Retrospection

My Teaching Philosophy 25 Years Later

Photo by Yanhao Fang on Unsplash

Twenty five years ago, I wanted to be a Kindergarten teacher. I requested that all my teaching practicums take place in Kindergarten classrooms. I applied for (and received) a special dispensation to conduct my student teaching outside of the University’s partner schools; I wanted to teach in a full-day Kindergarten. As part of my requirements, I created a portfolio: a three-ringed binder with a fifteen-week unit plan, rationales of and reflections for each part of the unit, samples of students’ work, glossy pictures of me teaching and students working, and my burgeoning teaching philosophy. This precious, 30-page portfolio showcased my entire student teaching. It was an most important assignment and I wanted it to be thorough. This portfolio represented my intention and commitment to becoming a public school teacher.

Reorganizing the basement storage, I found my teaching portfolio binder. Reading it, I reflected on how much has changed in my subsequent twenty-five years teaching. The glossy photos show a young, novice teacher introducing poetry to Kindergarteners. I remember my cooperating teacher balking at teaching poetry in Kindergarten; she felt it too sophisticated. I disagreed because “free verse poetry pushes children to focus on language instead of on the restrictions placed on writing.” I taught line breaks using a traditional Ojibwa cradle poem, Chant to the Fire-fly. Students cut the poem into words and phrases, glued them onto paper, and created an original poem. Some changed their meaning to get rid of the firefly instead of allowing it to guide the reader to bed. Looking back, I am proud of that poetry unit.

Has my teaching philosophy changed after twenty-five years? Here is my original text.

My Teaching Philosophy

I believe that five and six-year-old children, whether boys or girls, are impressionable beings. They are still learning right from wrong and are testing boundaries with their friends, family, and teachers. They see the world through innocent eyes and become overwhelmed with an excess of stimuli surrounding their lives. Because of this, they are fearful of this mysterious world, but are fearless in conquering and understanding it one piece at a time. They are exploring their environments through bodily movement that is still being tested. They are an essential asset that demand attention and thus refuse to be ignored. These children are ruthless, honest, emotional, and unconditional, and it is these children who I plan on dedicating my life educating.

In its basic form, learning is a primal need for discovery. Today, an education is necessary in order to survive in our world. Therefore, if I do not use my status as an educator, then I will be wasting valuable opportunities to impact my life and the lives of children. I feel Kindergarten (or any grade) should be exciting and inviting. As a teacher, I have the rare opportunity to teach a child before he/she is callused and/or labeled by our society.

My classroom will be a place to actively gain an education. Students will lead learning so it is meaningful and memorable. My job will be as facilitator so we can accomplish these classroom goals together.

• Students will gain an appreciation for all subject areas (writing, reading, math, science, social studies, art, music, and physical education.

• Students will develop a sense of ownership to their education through student-led lessons and discussions.

• Students will develop the basic skills required in Kindergarten.

• Students will use my classroom as a place to practice and better these skills.

• Students will learn about their world through a curriculum based on their surrounding environment.

• Students will begin learning how to be civil members of society and why respect is important.

As a class, if we can accomplish these goals individually, then I will feel confident in my students’ abilities entering first grade. I may not be able to influence all the learning students encounter as they progress through school; however, their first educational experience will be positive so they approach all learning eagerly and willingly [sic].

Reading my writing from twenty-five years ago makes me flinch. Aside from wanting to correct my grammar and improve my sentences, I wonder if I meant what I wrote. At the time, I was steeped in educational theory and had little classroom experience. What did I know about being a “facilitator” or developing “student-led lessons”?

In an act of retrospection, let me examine my previous philosophy, one section at a time, to see if me as a veteran teacher supports my then novice teacher beliefs.

I believe that five and six-year-old children, whether boys or girls, are impressionable beings. They are still learning right from wrong and are testing boundaries.

As a veteran teacher, and parent of three teenagers, this statement remains true. Children learn from the people in their lives, including parents, teachers, and friends. When children first enter elementary school, they already have had five to six years learning from their parents and siblings. Kindergarten is a milestone: children are officially recognized as students, and will now spend 60-70 percent of their school day interacting with and learning from their teacher and peers. It is a big transition. Children will, for the next thirteen years, test their parents’ and teachers’ boundaries. They will learn who they are, what they stand for, and the type of person they want to be in the future. So much development happens between Kindergarten and senior year.

They see the world through innocent eyes and become overwhelmed with an excess of stimuli surrounding their lives.

I worry about what students are exposed to in their world. I am not sure they enter school with as much innocence as they did twenty-five years ago. Then, students did not have streaming or social media. School shootings felt more an anomaly than a regularity. Now, school-age students spend an average of six-seven hours online every single day. Kindergarteners watch two-three hours of streaming television. Back in 2002, I worried that students were “overwhelmed with an excess of stimuli.” Today, the word excess does not seem an adequate descriptor. Superabundance maybe? Today’s students are so acclimated to near-constant screen time, that I do not see overwhelmed students. I see students struggling to detox for seven-hour school days.

I also worry about the mature language and adult content that my students listen to and watch. Twenty-five years ago, I never heard any students curse in school. Today, I have watched six-year-old students yell and curse at the principal. I have had fifth-graders yell obscenities and racial slurs in my face and throw furniture in my classroom. Specialists call it “dysregulated”; students call it “crashing out.” During my student teaching, I once sat with a Kindergartener who was missing recess for misbehaving in the hallway. Last year, I had students get in regular physical fights at recess without consistent consequences. It is difficult to describe the changes in student behavior these twenty-five years without sounding hyperbolic. It feels like students are more dysregulated, impulsive, and recalcitrant. As a new teacher, my biggest worry was whether I was teaching poetry well enough for my students. As a veteran teacher, my biggest worry is first, whether I might be physically or verbally abused by my students before wondering what home environment my students have that excuses or normalizes such behavior. Students appear less innocent than before, behaving in ways much older than their physical age, and yet immature. Academic growth should be my priority, but dysregulated, disengaged students do not learn.

Because of this, they are fearful of this mysterious world, but are fearless in conquering and understanding it one piece at a time. They are exploring their environments through bodily movement that is still being tested. They are an essential asset that demand attention and thus refuse to be ignored.

It looks like I was trying to impress my instructors with such grandiloquent language. I think what I was trying to say is that students are internally motivated to learn. They explore, test, and learn. They make mistakes and look to the adults in their lives for guidance. Parents, teachers, and counselors all serve an important role. That part of the job has not changed. Students demand attention, even if they are introverted or withdrawn. Everything a student says or does communicates what they need. Some students need extra direct instruction and some need permission to fail. Every student needs a caring adult that sees them for their awesome potential, not for their faults.

These children are ruthless, honest, emotional, and unconditional, and it is these children who I plan on dedicating my life educating.

I knew I wanted to be a teacher since I was a freshman in high school. Again, I sound a bit bombastic with all those adjectives, but my sentiment still holds true. I knew teaching was a lifelong career. It takes dedication, patience, and determination. I do not think I realized how much of myself, however, was required to be a public school teacher. I did not understand that teaching to my students’ humanity requires vulnerability, empathy, and compassion. Nor did I understand how the public education system dehumanizes teachers and students in the name of performative metrics. It has taken me a quarter-century to strip away the unnecessary scutwork, resist the standardization of my pedagogy, and commit to centering humanity. I do not believe that children are ruthless, but they are honest and require us to teach without transaction. My care for students is not conditional on their performance or behavior. Teaching to my students’ humanity requires abundant love and kindness.

In its basic form, learning is a primal need for discovery. Today, an education is necessary in order to survive in our world.

Have I always been this dramatic? “Learning is a primal need for discovery” and “an education is necessary to survive in our world” sound like I am imitating David Attenborough’s documentary narration. Yes, my students are humans and I am invested in their learning as people. Learning theories do explain how the building blocks of human learning are set in children and develop throughout our lives. Fundamental learning processes should influence how teachers teach and students learn. As professor Dr. Josh Eyler states in his book, How Humans Learn: The Science and Stories Behind Effective College Teaching, “effective teaching has been around for millennia.” When we reduce it to a handful of strategies we dilute the art and science of teaching. So, yes, I still believe that “education is a need for discovery” and necessary for our world. Does our survival depend on it? My illiterate, immigrant grandmother lived rich life, despite her limitations. She earned a modest living cleaning the local bank in the evenings while caring for her family. An education may have allowed her to thrive more than she did, but I guess that depends on your definition of success. My grandmother’s values were in her faith and family. She lived through war, poverty, and depression and still raised her family with meager means.

Today, the return on higher education’s investment appears to deliver lower-than-expected returns. Students (my own teenagers included) consider alternatives to college because the costs remain high and there is no guarantee for a successful career afterwards. So, while I believe that formal education may be unprofitable, I still believe in the value of lifelong learning outside of formal educational institutions.

Therefore, if I do not use my status as an educator, then I will be wasting valuable opportunities to impact my life and the lives of children. I feel Kindergarten (or any grade) should be exciting and inviting. As a teacher, I have the rare opportunity to teach a child before he/she is callused and/or labeled by our society.

I am a proud public school teacher. Public education is fraught with systemic inequities, prejudices, and dysfunctions. And yet, I remain a teacher because I do not want to “waste valuable opportunities to impact my life and the lives of children.” School should be exciting and inviting. In fact, I believe that creating a safe, inclusive, and inviting learning environment is more important now than ever. Students need to have a space where they can be themselves while growing into their future selves. While effective learning does not gamification, there is no reason to accept drudgery. Learning to read is hard. Learning to think is hard. Learning may be challenging, but it does not have to be banal. As a teacher, I take my responsibility to teach seriously. Labeling students in a way that inhibits their growth, does not help them thrive. Students need to understand how their learning brain works, especially if they have a learning disability such as dyslexia. Too often, I have seen teachers belittle students in ways that ruin their schooling experience. And when this happens often, students grow callused about the entire system. They begin to believe that learning is not for them and teachers cannot be trusted. They learn that school must be suffered through.

Later in my teaching portfolio, I wrote, “Kindergarten is for most students, their first educational experience. It sets the tone for all subject areas and aspects of school. Children learn in Kindergarten many of the learning routines, subject likes and dislikes, and school expectations that are used to form opinions of school and education. It is my duty to use this grade level to excite and motivate students into the lifelong pursuit of learning.” Primary teachers (K-3) have a foundational role in socializing students to feel safe and seen in school; helping them find joy in learning. They are, in fact, students’ primary introduction to the lifelong pursuit of learning. Instead of letting the pressures of compliance and standardized testing seep into the younger grades, we should allow play, creativity, and caregiving to flood every grade.

My classroom will be a place to actively gain an education. Students will lead learning so it is meaningful and memorable. My job will be as facilitator so we can accomplish these classroom goals together.

• Students will gain an appreciation for all subject areas (writing, reading, math, science, social studies, art, music, and physical education.

• Students will develop a sense of ownership to their education through student-led lessons and discussions.

• Students will develop the basic skills required in Kindergarten.

• Students will use my classroom as a place to practice and better these skills.

• Students will learn about their world through a curriculum based on their surrounding environment.

• Students will begin learning how to be civil members of society and why respect is important.

Reading my goals from twenty-five years ago, I am struck with how I try to squeeze humanity into formal language. Teachers are all-too familiar with learning objectives. Phrases such as Students will be able to... (abbreviated as SWBAT) must be displayed for students (and observing administration). These concise and measurable statements, similar to OKRs (Objectives and Key Results) in the business sector, are meant to outline exactly what teachers are expected to teach and what students will know or do by the end of a lesson or unit. When outlining objectives for my teaching portfolio, I used the familiar format to set qualitative, difficult to measure, goals. How will I know if students gain an appreciation for reading, writing, and math or “develop a sense of ownership to their education”? Throughout my career as a classroom teacher, I have employed a variety of qualitative tools such as surveys, informal observations, and interviews. In fact, I realize now that most of my pedagogy involve qualitative data. The data that matters the most to me is also the most difficult to measure.

I want my students to be “civil members of society and why respect is important.” As such, every learning experience I design and facilitate, helps them “develop a sense of ownership to their education.” Twenty-five years ago, these goals were aspirational. Today, I am intentional in how I teach and run my classroom. I am not an expert in dialogic teaching, but I do use student-led discussions every day. Involving my students in their learning processes is a central tenet of my pedagogical practices.

I may not be able to influence all the learning student encounter as they progress through school; however, their first educational experience will be positive so they approach all learning eagerly and willingly.

This may be the most challenging part of teaching this last quarter-century. I can only control what happens in my classroom. As much as I would like to, I cannot influence what occurs in other classrooms and with other teachers. When I meet my students each August, I have a myriad of students’ previous experiences to understand and manage. Some students come to my classroom eager to learn because they have had many positive experiences in school. Many enter my room uncertain of what to expect. Maybe they have had a few rough years, but they might have also had some positive ones. What is this teacher going to be like? Can I trust him? Will he like me? A handful of students have been so traumatized from previous experiences, they step into my classroom in full emotional armor. They are not eager nor willing. They expect me to be a mean teacher and school to be a horrible experience. With these students, it takes me months to help them heal and rebuild their relationship to school and learning. I never succeed with some students; they leave me with the same feelings toward school as they came with. However, I believe that, even if I have not made any visible, positive impact, spending a school year with me has helped them.

25 Years Later

I am not the same teacher I was twenty-five years ago. I am less naïve, more experienced, and more rooted in my pedagogical values. I have seen initiatives and jargon roll in like a tropical storm, wreaking havoc and drenching everyone, and then dissipate the following year. I have collected dozens of curriculum binders, laying them to rest in Gaylord boxes, each one to be taken away, recycled, and only ever recollected in passing. Remember when we used to teach [CONTENT] using [BLANK]?

I imagine I am a better teacher than I was a quarter-century ago. I can plan a lesson, estimate the duration of various activities, and quickly gauge which students understand and which ones need intervention. I can pivot when needed and know how to draw out reticent students. I have gained pedagogical expertise to tie curriculum to the real world and blend different modalities depending on the task.

Deep down I still believe everything I wrote at twenty-two years old. Throughout my career, I have refined my practice and strengthened my values, but it has cost me. Along the way, I accumulated trace amounts of cynicism, which over time, have eroded some of my optimism. High-stakes testing, mandated curricula, and standardized pedagogy continue to threaten my values. Twenty-five years ago, I was a rookie teacher who believed I could single-handedly change public education. If I was creative enough, I could inspire any student to learn at high levels. If my classroom was innovative enough, I could motivate my lowest-performing students to overcome their academic obstacles. High-speed internet and my ebullience would be enough.

Today, I am no less enthusiastic about being a teacher. Once the first day of school arrives, I move at one speed during the day. However, what has changed is my control.

As a young teacher, I was a Golden Retriever puppy: eager to please and running to fetch before the ball was thrown. Any new fad caught my eye. I wanted to integrate all the new things into my classroom because more was always better. As a veteran teacher, I am unbothered by the whirlwind of new and shiny “solutions” for public education. New and “urgent” initiatives no longer fluster me. If I had FOMO before, today I enjoy missing out because with my experience (both as a teacher and parent), I have gained resolve. I know what is best for my students and I hold fast to my values.

And while I have gained hubris, I strive to balance it with intellectual humility. I might be confident in my practices as a teacher, but I know I do not have all the answers. Blanket statements and blind arrogance do not serve my purpose as a teacher and my students’ goals. If I were to rewrite my goals today, I would emulate my younger self’s optimism while focusing on the bigger picture.

• Students will learn how to appreciate themselves.

• Students will understand their inherent value and how important it is to bettering their community and the world.

• Students will leave places better then they found them.

• Students will lead from wherever they are.

• Students will live a life that matters.

• Students will love something greater than themselves.

• Students will understand how the needs of a community supersede the wants of an individual.

• Students will see themselves as active learners in all academic areas.

• Students will understand how they learn best and how to advocate for their needs.

• Students will strengthen their humanity by cultivating empathy, fostering social connection, and embracing our collective character.

I am a teacher. I educate for life beyond grade levels. Learning matters, but never at the expense of a teacher or student’s humanity. A quarter-century ago, I dedicated my life to educating youth; I continue because it is too important to leave to machines and algorithms. Humans teaching humans matters more than machine learning.

The last picture in my portfolio binder is me sitting one-on-one with that Kindergartener staying inside from recess. He was supposed to be sitting quietly for misbehaving. Instead, I chose to conference with him about his Chant to the Fire-fly poem. We discussed word choice and how different words create different moods. My teaching philosophy is not the jargon I use nor learning objectives I am required to post. It is not my instructional design, unit plans, or the standards I am required to teach. This human-to-human moment is my teaching philosophy. Strip everything else away, teaching is togetherness and learning is feeling nurtured by those who care. And I still care, twenty-five years later.

Have a great week!

— Adrian

Resources

• This video by Dr. Clare Killingback reflects much of what I discussed above. Whether you are new to teaching or want to dust off your philosophy, Killingback offers some great reflection questions that will help you align your teaching philosophy with your values.

• I have been a fan of Simon Sinek for a number of years. His first book, Start with Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action came from his TED Talk. He coined the phrase, find your WHY, which has since become trite jargon in education. Since then, Sinek has expanded his ideology to include having a just cause. I wrote about my just cause two years ago, and found the exercise helpful in reflecting on my teaching philosophy. In this video, Sinek defines just cause and gives examples. If you want to hear him discuss WHY and just cause side-by-side, he does a nice job comparing the two in this video.

• Robert Reuter, Assistant Professor in Educational Technology at the University of Luxembourg, discusses how what he used to think about being a good teacher has changed and how he developed a new teaching philosophy.

What Is a Teaching Philosophy? Examples and Prompts

• This blog post from The University of San Diego Professional and Continuing Education is a great one-stop for creating or reflecting on one’s teaching philosophy. Written by Adam Nance, a CO history teacher, he outlines different teaching philosophies (including key theorists and core beliefs) and examples.

How to Craft Your Teaching Philosophy | NEA

• This one-pager download is from the National Education Association. Have it printed and taped in my plan book. Their suggestions and questions are less about helping me craft the perfect statement, but reminding me to reflect on the type of teacher I want to be for my students.

How Writing and Revisiting Your Teaching Philosophy Can Fuel Your Practice | Edutopia

• Veteran teacher Casey Daugherty revisits her earlier teaching philosophy to answer how can we hold on to the belief that what we do makes a difference? This is an excellent exercise to complete, no matter how many years you have taught.