The other morning I walked into my
son's room to wake him up, and I discovered a notebook full of detailed plans
and drawings for a small, rudimentary chicken coop. This was not my first time to find my son's
ideas and plans for some creative project lying out in the open for anyone to
view. It is quite customary to find my twelve year-old son's
YouTube-tutorial-led drawings and paintings strewn about the room like some
unorganized studio for an up-and-coming new artist, and it is not uncommon to
read one of his unfinished short stories inspired by a sleepless night where he
wrestled with heavy eyelids and a mind overflowing with imaginative
thoughts. Knowledge and originality seem
to pour from him, and inspiration and curiosity are his companions. One is the match and the others the flame,
but I have no proof to determine which one first acts as the impetus for such
an expression of talent and creativity.
Whether he is tweeting, posting to Instagram, practicing a musical
instrument, annihilating Rosetta Stone lessons, or teaching himself some new
web-based tool, my son represents perpetual learning and inquiry.
And what about my eight year-old
daughter? The same. Although she is soaking up Spanish through
Rosetta Stone like a porous sponge dropped into a bucket of fresh water, my
daughter's path to creativity is a tad different than my son's. In a nutshell,
my daughter is an athlete. She is a 57-pound
body of fast-twitch muscles and kinesthetic simplicity. She watches a friend work three softball
pitching drills and then flawlessly reproduces the tedious skills needed to
accomplish the tasks and successfully release a fastball in windmill fashion.
Recently, when asked to try switch hitting, my blonde, curly headed daughter
jumped on the left side of the plate and mirrored her accomplished right-handed
swing. Not perfectly but quite
impressive for the first time. Now,
don't misunderstand me. My daughter
possesses a wide-range of skills, too.
Her "teaching" lessons to her classroom of stuffed animals are
unquestionably rigorous and authentic.
Although I have yet to hear one of her "students" respond to
her questions, she definitely runs a classroom that is structured, inspiring,
accountable, and tech-integrated with devices like Wi-fi enabled iPads and iPods.
So, as I sat staring at my son's
chicken coop plans that morning and wondering how to make his dream a reality
in a covenanted subdivision, I was reminded of a recurring educational topic of
discussion this month: "How do we continue students' learning through the
summer break?" I was quickly reminded of a tweet quoting Lao Tzu that
said, "To lead the people, walk behind them." Since I am blessed to
spend so much time with my kids during the summer, I am certainly an
educational leader to them. Just like at
work, I constantly ask myself, "What learning environment am I creating
for my two kids?" I frequently wonder what interests them, while eagerly
hoping they will share those passions with me.
Naturally, when my son produces a
three-page guidebook on constructing a beginner's chicken coop, I follow. When my daughter sends me, the self-promoted
principal at her make-believe school, out of her classroom as she delivers an
engaging lesson to Maximus the horse, Katie the Cabbage Patch doll, a fuzzy
lion, a green tiger, and other stuffed animals, I obey. When my son asks question after question
during a mature, thought-provoking movie, I stop, listen, and follow his lead
through a mesmerizing volley of inquisitive wonderings that ultimately leave
most pre-conceived notions in the past.
And when my daughter "feels" her way through a strongly
executed swing by closing her front side down, spinning on her back foot to
drive with her hips, and firing her hands to drop the barrel on the ball, I
shut up, ready myself for another soft toss, and listen as she leads me through
her learning.
To be quite honest, I struggle with
this month's predominant, educational theme.
"How do we continue students' learning through the summer
break?" Perhaps it's as simple as creating an environment of autonomy that
allows students to explore their own interests.
Perhaps learning will simply "just happen." Maybe it is comparable to
breathing...effortless and seemingly incessant.
Maybe they have waited patiently for ten months to study their personal
interests. I really don't know. However, I do know this: one question I don't
seek the answer for is "How do you stop students' summer
learning?" Beats me. I will be too
busy attempting to tear down any enclosures that rob my kids of the freedom to
lead their own summer education. After all,
I simply want to follow.
(also published at http://gettingsmart.com/blog/2012/06/no-enclosures-creating-the-environment-for-summer-learning/)
(also published at http://gettingsmart.com/blog/2012/06/no-enclosures-creating-the-environment-for-summer-learning/)
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