Getting the mix right: Teacher guidance and inquiry learning.

Open inquiry, free inquiry, guided inquiry, structured inquiry…I’ve even recently heard someone remark they use ‘the controlled inquiry method (???)’.  Over the last few years it seems there has been a proliferation of descriptors qualifying the kindof inquiry that can happen in the classroom. Lately, as I hear these terms being bandied about in workshops I have become intrigued by what people actually mean when they use them and I have begun to wonder how helpful it all is.

 I recently asked a group of teachers to define what they meant when they talked about the use of ‘guided’ vs what they called ‘free’ inquiry.   In the end, it came down to whether or not the students chose what they were inquiring into. If the teacher chose, it was guided. If the kids chose, it was free. The puzzling thing for me about this response is that most successful inquiry journeys are a result of both teacher AND student choice. It’s not either/or – it is AND.   I have also heard some declare they use a ‘guided inquiry’ approach which in reality meant they executed meticulously pre-planned , step by step units that invited no student questions and ended up in cookie-cutter activities across the team (not inquiry at all and not what most would consider guided inquiry to be). When it comes to open or free inquiry, the view can be similarly extreme. The descriptions of free inuquiry I have heard at times sound pretty close to simply being ‘free time’ or ‘choosing time’ - involving very little inquiry.  

At its very heart, inquiry is about investigation. It occurs when the learner seeks to discover/resolve/create/uncover/understand something. Inquirers are most often driven by questions. In the classroom – these questions may be devised by teachers or by students or both. They may be personal questions or questions develop with, for or by a group. As the young learner pursues these questions (Why? What if? Why might? How could? Why should? What makes…?) they inevitably require some form of guidance. In fact I am tempted to say that ALL inquiry journeys I witness or support in the classroom are guided.  But the level and nature of guidance varies according to the needs and prior knowledge of the learner and the context within which the inquiry is taking place. Perhaps it is more straightforward to consider guidance (from teachers, peers and other mentors) as a givenin inquiry but to understand that that the nature and level of guidance is necessarily dynamic.  And what do I mean by guidance?  The things we do and say to support students as they inquire – listening, observing, strategic questioning, timely feedback, demonstration, explanation, noticing and naming, suggesting and connecting them with resources/others who may be helpful. 

 As many readers of this blog know, I have long advocated for learners of all ages to have regular opportunity to inquire into questions or needs they have determined are important to them (iTime/discovery time for example). This usually sits alongside a shared/class inquiry into a compelling question and is most often explored over several weeks. Seeing these personal inquiries as ‘free’ can be very misleading. I have seen many cases where the very fact that the student chose something highly personal meant they required even more careful conferring and guidance. These moments can feel less ‘free’ than shared inquiry where collaboration might offer a firmer platform for voice and choice.   Like the oft used metaphor of the swan gliding across the water  - underneath those independent and self-driven learners engaged in personal inquiries is a strong set of structures, scaffolds a repertoire of strategies and agreements. Teachers are busy conferring, running small clinic groups, giving targeted feedback, noticing, naming and ‘nudging’ – they are being the active guides they should be. 

 A central goal of the contemporary teacher is to nurture learner agency.  When understood deeply, Inquiry based learning has alwaysbeen about agency. It requires learners to make choices and take responsibility for designing ways to investigate problems, questions, challenges and passions. But the role of the teacher remains critical in this approach. Far from being an arms-length facilitator ‘on the side’, the inquiry teacher is continually weighing up if, when and how to ‘step in’. They actively work besidethe learner observing, listening, questioning, prompting, suggesting, explaining, demonstrating, refining or redirecting as required. This is guidance. When we position students as inquirers, we offer them opportunities to make decisions about their learning every day. The extent to which we guide those decisions varies but good teachers know how to adjust the level of guidance for optimal learning.  Seeing teacher guidance as a single, linear trajectory (from more to less guidance over time) can be similarly misleading. The level of guidance required is much less linear and much more determined by context, purpose and the needs of the learner.  

So I have been playing around with this image – as a way to illustrate the nature of teacher guidance in inquiry – and our quest to nurture agency through it. I see it a little like a sound engineer’s mixing desk. For most of us, the tendency can be to raise our level of guidance too high and too soon and for too long. Practising the techniques of releasing responsibility, allowing some struggle, observing and listening, slowing down, waiting and explaining at the point of need means we learn to step in less frequently and with less ‘volume’ than we may have thought necessary.  

Looking at the diagram below imagine allthe ‘buttons’ are at the lower end (minimal guidance). One would need to ensure there was sufficient justification for such low level teacher involvement.   It is certainly possible for some learners but unlikely to be the case for everyone at any given time. Conversely, when teachers make all the decisions for students, when each of the buttons are at or near maximum level, we would have to question whether we can really call this ‘inquiry learning’ at all!!  In reality,  inquiry teaching usually requires an ever-changing mix of guidance levels. 

Guidance is important - but the level and nature of it will vary according to the needs to the learner.

 It is nuanced and sophisticated work but being conscious of the decisions we make, and developing the habit of ‘turning down’ the volume to enhance learner agency can help us become more intentional and informed teachers as we guide learning through personal or group investigations. 

What does guidance in inquiry look like for you? How do you ‘adjust the controls’ to maximise learner agency?

Just wondering…..

Designing for inquiry learning: What conversations are we having?

As I deal with the frustration of having to, once again, 'rest my voice' to recover from chronic laryngitis (is there a message somewhere in this???!) I have had to forgo a much anticipated day of planning tomorrow with one of my lovely partner schools here in Melbourne. This morning I received a message from their very capable inquiry leader asking if I could jot down some 'tips' as she will be facilitating the conversations without me.  Now, I know she really does not need them because she is such a thoughtful, well informed leader but it got me thinking. 'Hmmmmm What DO I tend to say when I am designing for learning with teachers and sometimes with kids too?'  It was not long before I had a page filled... mostly with questions.

I guess that is how I often see my role as we plan' -  to ask the right questions. My intention (and I don't always achieve it!!) is to try to build the teachers' 'agentive identity' by asking rather than telling - and then, just as in the classroom situation, I try to do the 'explaining' part strategically. This means giving teachers ample opportunities to create and design for themselves and reserving my suggestions and explanations for when they might be useful. As a facilitator this means my role is flipped in much the same way as it is in the classroom.  

So.  Here are the questions  I often find myself asking when we are in the first stages of designing a new journey of inquiry with and for learners.  I don't ask them all each time. What is really interesting for me is that the process is really about framing and clarifying intent, it is NOT about generating activities although we will often identify some routines or strategies that might help implement our initial intentions (thinking routines being key).  The questions here are those we generally use when designing what I think of as a shared inquiry where a big question is being explored by the group (and within this, many individual questions usually emerge).  I hope some of these questions resonate with you - particularly if you have a facilitation role in your school....they are in no particular order. 

Reflecting and evaluating. 

Looking back over our last inquiry, what might we need to address in THIS one?  What did we notice about the children’s skills as inquirers? Are there some areas we need to offer more support in? Is there a way we can address these needs in the next context for inquiry? Have we sought feedback from our learners about the impact of the inquiries we are ‘concluding’ in the coming weeks? Should we invite some kids to come and chat to us about this now? 

Revisiting the WHY

We put this inquiry on the map last year – some time ago. Let’s remind ourselves WHY we included this in our design for the year.  Why is this an inquiry worth pursuing in terms of the curriculum AND the children’s interests and needs?  Why this question? Why now? 

Student voice

Many of us have already canvassed possibilities for this inquiry with our students prior to this meeting. Some of us have invited kids to share their “first thinking” in response to the question. Let’s share that data now – what are they telling us? What does this reveal? How might we respond? How might this initial information help shape this inquiry? What if we invited a few kids in right now – to talk with us about their views of this inquiry and what they envision for their learning?  Let’s bring some kids to the table.

Specialist connections

Let’s consider the role of our specialist teachers. Does this inquiry lend itself to conceptual connections with specialist areas? Can we draw on their expertise? Can we bring the relevant specialists in on this? What collaborations might be possible? 

The big picture- framing up

What conceptualunderstandings does this inquiry potentially allow our kids to develop? What are the big ideas framing this?  Is there anything we feel belongs on a ‘need to know’ list? Can we list the knowledge items as distinct from the understanding goals? 

How does this inquiry allow us to connect to achievement standardsin the curriculum We mapped this last year – but let’s take another look. What elements of the achievement standards might we address?  Let’s take a look ACROSS the curriculum – we can integrate several learning areas. 

What learning assets do we think this inquiry might add value to? Can we identify specific skills and dispositions within those assets that will be particularly relevant as the inquiry unfolds? (this is a question we need to keep coming back to as the design of the inquiry takes shape) 

What compelling questionmight help drive this inquiry? We suggested something when we did our planning last year – does it still hold up? 

Considering our own understandings

How would WE respond to this question? What views do WE bring to this as adult learners? How might this affect the way we interact with kids in this journey. How confident are we with the scope/field being explored?  Do we need to do some further inquiry ourselves? Where is the expertise in the school and wider community we could all tap into?

The real deal

How authentic is the purpose and context of this inquiry. Is there a way we can move it from being an ‘engaging exploration’ to an engaging exploration with a high stakes, real purpose. Let’s think about issues/problems/contexts in the school or community we might be able to harness (several of the inquiries we mapped last year were designed with authentic purpose in mind). Is there a real audience for this learning? 

Provocation

How might we provoke real curiosity, interest – and a desire to want to find out more? Do we need to or is the need and interest already there?  Do we need to create some kind of invitation or provocation?  What might that look like? 

Tuning in

Given the understand goals we have drafted, how might we get a better insight into where our kids are at now – so they can track their growth?  Given our kids are becoming familiar with the SOLO taxonomy - could we invite them to plot their own position on that scale? How might we further tune into our student’s initial thinking? How might we capture that in some way so they can reflect on and monitor the way their thinking changes? How might we make this initial thinking visible? 

Questions

When and how will we invite questions? Are we already hearing some? Do we need to deliberately target this or is it likely to emerge? How will we document and use those wonderings? 

Finding out

What resources are we aware of that might assist learners to gather new information in a range of ways. If this is an historical inquiry – how might we help them harness the ‘mantle of expertise’ as historians? Scientists? Geographers? Artists?.....etc.  what people, places and texts might help them explore?  

Making connections

How might this inquiry allow us to make authentic connections across the curriculum.  Are there texts we can use more intensively as readers/writers/viewers? What mathematical inquiry might this journey involve? Let’s think big picture and see what natural links we can harness.

Releasing responsibility

Now – how might we involve our students in designing for their learning. If we have an excursion/field trip in mind, for example – how might we engage students in designing the experience?  How do we ensure we are amplifying agency in this process? 

We all know that questions are critical to engaging quality thinking. And we want quality thinking around 'the planning table'...so what questions work for you? What do you ask when you are designing for inquiry learning? 

Just wondering...

The blessings of silence - some reflections on talk in the classroom.

“Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven't the answer to a question you've been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you're alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully.”   Norton Juster: The Phantom Tollbooth.

It strikes almost every year and has since I began teaching over 30 years ago. Winter comes and inevitably…despite all my efforts at warding it off, I get a virus that leads straight to laryngitis. In my line of work,  not being able to use my voice is a major problem!  I fondly recall my class of five year olds many years ago earnestly seeing if they could ‘find’ my voice out in the yard!  

The only way to recover from laryngitis is to stop talking. Completely. No talking, no whispering.  And that has been my great challenge for the last 3 days.  What a strange, frustrating experience it has been – but it has also given me pause to consider the issue of what it means to ‘have a voice’. I’ve been wondering more about the experience of those children who have no voice in the classroom both literally and figuratively and has helped me gain a little more empathy with our quieter learners.

Here are some of the things I noticed during my enforced days of silence:

Not being heard often felt like not being seen too!  I could not use my voice to get anyone’s attention so had to walk right up to people and tap them on the shoulder to initiate communication. After a while, I noticed I stopped bothering and became less connected with others - even in my own home.  It made me think about those quiet kids who we stop seeing…because we rarely hear them and the sense they might have that they are not really part of the group. 

I needed people to be incredibly patient with me.  Whether I was writing them a message, mouthing words or using extravagant hand gestures it took much longer to get my message across. It made me think about those kids who, for whatever reason have trouble communicating verbally and the subtle messages we might give them to ‘hurry up’ or our temptation to finish their sentences/interpret too early  - and how disempowering that is.

On the upside, not being able to be part of conversations meant I was incredibly selective about the moments I chose to try to ‘say’ something.  Because it took an effort to write/mime/mouth something, it had to be important. I listened more. I stopped needing to comment on everything and was amazed at how often my impulse to say something arose. I did think ‘my goodness, I talk a lot!’   It made me think about the teachers (myself included) who don't listen carefully, who feel they need to weigh in on everything or respond to every comment their kids/team members make. It reminded me of the power of listening and how our impulse to talk needs to be consciously managed. 

Not talking to people had the strange effect of making it FEEL like we were upset with each other for some reason.  I drove my youngest daughter to her various commitments in complete silence where we usually use time in the car to chat.  It felt strained and strange and I found myself giving her lots of reassuring hugs and smiles to make sure my silence was not misinterpreted!   It made me think about those really quiet kids/teachers and how we can misinterpret silence for sullenness or reluctance?  In our culture at least, talk is valuable currency.  We view talk positively -  as involvement, engagement and connection  - and silence can be met with suspicion.  How do we help our kids understand the many reasons someone might choose not to speak -  and that it does not necessarily mean there is anything ‘wrong?’  

One night during my enforced vow of silence, I slid into my (musician) eldest daughter’s opening night performance at a big, noisy pub in Melbourne.   Ordinarily, I would be there with friends and family, joining in some of the songs, joyously whooping my approval, talking to others in between songs, commenting on the performance as it unfolded,  but this time I was alone and silent. It was a completely different experience.  Watching something knowing I didn't have to talk about it was actually quite liberating. I was simply in the moment, completely engaged in the performance and in this rather lovely ‘bubble’ of quiet, solitary listening and appreciation. It made me think about how quickly we ask kids to respond to powerful experiences (a story, a clip, a provocation….) how often I say ‘Now turn to your partner and….’  How often do I give them opportunities to be with their own thoughts or to NOT share- at least not straight away.  In our zeal to make learning interactive, collaborative and active can we overlook the need for quiet contemplation? 

My voice is returning now.  Slowly.  Which is just as well because I need it these next few days here in India.   In caring for my voice though, I hope will be more mindful of when I choose to speak and why. This can only be a good thing. Like other teachers, I am constantly working on my ‘talk less, listen more’ mantra and this is forcing me to do it. 

Many of us would equate the notion of ‘having a voice’ with learner agency. And indeed, the right to be heard is vital in the inquiry classroom. I will continue to champion the need for kids to engage in productive dialogue in the classroom and for a high level of active, interactive engaged learning.  But I am wondering a little more now about the right to be (and benefits of) quiet, both literally and figuratively.  Silence can be frustrating and limiting – but it can also be very illuminating. 

How do you balance noise and quiet in your classroom? How do you encourage those children who may take time or are even less inclined to speak to feel both reassured and encouraged? How might we be more accepting and understanding of children who choose not to speak even when we ask them to?  How might we give the ‘talkers’ opportunities to experience the benefits of not talking?  How do we help kids see that ‘having a voice’ does not always mean talking?  How well do we value the multiple ways in which we can express ourselves? 

Just wondering…

Inquiry, noticing and the changing seasons… A tribute to the late Frank Ryan.

I have been meaning to post this all year.  I started planning it in January when I was holidaying down my beloved coastal town of Aireys Inlet.   Ironically, as the days have grown shorter, the pile of books I wanted to refer to has grown higher and I’ve scribbled bits and pieces here and there but failed to complete it.  Other posts have come and gone but, strangely, the impetus to write this one has taken time.  Perhaps it needed to wait. 

This post is about the desperate need for children to be encouraged and permitted to notice and inquire into the natural world around them. But now, it is much more than that.  It is written in honour of my beautiful friend of some 30 years and exceptional educator– Frank Ryan.  Frank died on the shortest day of this year, the winter solstice. I was honoured to be with him and some close friends and family as he left this world.  The world is poorer for his passing but in his time on this planet he touched the loves of thousands of children who may otherwise never have encountered the joy that is connecting with nature.

Frank was – literally and figuratively -  a towering figure in the field of Environmental Education. When I was still studying to be a teacher, I was fortunate enough to watch Frank at work at the Zoo Education School in Melbourne and I was hooked. There are a handful of educators I have come into contact with in my career who had a profound impact on me  - and Frank Ryan was one of them.  I watched him with us, I watched him with kids and  I felt him connect us to the environment. I was transformed. Frank helped make me the teacher I am today. 

It was Frank who helped me understand how to use the natural world as my classroom and how to bring nature into the classroom. Partly because of him, I spent many years actively involved in the Environmental Education field. I always had animals in my classrooms and that experience helped me learn how to engage children in inquiry. Kids I taught back then still say that they remember most vividly the learning we did through observing and caring fo turtles, lizards, yabbies, chickens - we even raised quail when I taught a beautiful class of year 3/4 students. The first book I ever published "Integrating Naturally" was all about basing integrative learning on big ideas about the environment. I still think fondly of that 'green book'.    My husband Steve Ray and Frank began an innovative company in the 90s called ‘Vox Bandicoot’.  Some Australian teachers may even remember having ‘Vox’ at their school. Frank and Steve created pop up ‘bush habitats’ In schools and introduced children to tortoises, lizards and snakes and performed theatre about environmental issues. Thousands of children benefitted from the opportunity to connect with nature. His death is a huge loss to the Education world but his legacy is mighty.  

So as I said, I have been working on this post on and off since Frank died a couple of weeks ago. It is longer than it should be but I hope you will give it your time.  And I also hope that you will take time in the coming weeks and months to do something to connect yourself and your kids with the natural world on which we all depend. There can be no greater purpose and no more engaging context for the inquiring mind. When you take kids out into the natural environment, you don't really need to fabricate complicated 'provocations' to lure them into becoming curious. It's all there: 

Inquiring into the changing seasons...

It is the shortest day of the year.  Outside my study window (the window I have looked through most days for 25 years) the Melbourne sky is at its best – clear, brilliant blue. The air is cold and still. It is the kind of morning that ices up your car window and where your breath fogs as you speak.  The walnut tree in our back yard – once a seedling from my grandmother in-law’s tree, acts as a kind of living calendar for me.  One of the last trees to lose its leaves, it is finally acknowledging the cold. It is almost stripped bare apart from a few desperate leaves. In the summer months, the towering manna gum we planted when we moved here is alive with the raucous sound of rainbow lorikeets and bossy magpies but on this clear, cold day all is quiet and still. Later in the year, I will keep a watchful eye out for the sacred kingfishers who occasionally gift us with a rare visit.  Across the road, my neighbour’s front garden proudly hosts a large magnolia tree.  It whispers secrets to me when I walk past. “Winter is coming” it says – when all the other trees are just starting to dress in their beautiful Autumn reds and oranges, the Magnolia has already lost its leaves. I know, one day soon, as the days begin to grow imperceptibly longer, she will tell me “Spring is on its way” and new buds emerge well ahead of any other flowers in an otherwise wintery landscape. 

Despite the fact I live in an inner, urban suburb of Melbourne, nature has its way of nudging me to notice my world on a regular basis. Whether it is the presence or absence of certain birds, a possum scuttling along the powerlines at night, the smell of a jasmine in early spring or the blissful sound of the first cicada that sends us all the message that those long, lazy days of summer are not far away.  in Melbourne, it is hard NOT to notice the changes in weather but it is the subtle, cyclical patterns of change that I find endlessly intriguing and strangely comforting. 

Ever since I began teaching, one of the most common topics in the primary classroom has been ‘the weather’ or ‘seasons’. I even had someone tell me not long ago that they were going to ‘do the seasons’ with their kids next term. That makes me cringe.   Here in Australia, the science curriculum requires children to know that “observable changes occur in the sky and landscape and daily and seasonal changes affect everyday life.”  Too often, this profound truth – that the environment around us is constantly changing – is reduced to a shallow topic or, worse still, we serve up to our kids the view that there are four stereotypical seasons without any acknowledgement of the incredible diversity of seasonal change across our land and indeed across the world. And we ‘do’ seasons without ever stepping outside the classroom!!

The changing environment offers an incredible opportunity for inquiry. But why limit that inquiry into one stand alone unit when, in fact, the opportunity to learn about, notice, anticipate, observe and record change is available to us every single day?   Inquiring into the environment is SO much better as an ongoing experience. And I am not just talking about a filling in a weather chart each day!  On a regular basis,  take your kids OUTSIDE to observe and record what they see, hear and smell. Take time to record, to photograph, to draw – and simply to BE in the outdoors.  Have each child find their special spot  - a place they will return to all year and document change.  Find a window in your school through which to see the outside world. Watch the way the view out that window changes over the year. Draw it, write about it, capture it in a diary that will be used again next year to anticipate change. Our kids spend more time indoors than any previous generation and yet this can be the context for some of the most engaging, focussed learning. There are dozens of ways you can use the outdoors as a context for inquiry.  I am only mentioning a few here: 

• Connect with places around your school in which you and your children can spend time in more natural environments. Build a relationship with your local parks, waterways, beaches, gardens.

•  Go for walks. Walk slowly and learn to notice the small things. Nature is everywhere…even in the cracks of the footpath of the most urban street. Record what you see on your walks and take the same route each time to notice the subtle and more dramatic changes.

• Create a timeline in the classroom that depicts what you are noticing each month about the environment around you. Include photos, sketches and observations on the timeline. What birds are in the school yard at different times of the year? Which plants are flowering? Where are the shadows falling in the school yard?

• Encourage your kids to get to know nature in their neighbourhoods or back yards. Have them keep diaries or journals, take photographs and track the way that places change over a year.

• Find out what kinds of plants there are in your school yard. Keep track of how they grow and change over time. 
• Start noticing the birds – what species are in the school grounds? Does it change over the year? Which birds are native? Introduced?  What are their habits? Where do they prefer to hang out? Why? 
• Connect with kids in other parts of your country or even state. What is their experience of the environment at simultaneous times of the year? 
• Find out about the ways the indigenous people of your area identify seasonal change. 
• Talk to your kids about what YOU notice as the days pass over the year.  Model what it means to be fascinated by and connected to your environment. Marvel aloud at the changing seasons. 

Finally, a post about connecting with nature and noticing the changing seasons without reference to at least a few of my favourite resources and books…

This beautiful book depicts the seasonal calendar of the Gundjeihmi-speaking people of Kakadu.

A book that tracks change from month to month  - a lovely example of noticing small changes over time. 

I adore this book and the simple way it depicts change over time with one word per page. It is a work of art. 

A year on our farm is a lovely insight into the impact the changing seasons can have on our daily lives - so much more the case when living on a farm. 

Such a beautiful book. This says it all really - step out, take time to notice and be delighted by what you discover, if only you take a moment to look. 

We live in Pinteresting times.....

There are a few eyebrow-raising emails/messages I receive on a fairly regular basis.  One is a request from undergraduate students to help them with assignments (‘just wondering how you would answer this question about inquiry...thanks!’), another is an offer to write a post on my blog...except that the post has nothing to do with education(!) And the third is a request for information about where to purchase ‘the posters’ about the inquiry cycle...  

What posters?

For years, I have been asked to create posters outlining the phases of the inquiry cycle for people to put on their classroom walls.  And for years I have resisted doing so. Here is why:

1.     We should all acknowledge that the cycle itself is a problematic creature. It is useful– but it is so much more complex, messy and nuanced than it appears on paper. I have always shared it tentatively – as a scaffold for thinking, as a prompt for designing and as a way of providing some common but not fixed language. Publishing books, articles and blog posts about it helps me address some of those complexities whereas a poster/sign/worksheet doesn’t. Most of the posters created about the inquiry cycle present it as a simplistic, linear process, as if each phase is dealt with prior to the next. When teachers and kids work together to visually represent their journey they quickly discover that the process is far from the neat, linear process that a poster often (mis)represents. I have seen some better representations of it but they are usually co-constructed with a community to meet their particular context/purpose. 

2.     In what feels like an increasingly pinterest-centric world, the last thing I want to do is add more shiny, glossy STUFF to put on classroom walls. I have no problem with making the language of the cycle visible to learners – in fact, I recommend it.  However there is something troublingly inauthentic about simply downloading, printing and displaying posters without doing the deeper work of sourcing, reading, thinking about, and creating your own (with acknowledgment of course).

3.     How much stronger would it be if we invited our students to inquire into the way a cycle of inquiry might work and then co construct a way of making that process visible in the learning space?  This is a much better way to help them understand what it might mean to journey through an inquiry than simply popping posters on the wall (and rarely referring to them). Who owns the classroom space? 

4.     While I have chosen and published particular words and phrases to communicate purposes and processes in a cycle of inquiry, the general concept of a ‘cycle’ is not mine - nor is the idea that inquirers often move through phases as they investigate a question/problem/issue.  I am always at pains to explain to people that there are numerous models and ways of describing the process and each has its own emphases.  It is not ‘THE’ inquiry cycle … it is AN inquiry cycle.  Doing the work of investigating a range of interpretations can help teachers and kids devise one that works best for them. 

5.     The ‘cycle’ is only part of the bigger picture the inquiry classroom. It IS very helpful.  I use it all the time for planning/designing and it offers teachers and kids a shared language to talk about how they might proceed through an investigation.  Inquiry is more than this though. It is a culture, a stance and a way of being. So I worry that slapping a poster on the wall makes us feel like we are ‘doing it’.  When it fact, it can be just that. A poster on a wall. 

So….why am I sharing this?   It has recently come to my attention that while I am busy refusing to commercially publish and sell posters  - others are doing it anyway. 

 Colourful posters of ‘the inquiry cycle’  - even ‘Kath Murdoch’s Inquiry cycle’ - are available not just to share with others but for sale.  And it is not only my work. I notice people selling, for example, worksheets depicting  Ron Ritchhart’s visible thinking routines without any acknowledgement and I suspect, without permission.  That these materials are sold in the company of some truly dreadful items purporting to be ‘inquiry based’ makes it worse.  There is an abundance of awful, low level activities (craptivities) presented as worksheets that should never see the light of day in a classroom - let alone be sold for profit (makes me feel the same as I feel when I walk past 'NAPLAN' preparation books in the supermarket!)   To cap it off, there are several that include a © symbol with the creator's name and no acknowledgment of the original source. Now.  I understand that this has always been the case – well before the online world made it more pervasive but it is easier than ever to cut and paste, lift and loot, read and repost. 

As someone noted on my twitter feed – perhaps this is something we should be talking about as a staff?

OK. Rant over. Don't get me wrong. I embrace the opportunities provided by digital media to share and collaborate. I hope this doesn't come across as precious or mean spirited about people using work I have published.  I willingly and regularly share ideas online. I have seen some beautiful representations of ideas I have shared and loved the interpretation. They always acknowledge the source and it feels delightfully collaborative - ideas sparking other ideas in an atmosphere of open, professional connectedness.    And I should say that I get many considered requests to use/adapt more formally published work.  I almost always grant permission and love sharing in this way.  These requests allow me to, at times, address misinterpretation and misrepresentation so that the sharing has integrity.  That's one of the reason the protocol exists.  

Some people have suggested that the best way to manage this might be to relent and do what I have been avoiding all these years: create the posters and sell them as the ‘official’ versions. I won’t do that…for all the reasons I have shared above. 

But what I am putting up on the website are the pages from my recent book ‘The Power of Inquiry’ that provide information about the way I think about the process – at least at this point in time.  This might be a useful guide to developing your own, with your kids. You can have it and share it  - for free. But hey, just take a moment to let people know where it comes from. That way, if they want to dive deeper - learn more about it or even raise questions about it, they can return to the source. 

In the meantime, I see all of this as a valuable conversation to have as a staff.  I guess two issues have emerged for me – one being the problem of posters/displays etc. and the other about the ethics of what we choose to share (and sell) online. 

How do we model ethical use of materials to our students? How much does this matter to us anyway? How freely should materials be shared without consultation or permission? When is it OK to sell our work? What does 'original' mean? If the words are someone else's but we choose the font, colour and images - does that make it original?  What responsibility do we have as producers AND consumers to acknowledge the work done by others?  Who really owns what? What do we know/believe about the thorny issue of intellectual property? AND…. Why do we prefer a glossy, pretty poster over the children's own documentation on our walls? Do our learners USE the stuff we decorate the walls with?  What should be on our walls anyway? Who is it for? 

 I don't claim to have the answers...and I am still pondering it all myself (this post has been simmering in my draft folder for a while...) but I think it is an important conversation to have, don't you?  

Just wondering....

Looking back to look forward - reflections on learning about 'agency'

It’s 1974.  I am in Grade 5. I know all the words to 'Seasons in the Sun' and I am in love wth David Cassidy. I have very few memories, but I do remember Miss McNab’s shiny, white leather boots, mini skirt and turtle-neck sweater.  I remember a painful week of inexplicable ostracism by my supposed ‘best friends’ andI remember the weekly program, posted each Monday, to help us figure out how to use our time. And when I say ‘posted’ I certainly don't mean in the digital sense.  This was a large, yellow sheet of card with a carefully hand-written menu of a variety of tasks to be completed by the end of the week.  I still remember that feeling of delight and the novelty of having choice and control. We could decide when to do the tasks on the chart. I can’t recall what happened if we finished them ahead of time, or if we didn't finish them…but I remember the essence of it. Choice and ownership.

It’s 1981. I have just turned 18 and have a penchant for exceptionally large earrings. I play Pat Benatar very loud on my new stereo system.  I am also beginning my teacher training at Melbourne State College. Amongst the many texts I read in that year is A.S. Niell’s Summerhill, published in 1960, 3 years before I was born.  Having experienced (apart from grade 5) typically conservative schooling for the previous 12 years, I am taken into a completely new world and way of thinking about children, learning and teaching. I am unsettled - and insatiably curious: 

‘In our school freedom means doing what you like so long as you do not interfere with the freedom of others. That is the outer meaning, but deeper down we strive to see that children are free internally, free from fear, from hypocrisy, from hate, from intolerance’. (AS Niell Summerhill 1960) 

It’s 1983 and I am on a practice-teaching placement at a school in Melbourne’s Western suburbs. I drive to school in my 2 door Honda civic and listen to Mark Knoffler's theme from 'Local Hero'.  The classrooms have been designed to house larger groups of students and teams of teachers.  There are lamps, couches, nooks for quiet reading or individual learning tasks, plenty of space to sprawl on the floor, cushions and a range of furniture types.  I watch a skilled group of teachers run a writers’ workshop and having devoured Donald Graves’ work, I am thrilled to be seeing in in action.  Kids are signing up for 'clinics' offered to address identified needs. Some kids are in small group conferences, others in the art room working on illustrating their soon to be published books. There is choice, trust, independence, movement and a flexible space in which to do it all. I love the experience and vow to make my future classrooms a place that feels like this. 

It’s 1986 and I am teaching grade 4. My hair is horrifically permed.  My colleague and I (having both moved from prep/kinder teaching) have a hunch that even at grade 4, our kids need to play, to explore, and experience more hands on learning.  We change the structure of our day. Our kids begin each day choosing from a bunch of making-oriented experiences – they paint, they design, they cook, they write, they problem solve.  The energy changes and we all agree  this choosing time is the best time of day. 

It's 1992 and I am back studying again. I'm listening to Frente and laughing condescendingly at Enya.  I discover  - and devour - the work of the late, great Garth Boomer. His work challenges me again: 

We looked closely at so-called ‘child-centred’ progressive teaching techniques, where teachers purport to take a largely facilitative role. Here, teachers who still retain the significant, ultimate powers often pretend to divest themselves of power by giving limited decision-making opportunities to the children. For example, children may be free to choose one of several options without having the option to reject the options. Moreover, many attractive learning packages in schools demand little creative, individual, teacher and learner contributions. A crucial question arises: ‘Are schools dedicated to the promotion of the child’s power to learn, and ultimately to learn independently of instruction and guidance?’ 

I find myself reflecting on the way I provide choice to my students and think more deeply about true ownership and what it means to really partner with students in their learning.  Inquiry as an approach to teaching and learning becomes even more important in my thinking. 

It’s 2004. The only music I seem to listen to is the Wiggles and I've ditched the big earrings. I am introduced to Peter Johnson’s book ‘Choice Words’  - a book I revisit often.   I read his term ‘agency’ and it describes what it is I believe I am trying to cultivate in the children I work with. My thinking takes a much deeper dive and I am more acutely aware of the power of my language in the classroom. This word ‘agency’ begins to mean so much more than freedom or choice or voice.  Agency becomes something I need to nurture every day, every moment in my language and in my very way of being. 

‘Having a sense of agency then, is fundamental.  Our well-being depends on it…Teacher's conversations with children help the children build the bridges between action and consequence that develop their sense of agency.’(Johnston, 2004, p. 30).

It’s 2007 and my music has become my kids' music too. We are singing along to Tegan and Sara and Fiest as I drive them to primary school.  One day, I am in the audience at a conference watching, in awe, as Sugata Mitra shares his bold ‘hole in the wall’ experiment in the Indian slums.  It stays with me for weeks – this powerful reminder of what young learners can do if we give them time, space and belief.  And if we get out of their way.  

‘If children know there is someone standing over them who has all the answers they are less inclined to want to find the answers for themselves’

It’s 2018. And I am in conversation with hundreds of teachers about their efforts to help students own their learning -  only this time, the teachers are from all over the globe and we are communicating in a digital space rather than face to face. Later in the week,  I am sitting with a group of enthusiastic inquiry teachers in Canberra, Australia.  We are viewing a clip of students and teachers at work in the International School of Ho Chi Min City and considering how their work is aligning with ours and what we can learn from their efforts.  We know that, if we need to, we can connect with these teachers and others like them whenever we need to get clarity, share ideas, build understanding and explore new thinking.  While we are many miles away, we are just as committed to rethinking school as a place where students truly own their learning.   

As Sam Sherratt said in a recent post on the powerful work being done in Studio 5 in ISHMC, the quest to promote student agency is far from a new one: https://timespaceeducation.wordpress.com/2018/04/03/studio-5-it-took-more-than-7-days/

For those of us like myself who (all of a sudden it seems) mostly find themselves the oldest teacher in room, there is a strange sense of déjà vu about the flurry of excitement around agency. The challenge to rethink the way we ‘do’ teaching and learning and the desire to wrench schools from the transmission/factory-inspired model of the past has burned brightly within so many educators for a long time.  It is not a new idea and therefore, not one to be dismissed as a fad or ‘the latest buzz word’. And this is far from another proverbial 'pendulum swing'.   I am eternally grateful to those who have gone before. Those who have believed strongly that learning is not something that gets done TO us - it is something we do for ourselves.  It is so exciting to see a globally respected organisation such as the IBO place learner agency at the centre of its enhanced program. There is something palpably different about the new rise of ‘learner agency ‘ in the contemporary landscape.

The power of social media to connect like-minded educators around the world has given this current wave of interest in agency a real opportunity to get traction.  Reading the abundance of posts on the excellent site:  https://ibeducatorvoices.wordpress.com created after the  conference in Singapore last month has warmed my heart. Rather than isolated pockets of teachers or schools attempting to make significant change in the way we do things, here is a veritable army of educators sharing, connecting, inspiring and creating from all around the world.  The support for each other and the preparedness to share what works and what is challenging and the inquiring disposition brought to the conversation is an inspiration in itself.

Imagine if Miss McNab, as she challenged us to manage our weeks more independently way back in 1974, had been given the chance to share her efforts with hundreds of other educators daring to do the same thing?  

Perhaps year 5 would not have been the only year in my entire schooling where I recall being given a voice. 

How are you nurturing agency in your setting? Are you using the power of a digital, professional learning network to strengthen your efforts?  

Just wondering…