Tagged: teaching
Being a pedagogical leader… and doors.
Pedagogical leadership is a tricky pursuit, so many nuances and complexities to navigate. While my wife and I were chatting about this the other day, the metaphor of doorways emerged… so I will try and put it into words!
It occurred to me that being a pedagogical leader means seeing a wide variety of doors in front of you and then knowing which ones to move towards, which ones to open, who to open them for and how much to open them by.
When guiding a team through unit design, for example, a pedagogical leader must make a series of choices. Having a well-designed and clear unit design process will already reveal which doors the team needs to go through in order to go deeper into the process, but the order in which those doors are opened is critical. Going through the first door must, of course, improve what happens when the next door is opened. It must be developmental, and logical. At times, however, teams encounter a locked door, or a door they can open but are struggling to get through, and a good pedagogical leader must handle that situation. Here’s some examples of situations in which that might happen.
Imagine a team has reached the point in the planning process where they must use the decisions they have already made in order to design a provocative initial experience, or series of experiences, they can use in order to give students the chance to reveal what they already know, think, understand or feel about the context . The pedagogical leader uses the unit design process to open up that door, ready for the team to start generating ideas, but the team is struggling to come up with any. In this situation, the pedagogical leader must open that door wider by sharing a few ideas of their own, by modeling the act of putting ideas on the table, by modeling creative thinking, by challenging the team to consider what is possible… and possibly even pushing those boundaries a little while they’re at it.
Imagine a team is exploring the content that they feel should shape the unit they are designing, yet they miss an area of the content that is obvious to the pedagogical leader and that could take the unit in a novel and interesting direction. The process has been designed well enough for them to see that door, move towards it and open it… but they just don’t (yet) think that way. Rather than let it slide, the pedagogical leader must nudge them towards that door, open it for them and describe what could lie on the other side… otherwise that opportunity could be missed.
Imagine a team is analyzing some student work so they can use the data they have gathered in order to make decisions about where to go next with the learning, and a pattern or trend becomes visible to the pedagogical leader but not to anyone else in the team. The process is designed to try and help the team to notice potentially powerful patterns and trends, but they just don’t (yet) see things that way. The pedagogical leader must point it out to them, describe it and open up the door that shows the team what implications for teaching and learning lie behind it.
Imagine a team has taken their unit design into a really good place and are ready to start thinking about the pedagogy that could really breathe life into what they have put on paper. However, when conversation turns to pedagogy, the pedagogical leader notices a worrying shift back to the pedagogy he/she is trying to move people away from. He/she can see, very clearly, the pedagogical moves that really would breathe life into then unit they have designed, but the team just doesn’t (yet) see the art of teaching that way. The pedagogical leader must open up that door for them and show them the practice that lies on the other side… he/she may even have to go into classrooms and show teachers what it looks like rather than just be satisfied with telling them.
I could go on coming up with examples, but I guess the main point I am trying to make is that pedagogical leadership involves, but is not limited to, the following interactions with doors.
- Knowing when people are stuck and how to generate and put ideas on the table that open doors for people and take them through to the next level.
- Knowing when people are limited by their own experience and how to nudge them towards and through doorways that push their boundaries and take them into new practices.
- Knowing when people are limiting what is possible for students and their learning and how to pull people through doors that reveal the variety of possibilities that young people deserve.
Photo by Nick Chalkiadakis on Unsplash
Why Bubblecatchers Matter
A few days ago, My family and I went for dinner at Anne’s house. Anne was one of my Mum’s closest friends when we lived in Tanzania in the 80s, and I haven’t seen her for 31 years. During the evening, I spotted a very nice notebook on the coffee table in front of us… “nice Bubblecatcher” I said.
“Ooooh yes… Bubblecatchers!” Anne replied with incredible enthusiasm.
It turns out that, for many years, Anne has shown her students at the International School of Tanganyika – and her students in the school she works in now – the video of my Learning2 talk in which I shared the story and concept of Bubblecatchers.
As we talked about how she has used them, I was reminded – again – of their profound importance, of the many nuanced habits that they encourage, of the way they can change and enhance relationships with writing for all sorts of purposes, the way they can become beautiful records of our lives and contain nuggets of information – written, drawn, scribbled, stuck in – that may reveal their importance at any moment.
Just this morning, I posted the photo on the left during breakfast in Zanzibar. On the other side of the world, my Mum – an avid Bubble Catcher – remembered a sketch she had done from almost the exact same spot over 30 years beforehand. She dug through her many notebooks, found the sketch and sent it to me.
When that kind of thing happens, there is a definite magic to it.
And, I think, there is a magic to the Bubblecatcher concept.
As teachers, we continue to fabricate things for students to write about… and are still surprised when they are reluctant to write, when they can see right through the situation and realize there is no genuine reason to write. They are not fools, they know they are being asked to write “just because”. That justification went out of fashion years ago.
Bubblecatchers turn this situation around. Life is full of reasons to write that require no fabrication. When we give our students rich and varied experiences, when we put them in situations or contexts that are interesting or inspiring, when we empower them by helping them see that the things they do, the things they need to do and the things they have done are valuable and worth remembering… then writing them down makes perfect sense.
And, their Bubblecatcher is the perfect place to write them.
Next school year, I challenge all teachers to be like Anne and take their students on the Bubblecatcher journey. Take them somewhere to buy notebooks, or just give them a week or two to buy them in their own time (choosing their own is an important ingredient). Then, bring in the habit of jotting things down in them, of carrying them around to different learning experiences, of quickly writing to-do lists at the end of the day, of taking notes and quotes when watching a video, of doodling in them when there’s some time to spare, of pausing for a moment and recording how you all feel.
And, have your own Bubblecatcher so you are with them.
Don’t mark the writing, but also make sure it is not always private. Invite students to read things out sometimes. Model the enjoyment of the words, model the satisfaction of crossing out an item on a list, give them the beautiful sensation of having something they said become a quote that shifts your collective understanding.
Let your pedagogy create the bubbles… and then let the notebooks catch them.
P.S. a digital replacement is a cop-out, don’t kid yourself. A real Bubblecatcher doesn’t need charging.
The Quicksand vs. The Fertile Ground
In my experience, schools can feel like two very different organizational extremes – The Quicksand or The Fertile Ground.
In The Quicksand, the general feeling is that more things are impossible than are possible. You frequently hear phrases like “I don’t know” or “oh… it’s always been that way”… or “good luck” when trying to solve a problem or massage an idea into reality. Often, cultural references are made about the host country that are supposed to be explanations about why things are, or are not, a particular way. The language disempowers and erodes.
In The Quicksand, problems that have been problems for a long time tend to remain as problems. Ideas – if they are still being generated – are not welcome, they suffocate and fade away. Buildings and spaces are neglected… becoming physical manifestations of the mindset that has taken control. Teaching practices congeal and the more congealed they become, the more expectations dwindle until the highest expectation becomes mediocrity… “good enough”. Great people come (maybe) and usually go… unless they get stuck!
Factors that create The Quicksand include:
- the absence or invisibility of any systems that enable things to get done
- overly bureaucratic systems that make getting anything done too difficult or impossible
- individuals who shut ideas or solutions down (this might be due to the fear of increased work, fear of change, feeling under threat or simply just having too much control)
- lack of exposure to schools that possess The Fertile Ground
- lack of vision
- departments and divisions (teaching and non-teaching) that are silos
- a lack of, or damaged, relationships
- privatized and even secretive practices
- a tall poppy syndrome culture – “when you do that, you make me look bad… so let’s all just not do that”
- a culture of fear, particularly of being judged
- cooperation purely because it’s an expectation
In The Fertile Ground, there is a general feeling of possibilities and that “where there’s a will there’s a way”. You frequently hear phrases like “”that’s easy” or “that’s a great idea” or “let’s figure it out” or “let me show you how”. there is a sense of empowerment that permeates throughout the community. This sense of empowerment liberates, enables, motivates, expands and stimulates.
In The Fertile Ground, problems are identified and solved rapidly, which means that more complex or fascinating problems begin to manifest themselves as challenges or opportunities. Ideas are treated with hospitality and even the most crazy ones are valued and explored! There is visible evidence of an all-round attention to detail – architecturally, organizationally, systematically, culturally and… most important… pedagogically.
In The Fertile Ground, people are poised and ready to do interesting work because it’s exciting, because it’s rewarding and… because it’s possible.
Factors that create The Fertile Ground include:
- strong, clear and empowering systems everyone is fluent in
- an emphasis on effectiveness over bureaucracy
- open-mindedness and a spirit of inquiry
- a clear, simple and motivating vision
- interconnected departments and divisions that communicate with each other
- healthy relationships
- a culture of permission
- a steady flow of people with new, different experiences and perspectives
- a culture of experimentation and inspiration – “I love what you’re doing, I’d like to try that”
- collaboration… because it makes sense
What might you add to those lists?
Your Inner Resources
A long time ago, during a workshop – probably PYP – we were encouraged to develop a kind of filter as we planned for learning. This filter required us to ask… will our students remember or be able to use this in 40 minutes, 40 hours, 40 days, 40 weeks, 40 months, 40 years? It wasn’t an exact science, of course, but it was an interesting way to think about what we teach students and its long term impact on their lives.
I feel like we need to be using a similar filter at the moment as we – educators – endeavor to preserve our inner resources at a time when they are being threatened more so than ever before. Those inner resources are our time and our thoughts.
Right now, for educators, it seems like there is no boundary between working and not working. My wife, for example, teaches kindergarten all day – with students in the room, students online in real-time and students online and out of sync – and then works much of the night and weekend planning for that – because it’s [insert expletive] complex!. All the teachers are doing this. People in leadership positions have been scrambling 24/7 since February or March to keep schools operational, to solve perpetual problems, to manage parent expectations, to tread the fine line between supporting colleagues without overloading them, to plan for what’s coming next without knowing what’s coming next.
Our precious inner resource – time – which was already under threat in our profession, has become a serious issue. Individually, we must apply some filters to how we use our time, to what we allow to occupy our time and to help us ensure we preserve time and take care of it.
Then there’s our thoughts.
Teaching was already a profession that caused us to think about our work at almost every moment – both awake and asleep. Teaching nightmares are highly prevalent in our world. Waking up at 3am worrying about that student happens to us all. Even in those moments of solitude – a shower, a walk – our minds are still processing our work, generating ideas, solving problems, making plans. It doesn’t stop. How often do you hear educators say they wish they had a job they could do, be done, go home and not think about it? They mean it, but also don’t mean it because they know that’s not who they are.
So, that other precious inner resource – our thought – is like a tap that never turns off. It’s like continuing to water a plant even though its waterlogged. Try and turn that tap off, however you can, so you can preserve your thoughts for the things that will matter. That’s easier said than done, right? I mean, doesn’t everything matter in education? It would seem so. But when you really start trying to filter, some things will inevitably reveal themselves as not mattering so much, not now, not then… maybe never.
The image above works as an effective filter. But you could easily add more layers to it – like things that matter now, things that really matter, things that will still matter tomorrow!
The Malnourished Leader
I have been in an educational leadership role for seven years – a PYP Coordinator in two schools and now a Director of Learning.
I have been wondering what is wrong with me for some time. I feel depleted, drained, like the life force and joie-de-vivre has been sucked from me. I fall asleep on the sofa. I’ve stopped all my hobbies.
I am boring. So boring that I bore myself.
Today, I had a bit of an epiphany about why I might be feeling this way.
I think I’m malnourished… if we think of inspiration as nourishment.
Inspiration comes from multiple directions when you’re a teacher, it comes from your colleagues, from your students, from professional learning, from books, from that TED talk, from the world around you. It also comes, or should come, from the educational leaders in your school.
As a leader, people depend on you for inspiration, and so you provide it… and provide it… and provide it. At first, if you’ve just come out of a teaching role, it’s fairly easy and natural to do so. You have your experiences, your approaches, your materials still in your hand, still warm. But those gradually fade and your new reality takes over. People continue to take, but little or nothing replaces what is taken. You look outwards for inspiration, for nourishment, for things that re-connect you with what you loved about education.
But, where is it coming from? Where do you look for it… and why should you have to look for it? That’s kind of tiring in itself! Looking for inspiration can quickly become more work for you to add to your interminable to-do list.
People in educational leadership positions need nourishment. Even if it’s not inspiration, they need someone, sometimes to acknowledge their work, to say “hey – thanks for setting that up”. 99.99% (I just made that up) of all feedback given to people in leadership positions is negative – not “thanks for doing this” but instead “why isn’t this like that?”.
Sure, we know what we’re getting into and, as I often hear people say “that’s why you get paid the big bucks”. But, correct me if I’m wrong, none of us got into this profession for the money. And, its a well-known fact that there’s often teachers on staff in schools who get paid more than people in leadership positions.
I don’t want to turn this into a wining, feel-sorry-for-leaders blog post. Instead, perhaps it could be a provocation for the people who exist around leaders, on every angle. Have you sent your principal an example of something amazing your students did? Have you let your director know how a recent decision they made turned out well for you? Have you popped in and told your coordinator about an idea you’re developing?
Try it. Nourish them.
They’re probably hungry.
Lessons from Reggio Emilia #1: Our ways of working
The first in a series of posts about what we all – regardless of location, curriculum and age level – can learn from the philosophy, practices and people of Reggio Emilia.
One of the most powerful impressions that I left Reggio Emilia with is the mind-blowing intelligence of the teachers who work there. Each one of the people I encountered spoke of children and their learning in a way that was deeply rooted in psychology, described in evocative – often poetic – language, richly conceptual and always, always, about growth and what is possible.
Teachers in Reggio Emilia are constantly poised, alert to the nuances of learning that goes on around them. They see concepts as they are unfolding in front of them (as though they were being displayed in their retina!) and are able to name and document them as possibilities for further inquiry. They notice, for example, when a three year-old child says one toy car goes faster down a ramp than the other toy cars “because the air goes through it”. They name that concept as “aerodynamics” and they respond in the full belief that children that young are capable – given the right materials and support – of launching into a full-scale research project into such a complex concept.
Clearly, there are many ingredients that help to develop this intelligence. But one quote, hit me really hard the moment I heard it:
“Teachers have a right to intelligent ways of working”
Silvia Crociani, a Teacher in Reggio Emilia
This resonated with me because I’ve been doing a lot of work recently on two things that have become fundamental in the art of teaching today – (1) the mentality and dispositions of the teacher, and (2) the processes that teachers are involved in.
Those processes are our ways of working.
As a PYP Coordinator, I have been trying to develop processes for planning that encourage teachers to operate intelligently – to question habits and norms, to avoid repetition of units or teaching from the planner, to identify the real purpose behind what we’re doing with students, to grapple with semantics as we endeavour to describe learning, to be researchers into their students’ thinking and behaviour, to document their observations and see them as data, to ponder what ‘to understand’ means and what might be genuine evidence of understanding, etc…
But it struck me that we may have been trying to go through these processes within a bigger context of unintelligent ways of working. In other words, we have been trying our best, pushing our mental capacities, but we’ve been doing this within some systematic constraints that limit our ability to go beyond a certain point.
The first, and most important, constraint is time.
In Reggio Emilia it has been decided that, if teachers are to be capable of thinking about the children they are teaching, going through the notes and other forms of documentation they have about the children, sharing thoughts and diversifying their perspectives about the children with other adults, making thoughtful decisions about how they will respond to what children are doing and saying and taking action to make those decisions become reality… then they need time to do so. As a minimum, six hours per week is devoted – officially – to doing just that.
It is a priority.
It may even be the priority because everything else hinges on what comes out of it.
In most of the schools you and I operate in, that time has not been identified as a priority. When creating school timetables, very often with an industrial mindset, this often comes as an afterthought – in 4th, 5th, 6th, 10th, 24th place in the order of priorities depending on the school you’re in. Many teachers snatch at snippets of time throughout the week, others may have one hour a week, two if they’re lucky. Great teachers continue to think well beyond the school day, their minds never turning off, making them prone to burn-out or that feeling of isolation many of us feel when the system doesn’t support how we wish we could operate.
I urge all school leaders to ponder the following questions:
- Do we believe that the quality of learning is directly related to the amount of time teachers have to reflect, think, discuss, make plans and take action?
- Are the systems in our school promoting these things as a priority?
- How can we use the phrase “intelligent ways of working” to reflect on how we do things in our school?
Evolution Starts Here, Part 2: The Language of Learning
Nothing irritates me more than teachers saying that educational terminology is “just jargon”. I work in PYP schools, and I hear so-called PYP teachers referring to the language of the PYP as jargon very often. I’ve noticed a pattern – its always the ones who don’t actually know the language, the ones who don’t know what it says in the documents… the ones who are not fluent in the language of learning in their school. Its a type of defense-mechanism, I guess. A front to cover for laziness, or perhaps the fact that they don’t really believe in what they’re doing.
In order to bring about sustainable change, to create the conditions for innovation and to develop a culture in which teachers play with possibilities… everyone in a school needs to be speaking the same language of learning. Once they have that shared language, and they all understand what each other is talking about, there is more room for manoeuvre. Once they are all noticing learning, naming it using the same terminology, they start to see it everywhere… they become liberated from their previously limited views of what learning is, or could be.
This breeds change.
A school needs to actually have a shared language of learning. Then, steps must be taken so that all teachers are fluent in that language. In PYP schools, that language is contained in Making the PYP Happen. Use it! (I’ve written more about this here). In other schools, there are equivalent documents, frameworks, written curriculum, scope and sequences etc… Use them!
Become fluent in the language.
Use the language.
Question the language.
Only then can you really say you know, understand and recognise learning.
Only then can you go deeper into what it all means.
With the fluency comes creativity.
Studio 5: It took more than 7 days
There is considerable hype around the Studio 5 model that is currently being piloted at the International School of Ho Chi Minh City… and rightly so. Studio 5 is a brave concept that doesn’t just pay lip-service to the philosophies upon which the IB Primary Years Programme and other student-centred, inquiry-based frameworks are built. It creates the conditions for all of that philosophy to become practice. Very rare.
Don’t be fooled though.
This stuff is not new.
Progressive and innovative educators have been doing some of these ideas for years. Schools have been designed around them. Movements have evolved around them. Books have been written about them.
But, these have either fizzled out, faded away, disappeared or survived as weird exceptions to the rule. Perhaps sustained by wealthy benefactors, enigmatic leaders or a powerful niche market.
Studio 5 is a wonderful example of what is possible. But it is critical that anyone hoping to move their school, or even just a part of it, towards a similar model must understand that Studio 5 didn’t just appear out of nowhere. It comes after four years of smaller, very significant, steps. Shifting mindsets, pedagogies, structures, systems, habits, priorities… incremental changes to these over a sustained period of time cleared pathways, opened doors and generated momentum.
Each change was a question that could only be answered by the next change.
Without this evolution, one in which the Studio 5 model was genuinely a natural progression, it would just be a novelty.
In a series of upcoming posts, I will reveal the milestones in the evolution of a school in which Studio 5 is possible. Perhaps these can provide tangible ways that other schools can begin to consider similar change, but change that is logical and natural in their context.
“Semantics” is not a bad word
Planning, teaching and assessing in the PYP framework involves a great deal of thought, deliberation and discussion. It involves establishing a strong sense of purpose. It involves a strong dedication to the pursuit of understanding. It involves a search for meaning. This is what makes the PYP special, what separates it from other models of education. It is an intellectual model of education that has high expectations for both students and teachers alike.
However, we still find ourselves at the planning table with so-called “PYP Teachers”, both experienced and inexperienced, who are reluctant to do the thinking that is crucial if their pedagogy is to be purposeful, to be in the pursuit of understanding and to be a genuine search for meaning.
The main opt-out clauses for people like this are the following sentences:
“This is just semantics“
“Why are we wasting our time just talking about words?’
“I don’t have anything to add to this conversation, its a waste of my time”
Not only are these sentences frightening indicators of an educator’s willingness (or even capacity) to think, they are also an even more frightening indicator of their ability to challenge their students’ thinking.
Furthermore, in the context of planning in a PYP context, the use of “semantics” as a bad word can instantly suck the intellectual energy from a group of people who are trying to figure out why, how and what their students could or should be learning. People who utter the sentences above seem to have a strange kind of power. They tap into an underlying laziness that we all possess and that tells us it is indeed easier to stop grappling with the words that describe the meaning of what we will teach our students than it is to continue doing so. It is easier to walk out of the room without really understanding what we’re doing, how we’re going to do it and – most importantly – why we’re doing it. It is easier just to go ahead and teach some stuff than to genuinely think about it.
The bad news is that easiness is a fast track to mediocrity. To avoid the thinking is to deny ourselves, our colleagues and our students the opportunity to understand and to find meaning in what we do and to do everything to the very best of our capabilities.
As a PYP Coordinator, I adore and am drawn to those who are willing to do the thinking, who enjoy the thinking… who crave the thinking! But, what do I do with those who consistently seek to avoid it, who use “semantics” as a bad word and who infect other people around them with their corrosive, lazy power?
In all honesty, the natural response is to have little or no respect for them as educators… and particularly not as PYP educators. The natural response is to hope they move to another school as quickly as possible! Of course, sometimes there is a glimmer of hope and people can be rescued if they’re put in a team of thinkers. I have seen that happen a few times, but not many.
If they’ve been working in PYP schools for a long time and still have the same attitude then, I’m afraid, they should be advised to go back to another type of pedagogy where most, or all, of the thinking has been done for them.
If they’re still new to PYP and have already taken on that attitude, it may just be because they’ve been to a very bad workshop, worked in a mediocre school or been infected by the mentality of a former colleague. People like this may just, consciously or subconsciously, be in need of some inspiration.
It must be said, though, that being a PYP teacher… a good PYP teacher, demands that you put in the thought, that you deliberate over purpose and meaning – either alone or with your colleagues – and that you continuously reflect on what you and your students are doing. If you’re not willing to do these things, and get a kick out of them, it’s probably best to teach in a different framework – don’t spoil it for everyone else!
Why teachers are Salmon swimming upstream
Recently, Kelli and I were talking about why teaching can be so exhausting. She used the analogy of Salmon swimming upstream to illustrate how we are so often doing what we do in the face of so many other contradictory and conflicting forces.
These forces may sometimes be policies and expectations put in place by governments and education departments based on decisions which are often made by people with little or no educational background apart from the fact that they went to school. In many cases, these policies and expectations are in complete conflict with what educators know to be true about children and learning. And so, most teachers play the game while still trying to do what they believe is right even though their ability to do so (and their time, space and energy to do is) is dwindling.
In other cases (or if you’re unlucky, at the same time) the forces may be policies and expectations that are put in place by school boards or leadership teams. Many school boards are composed of people who have little or no educational background apart from the fact they went to school. And many leadership teams consist of educators so long out of the classroom and so distanced from the realities of day-to-day teaching that they are referring to how things were, or should have been, 20 or 30 years ago. And so, most teachers play the game while still trying to do what they believe is right even though their ability to do so (and their time, space and energy to do is) is dwindling.
In other cases (or if you’re really unlucky, at the same time) the forces may be the patterns of behaviour and trends that exist around you all in everyday life outside school. Students may be consistently exposed to things that go against everything you hope to be instilling in them while they are with you, such as vast differences between rich and poor, an abusive class system, the systematic destruction of the environment, institutionalised racism, corrupt officials and police, blatant consumerism and greed and disregard for human life. And so some teachers try to get their students involved in doing something about these problems, and this is great. But, all too often the overwhelming feeling that they’re only scratching the surface burns people out or the transient nature of many international schools means projects are not sustained. And so, teachers and students do what they do inside a sort of bubble of safety, security and sanitisation while still trying to open their students’ eyes to reality.
In other cases (or if you’re really, really unlucky) the forces may be the parents and what they believe about parenting. Teachers may be consistently trying to reverse the damaging effects of different parenting styles, such as children who have “learned helplessness”, children who are overprotected, children who are under too much pressure to be academically successful, children who are over-scheduled, children who are unable to relax without a screen in front of them, children who are not getting enough sleep, children who eat a damaging diet, children who are being medicated and children who are being brought up with worrying political and ethical beliefs. And so, teachers do what they do in the hope that their 8 hours or so each day with these children can, in some way counteract what is happening at home and give them a refuge, increase their confidence and self-esteem, reveal different perspectives to them and, perhaps most importantly, help them learn how to figure things out for themselves.
In other cases (or if you’re really, really, really unlucky) the forces may be the what the parents believe is, or should be, a good education. Many parents’ only point of reference about education is their own experience. Some of the more enlightened parents look back at aspects of their education and hope, more than anything else, that their children don’t have to “go through that”. Many, though, hark back to their education with rose-tinted glasses and put pressure on modern teachers to replicate those practices despite the fact that pedagogical research, as well as the world itself, has moved on since then. And so, teachers are charged with the responsibility of not only educating children but also educating parents about how they are educating their children!
The Salmon swimming upstream is a great analogy for what it’s like to be a teacher. At least, a teacher who is determined to stay up-to-date with pedagogical research and contemporary practice, who is determined to teach the child and not just the content, who is determined to be part of creating generations of young people who can give themselves and the next generation a better existence and who is determined to make the most of the privilege that it is to have such a direct impact on the lives of so many people. If not, I guess they’re just swimming along with the current… which is, of course, much easier, much less energy-sapping and involves a lot less thought!
Time Space Education 