Saving the art of teaching from the science of education
“Carpe diem,” the character played by Robin Williams whispers to his impressionable young students in “Dead Poets Society.”
“Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.” Later, he jumps up on a desk and implores them to see the world from a different vantage. And they do.
My high school years were spent at a place not all that different from the imaginary realm in which Mr. Keating, the Robin Williams character, held forth.
Mr. Poirot, my Latin teacher, football and wrestling coach and college counselor was one of them. He was an expert on early Christian manuscripts, a Volvo enthusiast, and a Bob Dylan devotee. His enthusiasm for teaching and learning was contagious and his success with both was enviable. He was a rock star.
Then there was Rev (short for Reverend), a pipe smoking, cape-wearing, fire-and-brimstone preacher. He would lead druid services, recite Kierkegaard, and, for dramatic affect, take the Lord’s name in vain. Doc, who wrote our Latin textbook, and Mr. Burgess, a charismatic historian and avid birder, were among teachers who inspired me to join their profession.
And, it must be confessed, I have been known to jump up on tables and desks, play obscure songs and design ridiculous projects in my own bid to make students’ lives extraordinary. I once took my seventh-graders to a sausage factory in Opelousas. I had hoped to teach them about business practices. Instead, I converted many of them to vegetarianism.
My goal was to get them fired up about learning. Whatever it took, I was willing to try. Every class was an opportunity to “carpe diem!”
Killing the sage
As the founding leader of a local public school, I once had a group of teachers evaluate Keating’s classroom technique. True to our profession, they sat silently watching clips and frantically jotting down notes. Using a state-mandated rubric developed by Pearson Publishing Corp., a goliath in the field of standardized testing, they analyzed and critiqued Keating’s every move and every word.
So, how did my fictitious mentor fare? Not so well. He was deemed “effective: emerging” by most and “ineffective” by some. “He lectured too much,” they griped. “He didn’t start with standards-aligned assessments,” others complained. “He handed out papers Saving the art of teaching from the science of education | The Lens: