Greetings User,
My dad always said I was going to be a teacher. I always said he was wrong—I was going to be a writer . . . or a superhero. I hadn't yet decided by the time I finished high school and went on to the local community college on a full scholarship. Little did I know my father’s predictions would haunt me yet. During my second semester of college my freshman year, I returned one afternoon to the high school from which I had graduated just a year before to visit a number of my favorite teachers. When I asked one of my English teachers how things had been, her visage instantly dropped from excitement to a defeated anger. She slumped over her desk, slamming her elbows on the desk while grabbing her hair with her hands, and looked up at me to say, “Travis, I don’t see why anyone would want to go into education right now. The students are just pains in the ass and I barely make enough money to pay for my house. I just don’t get it.” Mind you, I had barely entertained the notion of pursuing a career in education at that point—I was a freshman in college, after all, so there was no need for decision making. Or so I thought. But when I heard the words my teacher spoke, something “clicked,” as the saying goes. Of course, I thought, students wouldn’t be motivated by a teacher who refused to believe in them, nor would a teacher enjoy her job if she failed to perceive it as anything less than the opportunity to make a real difference. Or, again, so I thought.
As I began to investigate the field of education, other teachers and professors expressed similar sentiments as the one held by my cynical English teacher: “piss-poor pay” (you have to respect that kind of alliteration), declining student interest and attention, lack of respect, little job security, etc. But as their urgings against the notion of my squandering my talents in teaching compounded, my desire to at least try teaching solidified. Once invited to work as a writing tutor at the community college, I accepted for the sake of experimenting with the realm of education. Later, my most trusted professor and adviser from community college—one of the only people who encouraged my pursuit and a high school education veteran, himself—said this when I brought to his attention what others were saying: “Travis, much of what they say is true. It’s why many of the best students forgo teaching K-12. It’s certainly a lot of work that you won’t get paid well enough to do, but you should try it nonetheless. This country needs students like you in classrooms, otherwise the problems everyone complains about won’t go away.” His words didn’t absolve me of my doubt entirely, but they rang with more truth and purpose than anything the discouraging voices had mustered. At the very least, somebody has to care, and I decided that I could be that person, so I transferred to Albion College intent on exploring education in one of Michigan’s best teacher education programs.
A significant component of my Albion teacher education hinged on my understanding of the “five habits of mind,” the tenants of thought upon which Albion College’s Teacher Education Program operates:
When I entered the program, I thought they seemed rather obvious, universally agreeable ideas. Who wouldn't want to be a youth advocate or a critical thinker? However, after serving in various classrooms and exploring the complexities of the teaching vocation in my many education courses, these five statements are anything but a given in the field—they are, in fact, an ideal. If all educators fit this bill, the American education system would most likely relinquish its position as scapegoat for the nation’s ills. Rather, we would have a nation boastful of a system that empowers all students and communities, that seeks both knowledge and wisdom, that says it’s okay—encouraged, even—to ask questions, and that instills kindness and understanding rather than prejudice. It’s possible—the anecdotes describing such classrooms are many. But the road is hard, and the detractors, too, are many. That is why these habits of mind are so important to me—they represent the practical means by which we as educators can help attain a better future, and isn't that what education is all about?
Ut longo vivas tempore, et bene sit,
Travis, son of Tom
As I began to investigate the field of education, other teachers and professors expressed similar sentiments as the one held by my cynical English teacher: “piss-poor pay” (you have to respect that kind of alliteration), declining student interest and attention, lack of respect, little job security, etc. But as their urgings against the notion of my squandering my talents in teaching compounded, my desire to at least try teaching solidified. Once invited to work as a writing tutor at the community college, I accepted for the sake of experimenting with the realm of education. Later, my most trusted professor and adviser from community college—one of the only people who encouraged my pursuit and a high school education veteran, himself—said this when I brought to his attention what others were saying: “Travis, much of what they say is true. It’s why many of the best students forgo teaching K-12. It’s certainly a lot of work that you won’t get paid well enough to do, but you should try it nonetheless. This country needs students like you in classrooms, otherwise the problems everyone complains about won’t go away.” His words didn’t absolve me of my doubt entirely, but they rang with more truth and purpose than anything the discouraging voices had mustered. At the very least, somebody has to care, and I decided that I could be that person, so I transferred to Albion College intent on exploring education in one of Michigan’s best teacher education programs.
A significant component of my Albion teacher education hinged on my understanding of the “five habits of mind,” the tenants of thought upon which Albion College’s Teacher Education Program operates:
- To be thoughtful and caring learner-teachers, open and eager to know, be known, and respect self and others;
- To be curious, critically thinking risk-takers and problem-solvers;
- To be perspective-takers, seeking out, valuing and incorporating different viewpoints and positions about learners, learning, teaching and subject matter;
- To be child and youth advocates, desiring a more fair, equitable and democratic society; and,
- To be morally, ethically-grounded deliberators, living and working with diverse individuals with integrity.
When I entered the program, I thought they seemed rather obvious, universally agreeable ideas. Who wouldn't want to be a youth advocate or a critical thinker? However, after serving in various classrooms and exploring the complexities of the teaching vocation in my many education courses, these five statements are anything but a given in the field—they are, in fact, an ideal. If all educators fit this bill, the American education system would most likely relinquish its position as scapegoat for the nation’s ills. Rather, we would have a nation boastful of a system that empowers all students and communities, that seeks both knowledge and wisdom, that says it’s okay—encouraged, even—to ask questions, and that instills kindness and understanding rather than prejudice. It’s possible—the anecdotes describing such classrooms are many. But the road is hard, and the detractors, too, are many. That is why these habits of mind are so important to me—they represent the practical means by which we as educators can help attain a better future, and isn't that what education is all about?
Ut longo vivas tempore, et bene sit,
Travis, son of Tom