Back to Basics

A year ago today I began writing this blog, with the goal of sharing some of the things I’ve learned about teaching adult literacy and numeracy. On this anniversary, I’m re-playing my first post–still relevant, I think.

Slowly, over the years, because I was willing to learn, my students gave me a fresh take on the three R’s. I learned that to teach well, I needed to think about respect, resistance and reality.

Number 1Respect

Respect for them, and for every decision they took, every choice they made. Respect for myself.

Number 2Resistance

They come back to school, that place of previous failures and humiliation, because they want what they think I offer—the key to a better life. I offer them different ways of learning: group work; choice; meaningful work; I invite them to join the teaching team and make decisions about how and what they will learn. But they resist my best efforts to do things differently, because it is not what they expect, and it scares them. They refuse to risk going back again into that position of failure and humiliation. I need to acknowledge their resistance publicly, to honour it, and to work with it. I need to recognize my own resistance, too, because it gets in the way.

Number 3Reality

My work is most successful when I listen to what is really going on. Speak the unspoken thoughts and feelings. Do reading and writing that is real, in the real world. Find an audience for the voice; find information in response to questions; say yes to every chance to move the literacy work into the community, and bring the community into the class.

Power Share

all in it togetherHere’s another story about sharing power with adult literacy students, to go with the one I posted last week called “Who’s in Charge Here?”

A Big Pot of Money

At the Reading and Writing Centre we had a pot of money entirely controlled by the Monday morning meeting. All enrolled students and the two teachers made the decisions at that weekly meeting, and everyone present, including the teachers, had one vote. A student chaired the meeting.

The pot was established when the centre opened and an administrator deposited $200 into it, her annual budget for “hospitality.” Over the years, funds came in from a variety of sources, including grants for field trips, sales from books we published, money the students made through various jobs they took on, such as reviewing materials for Grass Roots Press, selling books we published, speaking at conferences, and producing made-to-order cards, posters and flyers, as well as donations from various well-wishers and a few bake sales and yard sales.

The Monday meeting decided to spend the money for things like field trips, coffee supplies and food. (Usually some student or pair of students made lunch for everybody once a week.)

If you have coffee, you have clean-up.

As everyone who has ever worked in a group will understand, washing the dishes and cleaning up was an ongoing problem; a few students did most of the work. Although many different systems were devised to make sure that everyone took some share of the work, all the systems failed.

The repeated failure of the clean-up systems was a problem for me. I didn’t do clean-up, but I listened to the complaints of those who did too much, and I had to attempt to figure out a way to make things fairer, and to deal with the emotions that arose in the situation.

My own experience in many different staff rooms made me pessimistic that a solution would ever be found. In every place I had ever worked where there was a communal coffee pot, some people had done most of the work while others did none.

So I solicited a donation of $500 from a supporter of the Centre, which made the fund quite flush, and I went to the next Monday meeting with a suggestion that we use the donation to pay a couple of students to do the kitchen clean-up every day to the end of term.

They voted down my proposal.

Mostly students argued that they would rather spend the money on field trips and other things everyone could enjoy; some said that we should clean up after ourselves as a matter of principle. The clincher came when Ghurdeep argued that if we paid people until the money was gone, we would find ourselves once again dealing with the same problem of some people not doing their share, so we might as well solve that problem now and save the money.

The “no” vote was nearly unanimous.

I was shocked, even though I had given lessons in “How to say no to your teacher.” What did I expect?

Student Ownership and Student Leadership

Teachers at the Centre had wanted to give students as much ownership of the place as we could. We had set up the fund that the students controlled (and contributed to) as a symbol of that ownership. We had said that the Monday Meeting was responsible for decisions about how that money was spent.

Many teachers and programs pay lip service to giving students control over their learning, or to sharing power with students. We had gone considerably further than most programs towards making that a reality. We really believed in the principle of student control, of student leadership. And we knew by the feedback we got from students, and from our increased enrollment and better student retention, that we were on the right track.

Temptation

But I couldn’t resist the temptation to manipulate the procedure to solve my problem. I didn’t want to deal with the on-going dilemma of some students doing less than their share of clean-up, so I went looking for a solution on my own.

I don’t think I even realized how underhanded it was to solicit a donation exactly when I needed money in the pot for my scheme.

Furthermore, I wasn’t honest with the Monday meeting. I presented my proposal as a solution to their problem of the work falling unfairly on a few students. I did not talk about my problem, which was listening to griping about the students who didn’t do their share, having repreated conversations about resentment and burn-out with students who did too much, and trying to maintain a harmonious group in spite of those cross currents of emotion. I didn’t say that, as a feminist, I hated the fact that most of the people doing more than their share were women.

I wonder what would have happened if I had been honest about those things in the meeting.

Why am I telling this story?

Because it makes me reflect on the insidiousness of power–how hard it is to give up when it is conferred on you in a particular situation. The relationship of teacher and student is by definition one where the power rests with the teacher, but the dynamic plays itself out in peculiar ways in adult literacy or adult basic education classroom.

Adult students come to literacy class with memories of teachers who didn’t reach them, humiliating scenarios of failure and disappointment, shame and ridicule. They come either with an exaggerated estimation of and respect for the teacher’s power, or, on the other extreme, such a fierce determination not to be in the one-down position again that they seem to be always spoiling for a fight.

I know that if I am in a power struggle with a student, I will always win, because I have the weight of the institution behind me. But I don’t want any student to lose in a power struggle with me. If he loses, I cannot teach him.

My whole purpose in being there is to teach, so I avoid power struggles. I try to share power. But it sneaks up on me and whaps me on the head.

That’s why I was shocked when the Monday meeting turned down my grand scheme of paying students to do clean-up. After I got over my surprise, I admit a small part of me was glad they had said ”No!” to me so clearly. But mostly I was shocked.

And at every Monday meeting after that, while I listened to someone going on again about how all students should do their share of clean-up, I was reminded that I had come up with a brilliant solution to the problem, and I did not have the power to bring it into being.

Who’s in Charge Here?

Arriving Saltspring Island photo credit: irfy via photopin cc

Arriving Saltspring Island

I was just one of the crowd of people on the trip—old and young, fat and thin, First Nations and white people, male and female. We were off by bus and ferry to Saltspring Island for the day. My job was to blend in, to let myself be represented by students. They were in charge, and I was along for the ride. I didn’t know it would be so hard.   Continue reading

Frustrated

Plutchik-wheelWhen a feeling is not a feeling…

I don’t trust words that end in “-ed” when they are used to describe emotions.

Take “loved” for example, as in “I feel loved.” Well, no, “loved” is not a feeling. That sentence really means that you have noticed that someone loves you. What you feel is another thing. You may feel happy, joyful, ecstatic; you may feel love in return for the person who loves you.

On the other hand, if the person who loves you is a spouse that you want to divorce, you may feel guilty, sad, impatient, angry…. If the person who says “I love you,” is stalking you, you may be afraid, angry, anxious, curious…. Continue reading

Neither Kind Nor Patient

patient dog Morgue file

Patience (photo: Anita Peppers)

The last time I had my teaching evaluated by my administration, I was disappointed. Although I was happy to get a grade of “excellent” (highest on a five point scale), the comments from administration made me gag: “Kate is a kind and a patient teacher,” and Continue reading

A Healthy Disrespect

book from Morgue file000257720369Adult literacy and GED students have enormous respect for text–too much respect, I think.

They may fear text, or be confused by it. They may loathe the printed word, and/or ignore it. They may have a hundred different coping skills to get around the fact that they do not read well, but they respect text. Continue reading

Reading from Life

“What reading materials are appropriate for adult literacy students?”

reader MKat posted this question on my blog the other day, and went on to say, “I’m teaching my first teenage reading student now, and forcing ‘See Spot Run’ down his throat is not sitting well with me.”

My first, general answer would be “anything that the student is interested and you can stomach.” I would draw the line at porn and hate, but other teachers will have other boundaries.

Notice I said “anything you can stomach,” meaning that there is lots of reading material suitable for adult students that is not uplifting or useful, that has language and subject matter not usually considered appropriate for school use. If you can stomach it, and the student likes it, you are ready to proceed. Continue reading