Philosophy of Education
Or, really, my thoughts on learning and teaching
My initial “Philosophy of Education” page sounded good and read well, but it was far too academic and essentially, distant from my heart. I could and have gone on about the plights of the educational system, especially those problems where the answer is elusive. I could and have gone on about the theories of others from Quintilian and Thomas Aquinas to Rousseau, Dewey, and Piaget. By it does not feel personal to me, and my decision to leave one career to pursue another – teaching – has been very personal, indeed. I do not want my philosophy of education to be a mass of esoteric words that have no real application to the daily events of teaching. Therefore, my philosophy of education is my purpose for teaching. It drives why I want to be in the classroom and how I want to nurture and influence my future students. To me, it is so much more than learning grammar, long division, or the way light travels through a prism. I have said it before and I will say it again, I want to inspire my students to learn. The following list may seem a tall order for an elementary teacher, but I feel a powerful obligation to be the best teacher I can be as these children are building the foundations of their knowledge, skills, and attitudes about learning.
I want to
* teach them the knowledge they need to navigate life with purpose, peace, and passion.
* challenge them to master new skills that will help them mature into productive, confident, and capable adults.
* guide them and push them and model for them what it means to have an effective work ethic and an analytical mind that constantly questions the world while marveling at its magnificence.
* motivate them to be creative, to be their best, and to engage with others for the benefit of the community.
* inspire in them a love of learning that is so strong that they eventually recognize its value toward living a rich and meaningful life.
I want to be one of those teachers who students remember, not just because I taught them how to divide or planned fun activities. I want to be remembered for being that teacher who helped them see the value, the excitement, the necessity of learning, and the personal growth that results therefrom.
As I prepared to write this section of my webpage, I diligently searched the internet for an appropriate quote about education or learning. I found some interesting, thought-provoking words expressed by Thomas Jefferson, John Dewey, and even Phyllis Diller. But, I stumbled upon an intriguing article about life, death, and the place of learning that occurs in between. I found it both formidable and eloquent. Meghan O'Rourke is a writer and poet who recently published a memoir about surviving her mother’s death. She shared her insights in a recent interview by Alex Shephard (Full Stop: August 23, 2011) where she drew wisdom, strength, and comfort from the words of T. H. White in his book, “The Book of Merlin,” the sequel to his “Once and Future King.” The following is an excerpt from that interview where O’Rourke quotes “The Book of Merlin” in her discussion about grieving:
“ ' The best thing for being sad is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder in your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then – to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust and never dream of regretting. ' ”
O’Rourke takes the advice of White’s words to heart as she expresses the following:
"One thing that happens with loss is that I think people feel — I know I felt — the utter fragility of the world. I felt like it could all disappear at any time. Learning became the stay against that. I ended up feeling there was one thing the world couldn’t take away and that was my curiosity, my desire to understand. I just ended up reading and trying to learn. It was a recuperative thing in the midst of all this pain."
I want to
* teach them the knowledge they need to navigate life with purpose, peace, and passion.
* challenge them to master new skills that will help them mature into productive, confident, and capable adults.
* guide them and push them and model for them what it means to have an effective work ethic and an analytical mind that constantly questions the world while marveling at its magnificence.
* motivate them to be creative, to be their best, and to engage with others for the benefit of the community.
* inspire in them a love of learning that is so strong that they eventually recognize its value toward living a rich and meaningful life.
I want to be one of those teachers who students remember, not just because I taught them how to divide or planned fun activities. I want to be remembered for being that teacher who helped them see the value, the excitement, the necessity of learning, and the personal growth that results therefrom.
As I prepared to write this section of my webpage, I diligently searched the internet for an appropriate quote about education or learning. I found some interesting, thought-provoking words expressed by Thomas Jefferson, John Dewey, and even Phyllis Diller. But, I stumbled upon an intriguing article about life, death, and the place of learning that occurs in between. I found it both formidable and eloquent. Meghan O'Rourke is a writer and poet who recently published a memoir about surviving her mother’s death. She shared her insights in a recent interview by Alex Shephard (Full Stop: August 23, 2011) where she drew wisdom, strength, and comfort from the words of T. H. White in his book, “The Book of Merlin,” the sequel to his “Once and Future King.” The following is an excerpt from that interview where O’Rourke quotes “The Book of Merlin” in her discussion about grieving:
“ ' The best thing for being sad is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder in your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then – to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust and never dream of regretting. ' ”
O’Rourke takes the advice of White’s words to heart as she expresses the following:
"One thing that happens with loss is that I think people feel — I know I felt — the utter fragility of the world. I felt like it could all disappear at any time. Learning became the stay against that. I ended up feeling there was one thing the world couldn’t take away and that was my curiosity, my desire to understand. I just ended up reading and trying to learn. It was a recuperative thing in the midst of all this pain."