Up the creek learning

As we enter the summer, these posts will shift from highlighting what teachers are doing around the county to reflections on our practice as teachers. The first comes from my own experiences. If you would like to contribute your own reflection, please email me, or comment on this post. Have a great summer!

The most important thing I ever learned about learning was not in my teacher preparation, grad school, or National Boards process. It was canoeing merit badge class.

I grew up spending summers in a canoe. I knew how to canoe. I did it all the time. So when I got to summer camp as a young Boy Scout, I signed up for canoeing merit badge. It would be easy!

Well, I knew how to paddle from the front of the boat, with my Dad in the back. I didn't realize that the hardest part of canoeing was when you were in the back of the boat or, worse, in the boat by yourself. So, second day of class, I was done. I told my father (at camp with me) that I was quitting the class, because "I didn't know anything" about canoeing.

My father didn't reassure me, didn't insist that I did know something, but he did insist I stay in the class. "You don't take a class because you know something," he said. "You take a class to learn something." He told me that the fact that it was hard was exactly why it was good for me to be in the class: it showed that I had something to learn, a reason to be there.

I think sometimes we forget this in our lives as teachers and professionals. We forget that learning is hard, and, frankly, people don't usually like hard work. So students, like most people, tend to avoid hard work. In practice, this means that they often would much rather do easy things, like filling out worksheets or copying definitions, than hard things, like writing, analyzing, or creating. And they "vote" with their behavior: students sitting in rows copying notes from the screen into a notebook tend to be "easy to manage."

All my life, up to that summer camp, I sat in the front of the canoe with my Dad in the back. I was there, because I was easily managed. But I hadn't learned what I needed to know. When the work got hard... I tried to quit. I voted with my behavior.

But I wasn't allowed to quit, nor was I given a different, easier lesson for canoeing. I was given the context for why it was hard. I was reassured that, if I worked through it, I would be successful and that it was worth it. Fortunately, the outcomes of the learning were apparent to me: not just a merit badge, but a skill I wanted and valued. Sometimes, that's the challenge for us: we have the merit badge (we call them "grades") to hold out for the kids, but the skills that the grade represents are not valued by our students.

So what did I really learn from canoeing merit badge? I learned how to keep my head above water, both literally and figuratively. Despite the fact that I felt so over my head at the start, I had support, encouragement, and lots of time and practice to figure out what I needed to know. Every day, I got a little bit of instruction on how to do something, and a whole lot of time doing it with the instructor watching and giving feedback, so, yes, I learned how to paddle a canoe. But far more lasting and more importantly, I learned how to be successful. I was successful because I knew the learning was important to me, I could see how each lesson built toward the ultimate goal, and I had support of peers, parent, and instructor when the going got rough. For our students to be successful, we need to do three things for them:

1. Find ways for the learning we have planned to be meaningful and important to them.
2. Give them challenging tasks that clearly move them toward that meaningful and important learning.
3. Support them when it gets hard, not by making it easier again, but by encouraging them through the difficulty.

None of those things are easy for us to do. Teaching is hard, hard work. So is learning. And both are a lifelong journey. If you're looking for support, encouragement, or feedback on your teaching and learning journey, drop me a line.

I'll bring my canoe.