'Yet ...' bringing together the science AND art of inquiry

I am on my way home from a wonderful week working with the staff of the International School of Uganda. It is such a privilege to be invited to spend a full week on campus, planning, hosting rich conversations about pedagogy, facilitating workshops and of course, lots of classroom teaching. Classroom ‘labsites’ or ‘learning labs’ as they are often called have been a consistent element of my practice as a consultant for 20 years. I know of no better way to collectively examine, critique and investigate what it means to bring an inquiry stance to teaching and learning than to get in a classroom, teach, and invite colleagues to observe and listen. We ALL learn – the teachers, the kids, and me.  And as a trained and experienced early years and primary classroom teacher, working with and learning from children always feels like coming home. This is where my heart lies.

 This is where the hearts of most teachers lie.  The core of our work - the reason most of us do this, is about our day-to-day interaction with children as they learn. It’s about what we say, think and do when we walk into a learning space … and teach.  As we wound up the week yesterday, the primary principal, Dan, reflected on the ‘artistry’ of teaching and the power of seeing ourselves as artists – mindfully choreographing our next move, standing back to ponder and appraise our work, thriving in the creativity of a responsive approach and intentionally dipping into a palette of practices as we observe, listen to and respond to learners. It is thoughtful, complex, creative and stimulating work.  I was reminded of a quote from a blog I read a few years ago:

 “Thinking of teaching as an art elevates our work from the pedantic to the profound. When we think of ourselves as artists, we set both a very high standard for the evocative nature of our work and a deeper compassion for the difficult challenges we will face in pursuing that standard.  Thinking of our teaching this way challenges us to prioritize the interactions between teacher and student rather than the ‘grade’. In both art and teaching, attending to the work itself rather than the outcome of that work raises the authenticity of the outcome.” Catherine McTamaney, Ed.D.

 To acknowledge and approach the work of teaching through an artistic metaphor was a beautiful balance to the very different kinds of conversations I had been having at home prior to my trip, where the word ‘science’ seemed to be increasingly attached to our work, often bringing with it a kind of didactic rigidity that seemed at times to suck the life out of the beautiful work we do … all head and no heart.  We have much to learn from the work of cognitive scientists - but let us not ignore the artistry of teaching.

Perhaps the most potent teaching is in the centre of a venn diagram connecting teaching (and learning) as a science AND art.  This seems to be a recurring theme for me (I have written extensively about this,for example, here and here)  as I continue to resist unnecessary duality and acknowledge complexity, and to avoid dogmatism and orthodoxy and acknowledge nuance.  While the word ‘nuance’ can prompt the occasional eyeroll, it remains central to my efforts to find ways to meet in the field beyond.  Journalist Annabelle Crabb, in a recent article about a high profile court case here in Australia writes:

“Inability to see nuance in an issue about which one feels deeply is- when extrapolated to a group – the number one most frightening thing about tribalism. … people who are motivated by good and reasonable sentiments get so busy fighting the holders of other sentiments that they let go, sometimes without noticing, of the principles that got them into it in the first place. Why do we do this? Because we like to gather in groups of people with which we agree. It’s safe. It’s calming. It gives us a sense of purpose and connection. But it can also blind us to nuance …”

 I read Crabb’s article not long after reading another wonderful post by another insightful and articulate educator, Tracey Ezard. Her writings about the ‘Paradox of Yet’ resonated with me strongly.  Ezard writes about this in relation to leadership, but I could not help but think about the same idea when pondering the persistent problem of inquiry and explicit instruction being pitted against each other.  When I returned to the article to write this post, I realised that she too had drawn on the metaphor of artistry:

“If we’re driven by a strong set of principles that centre us, we can bring this duality together. Like an artist mixing two seeming opposing colours together, we end up with a third choice. It becomes a richer choice that incorporates strengths from both sides.”

I nodded furiously as I read:

 “Without the blending of the seemingly opposing strengths, we become a victim of extremities.”

Ezzard’s clever pairing of seemingly opposing approaches to leadership invited me to do the same for inquiry:

Flexible yet structured

Student-led yet teacher-guided

Student-led yet teacher-guided

Emergent yet planned

Responsive yet intentional

Collaborative yet personalised

Inductive yet explicit

Playful yet rigorous

Conceptual yet knowledge-rich

Integrated yet discipline-specific

Exploratory yet focussed

Messy yet organised

Open ended yet scaffolded

Action-oriented yet reflective

This proved to be an interesting provocation for the staff at ISU who helpfully added:

Hands on/authentic yet abstract

 Teachers who bring an inquiry stance to their work acknowledge the ‘yetness’ of their approach.  I have deliberately ‘bolded’ the elements that characterize inquiry. These are without question, the features I probably lean into more often.  BUT the seemingly ‘opposing’ elements are not only present in my practice, they enhance it!  I can make the most of the emergent nature of inquiry because I have a plan – a big picture view. I can engage kids in real experiences and hands on learning but this is made more powerful by the higher order, abstract thinking we do to build conceptual  understanding.  The word ‘yet’ gives permission to be nuanced and to dip into the vast palette of possibilities we have as educators. But it doesn’t mean ‘anything goes’, in the framing I offer here, the ‘yet’ is not necessarily about balance - it is about acknowledging the nuances so often overlooked in simplistic representations of inquiry. 

As the teachers at ISU gathered to debrief their observations of lessons this week, an appreciation of nuance was alive and well.  When we are slaves to ‘absolutism’ or programs that allow no room for artistry and adaptation, we lose the power of ‘yet’. And we lose the gift of learning from and with others who see it differently.  

I found this such a helpful way of thinking about the pedagogy of inquiry. How about you? What would you add?

Just wondering …

Curiosity as an antidote …clinging to wonder as the tide rolls in.

“Wonder is the thread that stops us from giving up or surrendering to cynicism. Wonder is the thread that allows us to make and remake education landscapes free from orthodoxy and certainty. Wonder is an ache and belief that provokes us towards imagined worlds in which we make education good and right.”  (O’conner and Gomez, 2022:50)

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” Rumi

‘Stay curious, ask questions, stay open minded, slow your thinking down, keep wondering …’ This is some of the ‘self-talk’ that has preoccupied my mind for several weeks now.  Central to my work, indeed, central to my identity as a teacher and a learner, is an inquiry stance. So it follows that when faced with ideas and beliefs contrary to my own, I have to work even harder to cultivate that stance. But cultivate it I must - especially in when it comes to current discussions about ‘The Science of Learning’ and the accompanying pedagogical implications championed by some systems/schools. One of the most influential educators in my early career was the late Donald Graves.  His book ‘Writing: teachers and children and work’ instilled in me a passion for the kind of learning that happened with and forchildren rather than to them. Looking back, I can see how Graves’ work helped develop values that remain central to my teaching practice: agency, curiosity, collaboration, authenticity and depth. As I learned to confer with individual children about their writing, often inspired by their interests, I came see each child as unique, both as person and learner. It instilled within me some much needed humility as I realised just how much expertise and experience even my youngest learners brought to the classroom. Conferring with children taught me learn to listen and to resist automatically defaulting to telling and explaining before I listened. What a gift that was to me as a young teacher! Without even realising it, I was developing my ‘image of the child’ as agentic, capable, connected and curious. I devoured so much of Graves’ work, but there was one thing he wrote that returns to be over and over:

“The enemy is orthodoxy.”

 I have found myself thinking a lot about that phrase over the last couple of years – and even more so over the past weeks as a somewhat imposing wave of  ‘The Science of Learning’ continues to roll into the educational discourse here in Australia. While I am working in classrooms around the world, constantly impressed by the capacity of young people to own their learning and, with guidance, develop deep and powerful understanding about their world,  I am also reading through documents explaining ways to introduce the ‘science of learning’ to schools.  These directives purport to provide clear guidance on ‘best practice’ and together with the seductive phrase ‘evidence-based’, identify ‘preferred’ instructional strategies that generally involve a lot of teacher explanation and demonstration as a means to ensure proficiency.  I am receiving messages from perplexed young teachers who have been directed (yes) to re-organise their flexible seating in the classroom and place children are in permanent rows, facing the front. The language in some of the documents I am reading seems to suggest there is one path to learning for all children. An orthodoxy of sorts.  But as I am reading, and as I am receiving these messages I’m trying hard to walk the talk – to read and listen with an open, questioning, critical mind. I know I need to be able to make connections, find points of common thinking, extend my thinking, notice what is challenging and what I am called to challenge.

Forgive me for getting all ‘meta’ with this, but it has been intriguing to notice my own responses to documents in which I feel the subtle (and not so subtle) subjugation of inquiry.  My initial, natural reaction is one of defensiveness – especially when tired old tropes appear that suggest explicit instruction is absent from an inquiry approach or when inquiry is characterized as involving ‘minimal teacher guidance’ (such as in the oft quoted research paper by Sweller et.al. from the early 2000s.)  As Seth Godin recently pointed out: “they’re apt to set up inquiry learning for failure by using a caricatured version of it, a kind of pure discovery rarely found in real-world classrooms, with teachers providing no guidance at all so that students are left to their own devices.” To be honest, anyone who thinks they are ‘doing inquiry’ by simply sending kids off to figure it all out on their own does not understand the approach at all.  So, when inquiry is dismissed as ineffective, one always needs to ask ‘what do you mean by inquiry?’.  My hunch is that this phenomenon of over-simplification is also true of direct instruction. There are silly, ineffective and extreme versions of both.

Anyway. I read on. I breathe. I listen.  I notice my reaction is not so much to the ideas and advice but to the whole concept of “best practice”, of  THE science of learning. It’s the sense of orthodoxy to which I react even more so than the content.

I remind myself… ‘Stay curious. Ask questions. Notice. Wonder …’

I find myself wondering: How can I use this material to help me and the teachers I work with reflect, re-think and clarify?  How can we bring intellectual humility to all this AND stand by the values we hold of curiosity, creativity, agency, differentiation, depth and authenticity?  It’s not easy, but with an open mind, we can find elements that connect with and add to our knowledge, as well as ideas we might question and challenge. Accepting such directives without question and without consideration of our local contexts, values, beliefs and needs of our community would be intellectually lazy - as would failing to read views of those equally steeped in learning sciences but who draw quite different conclusions (see some suggested reading below).  We teach our students to be critical inquirers – so should we be.

No educator should ever feel they have ‘arrived’ at a place of complete understanding about teaching and learning. We are NEVER done learning and always need to grow and adapt to new information. When system level policies seem to fly in the face of some of our deepest held beliefs, we need to stay open to growth and to the benefits of changing our minds. This has been true for me in the literacy area where, in reading the excellent work of Burkins and Yates (2021) I have had cause to rethink some of my understandings about the teaching of reading. Their work is amongst the best examples of resisting orthodoxy – of bravely entering the conversation about the science of reading, embracing new thinking, letting go of some dearly held ideas about reading instruction AND remaining committed to balanced, meaningful learning for children.  Similarly, I continue to yearn for a ‘both/and” approach, eloquently stated by Dr. Linda Darling-Hammond and Dr. Pamela Cantor principal researchers, and also experts in learning sciences, in the Design Principles Project (2021):

“a teacher can skillfully blend inquiry-based learning with strategic elements of direct instruction using multiple modalities of learning that help students draw connections between what they know and what they are trying to learn.”  (https://k12.designprinciples.org/)

When I sat down to write this blog post, I thought I was going to pick apart the numerous dogmatic arguments made by some who champion what they call ‘the’ science of learning, but that’s not where I needed to go. Others far more qualified than me have done that eloquently and I encourage you to read their pieces (links below). In the end, this post was really just about me trying to BE an inquirer – to stay in the space that Rumi calls ‘the field beyond’ and hold on to the power of wonder to fight my own cynicism and, at times, despair.  This has been my attempt to avoid ‘doubling down’ and instead to amp up my curiosity so that I can keep learning and growing. So, in the spirit of wonder, the best I can do with all this is to leave you with some of the questions that have been rolling around in my head as this strange battle of ‘best’ practice rages on. I hope these questions might be helpful to you as you engage in continued dialogue about the complex, demanding, vital and ever-evolving work we do:

·      How can we argue for what is best without asking, ‘best for what purpose’?  And if the answer is, ‘for learning’, then what kind of learning do we mean? What do we think school is for in 2024 and beyond? How might we bring this question to the staffroom?

·      Where are our points of agreement? How might we find common ground? We all want to do the right thing by children and their families. What are our shared values?

·      What can I learn from the particular view of the ‘science of learning’ being promoted in schools? How might the advice on ‘explicit instruction’ help refine the moments when, during an inquiry, we do indeed engage in direct teaching? Can I do a better job of that part of my repertoire? How might a better grasp of high quality explicit instruction assist us to work with some students for whom ‘release of responsibility’ might take more time?

·      Is there one, universal ‘Science of Learning?’ I note that MANY critics suggest otherwise. What do other respected researchers in the field of learning have to say?  Whose voices are we not hearing/reading?

·      What is really meant by the term ‘knowledge rich?’  Whose knowledge? Why privilege this? What about, for example, indigenous ways of knowing that might have a very different context, purpose and approach?

·      What does ‘evidence-based’ really mean? In schools in which I work – such as those who use Kaser and Halbert’s ‘spirals of inquiry’ model, evidence of  impact is drawn by careful analysis of a range of data about the children within their communities. What counts as evidence?

·      In his excellent forward to Claxton’s ‘The Future of Teaching and the Myths that Hold it Back (2021) Dylan Wiliam states that while those advocating a more traditional approach to teaching have ‘empirical’ evidence on their side, this is, according to Wiliam, largely due to the fact that researchers have focussed on the “… easily answered questions. It is much easier to decide whether one teaching approach is better than another if the goal is to get students to balance chemical equations than if the goal is to debate effectively the science and ethics of genetically modified foods:” (2021: xix).   I find this an enormously helpful reminder when reading claims about evidence from research. What kind of learning has the research focussed on? How do we avoid sweeping generalisations and interrogate the evidence more productively?

·      To what extent has ‘warm data’ informed this work?  (I am only just learning a little about this concept but it seems very relevant) “Using only analysis of statistical data will offer conclusions that can point to actions that are out of sync with the complexity of the situation. Information without interrelationality is likely to lead us toward actions that are misinformed, thereby creating further destructive patterns. “ (Batesoninstitute.org)

·      How can we tackle the question of ‘what works’ in a more nuanced way? Should we not also be asking, ‘what works, and for whom and where and under what conditions’? (Wrigley 2018)  How do we ensure that we keep the focus on the needs and characteristics of the local communities of learners in which we work?

·      If explicit teaching is deemed more ‘efficient’, is that amongst the criteria for effectiveness? To what extent do we value efficiency? Are there things that we could and should teach efficiently? What requires time and depth? What can stay on the surface? When we talk about effective learning – what do we mean?  How might we share that with each other in more open and honest ways? 

·      Systems all over the world talk about the importance of learner agency – indeed it is one of the key principles in the most recent OECD education report. What impact might a strong diet of direct and explicit instruction have on learner agency? How can we help teachers navigate their way through a sea of mixed messages?  

·      As an educator with a strong commitment to, and deep understanding of, a more constructivist approach to teaching and learning, how can I do a better job of challenging the persistent myths about inquiry?  Why DO these myths persist and how might I take some responsibility for that? What new stories can I tell about inquiry as a stance that might better reflect the nuanced and sophisticated work so many teachers are doing?

·      What might I need to change and rethink about the way I talk about teaching and learning that invites professional dialogue and productive collaboration rather than division and conflict?

·      How do I best support colleagues who do extraordinary, deep and loving work with children and who so very deftly and effectively scaffold and support exploration before or with explanation. How do I help people resist a culture of orthodoxy and continue to value their expansive and flexible repertoire? How can I support teachers to be informed AND to feel they can intelligently defend the range of approaches they might use according to the needs and context in which they are working?  How might we meet in the field beyond?

Already, some of these wonderings have been the seed for some powerful dialogue with fellow educators. There is nothing like being challenged to help one clarify and refine thinking and this is best done in the spirit of inquiry where curiosity does indeed remain a powerful antidote to cynicism and despair and, if nurtured, create fertile ground for continued professional growth.  I have found the following posts and articles helpful. If you have been engaged in conversations about ‘THE’ science of learning, what question s have you found yourself pondering?

Just Wondering …

Wrigley, T. (2018). The power of evidence: Reliable science or a blunt set of tools? British Educational Research Journal, 44(3), 359-376. 

O’Conner, P. and Gomez,C. Slow Wonder: letters in imagination and education, 2022:50

Claxton, G. (2021) The Future of Teaching and the Myths that Hold it Back. Routledge.

Hannon, V. (2021) Thrive: The Purpose of schools in a Changing World, Cambridge

https://www.alfiekohn.org/blogs/clt/

https://ckarchive.com/b/4zuvheh5nv9dki6ovveola3v24l77

https://learningpolicyinstitute.org/topic/deeper-learning

https://www.humanrestorationproject.org/writing/there-is-no-such-thing-as-the-science-of-learning

https://www.guyclaxton.net/post/the-sciences-of-learning-and-the-practice-of-teaching

www.Batesoninstitute.org

https://www.oecd.org/education/2030-project/

https://www.shyambarr.com.au/blog/beyond-cognition-embracing-the-multifaceted-nature-of-the-science-of-learning

https://smata.substack.com/p/there-is-more-than-one-science-of?utm_source=profile&utm_medium=reader2

https://bevanholloway.com/2024/04/16/424/

Following a train of thought: a conversation (‘diablog’) with Sean Walker about play, inquiry and learning

Let me set the scene. Imagine you are in Paris (aaaahhhh, Paris). You are in one of those gorgeous little street cafes and you have just pulled up a chair at our table.  Sean Walker - a gifted early years teacher - and I are deep in conversation, sparked by my time spent in his classroom at  the International School of Paris amidst a glorious project that involved, well…trains.  I hope that you might read the following as if you are ‘listening in’ to that conversation - perhaps imagining what you might ask or share if you could join in.  The truth is that Sean and I HAVE had many lively conversations about teaching (and about music but that’s another story) both in person and via whatsapp.  What you are about to read is a reflection and extension of our dialogue.  Hence my playful term ‘diablog’ … an unusual but I hope interesting blog post that we have been writing back and forth,  for the last few weeks.  So grab a chair and join us, tu veux un verre de vin? …

K Hi Sean! When I spent time in your classroom last year, I was immediately struck by the thoughtful, relaxed, independent and joyful learning environment you had created  - I think you were only a few months into the school year. Before we talk about one project in particular, could you share a little about how you design for learning through play with your kindergarten children?

S I have learned how to look for and think “big picture”. It’s what I’m doing now to focus on your first question! I’m going to build a response around design and play.  Design is actually one of the concepts we are inquiring into now in Kindergarten. The children have identified thinking, making, testing and changing as processes in design. Let me try those! I do a lot of thinking about the culture that I want to co-create with the children  - a culture of thinking where we puzzle over ideas together, make sense of what confuses us, wonder about the unknown and play with possibilities. I think about how to get young children excited about learning and which routines and materials might motivate them. With the classroom assistant, we test ideas out, continually monitoring individuals, groups and the class as a whole to see the types and levels of engagement, thinking and interactions. Changes are made as a result of being reflective practitioners. Culture is built around a set of shared beliefs and values, so relationships are key. Trust takes time to build, but I am fully aware that my daily interactions with children convey so much about what is important. I try to model curiosity, playfulness, kindness and connection to others in what I do.

K And you most definitely do model those things - I have seen it first hand. I think the point you make here is so vital. We can be highly intentional, we can think about how we design experiences and curate the environment, etc. but the key for this kind of rich, agentic, thoughtful culture really lies with the manner in which we engage with children (which of course is influenced by how we ‘see’ them - by the image of the child we choose to hold. That is fundamental to a play-based context.

S Play is interpreted so differently by so many.To ensure that I am explicit in planning for play, I take a strong stand about what play means to me, so I can be intentional in the choices I make. Kindergarten have time to play inside and outside every day. Play is initiated by the children and is self-directed. It is the child who is actively exploring, making choices and playing with possibilities. I understand that there are different types of play and I try to make sure there are resources available to support different play types, especially the use of open-ended materials (loose parts). I try hard to listen carefully to what children talk about throughout their day to get a sense of what’s really on their mind - their connections, their feelings, their experiences, their theories and their questions. I spend time reflecting on these to see what patterns emerge to form potential “big pictures”. Then I find myself wondering about how best to respond to these observations. 

K That is interesting. I often think about the kind of internal ‘dance’ we do with our thinking as children engage in play. I feel like my mind moves back and forward between the immediate and often very specific focus the child or children are engaged with  - be it building towers, designing clothes for dolls, experimenting with an art medium, etc. and the bigger picture this is linked with.  This kind of conceptual thinking is so fascinating.  We are asking ourselves ‘what concepts live in this project?’ I remember that one of the projects that really stood out when I was in your room, was based around the construction of a train. This is not an uncommon choice for groups of children of this age - especially well-travelled children like those in international schools.  Can you explain how this project first emerged and why you chose to support and nurture it the way you did?

S As part of our first unit of inquiry, we were exploring the concepts of play, learning and curiosity. To spark children’s curiosity (and thinking ahead to our second unit of inquiry on structures), we visited France Miniature. The children enjoyed seeing castles, towers and monuments in miniature form, but the energy level and excitement completely changed every 6-7 minutes as a train from the working model railway whistled past and silenced my carefully crafted questions about scale, architecture and history! Eyes lit up each time the train passed, and then scanned the park in anticipation of when and where the next train would come from. These were more than sparks of curiosity, so with a commitment to the values outlined in the last question, how could I not support the children’s interests?

K Another wonderful example of having to be incredibly open-minded and flexible to allow ourselves to let go of what we had anticipated would happen and to lean into what is actually happening! So much of this is about noticing, isn’t it? It is learning how, as an educator, to really notice what is ‘catching’ the children’s interest. And then it becomes a matter of figuring out how to harness and extend that energy through materials, questioning, etc.

S There are many useful strategies, tools and models to guide the process of inquiry, but without the energy that children and adults bring to learning, it might feel quite “formulaic”. The energy that playfulness, curiosity and authenticity ignite to foster a culture of inquiry is unmistakable. The synergy in a learning space when sparks of wonder, doubt, discovery, theory and confusion collide from both adults and children is boundless. Perhaps we can think of it as the difference between “acting” as an inquirer and “being” an inquirer. Of course, there are questions we might plan in advance, but the most compelling parts for me are those unscripted moments of being genuinely intrigued, puzzled or surprised. 

K So how is that project coming along? What opportunities for inquiry are you seeing or supporting?  Have other concepts been developed through this experience?

S What’s fascinating is that four months after your visit, Kath, the inquiry is still evolving. It hasn't run out of steam at all! At different times, it may be slower or faster and it sometimes accelerates at unexpected times! The key is that the drivers of the inquiry are the children, and not me! The children are “on track” as they remain curious and motivated about where their play and inquiries might take them.  Coincidentally (or not?), the origin of the word ‘train’ is the Latin word ‘trahere’ meaning to pull or to draw! It’s wonderful to see how many different directions the inquiry has been pulled in so far and the range of concepts that have been explored and ‘drawn’’ from the train.

One day, some of the children decided to eat their snack in the train!

K Oh I love that! Isn’t it fascinating the way etymology can help us take our thinking deeper about a particular idea? Inquiries that sustain children’s engagement over time are indeed those that continue to ‘pull or draw’ them in  - and often attract new members to the group. 

S Absolutely! Just today, the children’s play transitioned from transformative play (where materials were combined to make something new) to dramatic play. The children created tickets for the train they had been building, and for the first time, a different group of children joined to role play a train ride, complete with the use of loose parts to symbolise the snacks that were on sale. 

Anyone for snacks?

S But let me take you back to what happened after the field trip…Some children chose to build a train from a cardboard box. The train remained as a single carriage and one box for many weeks as the children developed narratives about their fantasy high speed rainbow train that fought off sea monsters, alongside dialogue about many features of trains such as tracks, tunnels and lights. The concrete structure of their train transported them between the real and imaginary worlds in a very organic way.  As the children built their train, there was also an inquiry into structures, the design process and materials and their affordances as part of the new unit of inquiry. The class was invited to explore many different materials and to think about the connections between properties and uses. While other children constructed bridges, towers and castles, these particular children often applied the processes of design, exploration and experimentation in making choices about their train. 

K Ah - so while the train project was happening with one group, there were several other projects happening that helped create a conceptual thread across the class?  I note the way you used the phrase ‘the class was invited…’ which goes to the role of the educator here. Seeing opportunities, seeing the conceptual threads and opening up possibilities and opportunities to extend and connect inquiries. Invitations are more than the way we curate materials - they are captured in our questions and gentle suggestions.  Anyway, back to the trains! 

S. I then asked the librarian for non-fiction books about trains. The children naturally gravitated towards the photographs, recounting personal experiences of times they had been on trains, and expressing their delight and intrigue in seeing different trains and their features. They chose to use these books as they were building their train, often noticing details they might use themselves, or for general inspiration. Concepts they showed particular interest in were speed, distance, time and place. The books that were used in the children’s play were soon requested to be read aloud to the class. I also offered different maps of places and train routes (from the Metro in Paris to the Underground in London to networks of train lines between countries). Each week, something the children noticed from the texts made its way back into their play. For example, using sliding polystyrene pieces to countdown the hours and minutes until the train arrived at its destination. 

K I want to put that phrase ‘something they noticed from the text made its way back into play’ in flashing lights!! The artful selection of texts (both fiction and non fiction) can add such richness to the play. Of course engaging with texts is one of the ways we position the child as researcher  - what can these books tell us? But this is happening more organically. A seamless integration.

S. Coincidentally (or not?) the day we got to the page about the Eurostar train, Kath, you were on your way to London from Paris on the Eurostar and we had been texting that morning. Sharing your messages with the class was so thrilling for the children as you were there experiencing first-hand what we were looking at in photographs. As they imagined themselves on board the Eurostar, a question that they really grappled with was “How do we build tunnels underwater?” The children had plenty of theories to share, and we then thought about how we might find out. Linked to their interest in speed and place, they also wondered, “Are bullet trains in other places outside of Japan?” 

K That question about building tunnels underwater is something I ask myself every time I am on that train!! I find myself theorizing too…and I have not actually ever taken the next step of finding out but I actually love ‘playing’ with my thinking about it.

S.I wouldn’t say trains were a particular interest or area of expertise for me. If it were music, it would be a different story!

K I find this question of teacher knowledge such an interesting one because I believe two competing ideas at once. Some of the best inquiries I have seen or engaged in are those where the educators are genuinely learning alongside the children  - their content knowledge is minimal so they are modeling what it really looks like to want to find out and to be delighted in discovery.  But I ALSO find it incredibly powerful when there is an inquiry that does link to an area in which I have expertise. Not because I can then answer all their questions but because I ask better ones. I can probe, nudge and invite stronger conceptual connections. Like so many aspects of our work - it’s not one or other, it’s both. And not knowing content doesn’t mean we don’t know concepts.

S. Yes  -  the thinking is far beyond the “limits” of trains. The big ideas being explored are rich and limitless. They allow for and provoke inquiry, and I find myself caught up in genuine awe, wonder, doubt and uncertainty, excited to venture into the unknown and learn more. It has also been a very practical way to connect our own life experiences to learning in the classroom. We shared stories about the train journeys we had been on during the holidays, getting to school and weekends I had in London. One day, I showed the children my Eurostar ticket which prompted the most amazing inquiry into the use of numbers. (Seat numbers, carriage numbers, train numbers,  24 hour time and elapsed time!). These mathematical ideas were drawn out of the children’s play. Sometimes, the children pulled and applied mathematical ideas from contexts initially not connected to trains. These links to mathematics make me think about your interactions with a few of the children and the role of language. It would be great to hear you share what happened in your own words.

After learning about length and a metre, the children chose to measure their train and solve the problem of how to measure something that was longer than 1 metre!

K. That was such a beautiful opportunity for me  - spending time with your young learners! I sat and listened to them for a while, and asked them all about what they were doing.  There was such richness in their language (and for most children English is their second or third language) that it activated my passion for ‘language experience’. Using the voice to text app on my phone, I  recorded the children’s explanations about their process and I think I suggested that their ideas would potentially make for a great book that others could benefit from. We re-read the text together and they added some more and then I sent it to you later with a message for them.  The fact I had discussed the writing of ‘Winsome’ with  them earlier and talked about being an author helped - like we were having an author-to-author moment. It was such a thrill to then get those beautiful Whatsapp messages and videos from the children reading their book to me. It felt so authentic and I hope gave them a strong sense of audience for their writing. 

S It certainly did, but far beyond that one moment in time with that one particular group. The children read aloud their trains book to their parents using an online platform and then to the class. Showcasing themselves as authors inspired other children to write their own books, including one group who invented their own language! The trains group wanted to write a second book. They chose to write an instructional text, sequencing the steps of constructing a train. They included steps they had not yet taken, and then used their second published book as a plan for their construction each day. As well as considering how play might enhance language, I have found it so purposeful to consider how language might enhance play. It felt a crime to be talking, reading and writing about trains and not see a real working train! We walked to a nearby Metro station and spent time observing the station and the trains. The concept of symbols was powerful to connect much of our thinking. We noticed so many symbols around the station, on information boards and on maps. Just last week, we chose to take the Metro instead of the school bus to go on a PE field trip. What might be considered mundane or inconvenient by some, the journey triggered so many insightful observations and thoughtful questions. 

K. Oh I wish there was more of this! In my early teaching days (technically, I could have taught YOU Sean - how scary is that!) we had a lot of flexibility to go outside the school more or less on a whim. To take a walk around the block, head to the local library etc.  That kind of spontaneity has a lot going for it.  Regardless, we all need to remind ourselves that  lived, direct, real experiences have such enormous benefits for learning. And, as you say, even a simple thing like a visit to the train station, the local supermarket or a walk around the block can be transformative when we are engaged as inquirers - making the everyday new again or seeing it through different eyes. And of course these real experiences then find their way back into play - play being a vehicle for making sense of experience.

S.Yes! “Paris as a classroom” is a tagline for our school! Play is so often the perfect catalyst for inquiry through which children’s curiosity is revealed in such a natural way. These stories about trains so far were all very spontaneous and in response to experiences, interests and materials in the past few months. Two weeks ago, I was curious about what the children might be interested in finding out more about beyond what I had noticed in their play. So, how did I find out? I sat on the floor as they were using loose parts to add features to their train (paperclips for the lightswitch, a piece from a marble chute for the loudspeaker and added cardboard boxes for additional carriages) and asked, “What else would you like to explore and find out about?” It was an invitation without expectation. Two of the children started to ask about how engines were made. This led to children sharing their theories and thinking about how we could find out. We have started to look at images and text in books, and the children suggested we find videos, too. Coincidentally (or not?), a child’s family member works with engines and the children have developed a set of questions to conduct an interview. It is so important that children at this young age are exposed to many different sources and ways of finding out as they engage in the process of inquiry and develop important skills. 

K Absolutely. I am often asked about the relationship between inquiry and play and I find it endlessly fascinating to ponder.  In the most simple of terms I would argue that play is often inquiry in its purest form.  Children are figuring things out, there is a lot of trial and error, a lot of discovery, a lot of re-visiting and refining … all the elements we associate with inquiry. And then, woven into that can be the more ‘formal’ methods of research - reading a book, talking to someone with expertise, watching videos … this more intentional ‘finding out’ brings children into a cycle of investigating and meaning making but in a very organic and emergent way. It both arises from and feeds the ongoing play.  

S This makes me think of destinations, time and distances. Children’s play and inquiries can travel long or short distances and can vary considerably in time. Sometimes the destinations are clear from the beginning, but sometimes emerge on the journey. The journeys may lead to new places, never been to before, or return to places based on needs or wants, and perhaps for some, simply to enjoy the ride! 

The children decided that the train needed a train station. They chose the classroom, and created a map to show the destinations of the train.

K At the risk of making this the longest blog post in history, can I ask the question I think several readers will be asking: How does all this work within your curriculum/programme of inquiry, etc?  I know you are a PYP school - so, how do you document this or even ‘justify’ it when there are particular expectations - at least to attend to the transdisciplinary themes across a year?  

S. Let me circle back to where we started - big ideas! I think if schools have a shared vision about curriculum which includes the how (not just the what) and centres on learning and learners (and not just the teaching), we can work towards common goals and outcomes. We have a commitment to play, playful learning and inquiry and share with parents the skills and dispositions that these approaches cultivate.  Our units of inquiry are intentionally framed around BIG concepts which allow for transdisciplinary explorations of many kinds. Some concepts may be considered more knowledge-based such as structures, imagination, nature and responsibility; others are more process-based such as curiosity, play, learning, choices, creativity and observation. Typically, the generalisations we are striving to help children develop an understanding of have a combination of knowledge-based and process-based concepts. These generalisations are called central ideas in a PYP school. Because of their open-ended and abstract nature, they naturally invite play and inquiry. Connections are also easily made between units of inquiry so children’s play choices and wonderings typically find a transdisciplinary theme(s) to journey through. As you often say, Kath, knowing your curriculum is vital! Specifically for this exploration on trains, the children were making connections to ‘Who we are’ (play and curiosity as elements of what it means to be human), ‘How the world works’ (how humans use their understanding of scientific principles; forces; structures) and ‘How we express ourselves’ (expression and imagination). In terms of disciplines, children were speaking, listening, reading, writing, viewing and presenting as language learners. In mathematics, children extended their understanding of number, measurement and shape and space. In science, inquiries were linked to materials and their properties and forces. Beyond the disciplines, the AtLs (Approaches to learning) that were developed include aspects of communication, research, thinking, social and self-management skills.  Children’s thinking is documented in many ways. Their theories, wonderings and connections (using the children’s exact words) are scribed in Google slides, alongside photographs or videos, and often shared back with the children as trains of thought. We monitor children’s learning through careful listening, and depending on the evidence we are looking for, the tools may change. For example, we develop templates to record our observations and children’s responses to questions asked during conferencing with clear criteria related to conceptual understanding. We also use 1-point rubrics to document evidence seen and heard related to the AtLs (Approaches to Learning). Learning walls are also used in the classroom to help make children’s thinking visible.This documentation can serve many purposes and audiences. It helps to look back and see where ‘the train’ has been and then make informed decisions based on evidence about where it might go next!

K I love the way trains have become such a metaphor for the work we do as inquiry based educators … following trains of thought, the ‘pull’ of certain interests, the way an inquiry is a journey with multiple pauses (stopping at stations)  and new directions. I am imagining the idea of a “program of inquiry’‘ being much less like isolated, single tracks running in parallel and much more like a rail network of interconnecting concepts.  I think this emergent, interconnected weaving of our intentions, children’s curiosities, curriculum expectations and community offerings  - all finding a meeting point through play - is just so powerful. The question I am left with - not only from this time spent in dialogue with you but one that often rises up for me in great early years settings, is: how can we continue the essence of this emergent approach as children move through school? How can we bring a more playful and responsive stance to our work with older children? I see it in pockets, of course, but I’d love to see more of it.

K. Sean - THANK YOU for this conversation. The waiters are sweeping the floor and putting chairs on tables  - and they are looking at us in a way that suggests it is time to!   If my readers have managed to stay with us at the table - if they have sustained their focus during this lengthy diablog, I KNOW they will have learned so much from your thoughtful responses.  

Merci et au revoir, à la prochaine

Now. IF YOU (dear reader) were at the table, what would you add? What would you ask? 

Just wondering … 

Kath 

Information, Explanation and Celebration: wall documentation in an inquiry classroom

I distinctly recall the phrase ‘walls that teach’ coming into my orbit as a young teacher and the way it made me stop to question just how I was using the visual environment in my classroom.  Like many teachers ‘back in the day,’ my walls were more about decoration than learning – birthday charts, alphabets, posters, work samples … and it wasn’t just my walls, my classroom was awash with what I now think of as ‘dingle dangles’ and there were WAY too many dingle dangles! This mostly consisted of student work (even worksheets!) pegged on string across the room, far too high for the children to read but low enough for many adults to have to fight their way through as they entered the classroom. Again – more decoration than anything else.  Early on in my career, I never really stopped to think about why I was posting the things I chose to ‘display. ’Maybe it’s because I spend so much time in classrooms or perhaps it’s the plethora of images shared on social media … whatever the reason,  I certainly think about it a lot more now! 

 I have previously shared several posts on learning environments.  In 2014, I wrote about the first impressions that learning environments make. In 2015, I wrote about the amazing environment at Mother Teresa Primary School and in 2019, I wrote about curating staff and planning rooms - how visual spaces in schools are as important to adults as they are to children.

In this post, I want to focus on the simple aspect of the way we use our walls. Having readily available ways to share visual images through social media has no doubt contributed to a renewed attention to this aspect of our work. What is heartening to see is a move away from ‘Pinterest’ inspired walls (the more contemporary version of my walls in the 80s) to more authentic, co constructed and purposeful walls with a focus on learning rather than decoration and display. This shift has been happening for many years of course but social media allows it to be more present in our thinking and to be discussed more widely.   Despite the fact that digital and virtual learning spaces are now part of the landscape, most early and elementary classrooms have areas are designed to house ‘hard copy’ documents of some sort. What is on the walls is easily and immediately accessible. It is tangible, shared and very public which provides a very different experience than a screen.

 When entering a classroom, I am acutely aware of the messages the ‘walls’ (and the use of space, furniture arrangements, choice of materials) convey about what is valued. We know children learn a great deal simply from what we do and this includes what we choose (and don’t choose) to document and share and HOW we go about the documentation and sharing. These decisions teach surreptitiously. If 25 identical art works are proudly displayed we promote conformity.  If the walls only ever display ‘final products’ we promote product over process. If it is only the educator’s words or annotations on the walls we promote our voice, authority and ownership. If the walls are filled with commercial posters and decorations, we promote decoration over functionality.   As we face a new school semester or year, we have an opportunity to look at this aspect of our learning spaces anew. Some questions for reflection might include:

• What (and who) might these walls teach?

• What story are we telling about learning?

• What do our walls say about what we value?

• What is dominant in the space? What takes up the most space? How important is this and how do children benefit from this?

• How might we use documentation to support children’s understanding of their learning processes?

• How might we invite children to compose and design the documentation?

• How do children use what is on the walls? What does it mean to them?

• Can our children talk about the significance or purpose of what’s on the walls? What sense of ownership do they have?

• How do WE use these walls? Do they grow with the inquiry?

• Given inquiry is deeply rooted in process and an emergent design - how can we allow this documentation to build over time?

• How can we use our public documentation to prompt review and reflection?

• How can we use our walls to hold traces of learning that allow us to revisit and go deeper?

• How much is too much? Are we overloading the space? 

• How might we house previous stories of learning?

• What might we worthy of year-long ‘display’?

Perhaps the most important question to ask ourselves is: What’s the purpose? Ultimately, what is on the walls should be in the service of children’s learning. In an inquiry classroom, we can think of the purpose of wall documentation in three broad categories that support children: information, explanation and celebration.

A summary of ways to ‘notice’ by 5 year olds at Launceston West primary School. Useful, co constructed information to return to.

 Information: here is where children and educators use the wall as a resource, reference or reminder. Ideally, much of this is co-constructed with the aim being to strengthen agency and independence by having items in the space that children can go to for help/reminders/examples. These might include anchor charts (co constructed), criteria and exemplars, question or dalogic prompts, QR codes that link to often used sites, reminders and instructions (for example, menus of thinking routines or graphic organisers that children might choose to use), timetables, protocols and learning agreements. I have been in several classrooms where there are anchor charts EVERYWHERE, yet the children can tell me very little about what they are, let alone whether they use them. We need to be mindful of information overload. Less is more.  

Narratives of Inquiry at Riverside Primary School - part of the shared documentation in the school’s central hallway . These explanations are gradually built over time.

Explanation: Central to the work of an inquiry educator is the emphasis on metacognition.  The way we document with and for learners can be a powerful contribution to helping children understand not just what they are learning but how.  I like to think of this as ‘telling the story’ of an inquiry as it unfolds – whether it is a whole or small group project.  This might include photos of children engaged in their learning, learning samples, evidence of changed thinking, questions driving the investigations, etc. The key to this is the annotation – the documentation acts as a form of explanation to ourselves, to families and the wider community. What are we doing? Why are we doing it?  What are we learning? What are we wondering now ? This kind of narrative documentation helps build the meta-language of inquiry and explains the cyclical, iterative nature of the process. When the annotation is constructed or co constructed by children – the ownership and engagement is even stronger. This kind of documentation is powerful during an inquiry and can be captured and revisited long after the inquiry has run its course. The wall documentation can be taken down and housed in a journal or photographed for a digital record. Key pieces or traces of the story may remain so that links can be made as new inquiries emerge.  This kind of wall documentation can also serve as a prompt for professional dialogue. Many years ago, I watched educators at Island Bay teachers in NZ holding a staff meeting in a classroom as they regularly did. The host teachers would stand at their wall and tell the story of learning - inviting questions and feedback. Such a powerful and effective vehicle for staff learning. 

A celebration of carefully designed and created art works proudly displayed at Hartwell Primary School

 Celebration: there is no doubt that public sharing of children’s artefacts is one way of honouring the hard work, imagination and creativity of our learners and can be the source of pride and motivation. Consider having a smaller area of the classroom or corridor intentionally devoted to the celebration of what Ron Berger describes as ‘beautiful work’. By this, he does mean necessarily mean aesthetically pleasing - but more work that is often the result of multiple drafts, responses to feedback and gradual crafting towards excellence. This work is produced for a real audience or in response to a real challenge or problem.  Having some examples of the various drafts/attempts etc leading to the final product can make the celebration even more powerful. And what is celebrated in this space should not selected by the educator alone. We want children to recognise the opportunity to lift each other up and be part of the decisions about what belongs in the ‘gallery’.

As with all aspects of our work, what we put on the walls should be highly intentional. Involve your learners, avoid being seduced or intimidated by what you see online, remember less is more and keep asking:  ‘What’s the purpose?’

Nellie Gibson at the International School of Prague works with her 5 year olds to enable them as documenters of their own learning.

How do you use your walls to nourish inquiry?

 Just wondering …

Experiencing the cycle of inquiry: reflections and reminders on World Ocean Day.

on world ocean day, I was lucky enough to be in one of my favourite places on this earth – the far nW coast of Australia. My inquiring mind is constantly activated in this ancient, sacred place.  A visit to a remote beach prompted this reflection on the concept of an inquiry cycle.  Perhaps the best way to understand ‘the cycle’ and to avoid the often simplistic misinterpretations of the process is to simply become aware of the way this process works in your own life. If you do this, you may better notice the recursive and nuanced nature of inquiry and understand it in your heart – as well as your head.

It takes is a while to find this particular beach. We make a few wrong turns and we are not even sure it is the right one until we walk down into it. Ah yes, this is the one. We are here.

Even with the best planning, not all inquiries begin with certainty and confidence. The first steps can be tentative:  Is this worth inquiring into? Is the ‘fit’ right for these learners?

It takes me a while to get into the rhythm of walking along what is very wet, soft and ‘sinking’ sand. It’s hard work and need to take it slowly.  My husband charges ahead – much more adept in this terrain. I am grateful for his patience and try to quell my frustration. Gradually I get the hang of it.

Even when we design the same learning task for our learners, it is inevitable some will need more time than others.  Being rushed has such a negative impact on learning.

 We find our way to the rocky platform further up the beach. With firmer footing, I begin to notice the environment around me. Memories of my young children scampering up cliff faces come flooding back together with a recollection of finding beautiful shells in similar beaches. I am struck by the way the cliffs have the same shapes and colours as one of my favourite beaches at home -I wonder if they have the same geological origins.

 Tuning in and connecting to prior experience is a natural, important part of an inquiry process.  We seek connection with what we know as new experiences trigger memories and invite us to look for patterns and relationships to existing schema. This provides us with a kind of cognitive anchor, a stable space from which to explore the new. Here is where we ponder the questions: ‘what do I know that is like this?’ ‘What does this remind me of?’

 The sun warms my back and I breathe in the beauty around me, closing my eyes. It is then that I notice it. The strange sound … a soft kind of crackling, crunching sound. Tiny little ‘popping’ noises that I can’t quite place. As I listen more intently, it gets louder. What IS that?

 Curiosity is often the result of an encounter with the unfamiliar and is nourished by the engagement of the senses. A true journey of inquiry begins when we are genuinely provoked to want to discover more – when we are engaged, fascinated and hungry to discover.

 I call Steve over. We theorise.  ‘What do you think that noise is?’  ‘I think that is just the water over the rocks’  Is it when we step on this seaweed? Here let me try – is that the noise?’ ‘No, listen, it is still there when we are standing still’  I think it is maybe something eating … it kind of sounds like chewing’ … listen, it is louder here…

 Opportunities to share theories, predictions and hypotheses are a vital part of the inquiry journey. Here is where tuning in becomes a deeper, more considered process. As theories are exchanged, the social construction of understanding begins. We are already beginning to find out from each other, testing possibilities, discounting some ideas and strengthening others. As our theories both connect and collide, questions naturally emerge.

And then we see it. Scuttling into a small crevice in the rock is a tiny hermit crab. We crouch down excitedly and begin to scan the area. Gradually, as our eyes adjust, we see more of them. They are so small! THIS is what is making the noise.  Dozens of minute hermit crabs each with a unique shell, scuttling across the rock surfaces. We have never seen such small ones. New theories emerge as we observe them closely. ‘Maybe this is like ‘the nursery’ for hermit crabs? Maybe they lay their eggs up this end of the beach where it is safer? We are mesmerized. Steve gathers some up in his hands for us to look at more closely.

In the early iterations of the model of inquiry cycle (first developed at the University of Melbourne) we used the phrase ‘the shared experience’ to describe what I now call simply ‘finding out’.  But there is no doubt that a direct, shared experience is the very best way for young learners to gather information.  When we design inquiry journeys, we place a heavy emphasis on field trips (or excursions as they are called in some parts of the world) as a powerful initial way for children to gather information. Firsthand experiences trump google every time.

It's only when we have spent some time delighting in this discovery – finding more and more tiny specimens as we explore, that our theorising morphs into question formulation. We have so many!  How do they ‘find’ the shell when they are born?  What attracts them to a particular kind of shell? What makes them move from one shell to another?  What do they eat? Are the huge hermit crabs we found as children still in existence? Why don’t we see them on beaches at home? Do they eat the animal that is in the shell and then take it over? Did the Aboriginal people in this area use hermit crabs for anything?

We often expect children to ask questions about something before they have actually had some kind of encounter or experience. But we don’t know what we don’t know.  While our prior knowledge might mean we have some questions entering a new inquiry, questions are more likely to emerge as a result of experience.  Questions ‘bubble up’ AS we begin our research. Theorising, investigating and questioning are not linear processes – they weave in and out of each other.

We don’t need answers then and there. We are enjoying our conversation, playing with possibilities, growing our thinking. As we observe the crabs more closely, we become even more curious and find ourselves in awe of their dexterity and speed. They make us laugh as they scuttle and tumble across the rocks. We don’t need information at this point. It would almost spoil things to have someone provide us with information then and there (unless it was David Attenborough of course!)  

When given time, opportunities to engage the senses and a direct shared encounter, - two powerful ingredients for learning can emerge: wonder and joy.  The opportunity to explore prior to receiving explanation is incredibly empowering for learners. It fuels curiosity (which makes new learning ‘stick’) stretches thinking and builds engagement.

We take videos and photos as we explore. It is important for us to document our discoveries in some way.  On our return, we re-visit the photos, google a few things and realise there are some questions we have that we want to ask a friend of ours (who is a marine biologist) when we next see him. 

 Documentation is pivotal to meaning making.  As we document and as we re-visit and reflect on that documentation, we help learners ‘sort out’ their experience. Some questions are answered, some remain. Theories are revised in the light of new information and tentative conclusions are drawn. The documentation allows us to leave traces of the inquiry to return to and connect with even as new inquiries emerge. Journeys of inquiry are braided throughout the year. And so much of this meaning making happens through the dialogue born of our shared experience.

 Later that evening, I notice something that has really stayed with me. I keep wondering about the hermit crabs my father used to occasionally bring home in buckets of seawater after fishing trips before returning them to the sea again. Giant, orange creatures housed in huge, exotic shells.  That was over fifty years ago. Are they still found in that part of the world? The question is connected to precious memories of my dad, of my childhood at the beach, of family. I want to find out more.

 The cycle of inquiry I have shared for many years includes an element I simply call ‘going further’. This is often misunderstood or reinterpreted by others in ways that do not align with the original intent. For the most part, ‘going further’ is about giving individuals and small groups opportunity to continue to inquire into aspects that are meaningful or interesting to them. This element is about really personalising the inquiry.

 Our encounter with these tiny, extraordinary creatures stays with us. We have, once again, been reminded of the precious beauty of this extraordinary planet.  Our senses feel heightened and our ‘antennae’ are up as we continue to explore this wild coastline. We feel more protective of it than ever before.

 Our ‘hermit crab’ inquiry was about much more than crabs. ‘Zooming out’ of the experience, there are so many powerful concept connections.  Continuity and change, cycles, adaptation, structure and function, diversity, care and sustainability to name a few.  Treating ‘topics’ as case studies and finding the conceptual connections that arise from them ensures our journeys of inquiry not only build knowledge but strengthen deeper, sustained conceptual understanding over time.

 Experiencing a journey of inquiry is only partly supported by process and the right ‘encounters’. It is the attitude we bring to these encounters that makes the difference. Curiosity, optimism, open mindedness, persistence and patience were pivotal to the ‘success’ of my experience.  In short – it was having an inquiry stance or ‘way of being’ that allowed me to be fully engaged.  These are dispositions nurtured in me from childhood but also those I have learned and grown through the years.

 And the very best teacher has always been nature itself.

When did you last experience your OWN journey of inquiry? How might this help you understand the process more deeply? How can we use our own experience of deep awe, wonder and joy to provide the same opportunities for children?

Just wondering…

Listening to small moments of wonder

On my final walk of the summer holidays, I decided to take a different path towards the beach. A little way along I almost stepped on this guy …a beautiful echidna, snuffling for ants and seemingly oblivious to my presence. It let me stay so close I could see the strange curve of its claws, the  colour of its spines and the tiny hairs on its beak.  This glorious, strange monotreme, unique to this country. Right in front of me and endlessly fascinating. This was a small but beautiful moment of ‘awe and wonder’. It slowed me down and drew me in. What a generous parting gift from nature as my holiday came to an end.  For me, such encounters, never fail to be exhilarating.  I can literally feel my heart respond, beating loudly in my chest, my breath quickening and the smile growing on my face.  I am alone, deeply connected  and fully present.

I am fortunate to be able to spend a lot of time in the natural environment. It is the source of my well-being and the sustenance of my curiosity. As has been noted by many, being in nature also helps keep our ego in check. It literally puts us in our place.  We are reminded that we are indeed, a tiny speck in what is a much bigger universe. We don’t matter as much as we think we think we do.  The natural environment is also the place I can rely on to nurture my curiosity – a disposition so vital to inquiry.

My echidna encounter was, of course, a simple, natural provocation. As I kept walking, I was aware of the questions ‘bubbling up’ in my mind.  ‘Why didn’t it walk away? Does it have a burrow/nest somewhere? Why do I only ever see them on their own? Are they solitary? What are its predators here?  I have written elsewhere  about what I feel to be at times, and a necessary emphasis on artificially constructed provocations for children. Or the sense that at times children are required to ask questions about things that they actually have no genuine curiosity about.

As we move into a new year, and after several weeks of being immersed in the natural environment, I am convinced yet again, that the best way to provoke, curiosity or and wonder in our learners is to remain open to the natural provocations that are around us each day.  Whilst there are copious resources and advice about cultivating curiosity these days (my own work included!), perhaps the best advice is the most simple. Get outside and, as the wonderful astrophysicist Neil de Grasse Dyson implores, get out of their way. Use the natural world, the surrounding community, the school grounds, a walk around the block. The world will provide.  And be curious. Share your moments of curiosity and wonder with your learners. Susan Engel and others who have done the deep research work in this field conclude that the role of the adult in nurturing children’s curiosity is critical.  I know that my little Echidna story and video will find its way into my teaching in the coming weeks. I will show children the photos and clips I took and share how I felt, what I noticed, and the questions that I walked away with.  It will be real and it will be from the heart. I may show them how I did some further investigation or they may start sharing their own moments of wonder from their holidays. Or both! Either way, I plan to intentionally and authentically be the curious learner I want to see in them. (And, no, they won’t need to be studying ‘animals’ to warrant that moment.)

Cultivating curiosity in children begins with cultivating it in ourselves. It means giving ourselves permission to take an unexpected pathway, slow down, notice and wonder. My time away was filled with small moments of wonder and awe gifted to me by nature. The politics of the birds in my garden (why are some species so much more aggressive than others?), the changing landscape of the beach I have walked since childhood (where have all the shells gone?), the sudden arrival of hundreds of dragonflies (why now?), the fog hanging so low over the ocean on a warm morning (why fog? is this basically a low cloud? What causes this?).  These musings not only help me continue to walk the world with a curious mind but provide me with something simple, real and rich to share with learners.  

… and when I do, I want them to reciprocate. I want to create a culture in which THEY excitedly bring their small moments of wonder into the classroom like precious jewels cupped in their hands.  Not only do we stimulate creativity and imagination through such sharing , we light the spark for true dialogue and discovery.  Each moment of genuine wonder has the potential to connect with powerful and transferable concepts. My Echidna encounter connects to concepts such as diversity, adaptation, environment and behaviour: ‘from little things,’ as singer Paul Kelly writes, ‘big things grow’

 In almost all cases, the authentic moments of wonder experienced by learners be easily traced back to the curriculum. Knowing your curriculum deeply helps you let it go and give yourself permission to lean in close to your learners and say, “I’m listening, that sounds WONDERful, tell us more …

How will you nurture your own and your learners’ curiosity as you begin the year?

How will you stay awake to the simple provocations the world will bring to you?

Just wondering…

 Kath