The full moon set this morning Just before the sun began to rise While a cold wind howled from the south An oversized orange orb Sinking below the hazy clouds Into tangled trees in the west The eastern sky brightened Orange rising from an eastern cornfield Fading into bright blue above The sun has not risen just yet But the light was awakening the day The cold wind blew dried Leaves across my path “Give it one last blow,” I said to no one “And blow them all away.”
At Bemidji State we have teacher-candidates write a comprehensive “Central Focus & Context/Rationale” with every lesson plan. This is a statement requiring students to explicitly describe the big idea or central focus of the lesson, detail the lesson’s fit in the curriculum, and then lastly, use research and learning theory to support teaching methods chosen. We recognize that “real” teachers do not do this when they write “real” lesson plans—if they even write lesson plans. So, why require this?
We recognize this is an exercise and use it to assess if the teacher-candidates can apply learning theory to their craft. Here is why that is important. Whether they are creating a new lesson from scratch or using a published curriculum, activities, or ideas from resources, they must understand how that lesson lesson fits the bigger picture of their curriculum. Otherwise, while it may be a fantastically fun activity, if it is without context and random, the important enduring understanding hoped for is most likely soon forgotten. I call this random craptastic. I have taught a lot of random craptastic lessons in my day. I hope I am a better teacher than that now.
Beyond, having a purpose and fitting into a bigger picture of understanding for the student, the method needs to align with what we know about how the brain works. If the teacher does not understand learning theory – generally the specifics of constructivism which aligns to how the human brain learns based on current brain-based learning research – they cannot properly implement the lesson resulting in enduring understanding and not just an ephemeral experience.
Would you trust an epidemiologist who did not understand bacterial reproduction and life cycles? Or an editor who does not know proper punctuation and how to use a good metaphor? You should not trust a teacher that does not know how the human brain works and how to apply learning theory. Such teachers are no different than students they might complain about who can complete a lab activity but have no idea why they did what they did or what it means. Implementing a lesson without analyzing the central focus and context/rationale is the same thing. You might get lucky and it may work. Or it may not you might not even notice.
Real teachers may not explicitly write these things out in a lesson plan, but they should at least be able to. And if they cannot, they are not competent nor fit to be a teacher. Harsh, but it is time for our profession to step up and hold ourselves to this baseline. It is especially important now as teachers are being forced to teach in entirely new ways, using new technology, in entirely impossible circumstances. We need this foundation upon which to stand.
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The unprecedented times of the new normal. Two terms or phrases I could happily do without. I mean, enough already. However, we cannot deny that we face a new normal and many of our institutions will never be the same.
I’m confident that my field of education will never be the same. In many ways it was already operating on borrowed time and was unsustainable. Higher ed has been financially unsustainable for quite a while and K-12 was functionally unstable.
I’m also confident that attempting to isolate and understand and resolve both ecological and societal issues (so essentially all issues) in isolated ways is what makes our efforts unsustainable. So, let’s look at how some things connect: standards-based education, constitutional originalism, and health care and retirement funding. Wait, what?
Thomas Friedman wrote last week in the New York Times that “the most critical role for K-12 educators…will be to equip young people with the curiosity and passion to be lifelong learners who feel ownership over their education.”
How are we doing with that? I’d say, “not so good.” For many teachers, and therefore their students, the education experience is a rushed, frantic grind to complete assignments (without a larger context) that check off standards and prep them for math and reading tests. There is little inquiry into science and social studies (so how humans understand their world) and instead education is merely practice at decoding information (math and reading) but not pursuing the larger purpose of understanding what that information means and why it relevant.
This will not foster lifelong learning and intellectual curiosity and creativity—it will crush it under mind-numbing rote learning and practice. Most teachers know this and fight against it, but work in a system continually limiting curriculum fostering and providing opportunity for developing skills of inquiry which ignites passion for learning for the sake of learning and creating new ideas. In our new era of unprecedented times of the new normal that is exactly the skillset we need among our citizenry.
That brings me to the idea of constitutional originalism. This concept is ludicrous and an indictment of the American education system and academia. The constitution was written by creative visionaries but is often interpreted and enforced by individuals who possess so little vision and creativity that they cannot see the remarkable foundation of the constitution as allowing a society to grow, evolve, and remake itself as the world changes—to form a more perfect union—meaning it must continue to evolve. To do so requires “…people [to have] the curiosity and passion to be lifelong learners who feel ownership over their education.”
Erwin Chermerinsky, dean of the Berkeley law school, writes “under the original public meaning of the constitution, it would be unconstitutional to elect a woman as president or vice president until the constitution is amended. Article 11 refers to them with the pronoun ‘he,’ and there is no doubt that original understanding was that only men could hold these offices.”
A failure of imagination, deep thinking, and individuals possessing intellectual simplicity leads to originalism. These same failures result in stagnant societies and social systems embedded in an always evolving ecosystem, meaning those social systems eventually become ill-equipped to confront a changing world in which they reside. Cases in point, Covid-19 and climate change. How are we doing with those? Not so good, because we simply cannot be bothered with it.
And that brings me to health care and retirement funding. The lack of portability of these two social institutions traps individuals in the box of a specific job or employer, when we might be better served for those individuals to be untethered from that job or organization so they could creatively invent new ways of doing things and innovations in thinking and perception. We lack the political and intellectual creativity and grit to think ourselves out of that box so how much intellectual and creative potential that could benefit us all is stuck in the wrong box?
Therefore, many, many individuals are trapped slogging through “work” when they could be doing work! It’s an old way of thinking that is stuck in a feudal-society paradigm, with a select ruling class requiring the mass to struggle for survival, reliant on barely adequate wages mooring them to their only employment option and live off of the ruling class’s handouts and “generosity.” This creates a highly rigid, unresponsive, and also highly inequitable society, which ultimately will crumble and require remaking when a significant perturbation to the systems occurs, such as the entire year of 2020.
The unprecedented times of the new normal might be our existence for a generation until the systems reach a new equilibrium and stabilize. How many will have the skills of innovation to thrive in such a world? How many will be relegated to hanging on by their fingernails and merely surviving while a few who were fortunate to have an education fostering lifelong learning skills create that new normal? And how many will then benefit from that new normal and how many will simply be subject to it? Nothing is as frightening having no control and autonomy over one’s very existence and survival. When enough experience that new normal violent revolutions happen.
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This week’s essay is about the white-tailed deer in which I explore the interconnection between the deer, the white-footed mouse (from last week’s essay), humans, and the wolf (the subject of next week’s essay. If you like this series, consider sharing with others. Thanks
She challenged us by asking, “As we enter into this wilderness, what do you carry?” Pastor Rachel McIver Morey, asked this question while preaching about Exodus on September 27, 2020. She was using the story of Exodus to prompt thinking about difficult transitions. When leaving a bad situation, one has to be willing to close the door behind you and then wander a while before finding a better pace. The Israelites wandered in the “wilderness” to escape slavery, bondage, and oppression and they carried with them the bones of Joseph, connecting them back to their mythology of God’s promise.
When Exodus was written, wilderness wasn’t a place to go for respite, as I think of it. It was a place to go for escape; it was a place to escape from the influence or persecution of the ruling political power.
We all share this country with injustice systemically and historically baked in. No one alive today chose to create or be victimized by that injustice, though many cling to it for the sake of maintaining power. But we all experience the trauma of it. Whether one benefits or is harmed, the trauma is real and collective. And therefore we must face it. We’re all in this wilderness, wandering.
When Rachel said “What are you carrying in this season of wilderness and what does it connect you to? What does it remind you of?” I immediately began hearing the song “Oh Soul” by Mary Gauthier in my head. I’m not sure why that song began playing in my head, but that’s the beauty of music and art. It isn’t necessarily logical.
In my head I also heard this additional verse:
When I wander, don’t know where I’ll go When I wander, don’t know where I’ll go But, I’ll carry you with me, while I search for my soul Oh soul, I sold you away
So, here is Oh Soul (with my additional verse–forgive me Mary Gauthier) performed by me and Linnea. This might be the best thing we’ve recorded.
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This is the second post, and first essay from my book Within These Woods. We could use some calmness. So, to add to that calmness I’m going to post a reading of an essay from my book Within These Woods on YouTube. Maybe it will add just a few minutes of respite for you. I’ll add a new one to the playlist each Sunday morning for the next 45 weeks. Each one is anywhere from 5 – 10 minutes long, so not a great time investment on your part. If you enjoy, please subscribe to my blog, email list, and/or my YouTube channel. Also consider sharing this playlist or blog post with friends via email, social media, old fashioned hand bill or whatever. Have a peaceful Sunday.
The old man dog in the house decided he needed an early start today. Apparently he had a lot to do today. With a grumble and an expletive I fed him, checked email while he ate, and took for a pre-dawn walk.
It did allow me to see a beautiful early morning sky. Just below Leo in the Southern sky was a very bright Venus. Straight up over my head was a (barely) gibbous waning moon. And to the East was the brightest Mars I’ve ever seen. It was unmistakable as the brightest and reddest object in the sky.
Mars is the closest it will be in for the next 15 years and I think it is the closest we will ever get in my lifetime, and possibly ever. We’re not going to Mars. This saddens me because I’m a fan of the whole idea of space travel, both real and fiction.
It saddens me to conclude, however, there may not be any reason to go to Mars beyond the technological achievement of going to Mars. Of course, with both science and engineering, one doesn’t know what unexpected discovery will come from scientific exploration, nor what unintended invention will result from another technological feat. But, that might be the only reason.
As much as the science fiction aficionado in me wants it to be so, I don’t think we’ll ever live anywhere but on this planet. I’m not sure we can. For short periods I’m sure we can survive off-world, but I don’t know that we can biological thrive. We are inextricably linked to this place. Three and a half billion years of evolution make it so. Every microbe, every plant, every animal, every geochemical cycle belong as a part of our existence. They make us who we are. The intricacy of that system cannot be brought with us beyond our atmosphere.
This is our identity. This is it. This is home.
We can continue to rip ourselves apart over stupid things, like the color of our hats, the wording of slogans, or form of protest simply asking for acknowledgement and equality, the color of our skin, and money, or we can work on what really matters. We get to choose though. We make it work or we perish. If we can send a man to the moon, or a woman to Mars, then we can do this.
Can we do this?
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The woods calm me. The woods comfort me. I like to be in them. I like to write about them. I like to read about them. The world feels crazier and more fraught with anxiety by the day. We could use some calmness. So, to add to that calmness I’m going to post a reading of an essay from my book Within These Woods on YouTube. Maybe it will add just a few minutes of respite for you. I’ll add a new one to the playlist each Sunday morning for the next 45 weeks. Each one is anywhere from 5 – 10 minutes long, so not a great time investment on your part. If you enjoy, please subscribe to my blog, email list, and/or my YouTube channel. Also consider sharing this playlist or blog post with friends via email, social media, old fashioned hand bill or whatever. Have a peaceful Sunday.
“Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” So, says Inigo in The Princess Bride. Time is running short (pick your issue). But, we knew there were problems a long time ago. Here’s an exchange between Bill Watterson’s Calvin and his mom from 1987.
Calvin: “Hey Mom, what’s this I hear about the greenhouse effect? They say the pollutants we dump in the air are trapping in the sun’s heat and it’s going to melt the polar ice caps. Sure. You’ll be gone when it happens, but I won’t! Nice planet you’re leaving me!”
Mom: “This from the kid who wants to be chauffeured any place more than a block away.”
Calvin: Hey, “nobody told me about the ice caps, all right?”
That was written in a comic strip thirty-three years ago. Are we listening yet?
No matter if you are living in a pleasant little Minnesota town, on the edge of the desert, in the North woods, in an urban brownstone, in a refugee camp, or at the top of a glass encased luxury Manhattan tower, one fact is inescapable. You are in intimately connected to all living and non-living components of your ecosystem—no matter how “man-made” or “natural” you think your ecosystem is. Like concentric circles moving out from a small splash you have an impact on even the most distant of other life.
Try this imagery. One raindrop hitting a smooth lake surface sending ripples out. Then another splash, and soon a down poor of raindrops striking the surface, each sending out their own ripples across the surface. The ripples connect, cancel, or amplify one another. That’s the world, a bubbling chaos of incredible order and unpredictable, yet completely structured mayhem. It all connects, beginning with the interaction of the electrons in your body, resulting in matter that is mostly empty space, yet solid in structure. Huh? It’s complete order and unpredictable interactions at the same time. Your body is constantly recycling matter through your breathing, consuming, and excreting, all of which is fueled by the energy you extract from the molecules you consume. Other organisms live off what you excrete. How do you think septic systems work?
It all connects, and it all matters. What happens in the natural world, however isolated and disconnected you may feel from that world matters. It begins with biology, chemistry, and physics, but is also then societal, political, and behavioral.
A respiratory illness emerging in Wuhan China affects you even if you don’t get sick.
California smoke and ash from raging fires affect you even if you aren’t personally seeing and smelling it.
Hatred towards a dark-skinned teen, wearing a hoody, affects you even if you look like me.
Corrupt politicians affect you even if you don’t vote or care about politics.
A refugee born in, and living her life in a refugee camp on another continent, affects you.
An immigrant detainee, forced to have a hysterectomy affects you.
Each act of violence towards the earth, the ecosystem, each other, society, is an act of violence against all of us because we are all connected in some way. And in the off chance I’m wrong about that, I’m still not wrong. Their lives matter. Their lives matter as much as mine or yours, even if you or I do not feel directly violated. They are us.
Take a listen to this John Denver song from his Wildlife Concert in 1995.
There is a river that runs from the mountains That one river is all rivers All rivers are that one
There is a tree that stands in the forest That one tree is all forests All trees are that one
There is a flower that blooms in the desert That one blossom is all flowers All flowers are that one
There is a bird that sings in the jungle That one song is all music All songs are that one
It is the song of life It is the flower of faith It is the tree of temptation It is the river of no regret
There is a child that cries in the ghetto That one child is all children All children are that one
There is a vision that shines in the darkness That one vision is all of our dreams
It is a vision of heaven It is a child of promise It is the song of life It is the river of no regret
Let this be a voice for the mountains Let this be a voice for the river Let this be a voice for the forest Let this be a voice for the flowers Let this be a voice for the ocean Let this be a voice for the desert Let this be a voice for the children Let this be a voice for the dreamers Let this be a voice of no regret