Thursday, 7 October 2010
Monday, 4 October 2010
Why so curious?
Why am I so curious about how we learn?
No, it's not just because I'm a teacher - but maybe I am I teacher because of it! For me, our minds are just amazing things. When I was at school, I remember being frustrated that there were so many things going on in my head and that there just wasn't space or time to delve into them in lessons. OR they were things that really didn't belong in lessons.
Why did my brain get so excited about some things but turn to grey jelly about others? Why did I find revising so hard when I thought I'd done everything I was meant to in the lesson? Why did my teachers think I was good at French when I thought I was rubbish? And why did I do badly in Science tests when I'd done everything I was meant to do in the lessons? Was I really any good at acting or did I just not mind making an idiot of myself? And if I enjoyed something in school, why couldn't I work at THAT and turn THAT into a qualification instead of all the other things I didn't really want to study?
Meantime, I was falling in love - YES - with:
1) Andrew Darbry who I sat next to in Form
2) English Literature
The details of the Andrew-story I will save for another day ... but what was really weird was that everything I read kept reminding me of stuff going on in my own life. It was as if all the great writers of the world had a little future-spy-hole into the life of Kat-Pugh-the-Teenager and had dropped clues there for me to solve. Without trying very hard, without being told to do it for homework, without needing a reward at the end, without even an end-goal in mind, I found myself on a quest. A quest for the ideas and answers to life's mysteries (big and small) which I could learn through the words, characters, perspectives and plots designed by some of the world's wisest and most creative people: great writers of English Literature.
And so it began. It took me far further than understanding why Andrew only had eyes for Ayesha and not for me. It took me into school plays, through GCSE and onto A-Level, into the wisdom of George Eliot, the bawdy rudeness of Chaucer (I've never read anything so naughty), the pain and pride of Truman Capote, the saucy romance and heart-stopping tragedy of Shakespeare; it took me to direct plays in Africa, to run press conferences in London, to waitressing jobs in the holidays, to teaching in a fabulous school; it took me through love and loss, through joy and heartbreak ... and it taught me to look and listen, to observe and reflect, to know what to be proud of and what to be humble about and - most wonderful of all - it taught me that there is always more to learn - which is what makes life endlessly extraordinary. And I am still on the quest. And Andrew Darbry and Ayesha only lasted a few weeks together anyway.
That's my story. But OH I wish I had kept a better track of it. I wish we'd had blogging when I was but-a-tiny-teen-with-a-very-bad-haircut.
And that's where you come in. What's your journey? Where have you come from? Where are you going to? What is taking you there? And dare you, DARE YOU, blog it?
No, it's not just because I'm a teacher - but maybe I am I teacher because of it! For me, our minds are just amazing things. When I was at school, I remember being frustrated that there were so many things going on in my head and that there just wasn't space or time to delve into them in lessons. OR they were things that really didn't belong in lessons.
Why did my brain get so excited about some things but turn to grey jelly about others? Why did I find revising so hard when I thought I'd done everything I was meant to in the lesson? Why did my teachers think I was good at French when I thought I was rubbish? And why did I do badly in Science tests when I'd done everything I was meant to do in the lessons? Was I really any good at acting or did I just not mind making an idiot of myself? And if I enjoyed something in school, why couldn't I work at THAT and turn THAT into a qualification instead of all the other things I didn't really want to study?
Meantime, I was falling in love - YES - with:
1) Andrew Darbry who I sat next to in Form
2) English Literature
The details of the Andrew-story I will save for another day ... but what was really weird was that everything I read kept reminding me of stuff going on in my own life. It was as if all the great writers of the world had a little future-spy-hole into the life of Kat-Pugh-the-Teenager and had dropped clues there for me to solve. Without trying very hard, without being told to do it for homework, without needing a reward at the end, without even an end-goal in mind, I found myself on a quest. A quest for the ideas and answers to life's mysteries (big and small) which I could learn through the words, characters, perspectives and plots designed by some of the world's wisest and most creative people: great writers of English Literature.
And so it began. It took me far further than understanding why Andrew only had eyes for Ayesha and not for me. It took me into school plays, through GCSE and onto A-Level, into the wisdom of George Eliot, the bawdy rudeness of Chaucer (I've never read anything so naughty), the pain and pride of Truman Capote, the saucy romance and heart-stopping tragedy of Shakespeare; it took me to direct plays in Africa, to run press conferences in London, to waitressing jobs in the holidays, to teaching in a fabulous school; it took me through love and loss, through joy and heartbreak ... and it taught me to look and listen, to observe and reflect, to know what to be proud of and what to be humble about and - most wonderful of all - it taught me that there is always more to learn - which is what makes life endlessly extraordinary. And I am still on the quest. And Andrew Darbry and Ayesha only lasted a few weeks together anyway.
That's my story. But OH I wish I had kept a better track of it. I wish we'd had blogging when I was but-a-tiny-teen-with-a-very-bad-haircut.
And that's where you come in. What's your journey? Where have you come from? Where are you going to? What is taking you there? And dare you, DARE YOU, blog it?
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