A Class of Interactive Learning

Most terms associated with teaching today invariably come in context with the word ‘interactive’. Whether it is a lesson plan, an activity or a school event, the need for student interaction is compulsory to the attainment of success.

As a Curriculum Specialist I was asked by the School Management to conduct a workshop on “Interactive Teaching” to help equip the Primary Teaching Staff with effective tools to incorporate an environment of interactive learning.

I set out to plan the workshop by listing a set of targets to achieve. When talking about an interactive system of education, it was but imperative to conduct the workshop in a manner that reflected the amount of growth and learning possible through such interaction. Therefore, I decided to attach a little drama and role play to involve the teachers in the learning process.

I began the workshop with a little act. The drama teacher came to my rescue acting as a student. I placed on screen a picture of a horse eating grass. A short dialogue followed where the student identified the horse as a big dog. The teacher is filled with a sense of query and probes into the child’s mind to understand his interpretation of a horse as a dog. She then directs the conversation towards some logical reasoning allowing the student to rule out the possibility of the horse being a dog. And so, without cutting off the child’s observation and jumping to give in the solution, the teacher is able to strengthen the student’s power of speculation and logical reasoning.

There was an interesting follow up discussion amongst teachers who were appreciative of the amount of similarities that the student had been able to define between the horse and the dog. Surely this interesting conversation would not have been possible if the teacher would have simply stated the child incorrect and moved on with the facts. It gave my teachers an opportunity to actually work and understand student levels with this strategy of ‘Peeking into their World’!

Next up, I dressed up myself with a mystic hat accompanied by a pair of dark shades. Some teachers laughed while others clapped to welcome the refreshing act. My next set target was to create an imaginative story along with the teachers using a bell. The hall was noisy with anticipation and I rang the bell to get my silence. I began the story acting like the mysterious character that walks into a strange town and comes across different interesting situations. My job in creating the story was limited to moving the situations forward indicating the need to describe places and people without influencing the drama. Each time I rang the bell, a different teacher would add on a twist to the story and together we were able to create a hilarious story about the “Stranger in Town”.

I had successfully portrayed the role of a teacher as a strong ‘facilitator’. The teachers were thrilled by my performance and clearly agreed how exciting this act would be for the children in the class. Some decided to use this story teller act as a constant in their composition classes. I was happy to see that the students’ imagination would no longer remain limited to our own experiences and ideas.

The next task at hand was to help the teachers realize how important it is to involve our students in planning events and sharing responsibilities to create an awareness of holding a relevant position of importance in their own growth.

Here, I created a classroom atmosphere. I had already placed the teachers in groups. I walked in as a panicked and confused teacher. A few asked me, “What’s wrong teacher?” I informed them that I had been given the task to plan a “Teachers Day” and was completely out of ideas. I then reached out to them to maybe share a few ideas. They began with many different and fun responses and I created a colourful mind map along with them on the soft board. We discussed activities, materials required to enjoy those activities and also the people who were ready to take upon the responsibility to provide the fun on that day.

Opinions were shared and solutions were devised through discussions. Here, the idea of shared learning came across with huge popularity and teachers felt that they carried un-necessary thinking load on their shoulders which could easily be shared with their students.

I then moved on to hand them papers with a uniform shape of a circle and asked them to create something new and interesting with it. In minutes, I was ready to get the feedback. Teachers had used their individual thoughts to create different characters, objects and even scenery from that one uniform shape. They stood up at the podium to share their creative work and got the applause from their colleagues.

It brought to light individual potential and diversity of thought. As a facilitator, I allowed each teacher the time and space to express and share her art work, exhibiting my patience and fair mindedness.

I sat down on the stairs that led to the stage. I was thinking. By now, these teachers had been trained to ask questions understanding my acts. “What are you thinking about teacher?” they asked me behaving like small children. I began to tell them a story. A story about myself when I was their age. I had created a scene out of my own imagination to instigate a conflict of opinions. I told them that when I was 8 years old, my mum dropped me at the salon for a hair-cut. I was in line and waited till it was my turn. However, the lady decided to give her old customers preference and even though it was my turn, she decided to let me wait. I remained quiet and got my turn in the end. I got in the car and complained bitterly to my mum, who simply said, “It’s your own fault!”

The discussion began. Some agreed to my mother’s statement a little annoyed by my silence while others declared their compassion considering my age and the bossy behaviour of the lady at the salon. All in all, there were reasons given and some places the logic was contested by emotional factors. A vote was taken and most teachers voted on the need to speak your mind and uphold the principle of justice. My role through this act was to highlight the courtesy shown by most teachers while expressing their opinions in contrast to the more volatile speakers.

This act was important to me on a personal level as I firmly believe that empowerment of our children begins with freedom of thought and opinion. It is not just important to teach our children to speak their mind but also the tools of positive communication and effective methods to put across their points without offending or abusing the counter view.

The Workshop lasted an hour and I also touched upon some interactive tools that we could incorporate into our classroom systems to further the interaction between our students and ourselves. These included the mailbox, audio visuals and standard items of clothing that could be used at all times to create a little drama and magic for and by the students.

I concluded the workshop with a hand out that I had prepared for the teachers covering all the objectives that defined a ‘Class of Interactive Learning”!

Left Out In The Season Of Hope

The School was new and so was the environment. The change was tremendous for my boys who had been used to the company of mum and familiar faces. I was taking a break from work and had delivered my third child. The campus was huge and we had paid a heavy fee for the School’s upgraded facilities and equipment. The admission process had been smooth but the school began abruptly without any Orientation Day to help children familiarize themselves with their classrooms or teachers.

The School Van arrived and the children left. I had written an introductory note to the teacher in both my children’s diaries as I felt it was important for her to have some information about my child as a new child. I especially informed her about my younger son and his sensitivity to change and expected problems regarding settling in. It was a general note that would help erase doubts and confusion and save time on part of the teacher.

My children returned from school with not much to say. I asked them about their day and they said, “It was ok.” I checked their diaries but found no acknowledgement of receiving or having read the note.

A few days went by with lots of confusion regarding text books and note books. We were new to the system and therefore, each time there was lack of understanding on my part, I would write a note in the diary considering it the most important tool of communication between the school and myself. At times, it would be signed just to let me know that it had been seen, but sadly with no solution given.

After a month, my son began to lose his enthusiasm for school and often argued with me during the homework sessions where I found him lost in his thoughts and dis-interested. One day during the afternoon study, I found him leaning on his elbows, staring at the H.W with his pencil in his hand. “Why aren’t you writing?” I asked him patiently, although my mind was in a panic by now. “I don’t know how to do this.” And tears rolled down his face. He was a creative child and making sentences for him was not much of a problem. I sensed some hurtfulness. Maybe, I was pushing him too much and he needed to relax. As it is, the school was new and level of expectations had changed.

I decided to visit the school and meet with the teacher to understand his behavioural changes better. I was taken to the Principal’s office who was an educated and sophisticated lady on appearance. Before she called in the teacher, she asked me a lot of questions regarding my son and his previous school. She came across as an intelligent woman who collected all relevant information about my son and expressed her compassion, understanding the many changes my son was facing.

The teacher came in a little worried. She didn’t know why I had come to meet her and didn’t feel that my son was having any problems. “He is settling in. He is social and hard working. He needs to improve his writing speed though. And all the time he wants to go to the toilet. Fixing his hair! I mean he is only in Grade 1!” I listened to her trying to grasp the actual problem. “So, maybe it is his slow pace of work that is giving him much anxiety. I think that the change of system is too drastic for him. In his Kindergarten he was used to being taken care of and here I suppose, he’s expected to manage on his own. If you could give him a little time to settle in without this panic, I’ll be so grateful!” I asked her for a little attention and she nodded without too much commitment. “Please if there is anything, I would like you to let me know about it through the diary. It’s very important to communicate in this matter.”

The meeting ended and I felt a little relief having met the people in-charge of my son’s life for almost half the day.

It had not even been a week and my son started to come home with soiled pants. The frightening part was that he would be unaware of the smell and had probably been in it for a while. My children used the school van and that made matters worse. Every day, he entered home with this problem and I began to lose my patience cleaning him. I made him sit down and asked him if there was anything he was upset about. He shook his head but his eyes looked pretty sad. On his third day, I wrote to the teacher asking her to at least get him cleaned before placing him on the van. I asked her if there was anything that was bothering him in class. If she had spoken to him about it?” The note never got signed.

I took an appointment again to meet with the Principal. She was unaware of the situation and when the teacher was called and asked about it, she too expressed her ignorance on the matter. “I had actually written a note to you two days back,” I informed her keeping my anger from showing. “Yes, I saw it but he never asked me to go to the toilet. And he also didn’t tell me that he had soiled his pants!” She answered rigidly. “I don’t think any child would be that brave Ms. X! Plus, it’s so unhygienic! I’m alarmed at your casual approach to such a worrying matter!” In my heart I had started to sense her dislike for my child. Her words repeated from the last meeting, “All the time he wants to go to the toilet. Fixing his hair!” She had probably been stopping him from using the toilet.

I looked at the Principal for some support. She asked the teacher to be a little more vigilant in my son’s case as he was quite obviously struggling to settle in. After she left, I asked the Principal out of curiosity, “How do other parents convey their concerns to the school Ms. Y? Maybe I don’t know about it?” She looked a little embarrassed. “Well, they call or come and meet us. But I promise to keep in touch regarding your child. The teacher is usually quite vigilant but she has been careless in this matter.”

Once again, I left school, this time a little concerned about the remaining term. The teacher had some issue but I couldn’t quite make out.

It took about another week and a lot of patience from my side to help stop the soiling of his pants. I would talk to him about it being an upset stomach problem and gave him medicine to psychologically disperse the issue.

The real torment was seeing his dull eyes. They once sparkled with plans and the confidence of knowing himself. His Mid-Term report was an expected depiction of his situation and his Art teacher had given him an F grade. I had no confusions in my mind now. He was a gifted artist who had held the pencil at the age of two.

I started to consider the plan to take him out of the school when one fine day he came home jumping with joy! I really wondered what had happened. “Mum, see this!” He handed me a circular. The school was holding an Art Mela for the entire school and the theme was Spring. The children had been asked to prepare themselves for the day by drawing and painting at home.

It was a beautiful few days we shared together, drawing various pictures before deciding on one and painting it. He was happy and a complete chatter box. On the day, as he left home to get on the bus, I gave him a kiss wishing him luck and lots of fun.

The bell rang and there was crying. I rushed out to find my son enter in tears. As soon as he saw me, he collected himself. I hugged him and asked him the problem. “I didn’t paint today. The teacher asked me and another boy to stay in class! The whole school was outside painting!” I couldn’t understand and asked him why? “I don’t know. She made the children line up but asked me to stay in class.” Tears were running and he threw his bag in anger.

I was left helpless as it was a weekend. I waited for the week to begin. This time I was not ready for any nonsense and therefore called the Reception to inquire about any criteria to participate in the Art Mela. As expected, it was meant for all children and apparently had been a huge success with everyone. That’s when I informed her about my son having been left out for no reason at all. She said, “I don’t think that’s possible because all the teachers were out with their classes but I could ask the teacher for you.”

She told me that she would ask the teacher to call me. I waited with my heart overwhelmed with my five year olds tears. The teacher came on line. “You know what happened. He came out with me and then wanted to go to the toilet. He then sneaked out to the class and probably that’s why he wasn’t there!” I was angered by her lie. “So, if I do believe that, my son was missing from his place for two hours and nobody noticed?” “How could we have known about it. We were all busy painting!”

I was not going to let her go that easily. I got in the car and drove off to school. I had made up my mind. My son was not going to be with this teacher anymore. She was the sole cause for his pain and hurtfulness.

I informed the Principal who was completely numbed. She called her assistant and asked her to investigate the matter by asking the other child left in class with my son to see if the matter was as put down by my son. She came back to confirm that both these boys had been left in class without any reason. Even the helpers who had gone in to clean the class had asked them why they were not out with the rest. There were enough witnesses but for me, my son’s broken heart was the greatest evidence. Every day he drew and painted a picture depicting the season of hope Trying to prove to all that he had the ability and would have created a masterpiece with a little faith.

The Principal made her plans to deal with the teacher. My son was shifted to another section which proved a little better but the year was completed with many heart breaks.

To this day, I wonder what had instigated that teacher to dislike my child to the point where she became absolutely personal with him. Was it the notes in the diary which aimed at keeping in touch or could it have been my son’s inquisitive nature to ask questions and accept statements only through logic.

As a teacher, I welcome Parental involvement in school as it helps identify areas that need to be worked upon as well as develop new strategies to handle new challenges. I feel schools that have a parent’s say in its running, benefit far more than schools that want the parent to accept their set programmes and get offended by varied opinions.

My friends told me that I had not been too wise communicating with the school that often. It left me baffled as I wondered what parents in my situation did when they saw their child suffer. It was a bad year and we left the school as soon as the year ended.

We Are But Human

The worksheets had been photocopied a day before but my mind had been occupied with so many tasks of the day that I forgot to collect them from the designated room. They were essentially required for the first lesson the following morning and should have been on my table the day before.

As I stood in the assembly hall I was shuddered by the sudden realization of my mistake. It was carelessness on my part and unprofessional in the eyes of the management. My Grade 2’s were busy singing the School Song. I thought of slipping out quietly to make a sprint to the room and collect the sheets but accompanying the students to the classroom was my responsibility as well.

I cursed my forgetful mind as I walked back to the classroom, the children keeping to their line. I didn’t quite realize that my worry and anxiousness had crept onto my face and was showing quite visibly to all.

The Supervisor was a strict lady who got extremely ticked off by such accidents. As I completed my attendance, I decided to take my chances. I knew it would not be possible without the help and co-operation of my students. “Children, I need to go out of the class for about five minutes. I can’t do that with you all making noise or getting up from your places. I was so busy yesterday that I forgot to collect your language worksheets from the office. Can I trust you to sit quietly for just five minutes?” The class gave a half-hearted answer, a little confused by my unusual request and worried face. 

I reached out to my book shelf and distributed paper strips to each one. “Now, while I’m gone, I’d like you to think and write at least three reasons why you believe you should follow the teacher’s instructions to be quiet while she is out of the class.”

I had no time to waste and leaving the door open, I rushed up to the first floor of the building to collect the relevant worksheets. It was a horror to find the door to the room locked. This meant that I now had to look for the gentleman who safeguarded the key in order to acquire the much needed activity sheets. I hurried down the corridor examining all possible spaces but he was nowhere to be found.

A part of me probed me to get back to the class whilst the other directed me to the ground floor with hope to find him in the office block. I made my way to the office block. It was already more than five minutes. I prayed to find him there so that I could reach back in reasonable time to avoid the much anticipated encounter now. The moment I saw him coming out of the Administrative block, I called out to him feeling a sense of relief. He was ever smiling and walked up to the first floor with me to unlock the door and hand me the necessary papers.

As I walked back to my class, I felt immense shame and guilt at wasting such precious lesson time of the children. It had been almost fifteen minutes. As I turned round to enter the classroom corridor, my heart froze at the sound of the Supervisor talking to my students. I knew I was in trouble. I had absolutely no excuse for my silly morning adventure and my careless act.

As I entered the classroom, I saw my Supervisor walking across the room, pausing at each table to read what the students had written upon their paper strips. She looked at me and questioned my late entry with her eyes. I kept the worksheets on my table transferring my apology likewise. She came towards me and spoke loudly, “Mrs Noman, Your children are just fabulous! When I first walked by the classroom I thought the class was quiet because there was a teacher there. Then when I peaked in, I was shocked to see that there was none. They were all busy doing their work and so busy in their thoughts that only a few acknowledged my presence in the class. When I asked them where is your teacher, they said that you had to meet up with some emergency but had given them work.”

I smiled at my students who were relieved to see me smile. “Well done children and I’m very proud of your responsible behaviour!” The last remark was passed on with a little message for me to reflect upon later! She collected all paper strips from the students and asked me to come and meet her in her office during my free hour. After she left, I thanked my students earnestly for their superb behaviour. They had kept their word and had really earned my trust.

The classes went on as usual and as soon as I was free, I went to meet the Supervisor as instructed. She asked me to sit down and relax. Her mood was strangely pleasant. I started off, “I’m really sorry about this morning Ms.X. I don’t know how I forgot to collect my worksheets yesterday. I wasted a lot of time and…,” She interrupted me by saying, “I don’t think you need to fight your case Ms Shama. You have quite a strong Jury in the class it seems. The verdict is in my hand and I’d like to read it out to you.” 

She had a few of my students paper strips in her hand and the stress of the entire morning episode collapsed in the form of tears as she read:

“I will be quiet when the teacher is out of the class because I want to do something good for her too so she feels happy!”

“I will be quiet because my teacher looks worried and I don’t want her to feel hurt!”

“My teacher wants us to be quiet because she needs our help and I will listen to her because she also helps me!”

“I will be quiet when teacher is gone because I love her and she is a good lady! She was busy and forgot to collect the worksheets from the office!”

“I will be quiet because teacher is teaching us good things and she forgot the worksheets and I think its ok!”

“I will listen to my teacher when she is out of the class because there is no one to help her and she is always busy and I want to help her!”

My children had pleaded my case well. They had convinced the Supervisor that their teacher was but human and probably needed some support to erase the possibility of such errors. They had not only understood my emotions of anxiety, frustration, guilt and helplessness but had gone ahead to register them as being natural and excusable. 

The school then assigned a helper to each Key Stage to manage the collection and distribution of worksheets to relieve the teachers of meeting such blunders.