periscope?

Part 2 (which happened before)
How do you get a learner to make a periscope within the critical inquiry method? How do you not give too much away with the materials? Conceal them like the string?

10/24

I just spent all day at a workshop on teaching with museum objects and it reminded me of other, somewhat contradictory approaches to get students to get at the content. The rest of the participants were classroom teachers, some late in career, most teachers of social studies. We were asked to share observations much in the same way we looked at the poem. I noticed a definitely trajectory when sharing noticings. This group of school teachers seemed very conscious that while it is all well and good to explore, there is content to be learned. Moreover, because the workshop was "Using Art Objects to Study Religion and Sacred Space," the teachers were heavily influenced by their interest in balancing tensions over their own faith practices and the faiths of others in the group as well as ideas about the classroom. Many had come to find out how to productively combat stereotyping and exclusion in the classroom, and therefore, much was at stake in terms of what did and did not constitute appropriate answers. This is not to say that the group was not welcoming of controversial or unpopular opinions; examining assumptions was a key theme and that cannot be done if assumptions remain buried. However, it was central, for good reason, that not all answers could go unquestioned. Because the group comprised self-selecting adults interested in this particular subject, the conversation stayed appropriate. However, a few times, a participant would use a word like "mythology" with regard to Hinduism--a living religion--and we would discuss why a word like "mythology" would exclude practitioners of non-Abrahamic religions. One cannot imagine "getting away" with referring to an image of Jesus as a painting representing "Christian mythology" to a public school classroom in America.
I began to wonder where the lines should be drawn in critical inquiry around issues in which much is at stake. How can we promote open exploration and acceptance of all answers, but also ensure that students reach beyond their experiences and biases? Are we just to put all our faith in long term answers, like providing enough information to contradict assumptions without actively pushing back against them? How would this look when addressing very distant issues and fine distinctions?

frustrations and discoveries

After a week of not noticing many mirrors, I started noticing many reflective surfaces and the predictable and the strange things that they do. For instance, as I was laying in bed talking on the phone late Wednesday night, I looked at the framed poster on the wall. I saw the same reflection that I always see when I look at it from that angle, which is of a fabric vine. I remember in an excited flash that the first time I noticed this reflection a month or so ago I couldn't understand why the I saw something that wasn't in front of the frame. It didn't occur to me then to think about the fact that I also was not in front of the glass. In fact, I wasn't particularly curious about it. I had to interrupt the person I was on the phone with to share this epiphany.
I had a glass reflection confusion waiting for the bus Friday night. Looking at the window of a restaurant about 10 feet from me, I could see a neon sign in the window across the street behind me and perhaps 20 feet to the side. This was not crazy, and in fact, because it was very difficult to tell how angled each building was, I could not learn much from a close looking at this. (This is to say that it was not compatible with what we have been looking at in class, which does not mean that I cannot learn from it, but that is what I wrote first so I thought I would leave it since it says something about what I believe.) What was strange about the reflection of the neon sign was that it was double. Moreover, when I moved my head to one side, the two images diverged. When I moved my head back the other direction, they came closer together , and then moved apart again as I passed the center. Less interesting, but relevant to my mirror noticing, last night I went to see the new A.R.T. Shakespeare Explored production, which was interactive, so-called adventure theater, meaning that the audience wandered around the massive theater space--an old school--and encountered theater. In at least three rooms, I was only or primarily able to see the acting through mirror reflections.
But there were a couple of frustrations this week. In class Wednesday, when we began to explain what we had discovered about the mirrors, I got the impression that A) many people had not pushed themselves in the activity, and B) though this course stresses listening to learners explain, I got the feeling that most of my classmates, and I as well, were not listening to the other learners to understand how the methods they share were related to what that discovered. Even I made assumptions during the activity. I became frustrated when the class did not progress, or move in the direction I wanted to go. I have this problem a lot as a learner, and I believe it is a horrible tendency among teachers. There was a personal frustration which the class closed on because of time. The member of our mirror group who had been so intent on drawing graphs, tried to explain our method for using our body and arms to visually calculate the angles without string. However, she hadn't actually done it, she had only sort of seen Miyoung and I do it, and either she didn't understand it then or she forgot it over the week, because she explained in completely wrong. Not "she was very clear" wrong, but the methods wasn't at all what we had done in class and because she didn't figure it out or understand it, she didn't know how to fix it. ED would not let me chime in because, understandably, she did not want me to interrupt an explanation. But truthfully, because she wasn't explaining an understanding. I feel confident that she could have "re-invented" the technique in different circumstances, but she was surrounded by an impatient, confused crowd and she kept looking at me to help her out. It was not pretty. I threw her a couple of hints, which I was not happy to do, and she got there, but the whole thing was rather unpleasant.
The bigger frustration, though, is that my moon curiosity could not be higher and I cannot find it! I want to know about the bunny ears and its possible spinning, and whether we always see the same side of it, and whether it waxes on and wanes off from the same side, but I cannot find it. It is driving me mad! I almost want to rent a car and drive out to the middle of nowhere and stay up all night taking pictures and notes. I know I am not dedicating myself as fully as I ought to this, but it is so disheartening to go out at night and not be able to find it. No I am hearing from people that it is best seen in the morning right now, but I go out in the morning and I still don't see it.

bike gears part 2 and the moon

It has been rainy, which has made it more difficult the test the gears, but I think I am starting to get some good info. It seems like sometimes pedaling is easier but in those cases I feel like I am pedaling more because I do not have the familiar feeling of my muscles "working hard" on the pedals.

The moon has been so awesome lately. In class I realized that I really want to be more methodical in observing it. I have noticed a lot of interesting things about it, like how much and quickly it moves, and especially this week how quickly it goes from full to almost half. I feel inspired by Josh's close attention and careful method, but I am not sure if this is my approach. I like being surprised by the changes I notice spontaneously, even if it means that I will learn about it more slowly.

strange disappointment

Early in the semester we were assigned a reading in which a former T440 student retold a story of having someone "spoil" the answer to an inquiry she was undertaking. She was furious. At the time I read that I thought it was a bit silly. What's the big deal? There are plenty of other things to occupy your thoughts.
This week in class we did the mirror fieldwork. I really cannot remember ever having so much fun exploring physics (or whatever we were doing.) I had no idea what the answer was, and was delighted that each time we made a new discovery we would realize there was another variable involved in the question ("but, what if the people aren't the same distance from the mirror?"). When we were at the stage of asking ourselves how one could measure the angles without a measuring device or trial and error, someone in our group said something about angle of incident and something else being equal. She started drawing some graphs and I tried to ignore it but she was insistent. I started getting really angry. I don't want to see your graphs! We are so close to figuring this out on our own! I had to physically disconnect. She and another in our group continued with the graph drawing, while I tried to convince the other group member that we could us our arms to gauge the angles in the absence of string. Eventually, the graph drawers realized that they were no closer to an idea of how to determine where to put the mirror without measuring, so I felt vindicated.

one month check-in

I hadn't originally intended that this entry be a one month status report, but it just seemed at a certain point like that was a good way to describe it.
One of the things I said in my first entry was that I hoped this class would encourage me to figure things out on my own, even if it meant that the answer would be longer in coming and that I was making myself vulnerable by allowing my discovery process to be visible. Honestly, I wasn't optimistic that this would happen. On the one hand, I had read some of ED's writing over the summer and I was excited by the accounts of learning, especially those following mid-career teachers through Duckworth-style activities. But on the other hand, I have a huge amount of educational baggage. My upbringing placed a lot of importance on getting things right, and right in the best way. There always has to be an expert to substantiate a claim. I have always had a lot of difficultly "putting myself out there" as a learner and have consequently avoided letting people see me do things that I'm not good at.
This Monday I was biking to school and I thought about how I never have known what gears on my bike are better for going uphill than others. I never want to ask someone, because I think of it as one of those things you should know by the time you are an adult. So I decided I would look it up online when I got home. Then it occurred to me--I should Duckworth this! So I started messing with my gears to see how biking in a different configuration would feel. It was fun! But that night, when I proudly told my boyfriend about my research and its findings, he told me that they were not correct. Respectful, though, of the excitement I felt with this exploration, he was quick to add that there might be some other factor playing into this (eg since the bike is old, there might be some physical abrasion giving some gears more resistance.) Perplexed and disappointed, I have spent the rest of the week continuing my research (it is a bit difficult because the route involves different terrains, so it isn't very controlled.) I am starting to think that there are two different types of work going on and that I haven't yet gotten a refined distinction between which I am doing when. In other words, sometimes it feels like less work because there is less resistance to the pedaling, but when this happens, it seems like I am pedaling more.
I am still investigating this, not strictly because I don't now the answer--I know I could get it easily. I am still working on it because I haven't figured it out. It reminds me of a professor in college who was telling us about over- and underexposing film from what your meter indicates. Because light meters want to expose everything for 18% gray, you have to make adjustments based on your subject. His example was photographing a white cat in snow. He told us this as a cute little way of remembering the rule, but no one ever remembered it. Many of us eventually figured it out, and at that point, we could remember, but although the charming phrase of photographing a white cat in snow sticks with me, the rule as a rule doesn't.
Also, though, I am sticking to figuring the gears out on my own because it is fun. I have been talking about it with other people (no one seems to think it odd that a 25 year old had never before shifted gears on a bike, or at least, it isn't visible. Or maybe I don't care, so I don't even see it?) It reminds me of being little and playing with small motors and wires. I had many "Gears of My Childhood" moments as a kid, and this class has made me wonder what happened to the lessons I learned there. I think the pressures of adolescent schooling, always looking toward being a successful adult, negate the value of figuring out.