I attended Kwanzaa Chapel on Friday Dec. 10. I know absolutely nothing about Kwanzaa, so the message was very eye opening. Kwanzaa didn't seem to be a specifically religious holiday. It seemed more of an opportunity for people of African descent to come together and celebrate their commonalities. There are seven principles of Kwanzaa, and they are as follows:
1. Unity
2. Self-determination
3. Collective work and responsibility
4. Cooperative economics
5. Purpose
6. Creativity
7. Faith
The speaker, Sheila Radford-Hill, challenged the notion that these are "universal" principles. She said that each African American's experience is so different that an entire culture's variance can't be represented by simply seven principles. She then went on to describe how, though they aren't all-encompassing, these principles really get to the heart of what the African American experience is all about.
I really enjoyed this talk. I learned about Kwanzaa and thought critically about what a message like this meant to the education world. The best I could come up with is that kids are all very different, and it's the teacher's job to demonstrate how their commonalities can help them build relationships. Specific to music, each student will have different feelings or opinions about a piece, but it's important to talk about and celebrate those differences, and ultimately come together to perform the music. Each person will "feel" it differently, but the collective effort and commonality of the notes are the shared things each musician can bring to the table.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Can Dispositions Be Taught?
...What a loaded question.
Here's the conclusion I've come to: You can be a talented person and a good teacher without being an effective teacher. If you know your stuff, you can get your point across, but you have to develop dispositions to get your students to care about what you're saying. If you aren't kind or passionate, you lose a lot of credibility.
I'm one of the few crazy people left who think that people are inherently good. I believe that everyone has the capacity to be compassionate and reflective and is born with the ability to compromise with others. Because of this, I don't think taught is the right word here. I think dispositions need to be brought out of people. I think that it takes a really good mentor to model good dispositional habits for future teachers to aspire to. By simply demonstrating the importance of a specific way of interacting with students, I think that a person should just get it.
The person who is most helping me get it right now is Sandra Peter, my choir director. She represents, to me, the perfect choir director. She is, first and foremost, always positive. Kids don't want to be around crabby people, so positivity is key. Secondly, she is organized. She always knows what's coming next, and pacing is SO important to keeping students' attention. Third, she cares about each individual student. When we walked into our first choir rehearsal at Luther freshman year, she knew the names of all 100 women in her freshman choir. If you're late for rehearsal, she asks why rather than yelling at you for it.
So, to answer your question, dispositions can be brought out in people who have good role models.
Here's the conclusion I've come to: You can be a talented person and a good teacher without being an effective teacher. If you know your stuff, you can get your point across, but you have to develop dispositions to get your students to care about what you're saying. If you aren't kind or passionate, you lose a lot of credibility.
I'm one of the few crazy people left who think that people are inherently good. I believe that everyone has the capacity to be compassionate and reflective and is born with the ability to compromise with others. Because of this, I don't think taught is the right word here. I think dispositions need to be brought out of people. I think that it takes a really good mentor to model good dispositional habits for future teachers to aspire to. By simply demonstrating the importance of a specific way of interacting with students, I think that a person should just get it.
The person who is most helping me get it right now is Sandra Peter, my choir director. She represents, to me, the perfect choir director. She is, first and foremost, always positive. Kids don't want to be around crabby people, so positivity is key. Secondly, she is organized. She always knows what's coming next, and pacing is SO important to keeping students' attention. Third, she cares about each individual student. When we walked into our first choir rehearsal at Luther freshman year, she knew the names of all 100 women in her freshman choir. If you're late for rehearsal, she asks why rather than yelling at you for it.
So, to answer your question, dispositions can be brought out in people who have good role models.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Katie Deaver's Chapel Talk
I went to chapel on Monday because Nordic Choir was singing, and got a pleasant surprise.
I never expect much out of chapel. Jesus might hate me for saying that, but hey, if you're not feeling anything, don't fake it...The speakers are usually sort of a toss-up, and it's only 20 minutes, so I don't have enough time to really get into the God zone. When I saw that the speaker was going to be a student, I thought to myself, "well, at least we know Nordic will be good..."
As it turns out, I got a lot out of senior Katie Deaver's message. She was talking about just what I did when I came into the CFL. She talked about how we shouldn't make judgments. She told a story about how she came to chapel once during a college visit and saw a girl in a green baseball cap. This girl climbed over the seats to get to her friends and kept her hat on during the service. Katie was appalled. She admitted that she and her friend were making fun of this girl as the service went on. When it was time to share the peace, the only person who welcomed her and shared the peace was this terrible heathen who walked over the seats and didn't take her hat off in church. Moral of the story: don't judge a book by its cover.
I think that this point is so so so important for teachers to understand. The kid who dresses super weird could be the next Albert Einstein or Michael Phelps or Renee Flemming. The kid who doesn't try in your class could be a fantastic poet. Really getting to know your students is the only way to keep yourself from judging them. Keep an open mind and get to know the person rather than the packaging.
I never expect much out of chapel. Jesus might hate me for saying that, but hey, if you're not feeling anything, don't fake it...The speakers are usually sort of a toss-up, and it's only 20 minutes, so I don't have enough time to really get into the God zone. When I saw that the speaker was going to be a student, I thought to myself, "well, at least we know Nordic will be good..."
As it turns out, I got a lot out of senior Katie Deaver's message. She was talking about just what I did when I came into the CFL. She talked about how we shouldn't make judgments. She told a story about how she came to chapel once during a college visit and saw a girl in a green baseball cap. This girl climbed over the seats to get to her friends and kept her hat on during the service. Katie was appalled. She admitted that she and her friend were making fun of this girl as the service went on. When it was time to share the peace, the only person who welcomed her and shared the peace was this terrible heathen who walked over the seats and didn't take her hat off in church. Moral of the story: don't judge a book by its cover.
I think that this point is so so so important for teachers to understand. The kid who dresses super weird could be the next Albert Einstein or Michael Phelps or Renee Flemming. The kid who doesn't try in your class could be a fantastic poet. Really getting to know your students is the only way to keep yourself from judging them. Keep an open mind and get to know the person rather than the packaging.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Dispositional Blog #5: Reflectiveness
Reflection is probably the most important thing about continuing to grow as a teacher. It's a difficult concept, because people hate critiquing themselves. It's hard and time consuming to sit down and actively think about the things that you've done, their effectiveness, and their value. I think new teachers would have an especially hard time with the concept. I know when I'm leading a sectional or a rehearsal, I'm so nervous that I am completely focused on what I'm doing and pay very little attention to how it is received. I have the luxury of working with my peers right now, who are pretty attentive, serious musicians, but high school kids aren't going to pay nearly as much attention.
Reflection is at the heart of the teaching process because it is just that: a process. Teachers who stay stagnant, keep doing the same thing day in and day out without any thoughtful reflection on their actions won't become a better teacher. In fact, they'll regress in their teaching, because their students will become less receptive to their same-old, same-old as the school year progresses. Kids will get bored. Reflection doesn't have to be an individual critique. It could be a group process, like attending a professional conference to get new ideas about teaching, or actively participating in staff meetings to figure out what's working and what isn't.
I tend to only reflect when things are going really really badly...that's not a good habit to be in. I journal before bed when I've had a bad day. Plenty of good things happen in my life, but if you were to read my journals, you'd think I'd led the crappiest, most depressing life in history. I also reflect at church...God tends to bring out the best in me. :) For me, it's a very personal thing. I like it to be quiet, and I need to be focused. I always feel a ton better after I reflect on things, though.
Reflection is at the heart of the teaching process because it is just that: a process. Teachers who stay stagnant, keep doing the same thing day in and day out without any thoughtful reflection on their actions won't become a better teacher. In fact, they'll regress in their teaching, because their students will become less receptive to their same-old, same-old as the school year progresses. Kids will get bored. Reflection doesn't have to be an individual critique. It could be a group process, like attending a professional conference to get new ideas about teaching, or actively participating in staff meetings to figure out what's working and what isn't.
I tend to only reflect when things are going really really badly...that's not a good habit to be in. I journal before bed when I've had a bad day. Plenty of good things happen in my life, but if you were to read my journals, you'd think I'd led the crappiest, most depressing life in history. I also reflect at church...God tends to bring out the best in me. :) For me, it's a very personal thing. I like it to be quiet, and I need to be focused. I always feel a ton better after I reflect on things, though.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Dispositional Blog #4: Passion
First, a random thought. If I'm going to be a teacher, I need to learn to get my butt out of bed in the morning! My alarm went off an hour and a half ago so I could finish my homework and clean my room before I left for the weekend, and here it is, 8:00, and I'm still laying in bed. Just started the homework. Room probably won't get cleaned. Bah. I like sleep a little too much some days.
ANYWAYS...
Passion is an interesting concept. I think it manifests itself differently for musicians than any other discipline. I don't think I've ever heard of a really good math problem or chemistry experiment making anyone cry...When I listen to good music, my tear ducts are directly connected to my ears. It's slightly annoying sometimes. I don't mean that crying is the only way to experience a passionate encounter with music. I just think that without some degree of emotional connection to the piece, you can't really be passionate about what you're singing or playing.
There are many things about my high school choir director that I objected to, and we had the kind of relationship where I could openly question those things. These differences of opinion, shall we say, have led to some pretty interesting discussions. One of the biggest things I'm still wrestling with as a future teacher is the role that competition should play in music. Sometimes in high school, I felt as though my fellow choristers were fueled more by passion for competition than passion for the music, and as someone who felt very passionate about just the notes on the page, this was sometimes frustrating. People were dead silent in show choir rehearsal, when there was a big shiny trophy at the end of the tunnel, but in concert choir they'd sit in the back of the room and chat when they were supposed to be singing.
Then Mr. Woodin would yell. Or cry. When people were being stupid, he would get really frustrated and give a big speech about how much he loved music and teaching and how we were taking that time away from him. As a freshman it made you feel bad. As a senior, however, you kind of started to roll your eyes and block it out. I feel bad saying that now, because I know exactly where he was coming from.
I think the thing about Mr. Woodin was that he was passionate about both music and competition. There's something buried in your genetics that unfolds into a passion for music...it can be nurtured, but you're born with it. Competition, however, is something that our society brings into everyone's lives. I don't think a single person could say "I hate winning." Plenty of people can say "I hate singing." The amazing thing about Mr. Woodin was that he could combine the two passions of music and competition to create an incredible final product. I still question, and will for a very long time, whether his proportions were exactly right, but I know there was no lack of passion in his teaching.
ANYWAYS...
Passion is an interesting concept. I think it manifests itself differently for musicians than any other discipline. I don't think I've ever heard of a really good math problem or chemistry experiment making anyone cry...When I listen to good music, my tear ducts are directly connected to my ears. It's slightly annoying sometimes. I don't mean that crying is the only way to experience a passionate encounter with music. I just think that without some degree of emotional connection to the piece, you can't really be passionate about what you're singing or playing.
There are many things about my high school choir director that I objected to, and we had the kind of relationship where I could openly question those things. These differences of opinion, shall we say, have led to some pretty interesting discussions. One of the biggest things I'm still wrestling with as a future teacher is the role that competition should play in music. Sometimes in high school, I felt as though my fellow choristers were fueled more by passion for competition than passion for the music, and as someone who felt very passionate about just the notes on the page, this was sometimes frustrating. People were dead silent in show choir rehearsal, when there was a big shiny trophy at the end of the tunnel, but in concert choir they'd sit in the back of the room and chat when they were supposed to be singing.
Then Mr. Woodin would yell. Or cry. When people were being stupid, he would get really frustrated and give a big speech about how much he loved music and teaching and how we were taking that time away from him. As a freshman it made you feel bad. As a senior, however, you kind of started to roll your eyes and block it out. I feel bad saying that now, because I know exactly where he was coming from.
I think the thing about Mr. Woodin was that he was passionate about both music and competition. There's something buried in your genetics that unfolds into a passion for music...it can be nurtured, but you're born with it. Competition, however, is something that our society brings into everyone's lives. I don't think a single person could say "I hate winning." Plenty of people can say "I hate singing." The amazing thing about Mr. Woodin was that he could combine the two passions of music and competition to create an incredible final product. I still question, and will for a very long time, whether his proportions were exactly right, but I know there was no lack of passion in his teaching.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Dispositional Blog #3: Authenticity
I swear, kids have a sixth sense. They are, in my experience, the best judges of genuineness. Perhaps this isn't because they have a heightened sensitivity to malarky, fluff, and "winging it,"...no, I think it's because they're more willing to call you out on it.
Teachers have to maintain a delicate balance when it comes to authenticity. Those teachers who take themselves and their subjects too seriously alienate students who may be less than passionate about their class. However, teachers who are "super duper cool" may fail to demonstrate and express the relevance of their subject matter. Until you find the balance between these two extremes, you're either a jerk or a joke. An authentic teacher cares about their subject and their students equally; a particularly boring unit or a particularly unruly class can quickly making this equality a near impossibility.
Students can totally tell when a teacher is being "real" with them. An authentic teacher has a legitimate answer for the questions they should know the answers to, and a legitimate resource to find the answers they don't know. A huge sign of a "fake" teacher is one who comes off as a "know it all." If a teacher gives the impression that perfection is the only acceptable option, kids who know they can't be perfect will just quit trying. In the same way, a teacher who doesn't seem to know much or care much about their subject matter is "fake," too. Students figure out quickly which teachers they can walk all over, and most will use that to their advantage (i.e. turning papers in late, talking in class, getting off topic).
If students don't take the instructor seriously, learning doesn't happen. A teacher who makes students feel like they're never going to be good enough may discourage students from taking risks and trying new things. Frustrated students will just give up. A teacher who makes students feel like they're "just one of the gang" has established very little professional authority, and thus cannot effectively manage their classroom and student learning.
Teachers have to maintain a delicate balance when it comes to authenticity. Those teachers who take themselves and their subjects too seriously alienate students who may be less than passionate about their class. However, teachers who are "super duper cool" may fail to demonstrate and express the relevance of their subject matter. Until you find the balance between these two extremes, you're either a jerk or a joke. An authentic teacher cares about their subject and their students equally; a particularly boring unit or a particularly unruly class can quickly making this equality a near impossibility.
Students can totally tell when a teacher is being "real" with them. An authentic teacher has a legitimate answer for the questions they should know the answers to, and a legitimate resource to find the answers they don't know. A huge sign of a "fake" teacher is one who comes off as a "know it all." If a teacher gives the impression that perfection is the only acceptable option, kids who know they can't be perfect will just quit trying. In the same way, a teacher who doesn't seem to know much or care much about their subject matter is "fake," too. Students figure out quickly which teachers they can walk all over, and most will use that to their advantage (i.e. turning papers in late, talking in class, getting off topic).
If students don't take the instructor seriously, learning doesn't happen. A teacher who makes students feel like they're never going to be good enough may discourage students from taking risks and trying new things. Frustrated students will just give up. A teacher who makes students feel like they're "just one of the gang" has established very little professional authority, and thus cannot effectively manage their classroom and student learning.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Dispositional Blog #2: Compassion
One of my best friends and biggest allies is one of my former teachers.
Jennifer Morris, former assistant show choir director at my high school, has made a huge difference in my life. She has been there for me both in music and in life...I've called her late at night in tears and early in the morning bursting with good news. It would probably take more than my fingers and toes to count the number of times my phone calls have woken her up (oops).
Our bond began one night at a show choir competition. I was singing a solo, my mic stopped working, and she kicked off her high heels, ran up the aisle, and handed me a different mic. After the fact, she was chewed out by our head director. I cried after the show that night...for hours. It didn't help matters that we suffered our only loss of my high school career that night to our biggest rivals. A couple days later I went into her office to thank her for switching my mic. Ever since that conversation, there's never been a doubt in my mind that she would be there for me when I needed her most.
Our friendship grew from a professional teacher-student relationship to one of mature adults. We talk about real issues. This past summer, when I got into a substantial fight with one of my parents, I called her and said "J-Mo, I'm coming over," and sat on her couch for three hours and talked it out. She shares my passion for working with children with special needs (in fact, we both worked at the same case management and therapy center over the summer); we often swap stories of "our kids." When I need musical advice, I call her first. She helped me decide which college to go to. We banter back and forth about love gone awry at Starbucks quite regularly. She hooks me up with performance opportunities. Basically, this woman rocks.
I think that the reason we're such good friends is that we're very similar. She tells me stories from college and the insecurities she experienced about her music career and I can completely relate to many of them. She's already been through everything I'm going through now, and her knowledge and support is invaluable. There have been a few days where her encouragement was truly the only thing that kept me going. She never tells me that I'm incapable of things...She'll be very honest about whether they're realistic or not, but is always encouraging of the things that I'm passionate about.
Jennifer Morris, former assistant show choir director at my high school, has made a huge difference in my life. She has been there for me both in music and in life...I've called her late at night in tears and early in the morning bursting with good news. It would probably take more than my fingers and toes to count the number of times my phone calls have woken her up (oops).
Our bond began one night at a show choir competition. I was singing a solo, my mic stopped working, and she kicked off her high heels, ran up the aisle, and handed me a different mic. After the fact, she was chewed out by our head director. I cried after the show that night...for hours. It didn't help matters that we suffered our only loss of my high school career that night to our biggest rivals. A couple days later I went into her office to thank her for switching my mic. Ever since that conversation, there's never been a doubt in my mind that she would be there for me when I needed her most.
Our friendship grew from a professional teacher-student relationship to one of mature adults. We talk about real issues. This past summer, when I got into a substantial fight with one of my parents, I called her and said "J-Mo, I'm coming over," and sat on her couch for three hours and talked it out. She shares my passion for working with children with special needs (in fact, we both worked at the same case management and therapy center over the summer); we often swap stories of "our kids." When I need musical advice, I call her first. She helped me decide which college to go to. We banter back and forth about love gone awry at Starbucks quite regularly. She hooks me up with performance opportunities. Basically, this woman rocks.
I think that the reason we're such good friends is that we're very similar. She tells me stories from college and the insecurities she experienced about her music career and I can completely relate to many of them. She's already been through everything I'm going through now, and her knowledge and support is invaluable. There have been a few days where her encouragement was truly the only thing that kept me going. She never tells me that I'm incapable of things...She'll be very honest about whether they're realistic or not, but is always encouraging of the things that I'm passionate about.
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