I am a tortoise
Late last night I started thinking about learning styles and how I measure them in different classes. This meant that my dreams were more than usually colourful, but they still didn't match the night before, when I came up with a teaching plan and told myself so many times that I had to remember it when I woke up, for it was so very good and I could use it during yesterday's class. Well, my reminder worked, but I didn't teach using it. This was because the plan was inside out and almost entirely useless. Not one of those occasions where dreaming brings forth hidden truths.
Today's waking thought was about my own learning style. It is, in fact, my life-experiencing style and it tangles many people about how much I'm learning and how bright I am and even (if I'm being honest) whether I'm considered worth knowing. The assumption, far too often, is that because I look passive initially, I must be less intelligent than my CV and my life experience testify. Or I must be boring.
A lot of this comes down to my learning style. I'm one of those souls who appears slow initially. I take a longer time than usual to learn basics.
It's like the way I used to run 100 metre races, way back in my school days. I used to be a bit behind at first. Then I used to win. I didn't win because I was so very competitive: I won because I'd worked out the feel of the air and the stretch of my muscles and the nature of the track underfoot and added the sense of joy when it all comes together. Every time I felt that sense of joy, I got a blue ribbon. But I always, always came from behind. I won because in that first second when everyone else was getting a head start, I was fumbling my way, but when I found it, so many things came together that I surged forward. Of course, with training, I would have fumbled less and had faster times. But one doesn't train overweight geek-types, even if they're very fast.
And one doesn't train geek-types in learning skills. When we do well academically, our learning skills must be sound. I've never worked out how to not learn slowly in the beginning. This means that people who see me in a new situation or for the first time almost always underestimate me.
Sometimes this is good and sometimes this is very bad. I once missed a job because someone on an interview panel said "Her CV must be wrong" simply because of the discrepancy between my apparent skills and my interviewable skills in that one single area. I've missed any number of opportunities, in fact, because people select the bright starter rather than the person who sits back and watches. They go for the fastest start in the race, not the actual speed of the runner. I've had any number of apologies throughout my life from people who went with the bright starter and then saw me toddle along until I understood what I was doing. "I didn't realise," I'm told, time after time. "You're actually very good, you know. Don't worry - other opportunities will come up." Sometimes they do, but mostly they don't. Our society really does have a preference for assessing ability at the start line.
This has not been good for my career, but it's been very good for me as a teacher. I'd rather the lack of visibility was a personal choice for my students than a series of lost openings. One thing I've taken to factoring into my teaching are techniques that help my students learn how to learn. I also teach them how to be seen learning, because that helps, too.
I have dreams about teaching because I feel very strongly that good teaching can help people change their own lives. And now I'm moving from polemic to uber-polemic, so I might go and do a bit of work instead.
Tonight I've put in an order for silly dreams.
Today's waking thought was about my own learning style. It is, in fact, my life-experiencing style and it tangles many people about how much I'm learning and how bright I am and even (if I'm being honest) whether I'm considered worth knowing. The assumption, far too often, is that because I look passive initially, I must be less intelligent than my CV and my life experience testify. Or I must be boring.
A lot of this comes down to my learning style. I'm one of those souls who appears slow initially. I take a longer time than usual to learn basics.
It's like the way I used to run 100 metre races, way back in my school days. I used to be a bit behind at first. Then I used to win. I didn't win because I was so very competitive: I won because I'd worked out the feel of the air and the stretch of my muscles and the nature of the track underfoot and added the sense of joy when it all comes together. Every time I felt that sense of joy, I got a blue ribbon. But I always, always came from behind. I won because in that first second when everyone else was getting a head start, I was fumbling my way, but when I found it, so many things came together that I surged forward. Of course, with training, I would have fumbled less and had faster times. But one doesn't train overweight geek-types, even if they're very fast.
And one doesn't train geek-types in learning skills. When we do well academically, our learning skills must be sound. I've never worked out how to not learn slowly in the beginning. This means that people who see me in a new situation or for the first time almost always underestimate me.
Sometimes this is good and sometimes this is very bad. I once missed a job because someone on an interview panel said "Her CV must be wrong" simply because of the discrepancy between my apparent skills and my interviewable skills in that one single area. I've missed any number of opportunities, in fact, because people select the bright starter rather than the person who sits back and watches. They go for the fastest start in the race, not the actual speed of the runner. I've had any number of apologies throughout my life from people who went with the bright starter and then saw me toddle along until I understood what I was doing. "I didn't realise," I'm told, time after time. "You're actually very good, you know. Don't worry - other opportunities will come up." Sometimes they do, but mostly they don't. Our society really does have a preference for assessing ability at the start line.
This has not been good for my career, but it's been very good for me as a teacher. I'd rather the lack of visibility was a personal choice for my students than a series of lost openings. One thing I've taken to factoring into my teaching are techniques that help my students learn how to learn. I also teach them how to be seen learning, because that helps, too.
I have dreams about teaching because I feel very strongly that good teaching can help people change their own lives. And now I'm moving from polemic to uber-polemic, so I might go and do a bit of work instead.
Tonight I've put in an order for silly dreams.
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