In CO301D today, we’re thinking back to our touchstones–that is, those moments in our schooling that have stuck with us as writers/readers/thinkers/human beings. This video, “Some Study That I Used to Know,” makes it clear that touchstone moments for students and teachers don’t always intersect. But when they do, what are those moments like, and what conditions have to be in place to made them possible?
Although my memory has grown faultier with age, my memories of school remain fresh, way way back (like kindergarten back). I admit that these memories aren’t always positive, but many have been or I probably wouldn’t be sitting here today, trying to support my students in becoming teachers themselves.
I’ve written about several of those moments here and here, for instance, so I’ll just touch on a few here. (See what I did there? Touch on my touchstones?) I think especially about my Senior English teacher, Mr. Ford, whose class started with writing every day. I loved that silent, hallowed space where I could be alone with my thoughts and get them down on paper. I think about Mr. Hougardy, my middle school science teacher, who trusted me to walk down to the library by myself so that I could find more research on lichens for my science fair project. I think about presenting that at the state science fair and what it felt like to earn a ribbon for my thinking. I’ve never looked at lichens the same way, especially since even then in 7th grade, I started thinking about carbon emissions caused by our local energy plant and how those were affecting not just lichens, but our environment and what would happen as a result. (Mr. Hougardy was right about climate change.) I think about Dr. Flanagan’s class where I learned how to plan a unit and was surprised by the latest research on why grammar doesn’t make a positive difference in student writing. (Also still true.)
So what were the common denominators that led to those touchstones? Clearly, teachers who trusted me as a learner to be curious and thoughtful and surprised, who helped me persistent in pressing through questions I didn’t understand and to explore those on paper and through research–my own and other experts’.
I think about how they valued every students’ ideas, even the ones who didn’t speak up often, like Marlon Gabriel, the cowboy who wrote a beautiful poem about a spider’s web that still makes me look closely every time I see one. Those teachers encouraged us to share our writing and our ideas with our peers and with others outside the classroom. They took us seriously as writers, scientists, and future teachers.
And they made me want to do that for others. So here I am.