Being the Example
I know it's easy, and maybe cliché, to quote Einstein and hope the golden glow of his legendary genius provides the backlighting for whatever it is you want to say. But the reason that it's easy is that he said so many things that are brilliant, and understated, and true.
Not surprisingly, he said many quote-worthy things about learning, and teaching, both of which he did with great passion. Not surprisingly, I'm turning to Einstein now to encapsulate something I have been thinking about this week: teaching by example.
"Example isn't another way to teach, it's the only way to teach." - Einstein
Of course we do examples of math problems, look at examples of lines written in iambic pentameter, develop an understanding of how writing works by looking at examples of things other people have written. When we want students to sing a particular note, we sing it for them first. When we want students to learn how to do an overhand volleyball serve, we show them the technique.
We inherently understand the power of such examples because we learned so much of what we know through the examples our teachers used to teach us.
So I consider carefully the examples I use to illustrate the concept of juxtaposition, or how to effectively establish a central claim in an essay, or how chiasmus can be used as an effective rhetorical strategy. ("Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country" (JFK). "Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate" (JFK). "Fair is foul, and foul is fair" (Shakespeare). - see the pattern - A B B A - These are all examples of chiasmus. The fact they are catchy and memorable is evidence that chiasmus is an effective rhetorical device.)
I've been thinking beyond the power of example in direct instruction to what may be the even greater power of example in indirect instruction. Every day when I put on my teacher hat (yes, in direct violation of the spirit of the no hat rule) I remind myself that while I intentionally teach many things, many other things are conveyed less intentionally.
For example: In English class we talk about how other writers use language to communicate their ideas, and how we can use it most effectively to convey our own. We analyze the way writers use words and put them together in certain ways to harness the power they have to express thoughts. We consider the nuances of connotation and the ways that even small changes in punctuation can have big impacts on meaning. We even learn the essentials of MLA style, and the information that is carried in the way things are formatted. We do these things because they matter. They help students to become stronger readers and writers and thinkers. And if I believe they matter, I should act as if they matter all the time. When it's late, and I'm tired, and I'm typing up a quiz on Hamlet, it's easy to forget to italicize the title of the play until I have already printed the finished product. But I am the example. It may seem insignificant. In all likelihood, even without the information that the italics conveys, students will be able to distinguish whether I am talking about Hamlet the play, or Hamlet the character. But I am the example, and if it matters, it matters. I undermine myself, and my students' learning if I don't go back, italicize what should be italicized, and print out a mechanically accurate version of my quiz. "Example isn't another way to teach, it's the only way to teach."
Each content has its own version of italicizing the title. Labeling with the appropriate units of measure, using the appropriate masculine or feminine ending for a word in Spanish, distinguishing between Roosevelts-- all of these things matter in some way.
Undoubtedly there are things that matter more than italicizing Hamlet. In my classroom, I also provide the example for how to treat the ideas, insights, questions, and misunderstandings students are brave enough to share in our ongoing conversation, and I have to model the behaviors I expect. Disregard, ridicule, sarcasm, and insult have no place in that conversation. Respect for students' thinking and regard for their efforts, even those that are laden with confusion, lack of understanding, and egregious errors, help to create a safe zone where students feel freer to take the risks that are required to move from the comfort of what they know into the unfamiliar, where learning happens.
Not surprisingly, he said many quote-worthy things about learning, and teaching, both of which he did with great passion. Not surprisingly, I'm turning to Einstein now to encapsulate something I have been thinking about this week: teaching by example.
"Example isn't another way to teach, it's the only way to teach." - Einstein
Of course we do examples of math problems, look at examples of lines written in iambic pentameter, develop an understanding of how writing works by looking at examples of things other people have written. When we want students to sing a particular note, we sing it for them first. When we want students to learn how to do an overhand volleyball serve, we show them the technique.
We inherently understand the power of such examples because we learned so much of what we know through the examples our teachers used to teach us.
So I consider carefully the examples I use to illustrate the concept of juxtaposition, or how to effectively establish a central claim in an essay, or how chiasmus can be used as an effective rhetorical strategy. ("Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country" (JFK). "Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate" (JFK). "Fair is foul, and foul is fair" (Shakespeare). - see the pattern - A B B A - These are all examples of chiasmus. The fact they are catchy and memorable is evidence that chiasmus is an effective rhetorical device.)
I've been thinking beyond the power of example in direct instruction to what may be the even greater power of example in indirect instruction. Every day when I put on my teacher hat (yes, in direct violation of the spirit of the no hat rule) I remind myself that while I intentionally teach many things, many other things are conveyed less intentionally.
For example: In English class we talk about how other writers use language to communicate their ideas, and how we can use it most effectively to convey our own. We analyze the way writers use words and put them together in certain ways to harness the power they have to express thoughts. We consider the nuances of connotation and the ways that even small changes in punctuation can have big impacts on meaning. We even learn the essentials of MLA style, and the information that is carried in the way things are formatted. We do these things because they matter. They help students to become stronger readers and writers and thinkers. And if I believe they matter, I should act as if they matter all the time. When it's late, and I'm tired, and I'm typing up a quiz on Hamlet, it's easy to forget to italicize the title of the play until I have already printed the finished product. But I am the example. It may seem insignificant. In all likelihood, even without the information that the italics conveys, students will be able to distinguish whether I am talking about Hamlet the play, or Hamlet the character. But I am the example, and if it matters, it matters. I undermine myself, and my students' learning if I don't go back, italicize what should be italicized, and print out a mechanically accurate version of my quiz. "Example isn't another way to teach, it's the only way to teach."
Each content has its own version of italicizing the title. Labeling with the appropriate units of measure, using the appropriate masculine or feminine ending for a word in Spanish, distinguishing between Roosevelts-- all of these things matter in some way.
Undoubtedly there are things that matter more than italicizing Hamlet. In my classroom, I also provide the example for how to treat the ideas, insights, questions, and misunderstandings students are brave enough to share in our ongoing conversation, and I have to model the behaviors I expect. Disregard, ridicule, sarcasm, and insult have no place in that conversation. Respect for students' thinking and regard for their efforts, even those that are laden with confusion, lack of understanding, and egregious errors, help to create a safe zone where students feel freer to take the risks that are required to move from the comfort of what they know into the unfamiliar, where learning happens.
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