Journal Posts for Tuesday, 3/6, following Marsha Pincus's visit

In Beyond Wiggle Room, the discussion of the student who was unmotivated by the intrinsic rewards of learning (and eventually, not by extrinsic rewards either) really struck a chord with me. I've felt some discomfort with my own relationship with learning since entering college. This has been especially prominent in my thoughts this semester, partially due to taking this class and also, generally, as I'm contemplating what it means to be heading into my senior year. While I have learned a lot from and sometimes really enjoyed my college classes, I often find it difficult to envision myself as The Learner that I saw myself as in high school. Over the past few years, I have grappled with whether my dedication as a student in high school was based in learning or achieving. I began to uncover my motivations for the work I did in high school, to name a few: perfectionism, status, and competition (if not with others, than at least with myself.) Those all sound like really big words for the fact that I think they operated somewhat behind the scenes in my mind, behind my vision of myself. Nevertheless, I think they held a great deal of power over me. I don't know if, back then, I would have opted to take a class like “Drama and Inquiry” were I offered the choice between it and a traditional academic or AP course. Reading about this course now, it makes me realize that there may have been similarly interesting courses offered in my high school of which I did not take advantage.

Thinking back like this has helped me in certain ways. I have discovered ways to channel this tendency of mine (needing to complete tasks in organized ways and wrap them up neatly) into activities that I find fulfilling. I enjoy organizational leadership roles where I can work to help others. But reading this article also made me realize that I have been too quick to dismiss “the learner” in me. Maybe that learner has been, at times, buried beneath the need for extrinsic rewards, but the occasional moments of pure joy I get when I am learning something new show me that it is still there. I think my challenge is to stick with the struggle of continuous exploration until I find not just knowledge that gives me that joy, but ways of accessing knowledge that give me that joy. My goal is, somewhat paradoxically, trying to learn how to let go of there being known, definite achievements in my education and engaging in a more “process-driven” (as it says in table 10.1 of the essay) approach. Basically, I think I need to be a little messier in order to open myself up to deeper learning. The circle of inquiry we talked about in class, as well as the intellectual autobiographies discussed in the essay, really made clear for me the importance of both reflection and looking forward as someone involved in the educational process. I think it would be a great gift to be able to come to college already holding these questions consciously in mind (Where have I come from? What motivates me? Where do I go from here?) and, ultimately, knowing that one's relationship with learning need not be static, but can appear, become hidden, grow, and/or deepen in unexpected ways.

There was so much about Marsha’s visit that resonated with me.  I’ve tried to summarize, identify, and pick apart my (obviously emotional...) reaction to her stories and ideas.  While I haven’t (yet) been able to do that, I was truly touched and, more over, intrigued by her idea of ‘inquiry based practice’ and ‘teachers as researchers.’   Sometimes I think about teachers as being in location A (a location that is “practical,” “isolated,” and/or “separated” from "modern" universities and/or research institutions) and ed researchers as being in location Z (a location that allows them to “observe” learning and classrooms without directly influencing it; a location that is “theoretical” rather than “practical.”)  I was so intrigued by her notion that, actually, it is possible for these two identities to intersect.  In some ways, it is this intersection where the “sparks go off,” not only for the teacher and her classroom, but also for prospective-educators like us, who were lucky enough to learn about it.  Marsha's visit showed me that the paths of "researcher" and "teacher" aren't necessarily separate; but rather, sometimes, happily, intertwining.