in mind will help my overall teaching habits.

To Teach: The Journey, In Comics Part I

      I was pleasantly surprised when I opened page one of "To Teach: The Journey, In Comics" by William Ayers.  I started reading the "Advance Praise" for the book and saw quotes that supported the book from legendary avante-garde artist Laurie Anderson (married to Lou Reed), graphic novelist Harvey Pekar, and comic artist Peter Bagge.  I included a couple pieces of their artwork, found below.  You can see that their work is a little out of left-field.  I hope that these examples demonstrate how strange it was to see their names in an education book.

(By Peter Bagge)

(Harvey Pekar)

     What was most interesting was that these artists never seemed to write about teaching and education in their work.  However, they do have much wisdom to share about life, and I think their progressive sensibilities match up well with William Ayers.

     

     I had heard of Ayers from the 2008 and 2012 elections.  President Obama has been linked to Ayers, due to Ayers' inclusion in The Weather Underground, a radical student leftist group that were founded in the 1970's.  I think they had crossed paths in Chicago at some point.  I had no idea Ayers was an educator, only that he was a feature on many Fox News and other right-leaning programs.

     

     Ironically, he writes about the myths of teaching, and he has his own myth about him.  On page 3, he compares teaching to an Odyssey, "an epic, solitary quest."  I thought this metaphor was right on target.

     

     Students don't learn everything all at once.  We must teach them throughout the year, a little at a time, while wacky challenges are thrown in our direction, much like Homer trying to make his way home to his wife Penelope in The Odyssey.  "The teachers trudges toward an uncertain future without easy rewards."  Yet, he also points out "it's often the myths themselves that the young teacher must fight against."

     I picked up on this idea of myths when I first started in education.  I was substitute teaching where I had attended high school and thought I was more aware than I had been when I was a student there.  I observed how the teachers and students both bought into many myths and labels, whether it was about someone's reputation or how the real world actually worked.  Ayers writes "labels are lazy, static" (21).  I always had this thought in my head, yet I could never quite pull it into words. I think this is an important part about teaching and learning: we have to look past these easy labels and myths and try to "open our eyes, always, to the true children before us: dynamic, 3-dimensional, trembling, and real" (19).  When my former teachers were buying into these same labels, I was disappointed, and swore I wouldn't teach that way.  When I first became a credit recovery teacher, I had to put this into practice, which was harder than I thought.

     In Chapter 2: "Seeing the Student," Ayers introduces us to a young student named Quinn.  He shows the student in class, enthusiastically learning and treating his fellow students with respect.  From the outside, to administrators, he looks like a typical A.D.D. student.  However, on pages 27-29, Ayers shows how Quinn is learning in all sorts of ways that are not seen by the common eye.  He points out how paying attention to details are important to learning how a student learns.  I thought this went along well with Ayers' decision to publish this graphic novel.  He could've taught us how he thought details were important via the written word.  However, the comics demonstrated this point in a more visceral way.  I especially thought this about the comic on page 29, when Quinn was helping a student he had accidentally bumped into.  The image was much more powerful than the words.

     I had a little more trouble connecting with Chapter 3 "Creating an Environment for Learning."  I don't doubt the importance of the space students have for learning.  However, it struck me as more driven towards an elementary or preschool teacher.  In my experience, I just don't see the difference with high school students.  I had a U-shaped classroom the past two years.  This year, my new room is too small for a U, so I have the traditional rows.  I haven't seen much of a difference.  I wonder if I haven't thought about this enough?

     The building bridges metaphor in Chapter 4 was another analogy that Ayers nailed.  I thought it was interesting that Ayers cut the first story, about building a bridge for his class turtle, into two parts.  The story was interrupted by another story, about a friend of his who teaches high school.  The teacher had been attempting to have a dialogue about race that back-fired.  He admitted he hadn't quite built the bridge for his students to be able to speak about such a tricky subject.  I've been attempting to do that exact thing in one of my classes this year.  I am attempting to build a bridge to more higher conceptual discussions about race, sex, and gender in the country.  Instead of jumping in the deep end, I'm attempting to start slow.  I think students learn better this way when learning about complicated, controversial subjects.

     Last spring, the English department were debating the upcoming summer reading selections.  I suggested we read a graphic novel, and I was nearly laughed out of the room.  I was relatively insulted, considering I had a decent grasp on how graphic novels could help students learn.  However, I lacked the language to argue for graphic novels.  Ayers' Introduction resonated with me.  I think graphic novels do have the potential to teach and help students learn.  Graphic novels don't only have words and pictures: they're part of a "third, all-new form - sequential art and a dazzling dance of dialectic" (XIV).  In a world where images are increasingly influential (Instagram and Snap-Chat, the newest technology fads, are mostly image-driven) and students read less and less, I would hope that an emerging resource would be sought after, not laughed at.

     "Teaching at its best is not a matter of technique - it's primarily an act of love" (11).  This quote particularly resonated with me and I hope I will keep it in mind the rest of the school year!