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I think it’s time to bring God back into the classroom.

I had this revelation as my class and I were concluding an intense week looking at some of the research and literature around the idea of happiness – part of our semester-long inquiry, “What does it take to live a happy life?”  On one of the final days, we looked at the differences between meaning and happiness and whether it’s more important to have a meaningful life than a happy life; the research seems to say that the two ideas are definitely not synonymous.  It was during this discussion that I had the realization that we needed to talk about God.  Not a God.  Not the God.  Just God.  Whether you believe in some supreme power or not, there are billions of people in the world who find meaning in life through faith in a deity.

To introduce the topic of God, I showed the following videos to my class – both are worth a watch.

What I love about the clip from “The Great Kahuna” with Kevin Spacey and Danny DeVito is its admission that to be human means to have questions about God.  To wonder about God.  It’s a profound clip.  To complement this video, I found one that examines the question, “Is God Useful?” in a much more philosophically rigorous way.  Both of these videos effectively opened up the door for my class to talk about their thoughts, fears, and ideas about God.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that all of my students (who come from a wide variety of ethnic and socio-economic backgrounds) have thoughts about God, spirituality, and religion.  Some of my students are going through a profound period of time where they are critically analyzing what they believe, and their identities are hanging in the balance.  The discussion was rich, and the journals that were written afterwards were profound.

Nothing was decided at the end of the class; no conclusion was reached except for the fact that talking about God is important, and that our belief, or lack of belief in God has significant implications in our search for meaning and happiness.

I think that talking about God in school is important.  Not what to think, but how to think about God.  There seem to be very few opportunities for people, whether you’re a high school student or about to retire, to talk openly and honestly about God.  It seems to be a topic that makes people uncomfortable, perhaps because of their own unanswered questions.  But it’s those very questions and the unknowns that can make this conversation so rich.  It’s in the search for answers that we find meaning and purpose.  And if schools are to develop students into the critically-reflective individuals and citizens we want to see in the world, we need to provide the tools and space to address the deep things they’re thinking about.

What better place to do this than in school?

 

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The following is the result of an assignment I had to do for my master’s class.  We had to look at the painting below and connect it to the process of inquiry.  This is what I came up with…

looped painting

Looped Painting Exercise

When I look at this painting and think about how it connects to my journey as a teacher inquirer, several thoughts come to mind.  The black loops that dominate the painting are an obvious connection to the spirals of inquiry that I am currently engaged in.  The loops are not static however, they tell a story of inquiry – a narrative that is both unequivocally personal and wholly relatable by those engaged in the inquiry process.  I find it interesting that the black line has an obvious beginning but no end.  The line disappears off the edge of the painting.  My personal journey in teacher inquiry definitely had a beginning, but now that I’ve started in it, I don’t know how I could ever go back to a time where I am not inquiring in some way.I like how the line leaves the painting in an upward trajectory, indicative that another inquiry might be on its way if the painting were elongated.

Beside each thick black loop are thin black loops that detach themselves from the bigger loops.  These are like the tangents one might follow in the process of data analysis; sometimes they connect back with the bigger inquiry question like in the first loop, but at other times they don’t connect to anything and simply end – perhaps to be rediscovered in another inquiry down the road.  I like how the line is blurred and almost disappears during the second loop, when the question the inquirer is pursuing might seem irrelevant, the data confusing, and for a time, the researcher may enter into a dark night experience where the  narrative is lost for a time, only to be found again later, stronger than ever.  There are also moments of illuminated clarity, sprinkled throughout the paining as yellowish-green dabs, and moments of sustained clarity and insight as seen in the third spiral.

The bleeding of the black line is important too, as our findings, insights, and revelations bleed into other spheres of our life both personally and professionally.  I like how this painting can be examined through both a macro and micro lens; currently, I’m engaged in an inquiry that looks at the connection points between portfolio assessment and student autonomy, but if I zoom out, my story of inquiry started many years ago when I first realized that I was unhappy with the way I was teaching.  It was from that initial unhappiness that gradually lead me to discover the power inquiry could have on revitalizing and changing my practice.  Perhaps, if you were to zoom out even further, life could be seen as a series of spirals of tension and enlightenment – another expression of the natural ebb and flow that is the story of our lives.

The background of this painting is a little more elusive to me.  There appears to be a figure inside the first circle, indicative perhaps of the people who help shape our thoughts and ideas in the process of inquiry, both before we ever started down this road and during the process.  The chosen colours aren’t bright but rather muted.  Perhaps this reveals that the process of inquiry isn’t glamorous but, using the words of Nietzsche “a long obedience in the same direction.”

Yuck!

This is the first of many article reviews that I’m going to be posting on my blog.  As mentioned in an earlier blog post, I have to write reflections on the different articles I read as part of a masters program.  Instead of keeping these reflections to myself, I have decided to share one article reflection per week.  This week’s reflection is from a chapter on qualitative research.

When I realized that the first reading was one dealing with research, I thought to myself, “Oh great.  The first one has to be the most boring.”  I’m guessing that if you’re anything like me, the word ‘research’ falls into the ‘four letter word’ category.  When I think about doing research, I think about sitting in a room in the library, florescent bulb buzzing just loud enough to be annoying, with an arsenal of boring books that my eyes seem to want to protect my brain from because they keep on closing every time I try to read them.

When I read this chapter from a book about qualitative research (sounds like the ultimate torture right?  Doing research on research…yikes) – surprisingly, my views on research started to change.  The introduction from The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research by Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln was a surprisingly engaging and inspirational read.

The authors describe qualitative research as:

A situated activity that locates the observer in the world.  It consists of a set of interpretive, material practices that make the world visible.  These practices transform the world…Qualitative research involves the studied use and collection of a variety of empirical materials – case study; personal experience; introspection; life story; interview; artifacts; cultural texts and productions; observational, historical, interactional, and visual texts – that describe routine and problematic moments and meanings in individuals’ lives” (p.36,37).

This makes sense to me, and more, this is what I want to do.  I want to transform the world.  If doing research is one of the ways I can do this, then maybe this is something I need to consider more seriously.

In this chapter there are two metaphors describing researching that really stood out to me: researching as filmmaking and researching as montage.  Both of these images have important things to say about researching.  The process of creating films or a montage requires many different shots, perspectives, and sounds that are edited and then put together in a way that makes sense.  In the same way, qualitative research takes many different forms of information gathering and then, through the process of analysis and interpretation, pieces them together to create a deeper understanding about the topic, question, or inquiry that was the focus of the research.  Although the idea of research seems cold and dispassionate, the aesthetic of putting together a film or montage is something that appeals to me.

The process of using many different forms of data collection to inform your research is called triangulation which “reflects an attempt to secure an in-depth understanding of the phenomenon in question” (p.5).  It is the “simultaneous display of multiple, refracted realities” (p.6).  Although qualitative research is at it’s heart a subjective process (which is why it is often scoffed at by those engaged in quantitative research),  triangulation allows for a greater degree of accuracy and objectivity.  However, this being said, “qualitative researchers stress the socially constructed nature of reality, the intimate relationship between the researcher and what is studied, and the situational constraints that shape inquiry” (p.10).  I appreciate that the authors don’t try to make amends for the subjective nature of qualitative research but see it as offering a deeper, perhaps more honest reflection of reality.

Although this chapter has much more to say about qualitative research, the above mentioned ideas had the greatest impact on me.  I personally connect with the idea of research as art; realizing that research is subjective and open to different interpretations breathes life into the process for me.  It makes the whole process more authentic.  That’s not to say that I won’t strive for objectivity, but it recognizes that my subjective being and perspective is part in parcel in the act of researching.  After reading this chapter I felt much more excited about gathering data and starting my inquiry research.  I also look forward to sharing this information with you!

 

Denzin, N.K., and Y.S. Lincoln.  ‘Introduction’.
The Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research.
US: Sage, 2005 ISBN: 9780761927570, pp. 1 to 32, 32 of 1232 pages.
Copyright: Sage, 2005

One of my MA assignments for next week was to talk about my image of students.  For the past week I’ve been grappling with what my image of students looks like.  It’s interesting that in all my years studying and working in the field of education, I haven’t ever had to articulate my view or images of students.  I also recognize that whatever image or images I hold says just as much about me as it does my students.  After some consideration, there are two images, one metaphorical and the other more concrete, that encapsulate my perception of the student.

The first image is of a locked treasure chest.  I see my students as having amazing potential, but often this treasure is tightly locked away, and it’s my job to unlock the creativity, knowledge, skills, and thinking inside.   The majority of students who come into my class seem unaware of the great potential that’s inside them, and if they are aware, they may not know how to access or free their abilities.  Once they have access to what’s inside of them, it becomes my job to teach them how to use it without ‘spending’ it on meaningless or destructive things and going broke.  Unlocking this treasure involves asking lots of questions, challenging their self-perception, worldview, and assumptions about life, and unlearning certain pre-conceptions about school.   I should also clarify that I don’t see my students as objects that need to be fixed or ‘opened’ because I understand that the process of ‘unlocking’ a student requires relationship – it can’t only be done using the curriculum.  This means that I have to look at each student as a unique individual, which, by default, means that the curriculum must be appropriated accordingly.

The second image is a picture I took during a hike with the Adventure Cohort this last fall – in many ways it captures the way I see my students.  Each student in the picture is very unique, each has different strengths and abilities, each has dynamic personalities and gifts.  I love this picture because each of the students is becoming unlocked – they are beginning to be engaged in school, learning, and life.  They are having fun!  Despite the fact that they wouldn’t normally hang out socially, they have come together and are enjoying a moment together – in fact, it is in the act of coming together that many of their strengths are brought to the surface.

Dog Mountain

It’s been two months now since I’ve posted anything.

It isn’t because I don’t have enough material to write about; I feel like I could quit teaching and spend all my time writing…only that would be counterproductive because everything that I have to write about comes from my teaching.  No, I haven’t posted anything for these last two months because I don’t feel like I have the time.  Actually, that’s not true – I have time but I’m choosing to spend it doing other things.  Like spend time with my wife and eight month old son.  Like going for a bike ride to get some exercise and clear my mind.  Like helping out around the house a little bit.  Like marking and lesson planning.  Like meeting with a friend for a coffee.  In an effort to bring some balance to a life that always seems to straddle that fine line between balance and unbalance, blogging my reflections on teaching and learning is pretty low on the totem pole of priorities.

But here’s the dilemma.  I want to blog.  I’ve benefited not only from taking the time to write out my thoughts and reflections, but from your thoughts, questions, comments, and observations.  I’ve had the opportunity to personally meet with some of you who I’ve connected with through blogging.  It has enriched my teaching and by some amazing alignment of the stars and planets, there are some of you in the blogosphere who have benefited from what I’ve had to say.

So here is my solution.  I’m about three classes into the final year of my masters degree (a masters in educational practice at SFU), and part of the course is weekly assigned readings that I have to respond to.  Instead of keeping all of these responses private, I’ve decided that I’m going to blog my reflections on at least one of my readings each week.  In fact, I would like to blog most of my written assignments if possible and would love if you could benefit from all the work I’ll be doing.  I would also love to hear your comments and thoughts as I go along.

Feel free to join with me on my learning journey!

A couple weeks ago I had what I think might be my biggest insight this school year.  For the last two years I’ve experimented with different forms of inquiry learning with my students with varying degrees of success.  For most of my students it has increased their level of engagement and some amazing learning has happened.  But during this last semester I began to see something that started to put up red flags for me, and for months I was unable to articulate why these flags were going up (partly too because I didn’t take the time to properly reflect on what was happening in my classroom).  My students were learning but it seemed too…haphazard.  It wasn’t focused learning.  For some it was distracted learning.  For others it was trying to prove their own biases.  There was a very small contingent of my students who truly possessed the skills necessary to learn effectively through inquiry learning.

Then one day it hit me.  I was doing some research online when I came across a chart outlining the habits of mind that are necessary to effectively learn.  It was then a 1000 watt light bulb was flipped on in my mind (seriously – light was shooting from my ears and my eyes started watering!) –

effective inquiry learning can only take place if students have the habits of mind to learn in this way.

By the time this insight illuminated my mind from the aforementioned 1000 watt light bulb it was too late to change what was happening in my classroom – the semester was almost over and my students were nearing the end of their inquiry projects.  It became abundantly clear to me though that things will have to change for next year.

One thing that I did really well this year was teach my students about how they can know if they’ve learned something.  I spent almost a full day teaching the six facets of understanding as outlined in Grant Wiggins and Jay McTighe’s “Understanding by Design.”  We used their language of understanding over and over to reinforce how they can know if they’ve learned something.  The next step for me will be to teach the necessary dispositions to effectively reach these understandings.  I’ve come to realize that one of my overarching goals as a teacher is to create students who are self-regulated learners.  They will be able to take the skills, dispositions, and ideas learned in my class and be more effective students in all the other classrooms they visit throughout their high school career and beyond.

To be honest, I sometimes wish I didn’t have to teach these things.  I wish students came into my classroom – whether in grades 10, 11, or 12 – and already have the understandings about learning to jump right into the course without me having to bring them up to speed on how they know how to learn.  It takes a LOT of time to teach these things and then even more time to reinforce them while at the same time weeding out the jumping-thought-hoops learning that most of my students are so accustomed and comfortable with.  If these ideas were taught, reinforced, and validated in every class from grade one on with ever growing sophistication, imagine the learners we would graduate!

I feel like there is an ever growing movement towards inquiry based learning.  In fact, in almost every pedagogical workshop/presentation I’ve been too this year there has been some mention of inquiry learning.  This is a good thing and it reveals a fundamental shift in how educator think about teaching, learning, and school.  However, after my light bulb moment, my concern is that teachers are going to throw their students into inquiry based learning without laying a foundation that will enable their students to effectively use this model of learning.  Perhaps the cart is being put in from of the horse – which almost never ends well for the horse!

I look forward to my next season of learning about self-regulated learning and habits of mind to make this possible.  If you have any book, blog, article, or video suggestions that will help guide my thinking – please feel free to send them my way!

I’m in the very middle, right in the back!

Returning from Ottawa after receiving the Prime Minister’s Award for Teaching Excellence has been an interesting experience.  I couldn’t tell the staff at my school why I was going to Ottawa before I left, so when I came back to school on Monday everyone looked at me just a little differently.  It was great to be back, but getting praised by some colleagues and the silent treatment from others made me feel a little awkward.  It was also strange seeing my picture in various newspapers and on the district website – this is not something I’m used to at all!  Various colleagues and people I had never spoken to before would congratulate me after seeing my picture in the newspaper.   Finally, opportunities to share my story or teaching practices started popping up like gophers in a field – most of which wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t received this award.  I’m flattered, of course, and I jump at the opportunity to share my story, but I’m still coming to terms with all the attention.

Most people are genuinely excited about my accomplishment.  But every now and then I get the slightly raised eyebrow which generally means that the said eyebrow-raiser is surprised that someone with such a youthful complexion has received such a prestigious award.  Even if the question of age isn’t verbalized – it’s pretty easy to tell when it’s there.

As a teacher who hasn’t even reached the big ‘three-o’ and is only seven years into my career, I still feel very young – heck, let’s face it, I am young!  I was reminded of this time after time in Ottawa and then again when I got back home.  Perhaps it’s because of this that I have spent a fair amount of time reflecting on my PMA experience.  Here are some of my thoughts:

  1. Receiving this award has really confirmed what I’m doing in the classroom.  If you’ve been following me for any amount of time, you’ll know that for six years – and the last two in particular – I’ve been steadily working on and changing the paradigm from which I teach.  It’s been a very time consuming, arduous, and sometimes frustrating process (lots of joy and fun in there as well though).  There have been many times over the last number of years when I’ve had to question, “Is what I’m doing and the time I’m putting into this really going to make any difference?”  When I’m overtired and overwhelmed and a student asks me “What’s a theme?” for the hundredth time, it’s hard not to think futile thoughts as I question my effectiveness as a teacher!  Getting invited to Ottawa was confirmation that, yes, I’m heading in a good direction.
  2. The changes I’ve made in my classroom certainly weren’t done so I could be recognized; teaching isn’t exactly a profession that comes with many public accolades.  This being said, most teachers I know consider it a part of their job to to be the best teacher they know how to be.  So it can get a little awkward when suddenly I’m being recognized for all the work I’m doing in the presence of other teachers who work tirelessly every day and are doing amazing things in their classroom but haven’t been recognized.  It’s weird.  And sometimes a little awkward.
  3. Yet at the same time, I hope that lots of other young teachers start getting nominated for this award for the life-changing work they’re doing.  I hope that we will see more and more teachers who are still fairly new in their positions start challenging their own paradigms and then work to create new ones.  I hope that they won’t let their age or level of experience dictate what they can or should do.  If my story in any way challenges or encourages another teacher to pursue authenticity and relevancy in their teaching, I will feel more fulfilled in knowing that others have benefited in some way from my experience.
  4. Finally, if you know of a teacher who is doing amazing work and is changing lives (or has changed yours) – nominate them!  This has been a life changing experience that I will never forget.  It is an incredibly honouring and special opportunity that I wish other deserving teachers could experience.  I already have a teacher in mind who I hope to nominate for next year!  To find out how to nominate someone, go to the website and look at the nomination guidelines.  It takes some time to put everything together, but it is well worth the effort!

On October 2, I left for Ottawa to receive the Prime Minister’s Award for Teaching Excellence from Stephen Harper.

It was an amazing, three day experience.  I joined sixteen other teachers, fifteen early childhood educators, and was lucky enough to have my wife and four-week-old son accompany me.  On our first full day in Ottawa, the teachers were given a behind-the-scenes tour of the Canada Science and Technology Museum which definitely was a neat experience.  Afterwards, we cleared security at Parliament and took an in-depth tour of the library.  Following that, we were taken to a small room and prepped to receive our award from Stephen Harper.  My meeting with the Prime Minister was short but memorable!

When it was my time to receive my award, I walked into a small, ornate room where Stephen Harper was standing.  He reached out his hand to shake mine and asked what grade level and subjects I taught.  Then he turned around to pick up the award on a small table he was standing beside and we posed holding the award – *click *click went the camera and away I went with the Prime Minister’s Award for Teaching Excellence!

The whole experience lasted no more than thirty seconds.  Although my time with the Prime Minister was incredibly brief, it highlights a six year journey to revitalize my teaching.  Today I’m teaching from a completely different paradigm than I was six years ago or even two years ago.  My identity as a teacher has been transformed.  Receiving this award is an honour I’ll carry with me for the rest of my teaching career and life – a phenomenal summit experience after an arduous climb.

It was a big day!

Our second day proved to be just as eventful.  In the morning, we attended a reception hosted by the Speaker of the House of Commons and numerous MP’s were also present from the different ridings represented by the recipients.  It was really enjoyable talking with Mark Warawa, the MP from my riding.  After lunch we bussed over to Rideau Hall for a tour and photo op with the Governor General of Canada, David Johnston.  As soon as he entered the room, I liked him.  He walked in with the confidence of a man completely comfortable in his skin.  He came across as intelligent, funny, and very personable – qualities that were made clear as he addressed us and then opened up the floor for questions.  As soon as the discussion finished, we were whisked back onto the bus and driven to 24 Sussex where Mrs. Harper hosted a reception for us!  What a treat!  What made it doubly special was that she held Caleb (my son) for quite a while as she exchanged pleasantries with us!  This was definitely a memorable moment of the trip and one that I will always treasure.

The day of our departure came too quickly.  By this time, I knew many of the recipients much better and was getting to know their stories and the phenomenal work they were doing.  It was truly inspiring to be in the company of so many teachers who are changing the landscape of education across this great nation.  On the final day, all the recipients were broken into subject/topic groups and each recipient was given five minutes to speak on a panel.  It was amazing.  It was something I wish every educator in Canada could’ve been to – I was blown away and challenged hearing what others were doing in their classrooms.  Truly inspiring!

And then I was on a plane heading back to Vancouver.

To call this a whirlwind experience would be an understatement.  To say it was surreal would be trite.  I don’t know how many times I exclaimed to my wife at the end of a long day that I was still having a tough time actually believing all this was happening.  I was still buzzing when I stepped back into my classroom on a cool, rainy October morning the following week.

Any teacher who has taken students on any form of overnight adventure – especially if it involves the outdoors – knows that it is a huge headache.  There are a myriad different permission forms that need to be sent out: medical forms, parent and student consent forms, liability forms, my-child-will-be-good-and-will-obey-all-the-rules forms, acknowledgement of the ‘dangerous’ nature of the trip forms, and waiver forms for the waiver form.  And then you have to ensure that all the students bring in their forms.  Once you think all the forms are in and completed, you realize that half the students didn’t notice there was a backside to one of the forms and you have to send it back again.  It’s enough to make your hair go grey and fall out!

This was my life for the first three weeks of September.  Then, in the final week of September when all the forms were finally collected, I took my co-op students on a three day trip to Garibaldi Provincial Park.  We hiked up to a campsite at Taylor Meadows near Garibaldi Lake.  On our second day we started towards a mountain called Panorama Ridge.  Anyone who’s been to this area knows that it is one of the most spectacularly scenic areas in all of BC.  From the campsite, you walk through lush alpine meadows, where the autumn leaves on the low bushes are a fiery display of red, orange, and yellow.  While slowly gaining elevation, you get glimpses of the impossibly turquoise blue of Garibaldi Lake and a number of glaciated ranges in the distance.  Ascending the final ridge up to the peak is like listening to a forty-five minute rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus with a ever increasing crescendo to the very top.  And then you reach the summit.

Words cannot adequately express the majesty of the landscape before you.

Garibaldi Lake is spread out in its entirety before you – surrounded by massive crevasse-gashed glaciers and mountains that demand attention.  Garibaldi Mountain stands like a sleeping giant, wrapped in a heavy blanket of snow.  The Black Tusk, the leftover remnants of a prehistoric magma chamber stands dark and silent as it keeps a watchful eye over the surrounding landscape.  Even the large, surrounding  mountains seem to pay homage to this ancient sentinel.  The summit itself is rocky and barren – gradually eroding away – a whisper of its former glory yet still glorious.  The landscape is massive and wild – it demands respect and commands awe.

Despite the awesome beauty of nature that surrounded us, I think that my greatest joy came from watching and listening to my students.  Hearing them use the words beauty and beautiful over and over again or talking about how much the students who didn’t come were missing made all the paperwork and preparation stress seem trivial.

There is something very deep that happens in the wilderness – in some way, the mountains, the cool mountain air and amazing views have a way of speaking to the soul.  This may seem somewhat sensationalistic or perhaps overly sentimental, but I don’t know of any other way to describe it.

Evidence of this inner dialogue is clear.  Students open up in ways they never do in the classroom.  Conversations and conversation topics are different – somehow more real.  On top of this, I see things in my students that I would never see or get to see teaching English in a traditional classroom.

The beauty of the natural environment in itself is not enough to initiate this deep, spiritual, conversation within people.  If we had flown up to the summit in a helicopter and spent half an hour lounging at the top, it would have been a very different experience.  The power of the wilderness to transform comes from something very different – struggle and adversity.  Getting to our campsite at Taylor Meadows required a 7.7km uphill grunt with full packs – not an easy endeavor.  It was especially difficult because it was the first time most of my students had ever attempted something like this.  It took about fifteen minutes of hiking before most of them realized that it was going to be more difficult than they expected!  By the time we reached the six kilometer mark, shoulders were aching, backs were in agony, legs were on fire, and the lively conversation had gradually become subdued.  Thankfully, everyone made it the last 1.7 km!

The beauty of the wilderness is born out of struggle.  Trees have to fight other trees and plants for soil and moisture to grow; they have to endure harsh weather conditions and a short growing season in order to survive.  Mountains are created by fire and the movement of titanic underground forces, and are demolished by persistent weather and grinding ice.  Even the animals that live in this environment have adapted to survive – though life still isn’t guaranteed.   I wonder if it is only possible to really appreciate this beauty when it involves struggle.  For my students, the personal transformations I observed on this overnight hiking trip were made possible by the long, sweaty struggle up the mountain.  It was only then that the beauty of our surroundings could begin its work of transformation.

—     —     —

Finally, I hope that the skills and attitude necessary to enjoy the wilderness will transfer into the classroom.  Here are a few of the main points I hope will transfer:

  1. Having a good attitude is critical.
  2. You can accomplish much more as a team than by yourself.
  3. Know your destination – it will motivate you when you’re hiking through the trees.
  4. Wonder about everything!
  5. Encourage your peers along the way – they might not be having as easy a time as you.
  6. Push yourself – you’ll be glad you did.
  7. Learning, like hiking, requires stamina.

I’m about a month away from completing a two year graduate diploma program when I came to this interesting realization.  In almost two years, I haven’t actually shared a field study summary – my personal learning reflections after each term’s inquiry project – with a wider audience.  After doing some research into the idea of teacher reflection this past term, I realized that reflection without participation – without sharing – remains stagnant.

So I’m sharing my project and reflections with you!

It’s a pecha kucha – 20 slides, 20 seconds for each slide.  I welcome your questions, comments, etc.!  Enjoy!

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