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/

An (unexpected) wonder of Winsome

“ Names have power” Rick Riordan (The Lightening Thief)

She was always going to be ‘Winsome’ ,  the curious girl who inhabited my head for a long time before I wrote her into existence.  Maybe it was the alliteration, or the fact that the name itself represents a kind of innocence and lightness - wherever she came from, she was simply there.  She was Winsome, she was so clear in my imagination, and she was born wondering. 

From “The Wonder of Winsome’ by Kath Murdoch. illustrated by Sharyn Madder (2021)

Since publishing the book last year I have had so many delightful conversations with children about it. One of the first questions I hear is “Where did her name come from?” or ‘Why did you call her that?”  It seems that the name itself provokes wondering – it’s a welcome, albeit unexpected, outcome of publishing the story almost a year ago.  These questions have led to some beautiful conversations about names and how writers create their characters and how the name helps bring the person alive in your mind and, hopefully, in your readers’ minds too. 

 Ultimately, a writer hopes to connect with their readers in some way.  I am fortunate to work regularly in schools and have children and teachers talk to me about the way they feel about the story - but there has been one, quite different response I will never forget -one outcome of writing this book I could never have predicted and one gift that Winsome quietly gave, simply because she was called Winsome. 

……………….

One warm summer’s day earlier this year, when the streets of inner Melbourne remained empty and the doors of the magnificent state library were closed to the public, the staff continued to work with their ever-growing collection – receiving, cataloguing and shelving new books.  On this particular day, a staff member was assigned to the children’s book section and busily began the process.  Working her way through the new stack of titles, she picked up ‘The Wonder of Winsome’ and found herself, for the first time, seeing her name on the cover of a book.  Her response to that moment held such significance, she wrote to me: 

“ Holding the book for the first time a rather emotional moment for me...I have never seen another book with my name in it- I would buy books for my children with their names in them but I have never had one of my own. I was teased a lot at school because of my name (Win some, lose some, Winnie the Pooh) and even now as a 54 year old, I have at least one conversation a week about it with lots of people questioning it or making comments about my 'strange name'. I love your book for many reasons...I looked very similar to 'Winsome' at that age (same haircut, same face) and I am also very curious by nature (a self-confessed 'bookaholic', and I love study...I already have two degrees and other various certificates and course completions and am just about to embark on yet another course...). Thank you for writing your beautiful book.”

A couple of weeks later, I headed to the state library (now tentatively open to the public) with a copy of the book tucked under my arm, eager to meet Winsome herself.  It was a strangely emotional moment.  

Sitting in the glorious ‘dome’ room in which I’d spent so many hours reading and writing as a university student, the ‘real life’ Winsome told me a little more about her own story. As she spoke, I was reminded of the hidden power of names – of the ways we see ourselves in relation to the ways others see us and of the identities we attach to our names. I myself, spent my primary school years as Kathleen. The name my family called me and the name my friends called me were one and the same.  Perhaps as a reflection of our need to forge a separate identity in our teens, I became ‘Kathy’ for several years in high school until a teacher I absolutely adored (and who helped me see myself as a writer) called me Kath. From then on, I was Kath.  Our names can signify so much about the relationship we have with others and even with ourselves. Certain friends and family still call me Kathleen (and it would be odd if they didn’t) but when someone calls me ‘Kathy’ it jars … it’s more than simply not my name, it’s not ME. It’s not who I am.  For my new ‘real life’ Winsome, seeing her name used in such a celebratory and positive way seemed to signify a shift in how she could see herself – how she could choose to see, and feel, her beautiful name. 

Winsome and Winsome …

When I work in classrooms, I insist the children have name tags. I know the power of using their names. It is an instant bridge builder, a show of respect, a force for inclusivity and an opportunity to connect to culture. Our names do indeed, have power – the power to help us feel seen and loved and the power to be used as weapons of indifference (when they are forgotten or not used) or even worse, humiliation.  Talking to Winsome that day reminded me of the inextricable link between our names and our identity and how important it is for us to be reminded of that as educators. When we talked, Winsome said she felt a kind of ‘reclaiming’ of the name with which he had had such a conflicted relationship.  And in reclaiming our names, we can also begin reclaim the self that may have once felt unseen or misunderstood. 

 Among my favourite inquiries has long been to offer learners an opportunity to investigate their own names – the origin, meaning, cultural significance, and to share their learning with others which, in turn, can help contribute to the development of a strong, connected community. 

 I remain so grateful to whatever it was that brought the name Winsome to me. This little girl I manifested onto the page whose name held more power than I could have imagined.  

How have the power of names found their way into your teaching and learning experiences?

Just wondering …

(With thanks to ‘the real life Winsome’ who so generously gave me permission to share this story.)

Inquiry in the mist – and midst – of troubling times.

I am writing this post many thousands of miles from my country – Australia.  I left Australia the day after Christmas to share a long planned and much anticipated fortnight with my younger daughter in Europe and then to travel on to work here.  While I have been away two events have happened that have made it harder than ever before to be away from home. A dear friend – who was terminally ill but doing so well before I left, had a fall and died. It has been heartbreaking to be away, to say the least. And parts of my country, my beautiful Australia was (and continues to be) ravaged by fire in ways we have never seen  before.  I have thought long and hard about cancelling work and returning early and have been faced with an enormous, personal dilemma…  but on balance, I decided to stay. There is much work still to do when I do return.   And some of it is grief work.

 Grief work is something I am sadly familiar with – most of us are in one form or another.  But grief is important work and many teachers in Australia will be facing the challenge of engaging in this work in some way over the coming weeks and months.  It might feel like the wrong word to describe the impact of the fires but, for me, the deep sadness,  sense of loss, the bewilderment, the helplessness, the anger, the hunger for community, the longing for what was and the uncertainty about what is to come are as true for my feelings about my country – and about our Earth – as they are for my friend. 

 The overarching purpose of this blog is to explore what it means to bring an inquiry stance to teaching and learning.  Underpinning all my posts are the  values of curiosity, wonder, open-mindedness, courage, open-heartedness, compassion, deep, critical thinking, exploration and agency. I can think of no more important context than right now, this time, to champion these things and to place them firmly at the centre of our work with children. Most importantly - our own bewilderment, anger and uncertainty have the potential to lead to helplessness, disconnection and even cynicism.  Deliberately nurturing our own curiosity, optimism, courage and compassion can help avoid that trap and offer a more constructive way forward. Grief leans on compassion in order to recede  - compassion for self, others and the planet. 

 As I write this, I am gazing out the window of a hotel room in Zurich. When I woke this morning, I could see nothing but fog (eerily like the images of smoke filled vistas that I have seen in news from Australia). Gradually, as the morning progresses, the mist is slowly clearing and the view becoming more apparent. I can now see the detail on the houses directly in front of me while those on the hills further away remain shrouded. I trust that in time today, the fog will lift and I will see more clearly.

This is what grief work is like. Indeed this is also what inquiry as a process is like. It requires trust. It requires the understanding that we CAN’T see it all at once. We don’t know where it will go but, gradually, we see the path and trust in our instincts. We stop, we reflect, we get feedback, we question some more, we check in, we move forward and our understanding grows. We both allow the path to emerge AND we help construct it. 

In returning to our classrooms in the coming weeks we will need, in part, to trust that the learners will lead us – if we take time to listen.  Of course we will need to make some plans, and think ahead about what and how to manage the opportunity and the challenge but if we plan too tightly (even with the best of intentions)  we may miss out on the most important element in the inquiry process – tuning in to the thinking and feeling of the learners themselves in order to get gradual clarity about the best ways forward.  So ask your kids – ask them for permission to have the conversation in the first place, ask them how they feel about talking about it and – if they want to – ask them to share their wonderings and allow yourself to ask “What does this reveal to me? Where might we need to go next?”  

Bringing the spirit of inquiry to the beginning of the school year in Australia may well mean we change what we had intended to do.  If every cab driver, waiter, shop assistant, flight attendant, etc. I meet here on the other side of the world has questions/opinions about the fires – I can only imagine how present it would be at home.   For the remainder of this post, I want to offer some thoughts that might support the discussions you are having.  as teachers ahead of those vital first days and weeks and also link you to some resources

1.     Stay truly open to possibilities. 

 It won’t be until you meet with your learners that you will have a sense of what they night want and need to explore. This will vary enormously across classes, age groups and of course across schools. Some schools are sadly in the very thick of the fire experience while others have not been as directly affected.  Be mindful of “units” and other activities that are offered on the topic. Some will be just right for your learners while others inappropriate for your context.  Inquiries are best born of the interests, questions and needs of your students.

2.    Invite rather than assume

 IF your learners are OK with this, invite them to share their questions but don’t feel that the questions must be answered. Many of the questions associated with this time are not easy, googleable, questions. This is a good opportunity to allow questions to unfurl, to be explored, discussed, pondered – but to also help children understand that the question itself might be all that is needed for now. 

“I suggest that we balance our moral ferocity with humility and tenderness. First, we need the humility of consistent self-examination. This requires us to do something very countercultural: Celebrate questions even when we do not have answers. Our culture rewards certainty, confidence, and definitive answers. By celebrating questions, we increase the likelihood of identifying the potential harm we might do in the name of our values.” (Rabbi Doctor Ariel Berger, 2019) 

3.     Provide options.

For some children, having direct conversations about the situation. might be too confronting while others will be desperate to talk about it.  There may also be teachers who feel more capable of facilitating these conversations who might offer to work with kids on an opt in basis. It is unlikely to be a one-size-fits -all approach. 

4.     Start building a bank of resources

There are so many clips, articles, images) that you MAY find useful depending on the needs of your learners.  - so many incredible stories that illustrate the goodness in humans. The work being done in animal shelters, the fund raising efforts, the day to day compassion and kindness shown to those in need. These are powerful case studies that can inspire and reassure.

5.     Commit to a slower, more open culture in your classroom

Big issues, big questions take time. The NEED time and space to be explored properly.  Know your curriculum for the year really well so you can see how the pathways you might take actually support the curriculum. The general capabilities (especially personal, social and ethical thinking) are central to this work. 

6.     Think conceptually.

“Topic level” inquiries like “natural disasters”  are not necessarily the best way forward with this. But the issue abounds with potential connections to powerful concepts and big ideas.  These are some of the questions that may emerge or be useful to provide a broader conceptual frame:

• How do people make a positive difference to their lives and the lives of others?

• How can we respond to challenges in our lives?

• Who’s got the power? How are decisions made in this and other communities? 

• How do people use their talents and passions to change the world? 

• How have innovations in science changed the world?

• What can we learn from other cultures to strengthen our own?

• How are we connected to the earth?

• What makes places special/unqiue? 

• What is the role of the arts in bringing about change?

• Are we a sustainable school? How can we be even more sustainable?

• What does it mean to be part of a connected community?

• What can we learn from the past in order to shape the future?

• What does it mean to be a leader? 

• What kind of community do we want to be?

• What does it mean to be resilient? 

7.     Take action

Many of us feel more positive about challenging situations when we feel we are taking action – when we have some agency to make a difference.  Your students may wish to explore some of the many ‘actions’ being carried out by people within communities all around the world and be part of these,  This is a great time to make real connections with individuals, community groups, and organisations and empower your students through involvement in real projects. 

 8.     Focus on community building.

This is something we do at the beginning of the year anyway but it is so very important in these times. As Brene Brown says “Rarely does a response make something better, what makes something better is connection”.   This is a powerful time to inquire into the relationships we have with each other and to think deeply about the kind of relationships we want – in our classroom, in our teams, in our staff room, with our leaders, with each other and across the world.  Strong, respectful, caring relationships will be the key to recovery. Of that I am sure. And schools are places in which young people learn about relationships – for better or worse.  Let’s champion kindness, let’s commit to showing kids what it means to truly have each other’s back. Lets model respect and compassion.  In times like these the petty conflicts that seem to pervade some schools have no place. 

 9.     Keep it balanced.

It hardly needs saying but of course none of us wants to inadvertently overwhelm children or exacerbate anxiety.  For many children,  school might be a place that allows them to voice their concerns and curiosities but is also be a place that is an emotional refuge from what they have been hearing/seeing and thinking about over summer.  Routine, a focus on the things that bring us joy, play, continued inquiries into all manner of fascinating things … help bring balance, perspective relief and hope.  

10. Stay connected to nature

 Finally – and most urgently, I want to encourage you to do whatever you can to get your kids out INTO the natural environment and to do whatever you can to foster the deep connection with and love for the earth we all need.   For decades, environmental educators have offered this simple adage that we need to teach children about, for and IN the environment.  This situation could easily create an image of the natural environment as something to be feared and avoided.  It certainly needs respect – but it also needs our love. We are more willing to care for the things we are deeply connected to.  Explore the incredible work of Bush Kindergartens, contact the environment officer in your local council, see if there are walks/tours run by Aboriginal educators and elders in your community,  commit to creating greener spaces in your school grounds, check out the beautiful work done by https://www.natureplay.org.au  or https://www.gould.org.au.  Invite parents and children to share some of their most treasured outdoor places.  Use the outdoors as a context for inquiry. 

As our return to school becomes ever closer, there is a growing number of offerings on this very subject for teachers.  I have shared my thoughts here but you can also find some great thoughts here: 

https://www.smore.com/hcw1t

 and, if you go to my facebook page and see the post there…there are dozens of suggestions  and links to more articles and reflections from teachers to add to my own:

https://www.facebook.com/KathMurdochConsulting/

https://sites.google.com/uldtraining.com/bushfireseduhelp/contacts-map?authuser=0

Finally – one of the most amazing things about this time has been the incredible offerings by artists (writers, singers, dancers, visual artists…)  to help make sense of things and to raise funds. I am unashamedly sharing my daughter’s offering – using her role as a singer and songwriter to make a difference. All proceeds from this song go to Greenmusic which is working hard to make that industry more sustainable

https://open.spotify.com/album/1dpZNak4zAmCvYXwH7a1Eu

 So….

 Are you still with me? If so – thank you for reading through such a long post. I feel that this has been part of MY grief work – processing, clarifying and making a connection to you - the amazing community of inquiry educators who read this.  Outside, the mist has indeed lifted a little more but there remains an unseen, unknown element in my view. I need to trust that this too, will become clear in time and that my heavy heart will lighten. May yours also. 

“In this encounter lies hope for the future. If we can educate new generations to balance ferocity with humility and tenderness, questions with responses, then our encounters with darkness, whether in the study of history or the daily news, can galvanize thoughtful, compassionate action. And maybe one day, when it is very quiet, we will hear, not the cries of the suffering, but laughter.” (Burgur 2019) 

How do you see your role in these challenging times? 

What other thoughts do you have about way an inquiry stance can help us do this important work

Just wondering…

Reference: https://www.globalonenessproject.org/library/articles/learning-and-teaching-heart-troubled-times?fbclid=IwAR2L9vgCnhS2eCE-2fJVz4xxHaWbS9VFKjCsI3DqYH1oSX6u6FKdmmGEp8g

Keeping it real: inquiry and authenticity

I once spent a year living in the same street as the school in which I was teaching. It was a mixed blessing. One the one hand, I could work late and still be home at a reasonable hour on the other hand I probably worked way too late way too often.  But that’s not the point of this story. 

 Living so close by meant I inevitably bumped into kids from the school over the weekends. At the supermarket, walking my dog, in a café…and the reaction was most often the same - especially from the younger kids:  “Whaaaaat? A teacher? IN THE SUPERMARKET? OUT WITH FRIENDS? etc. I’m sure many of you have had the experience…slightly awkward, a few giggles, the out-of-context encounter that challenged their view of me as ‘the teacher’ whom they assumed probably lived at school (OK - yes, I almost did.)

 Back then, I was ‘Miss Murdoch’.  I referred to the classroom as ‘My Classroom’, the kids had to line up in two straight lines before being allowed to come in to the room after each break. They ate when the bells told them they could, we rarely ventured out of the room unless it was to go to ‘the art room’ or ‘ the gym’ where they would spend 45 minutes learning something that was quite disconnected from anything that happened in the classroom. They sat at little tables in little wooden chairs – occasionally ‘working’ on the floor for a special treat. They did activities that I planned and followed rules I devised for them.  What a strange environment classrooms were (are?) in contrast to the lives lived outside of school.  And what strange beings we teachers were (are?). Is it any wonder they were taken aback to see me doing everyday things that every day people do! 

 Now admittedly, that was a long time ago. Much has changed but I remain curious about the degree to which we allow ourselves to be authentic with our students and why we insist on maintaining some of the routines, rituals and practices that seem so disconnected from life outside of school. I recently heard a teacher in dialogue with her students referring to herself in the third person (‘So what Mrs X wants you to do now is….so Mrs X is showing you how to….’). Strangely inauthentic.  Many of us have a ‘teacher voice’ we put on when we work with children that is quite different to the tone we might use outside of school. We sit on a chair while children sit at our feet (would we ever do that in a non-school context ? We would generally position ourselves alongside others as we talk with them) … there are a myriad of unconscious ways we talk, interact, position ourselves, curate our spaces and organise our days that seem so alien in contrast to the rest of our lives. 

 One of the 10 key practices I advocate for teachers to develop in order to nurture inquiry is the practice I simply call ‘Keep it Real’. It is a plea for authenticity.  

Authenticity is a word we throw around a lot in education and , indeed, has become one of those words that can easily prompt an eye roll due to glib over-use. We talk about ‘authentic inquiry’ and ‘authentic contexts for inquiry’ but what do we really mean?  Some musings on the matter below:

© Kath Murdoch 2019. Keep it Real.

Bridge the divide

There remains a gulf between the lives many children lead outside of school and the lives we have them lead while they are at school. The gulf is much narrower in many early childhood settings and seems to widen as children get older.  What can we do to bridge the strange divide between schools and the wider community? 

BE authentic. You do you. 

If we are going to talk about ‘authentic contexts’ for learning then perhaps we need to think first about how authentic WE are as we engage with learners. Is our ‘teacher identity’ getting in the way of a more powerful, personal connection with our students? How do they see us? How do we see ourselves?  Do we interact with them in the same, respectful, reciprocal way we might with others outside of the school context? How authentic are WE? Don't be afraid to be the vulnerable, imperfect, HUMAN that you are. 

Make the classroom a place that feels good to be in.

Is the environment in which we and students gather each day one that feels ‘authentic’? Does it allow for movement and flexibility? Is it comfortable? Are there places to retreat to as well as interact with others? Can learners choose where they will learn? Have you engaged learners in co-constructing expectations? Is this a room/space that you feel proud of? Like your home, do you enjoy walking into it in the morning because you have taken time to consider the aesthetic of the space? Like a family (ideally!) do you all share the responsibility for caring for this environment? 

Recognise that inquiry opportunities are all around us.

And what about the learning itself? When we talk about ‘authentic contexts’ have we discussed with each other what we actually mean by that? When I think about ‘getting real’ with inquiry, I most often think of the power of purpose.   As communities, schools abound with problems, challenges and opportunities for us to inquire. What can we do about the congestion at pick up time?  How healthy is the food in the canteen? Should our uniforms be gender-neutral? Should we have uniforms? How can we better manage the waste we produce at school? How can we redesign some of the outdoor spaces so we can use them for learning? How can we integrate the art studio/gym/library/music room in a more meaningful/flexible way? Is the design of our learning spaces compatible with what we know about wellbeing?  How might the playground be redesigned to cater for all age groups? The list is endless….By engaging kids in inquiring into real issues/challenges within the school, we immediately enhance the authenticity. The purpose is obvious, the stakes are higher, the audience is real. The challenge is to then see the conceptual connections within that context. (It becomes more than, for example, simply building the playground…it is about design, function, properties, etc) 

Stay awake to possibilities

It seems to me that authenticity is also about our preparedness to ‘let go’ of a plan when a REAL opportunity to investigate something emerges unexpectedly. We have recently had a federal election here in Australia. The perfect context, it would seem, to explore concepts of democracy, power and decision making yet I encountered more than a few teachers who felt pressured to focus on other things that and been planned rather than go with this very natural avenue for inquiry. 

Be the inquirer you are

 The ‘process of inquiry’ is not some discrete, rarefied experience limited to school – we constantly inquire as we live our day to day lives. Whether it is choosing a paint colour, buying a car, wrestling with an ethical dilemma, teaching ourselves to play an instrument, learning a language or planning a holiday, we routinely ask questions, gather information from various sources, sort out and come to some conclusions. Share these authentic inquiries with students so they can see a greater fit between the processes they use to inquire in the classrooms and the ways we inquire every day. 

 Know your why

I know this phrase is becoming somewhat ubiquitous but bear with me. If authenticity is about a sense of purpose, then it really does pay to keep asking WHY.  Powerful learning happens when we ‘know the why’ of what we are learning. Keep asking WHY at the planning table, encourage students to identify the why as they construct their own inquiries. And the ‘why’ must be more than addressing the curriculum – the why needs to connect with our lives beyond school, now and in the future.

No secret teachers’ business

More and more, we are coming to understand the power of inviting the learner in to the decisions we make about and for theirlearning. Sharing intentions (co constructing them), building criteria for assessment together, inviting learners to help design the pathway of inquiry, having the learner curate their portfolios, providing options that allow them to choose workshops/clinics to attend, making the learning as visible as possible in the learning space, student led conferences …these things recognise the learner at the centre and the reality that is this – it is their learning!  Our failure to involve learners in the process of designing for their learning leads to ‘sham’ inquiry.  It can look like inquiry, even sound like inquiry but lacks the authenticity experienced when the learner is in the driver’s seat.   Inquiry - as an approach, IS already authentic. Just watch a young learner trying to figure out how something works or how to fix something they care about. They inquire. Linked to this is, of course the more authentic experience that emerges when we stop trying to map everything out to within an inch of its life and, instead, we are guided by what we notice in and discuss with learners regarding the 'next step’. Being authentic means accepting uncertainty and becoming more responsive to what is needed.

We talk a lot about authenticity - but to what extent do we allow ourselves to ‘get real’ in the classroom. And how ‘real’ can we be when we our schools exist in systems that retain structures and expectations that fly in the face of authenticity? What do you do to keep it real?

Just wondering…

Mapping journeys of inquiry through the year: emergent, flexible and connected.

I was recently rummaging through some old papers and came across a program I had helped a school create many (MANY) years ago. It was an impressive document in its day. A carefully organised sequence of units under ‘topic’ headings. Each topic was linked to detailed curriculum outcomes and positioned in sequence over a two-year cycle. Inevitably, these units would be tackled term by term – beginning as the term started and ending before the term break.   It was a neat, organised, detailed, safe, dependable two-year cycle of…. topics. Developed by teachers. For teachers.

This blast from the past prompted me to reflect on how much my thinking has changed about the way we can design for inquiry with and for learners. The end of the school year is only a couple of weeks away here in Australia so the process of ‘big picture’ designing for inquiry is in full swing. But, in some schools, it is looking very different from the old, fixed scope and sequence of standard topics. The predictability of a scope and sequence means inquiries became less driven by the learners’ questions, needs and interests and current resources or authentic connections are often overlooked. Children come to expect they will ‘do’ certain topics at certain year levels, and teachers new to teams feel little ownership over plans that have been made by previous teams.  

In Australia at least, the curriculum already provides us with a scope and sequence. The achievement standards lay out expectations for both content and processes students should be engaging with as they move through school. The CONTEXTS in which these achievement standards can be met can, by contrast, be dynamic and varied. Opening up the way we design our maps for inquiry means we can be much more responsive and attuned to the community of learners with which we work. The key, ironically, is knowing your curriculum really well.

There are four significant changes I often make to the process of ‘curriculum mapping for inquiry’ (although this depends on the readiness of the school) 

1.    Inquiries are designed on a year by year basis. The program is flexible – not fixed. There is plenty of room for new inquiries to emerge through the year as well.

2.    Where we can, we find authentic contexts for inquiry using issues relevant to the school, the local and global community.  

3.    We consider the big questions to potentially arc across a year rather than allocating a rigid time frame. We can then dip in and out of them over the year and make connections between them.

4.    While the curriculum informs our thinking, it is not the only source of information assisting us in the design of the map – the students themselves contribute to the decisions we make about these contexts for inquiry.  It is their learning, after all.

 Ditching the reliance on a two-year cycle of units and treating each year as a fresh start, means we can use the children’s interests and needs as well as global, local and school-based issues and events to offer more authenticity  and purpose for inquiry.  One of the best things we can do is to take a look around our immediate environment – the school, its surrounds and our community. ‘Problem finding’ is a key element of design thinking and can offer up amazing opportunities for authentic inquiry. Are you renovating or building new classrooms?  Does the canteen need an overhaul? How safe is the car park at drop off and pick up time? How sustainable is the garden? Does the playground need a re-think?  Are you planning a performance/production? Is there a camp that might lend itself as a centrepiece for inquiry?  Some of the best contexts for inquiry are right under our noses – and they will vary from year to year.  Liberating ourselves from a fixed scope and sequence allows the both teachers and learners to really own the inquiry as it is designed.  Similarly, taking time to ask kids what they would love to explore – what things excite and challenge them can provide us with wonderful ideas for contextualising inquiry in engaging contexts. Contexts such as the ones I have described are often used as ‘case studies’ to helped children explore broader, compelling inquiry questions.  It is these compelling questions we generate as we start to map the year ahead. 

 The big questions we intend to inquire into can be shared with (and indeed developed with) students from the beginning of the year.  The best questions deserve to be revisited throughout the year as events, texts, interests emerge that connect to them. The world is not neatly organised into discrete boxes, so treating the questions in a more fluid, flexible way also helps students make important conceptual connections between them.  Each question, of course, will have its ‘moment in the sun’ but rather than packing that inquiry away (we’ve done ‘adaptation’ what are we doing next?) it remains visible and available to return to.  

 A few of the questions teams have generated so far in our mapping work over the last couple of weeks include:

 What can art teach us about history? (history, the arts, design technologies, ethics, intercultural understanding)

What makes a connected community? (Civics and citizenship, geography, history)

How does design influence wellbeing? (design technologies, health, science)

How do stereo types influence our relationships with others? (health, intercultural understanding)

How can I be an ethical consumer? (economics, ethics, geography)

How do living things (including humans) adapt to changing environments? (science, health, geography)

What influences the choices we make? (health, civics and citizenship)

 (These are all examples linked to the Victorian curriculum)

Working this way -  in and out of compelling inquiry questions  - requires big picture, synergistic thinking and is not for the faint-hearted (or inexperienced). It requires strong curriculum knowledge and the capacity to spot an opportunity for connection between events and interests that emerge over the year and the questions themselves.  Returning to questions over the course of the year allows learners to deepen their understandings and gain new perspectives over time.  Inquiry teachers are highly attuned to the opportunities to help learners make connections to the big questions. Take, for example, the rather unwelcome appearance of a large cockroach in a kindergarten classroom early this year.  The children were both terrified and fascinated in equal measure – with many, many questions.  The resulting investigation connected beautifully with the big question ‘What living things do we share our world with?’ and ‘How do living things survive in changing environments?’- building conceptual understandings around structure and function, classification and connection.   In a year 2 class, the opportunity to investigate the design of a new playground was too good to resist!  This inquiry connected strongly with the big question ‘What is it made of and why?’  -  the perfect vehicle for looking at design, materials and their properties.  Lost teeth, new babies, holidays overseas, big weather events, a political issue everyone is talking about, community celebrations, a novel that has everyone in its spell….these moments can trigger small inquiries amongst the ‘bigger’ investigations we design more intentionally. All connect back to those compelling big questions – weaving a connected tapestry of inquiry across the year. 

Have you escaped the tyranny of a repetitive, predictable program?

Just wondering…

13 years of schooling: a reflection

I wrote this post several weeks ago as I watched my daughter and her friends navigate their way through the strange demands of the year 12 exam period. It was a moment of acute reflection for me on a system I have spent my lifetime working for, studying, researching and contributing to.  It was a reflection born of some frustration about the chasm that remains between what we know about learning and so much of what still happens in schools- and I stand by that sentiment.  What is was not, in any way, meant to be was a criticism of any particular teachers themselves although it may have read that way ... and that was clumsy of me. Teachers, too, are frustrated with systemic expectations that go against what their heart tells them is right. My intention with it was never to misrepresent the great work that most teachers do tirelessly, every day and to the absolute best of their abilities.  As I said in the post- my children have actually been lucky to have encountered many great teachers - as was I.   This is a post about the bigger picture- and a personal perspective on that picture.  Thank you again to those of you who have contributed to the discussion both publicly and privately. Feedback is the very best thing for learning and I hope I will always be able to receive it openly and thoughtfully.  

This post is somewhat different to my usual focus on inquiry and more personal than most. Forgive my indulgence ...

I vividly remember my eldest daughter’s first day of school.  As I watched her make her way into the group gathered on the carpet, I remember holding back the sudden urge to rush in, pick my daughter up and run! I know I wasn’t the first parent to experience those emotions and no doubt many parents felt the same when they dropped their 5 year olds into my care as a prep teacher many years ago.  I wept in the car on my way to work and felt terribly conflicted.  My life’s work was and continues to be all about schools and here I was wanting my child to be anywhere but in one!

That was 13 years ago.  I have just returned from dropping that same child at school for her final English exam. While I write this post (which I will draft, leave, reflect on, re-draft…) she is currently sitting for three solid hours to write (handwrite) three essays in a row with prompts she will read for the first time today about texts she did not choose.  In complete silence. No drafting, no conversation, no notes, no breaks, no music, no food, …who writes under those conditions in the real world??  Exams remain a ludicrous, archaic way to ‘measure’ young people’s learning.

 And as I watched her walk into school today -   I had the same feelings I had all those years ago – a strange desire to spring out of the car, grab her and run!

As any parent out there knows,  the end of schooling for one’s child is inevitably a time of reflection.  For me as an educator, this reflection is loaded and complex.  I have been thinking about the lessons I have learned from the experience of this daughter’s schooling.  Watching my own children ‘do school’ has taught me a lot as a teacher and as a parent.   So today – while my daughter writes her English exam, I ponder on my own lessons. What have I learned….?  

1.     Not much has changed.   I know this is rather negative but I have to say that, overall, and despite the amazing efforts of so many fine educators – schools really have not changed all that much since was a student. And that was a long time ago!  I have spent the last 6 years in particular quietly despairing at so many futile tasks given in the name of ‘learning’  that show little real understanding of contemporary practice.  Assignments heavy on fact-finding and light on thinking,  Minimal or no choice in how to present ideas,  Few opportunities to co construct or engage in deep self-assessment and few truly collaborative, real-world contexts for learning. Of course there have been some exceptions … but why ARE we so slow to truly revolutionize schools given all we now know about learning?

2.     It’s all about the teacher.   We know the research bears this out but there is nothing like experiencing the phenomenon first hand!   13 years of hearing young people sitting around our kitchen table, talking about their teachers has continually reminded me just how much the quality of the teacher – and the relationship they choose to develop with their students - matters. It can literally make or break the child’s love of and commitment to a subject and indeed their view of learning itself.  I have seen the damage one - and yep, I'm going to say it, BAD teacher can do to a child's interest in a subject.  I have been intrigued at best - and horrified at worst - as to why such teachers continue to do the job when they obviously despise what they do, spend most of their time berating students and would rather be somewhere else. 

3.     Every kid needs a champion.  Rita Piersan’s words are ringing in my ears.  As I reflect over the last 13 years, I feel such overwhelming gratitude to those who have championed my child. Two teachers stand out. The English teacher in year 7 who nurtured my daughter as a writer and showed such passion and commitment to her craft and to her students.  And her music/singing teacher who believed so profoundly in the role of the arts in education and provided every opportunity for a girl with a musical interest to be supported.  My daughter’s learning life at school has been made richer as a direct result of these champions.  These were teachers who took time to see their students as people as well as learners.  This is the best gift any teacher can give a student. When you champion a student - when you see their light - you can literally change their life.

4.     The ‘playground’ can be the greatest teacher.  While we teachers immerse ourselves in the demands of curriculum planning and classroom instruction we can forget that our kids’ heads and hearts are so often somewhere else.  The time my daughter has spent with friends – in the school yard and beyond has taught her as much if not more than any ‘formal’ lessons in the classroom.   In the last few weeks of concerts, graduations and other year 12 rituals, I have watched and listened to these young people interacting with each other and have been so moved by the maturity of their relationships, their support of each other, the absence of competition and the spirit of collaboration.  Some of the bestschool-related learning moments over the last 13 years have had nothing to do with the curriculum or the painstaking work we do as teachers to cover outcomes and tick boxes.  They have everything to do with the relationships grown, challenged, lost and found in the playground.  This is the learning that will endure.

5.     Learners need time to be in their element.  ‘We need to create environments (in schools) where every person is inspired to grow creatively. We need to make sure that all people have the chance to do what they should be doing. To discover the Element in themselves and in their own way’ (Ken Robinson:2009).  Our daughter has been writing and performing music since she was 7.  We chose a local state school that is known for valuing the arts and this proved to be the best decision. Gretta once said that ‘singing was like breathing’ for her – she needed to do it every day.   Being given ample opportunity to be in her element at school has kept her happy, focused and generally motivated. It has sustained her through the tedium of some other classes that were not her thing.  She has been lucky. I know many of her friends have had to wait until the school day is over to do what helps them feel they are ‘in their element’ .  Surely we know enough about the role of personal interest and passion in learning to allow more opportunities for these to flourish as part of school life. 

6.     We give kids mixed messages.  ‘Your final score does not define you’  ‘Success in high school does not necessarily determine success in life’.  ‘It’s who you are as a person – your character – that matters most.'   In the final years of schooling, these slogans are regularly trumpeted at assemblies and information nights.  At the same time the reality is that schools (and the system they are part of) do ultimately define success in terms of academic achievement.  This is what gets you the ‘grades’  - and if you happen to do well in maths and science - even better!

Since that first day, 13 years ago, I have often had to ‘harden my heart’ as an educator and as a parent.  As someone with a profile in the education sphere, I have opted to keep more of a distance than many parents do and have tried to remainpositive and supportive of our schools throughout.  And there has been much to be positive about. My child is one of the lucky ones. She is happy, well adjusted and ready to fly into the world with a passion that has been nurtured by a few extraordinary teachers.  But the journey has not been without disappointment and frustration.  We now know so much about what constitutes great learning environments. We know what really matters in the learning lives of our young people. We know what should change.  We know the importance of student voice, choice, integrative and inquiry based approaches andthe importance of 21C skills and dispositions…..And yet so much remains, it seems, stuck in a time warp. 

Perhaps this reflection has been a kind of reminder to me about why I do what I do. I want to continue working with kids and their teachers to rethink classrooms as habitats for creativity and wonder. I want every 5 year old to walk into school - and explore!  I want schools to be places in which all kids have opportunity to find and be in their element.  I want teachers to have the time and permission to know their kids as well as they know their curriculum.

I am so proud of my daughter as a learner and as a person. I am proud of what she has learned because of – and despite -  her schooling.  

And if she has children, will they be sitting for three long hours in an exam hall at the end of their journey in order to determine their success?

Just wondering…..