Quick note: I apologize for my recent lack of posting. Between the holidays, the book I'm editing, and the end of semester for the classes I'm teaching, I'm a little swamped. But I have not abandoned this blog. I'll just be posting with less frequency over the next couple of weeks. You can expect me to return to a more regular schedule around Christmas time. Cheers!
Some titles for this post I considered and then rejected: "Education and Real Life" and "Real Life vs. Education" and "Real Life vs. School". First of all, I have an inherent distaste for the phrase "real life". Isn't all life real? If it isn't real, if, for example, it's a dream (or a work of fiction/fantasy), can it be life? And certainly anything that happens in the context of a persons life must be "real" in the sense that the person exists and the events actually happened. Secondly, I disliked the idea of pitting education and school against "life" (real or imagined), as if I were announcing the heavy-weight boxing matchup of the decade. I don't see life as being in a fight or competition with education/school. I see education as that disposition which helps a person become more fully himself or herself (i.e. which frees her/him); and I see school as one place people go to get that education.
This post is inspired by a conversation I had with some of my students the other day. In my (mostly senior) pre-calculus class, I had posited a particularly challenging conundrum on the board: the kind of problem that makes students groan and teachers grin, the kind of problem that research tells us we should be using to challenge students to think critically, to gather information, and to synthesize information to reach new conclusions/solutions. My students assailed me with the familiar refrain: "When are we ever going to use this in real life?!" [Note well, dear reader, the usage of that distasteful phrase "real life"; as if seniors in high school don't consider pre-calculus class to be real OR lively!]
At this point, I spotted a "teachable moment", and stopped our usual discourse on mathematics to diverge into a meta-analysis of why we engage in this business called "school". I said, "Okay, is your boss at work going to ask you to write an equation for the distance between any point on a specified function and the origin? No. But one day your boss will come to you, sit down, and explain a very complicated problem. Then your boss will say to you, "fix it." And she will get up and walk away, fully expecting that you will fix it. There will be no hand-holding, textbooks, hints, etc. You will need to analyze the problem, creatively synthesize a solution using what you know or what you can teach yourself, and then implement the solution. That's what this problem is helping you cultivate: the practice (the art) of deep analytical thinking, creative visioning (seeing beyond what is: into the nebula of what is possible), and practical implementation. And that's a skill you'll use your whole life."
So, in short, I think education helps us practice the art of living well, and that when we are at our best as educators, we're engaged in this deep process of analysis, synthesis, and implementation. Your thoughts are always welcome in the comments section!
Some titles for this post I considered and then rejected: "Education and Real Life" and "Real Life vs. Education" and "Real Life vs. School". First of all, I have an inherent distaste for the phrase "real life". Isn't all life real? If it isn't real, if, for example, it's a dream (or a work of fiction/fantasy), can it be life? And certainly anything that happens in the context of a persons life must be "real" in the sense that the person exists and the events actually happened. Secondly, I disliked the idea of pitting education and school against "life" (real or imagined), as if I were announcing the heavy-weight boxing matchup of the decade. I don't see life as being in a fight or competition with education/school. I see education as that disposition which helps a person become more fully himself or herself (i.e. which frees her/him); and I see school as one place people go to get that education.
This post is inspired by a conversation I had with some of my students the other day. In my (mostly senior) pre-calculus class, I had posited a particularly challenging conundrum on the board: the kind of problem that makes students groan and teachers grin, the kind of problem that research tells us we should be using to challenge students to think critically, to gather information, and to synthesize information to reach new conclusions/solutions. My students assailed me with the familiar refrain: "When are we ever going to use this in real life?!" [Note well, dear reader, the usage of that distasteful phrase "real life"; as if seniors in high school don't consider pre-calculus class to be real OR lively!]
At this point, I spotted a "teachable moment", and stopped our usual discourse on mathematics to diverge into a meta-analysis of why we engage in this business called "school". I said, "Okay, is your boss at work going to ask you to write an equation for the distance between any point on a specified function and the origin? No. But one day your boss will come to you, sit down, and explain a very complicated problem. Then your boss will say to you, "fix it." And she will get up and walk away, fully expecting that you will fix it. There will be no hand-holding, textbooks, hints, etc. You will need to analyze the problem, creatively synthesize a solution using what you know or what you can teach yourself, and then implement the solution. That's what this problem is helping you cultivate: the practice (the art) of deep analytical thinking, creative visioning (seeing beyond what is: into the nebula of what is possible), and practical implementation. And that's a skill you'll use your whole life."
So, in short, I think education helps us practice the art of living well, and that when we are at our best as educators, we're engaged in this deep process of analysis, synthesis, and implementation. Your thoughts are always welcome in the comments section!
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