More Coffee, Please

Out of nowhere, an acquaintance of mine sent me a college philosophy textbook. Given that the arrival of the book coincided with some long thoughts I’ve been having, it seemed fortuitous.

Philosophy is one of those big, barely visible gorillas in the educational room. I remember preparing to student teach, and needing to write an “educational philosophy” and having no idea what was meant. A few years ago, I started getting copies of other people’s “educational philosophies” and it was equally certain they had no clue what was meant, either.

There’s a great deal that could be discussed under that broad heading philosophy, but really, we’re talking about beliefs—about people, about learning, about what our function as educators is—and it colors everything that we do. A teacher whose philosophy includes the idea that students want to learn is going to be a very different teacher than one whose philosophy sees learning as a duty, is going to be very different than a teacher who feels that humans are selfish and act for selfish interests..

Because what we’re talking about is belief, it’s very hard to say one is right, one is wrong.¹ Moreover, in education, it could shift—there have been classes that I wanted to learn about, and there have been classes in which it was a painful duty to learn. In both, it was possible to be successful, and to learn.

These differences in philosophy were—and, to be honest, still are—incredibly difficult to navigate. It’s not just about right and wrong, but also about when—at what point does an appropriate action, based on belief about learners and learning become and inappropriate action based on belief about learners and learning?

When is it appropriate to assist a student? When is it appropriate to demand they achieve on their own? When appropriate to allow students to do what they want, when appropriate to demand they act in a way contrary to their desires?

In many ways, these are the questions that underlie much of the tensions, the disagreements across classrooms—why one teacher will allow this, another not, why this teacher reads that book, what that teacher refuses.

I used to think it would be so much easier if everyone could just agree—if some of these basic agreements could be hammered out.

Now… I’m not so sure. I think one of the basic strengths of the high school experience is the presence of so many different requirements, so many different ideas—because even if an idea is right some of the time, it’s not likely to be right all of the time. How an individual balances competing needs, balances competing priorities, is as individual as the person doing the work—and though it might be frustrating when there are disagreements about philosophy, about the guiding fundamentals, it might just do a better job of reaching every kid than any single method.

There’s at time and place for that teacher who is going to be understanding and supportive—and that’s a good thing. There’s a time and a place for that teacher who is going to be a “hard-nose”² and hold the line firmly for every student.

I think the challenge comes in when we don’t know why we believe as we do—acting on “this feels right” as opposed to “this I believe is right.” Or, when we act thinking we do so because it is right, when it’s merely what we believe is correct.

That’s half of it. The other half of it is when we deal with those who don’t believe as we do—and how do we reconcile that, how do we come to an agreement as to the best approach?

Perhaps we don’t—perhaps we’re merely aware of it, cognizant that different individuals will put different needs ahead of what others will. They are needs, and the great tragedy of life is that we can never do all that we should—only what we can.

1In Crime and Punishment, one of the first discussions of the year would be the difference between a fact and a belief. Facts can be observed, and generally are not open to interpretation, while beliefs cannot be proven. That doesn’t mean that a belief cannot be wrong—believing the moon is made of cheese is clearly wrong, no matter how firm the conviction. Usually, however, facts do not directly contradict a person’s belief, and so the arguments begin. ↺

2 I know students (and occasionally parents) have a very different word for this teacher…↺

Gregarious

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