I would venture to say that most students in the five counties of Southeastern Pennsylvania who have what we consider to be severe disabilities receive special education and related services in non-inclusive school programs. Before I discuss how and why we should continue movement away from these segregated settings and toward quality supported education in truly inclusive settings, l think it is important we have common understanding of (a) what it means in this context to have a severe disability and (b) why students with severe disabilities are educated the way they are in our area.
We know that severe disabilities is a broad term used in human disability and special education to describe a group that includes many different types of people. But it is important to note that at present many professional organizations and advocacy groups consider people to have a severe disabilities if they require persistent, perhaps, lifelong support in one or more important life skill area. That is why it is often the case that people with physical disabilities have severe disabilities, as do many with autism, dual sensory impairments, and perhaps even some with significant behavior disorders. People with extensive mental retardation are very likely to have support needs that are significant and ongoing, and that span most or all of these life skill areas.
Historically, we have perceived of people with severe disabilities from within a medical model. In this worldview, disabilities often have a pathological etiology that has caused the people who have them to have a deficit of a sort that we have long believed we can diagnose and remediate (which of course, most of the time we cannot). This deficit-oriented thinking has for years pervaded definitions of many disabilities and syndromes, has been the basis for the mainstream public perception of human disability (think about, for example, our interest in telethons designed to raise money to “cure” disabilities), and is still the basis for special education for these children when they are school-aged as it is the foundation of, among other things, the continuum of services. It is this ill-conceived continuum that has led our culture to believe that the more severe a disability is, the farther from typically developing peers a student must go to be educated, be it a separate classroom in a regular district school or a separate, center-based school, as are often found in the Intermediate Units in PA and the Special Services School Districts in NJ. It has helped create and sustain special education as a separate system of education running parallel to general education rather than acting as a complement to it.
Inclusion and supported education will not work effectively for students with severe disabilities when attempted from within this inherently flawed medical model. Inclusion is not merely a set of programs and procedures designed to bring students with severe disabilities into the general education classroom with support within the context of deficit-oriented, medical model thinking. It is practical and pragmatic, to be sure, but it needs also to be philosophical and theoretical for it takes a mind-shift in the way we conceptualize human disability as well as what a school is and why it exists. What is needed to make inclusion and supported education work is a community-wide shift in thinking toward a more capacity-oriented social model of human disability in which disabilities are defined by the nature of the social and functional support that exists around a person with severe disabilities. (This constructivist approach enables us to perceive a reality of disability from the nature of idiosyncratic social networks and relationships in place in our communities.) Movement toward thinking of this sort by all members of an educational community enables the movement toward inclusion and supported education.
Indeed, in order to be done well, inclusion and supported education requires all members of a school community to spend time coming to a consensus of purpose and achieving a broad level of commitment to all the students in that community that it serves. It takes frank discussion and visionizing. It necessitates the identification of individual and collective biases and barriers as well as strategies for getting over or around them. It needs to come more from within, as a result of collaborative planning, strategizing, and decision making.
School communities will know that they are moving in the right direction when they can find evidence that their students with severe disabilities, for example, identify themselves with general education classes. If you are a principal, you will know are making progress toward inclusion and supported education when a student with severe disabilities gets off the bus in the morning; rolls to a general education homeroom in your school; hangs up her coat next to the other kids in that classroom; hears her name called on that attendance list; goes to lunch and assemblies with those classmates; and even sits, perhaps, through Science or Math with her classmates in that room. She may not spend her entire day in that room (as some of her non-disabled classmates may not), but she identifies herself as a member of that group. Instead of coming in from the outside to be included in general education activities that are deemed appropriate for her to be there for, she leaves for whatever special education cannot be done in that room and is therefore not appropriate for her to be there for. The difference may seem subtle, but it is critical.
The promise and efficacy of inclusive and supported education is supported by the literature, by practice in a number of places in our country, and by human values. Best practices for students with severe disabilities suggest, partly because of a likelihood of skill generalization difficulties, a curricular approach that emphasizes the need for functional skills taught in criterion environments. These community environments are by definition inclusive; they are our towns and cities, our stores and restaurants, and our public buses and sidewalks. If our desired outcomes for young adults include participation in these settings, and these young adults do not generalize well, then we need to teach functional skills in criterion settings. For school aged children this means inclusive school settings.
At least a dozen or more years ago I participated in an internet discussion group devoted to special education. One participant, Jim Paladino of Colorado, responded to a query for a one sentence definition of inclusive education with the following. I think his response says it all:
Inclusion is many, many things and it changes with the needs and desires of the individual. It depends on your community, your family, and your friends. It is as simple as being accepting of the differences of others and as complex as being creative around strategies to allow individuals to truly feel part of a group. It is not a parallel existence, but mutually interactive living. It is full participation to the capacity possible and desired. It is natural, not forced. It is something friends and family do by nature. It cannot be taught. It is not the least restrictive environment, but the most participative.
Until next time...
25 September 2006
28 February 2006
Camp Treetops
The links on the side of this blog are for three educational institutions to which I am affiliated. The third one on the list is for Camp Treetops (or click here), a children’s camp in the highest peaks of the Adirondack mountains of upstate New York. I’ve worked there since 1999 when I began as a lifeguard and swimming instructor. During the summers since we started, my family and I have had many wonderful experiences there as members of the community.
When folks ask, I tell them that in many ways CTT is like other sleep-away camps. The kids live either in platform tents or in cabins and they take their meals in a central dining room. They swim, ride horses, do arts and crafts, play games, sing songs, sit around camp fires, and go on trips. They make new friends, get homesick, and in the end (for the most part), have great summers.
But in other ways we are vastly different than other children’s camping experiences available today. How and why are we so different? I think the differences become evident, one by one, as one begins to peel away the many layers that give the place its personality. The differences can be found in our rich history as an educational institution and in the values we cherish and strive anew to uphold each summer as our community gathers in late June.
Our values date back to the beginning of camp in the early 1920’s. CTT was founded then by several proteges of John Dewey. Helen and Doug Haskell (Helen too had been a student of Dewey's at Columbia), who became the directors a few years after CTT's founding and ran it for decades before they retired, strove to create, with great purpose, a community for children firmly grounded in the Progressive ideals of integration, democratization, and child-directed experiential learning espoused by the likes of Dewey, Parker, and Hall.
To this day, CTT is firmly grounded in these values. Determination and self-discovery, living and working together to accomplish tasks for the good of the community, engaging in the service of others for the common good, and the importance of environmental stewardship are camp values that are as evident today as they no doubt were during the first decade of its existence.
Here are five ways CTT is different from other children’s camping experiences available today:
First, we strive harder (with real purpose) to provide a more diverse camping experience than other camps and although sometimes it is hard to accomplish this to the extent we might like, we strive nevertheless to make it so. At our founding, we were a camp that served boys and girls of various ethnic backgrounds, all living together in one camp community (an extreme rarity in the 1920’s). We have since grown to be a community in which children can be found from a variety of ethnic, religious, and political backgrounds; countries of origin; socioeconomic circumstances; and family configurations. All these children bring to camp varied cultural and social complexities, as well as unique abilities and interests.
Second, virtually all choices about what activities to do each day rest in the laps of individual campers. Many camps have proscribed programs for their children, who are scheduled each day to a degree that is similar to their school programs, with very little inherent choice. At CTT, children participate in three councils each day, one after each meal, during which they make choices about what they will do for the next portion of the day. Because of this, children are free to pursue activities that are of interest to them, thus helping to ensure even more growth as their natural interests and inclinations work to their benefit within the specific activities they have chosen. We are as child-directed a program as I have seen.
Third, we are community-service oriented. We work, at a variety of levels, to accomplish necessary tasks for the community. This service is evident when, for example, four children work together throughout the course of the summer to maintain their living quarters. It is evident when members of the community (children and adult) undertake daily “workjobs” designed to provide needed community services ranging from supplying toilet paper to washhouses and setting tables for meals, to fixing boats at the waterfront and supplying firewood to fire pits. It is evident when, once a week, the entire community assembles to accomplish a large community service task like weeding the potato field or clearing rocks from new horse pasture. It is also evident, perhaps more so, when a sense of volunteerism sweeps the place on the spur of the moment such that we accomplish difficult tasks such as quickly moving large amounts of hay into the barn.
Fourth, CTT maintains as one of it’s central tenets a focus on sustainability as it pertains to both the environment and to agriculture. We recycle all that can be recycled and we compost both food and barn waste, but we also have a working organic farm with several acres of gardens and a barn full of animals that we all work together to sustain. We tend to the gardens and to the animals so that ultimately the harvests of both can help sustain us. It may seem a mundane task to go into the garden and pick carrots or lettuce, but for many children it is quite novel. It is even more unique to participate in the harvesting of, for example, chickens, as I did last summer. It is a powerful and emotional life cycle lesson.
Finally, child-directedness and choice-making often lead to wonderful moments of self-discovery. Since we place a premium on these methods, we tend to see, more than do other camps, I suspect, evidence of accomplishment as a function of sheer will and perseverance. And the examples are not all related to the big goals such as arriving at the summit of a mountain or jumping a horse in the riding ring. Many of the triumphs are small ones that go almost unnoticed: spending seven weeks away from home, overcoming a fear of the water, making friends with someone who doesn’t speak your language so well, or feeling good about helping others.
One of the things I do at camp is teach a college-level course on progressive education as it is applied at CTT. As you might imagine, we focus much on the work of John Dewey who was born and raised not all that far away from camp. Given that camp was founded by his proteges and conceptualized in a manner that was in keeping with the things he believed, I sometimes sit and look out across the pasture toward the barn and the driveway and picture Dewey arriving for a visit with his former students. It is plausible, I believe, to think that he may have been a visitor here. If it did happen, I am sure he must have been pleased to find a community striving hard to maintain ideals he held very dear. If he could visit today, I think he would find that very little has changed.
Until next time…
When folks ask, I tell them that in many ways CTT is like other sleep-away camps. The kids live either in platform tents or in cabins and they take their meals in a central dining room. They swim, ride horses, do arts and crafts, play games, sing songs, sit around camp fires, and go on trips. They make new friends, get homesick, and in the end (for the most part), have great summers.
But in other ways we are vastly different than other children’s camping experiences available today. How and why are we so different? I think the differences become evident, one by one, as one begins to peel away the many layers that give the place its personality. The differences can be found in our rich history as an educational institution and in the values we cherish and strive anew to uphold each summer as our community gathers in late June.
Our values date back to the beginning of camp in the early 1920’s. CTT was founded then by several proteges of John Dewey. Helen and Doug Haskell (Helen too had been a student of Dewey's at Columbia), who became the directors a few years after CTT's founding and ran it for decades before they retired, strove to create, with great purpose, a community for children firmly grounded in the Progressive ideals of integration, democratization, and child-directed experiential learning espoused by the likes of Dewey, Parker, and Hall.
To this day, CTT is firmly grounded in these values. Determination and self-discovery, living and working together to accomplish tasks for the good of the community, engaging in the service of others for the common good, and the importance of environmental stewardship are camp values that are as evident today as they no doubt were during the first decade of its existence.
Here are five ways CTT is different from other children’s camping experiences available today:
First, we strive harder (with real purpose) to provide a more diverse camping experience than other camps and although sometimes it is hard to accomplish this to the extent we might like, we strive nevertheless to make it so. At our founding, we were a camp that served boys and girls of various ethnic backgrounds, all living together in one camp community (an extreme rarity in the 1920’s). We have since grown to be a community in which children can be found from a variety of ethnic, religious, and political backgrounds; countries of origin; socioeconomic circumstances; and family configurations. All these children bring to camp varied cultural and social complexities, as well as unique abilities and interests.
Second, virtually all choices about what activities to do each day rest in the laps of individual campers. Many camps have proscribed programs for their children, who are scheduled each day to a degree that is similar to their school programs, with very little inherent choice. At CTT, children participate in three councils each day, one after each meal, during which they make choices about what they will do for the next portion of the day. Because of this, children are free to pursue activities that are of interest to them, thus helping to ensure even more growth as their natural interests and inclinations work to their benefit within the specific activities they have chosen. We are as child-directed a program as I have seen.
Third, we are community-service oriented. We work, at a variety of levels, to accomplish necessary tasks for the community. This service is evident when, for example, four children work together throughout the course of the summer to maintain their living quarters. It is evident when members of the community (children and adult) undertake daily “workjobs” designed to provide needed community services ranging from supplying toilet paper to washhouses and setting tables for meals, to fixing boats at the waterfront and supplying firewood to fire pits. It is evident when, once a week, the entire community assembles to accomplish a large community service task like weeding the potato field or clearing rocks from new horse pasture. It is also evident, perhaps more so, when a sense of volunteerism sweeps the place on the spur of the moment such that we accomplish difficult tasks such as quickly moving large amounts of hay into the barn.
Fourth, CTT maintains as one of it’s central tenets a focus on sustainability as it pertains to both the environment and to agriculture. We recycle all that can be recycled and we compost both food and barn waste, but we also have a working organic farm with several acres of gardens and a barn full of animals that we all work together to sustain. We tend to the gardens and to the animals so that ultimately the harvests of both can help sustain us. It may seem a mundane task to go into the garden and pick carrots or lettuce, but for many children it is quite novel. It is even more unique to participate in the harvesting of, for example, chickens, as I did last summer. It is a powerful and emotional life cycle lesson.
Finally, child-directedness and choice-making often lead to wonderful moments of self-discovery. Since we place a premium on these methods, we tend to see, more than do other camps, I suspect, evidence of accomplishment as a function of sheer will and perseverance. And the examples are not all related to the big goals such as arriving at the summit of a mountain or jumping a horse in the riding ring. Many of the triumphs are small ones that go almost unnoticed: spending seven weeks away from home, overcoming a fear of the water, making friends with someone who doesn’t speak your language so well, or feeling good about helping others.
One of the things I do at camp is teach a college-level course on progressive education as it is applied at CTT. As you might imagine, we focus much on the work of John Dewey who was born and raised not all that far away from camp. Given that camp was founded by his proteges and conceptualized in a manner that was in keeping with the things he believed, I sometimes sit and look out across the pasture toward the barn and the driveway and picture Dewey arriving for a visit with his former students. It is plausible, I believe, to think that he may have been a visitor here. If it did happen, I am sure he must have been pleased to find a community striving hard to maintain ideals he held very dear. If he could visit today, I think he would find that very little has changed.
Until next time…
20 February 2006
Human as Instrument Statement
When I was in graduate school at the University of Virginia, I had a course in qualitative research methods. The course was taught by a great guy by the name of Bob Covert. Bob taught us to use naturalist inquiry as an inductive method of theory generation (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Human beings act first as data collection instruments by collecting large amounts of data using methods including detailed interview and prolonged observation (indeed, nearly total immersion in the phenomenon of interest), and as then as the primary means of data analysis by conducting content analyses. The resulting narratives, written using “thick description,” are designed to provide the context for themes and theory to emerge.
Those whose research sensibilities are aligned with more traditional quantitative methods often look at naturalistic inquiry and have great concerns about objectivity. “How can one expect to find objective truth when one is so closely associated with the phenomenon under study,” they might ask. Part of the answer is for those conducting research using naturalistic inquiry to produce a “human as instrument” statement in which they state with as much objectivity as they can muster at the onset of a study who they are, and what their beliefs and biases are relative to the study. Doing so gives context to the study, it provides a lens through which the reader can view the findings.
In order for you to have the proper context to understand the posts in this blog, I suppose it is important for me to provide you with a human as instrument statement of sorts. In this blog version, you will get a fairly idealized sense of what it is I believe about the endeavors of teaching and learning.
In my mind, classrooms (or schools) ought to be, in all respects, close-knit communities in which all members (students and teachers) enjoy certain freedoms and are protected from certain harms. It is place where the search for truth and knowledge always remains the central purpose. Classrooms and schools should strive to ensure academic, social, and physical safety for all. For example, students and teachers should be free to take academic risks without fear of invective reactions from others or the loss of academic empowerment. All members (teachers and students) should realize that in order to achieve this, they will act at times as teachers and at times as learners; we all stand to learn from each other.
The ability to attain this sort of community of learning is mediated by the nature of the relationships between and among the members of the community. When teachers employ authoritarian, teacher-directed approaches, they create a community in which there are two classes of members. When teachers, as singular "owners" of new knowledge, use pedagogical techniques in which students are made to be passive vessels to be filled with this knowledge, they preclude the students from actively engaging in the construction of new knowledge through their own, often collaborative, processes.
However, when members of the community make authentic commitments to the needs and abilities of the others during the search for knowledge and truth, a classroom becomes an interactive, nurturing place. When a teacher makes an earnest commitment to a student such that the latter is provided with authentic, rigorous opportunities to gain truth and knowledge, each benefits, each learns.
Put another way—a shorter way (and as inspired by Epanchin, Townsend, & Stoddard, 1994), I believe it is important to:
• avoid teacher-centered, authoritarian approaches to educating children that stress passivity by students, conformity to teacher-made rules, and a need for overt control of students;
• advocate for student-centered and student-directed pedagogies using meaningful, relevant, and rigorous curricular materials and instructional strategies in which students are challenged to take control of their own learning (i.e., are empowered with a sense of control of their own “intellectual” destiny) and are reinforced for taking risks; and
• develop deep, positive, and caring interactions with students and their families and make, as professional educators and, when appropriate, as friends, strong commitments to them.
And so there you have it, my beliefs about education, about teaching and learning and the nature of the classroom. When, down the road, I write about one topic or another you can use this human as instrument statement to give you context for what I am saying, to use as a lens through which to view my work. Then you can make the decision to accept what I say or reject it.
Until next time…
References
Epanchin, B. C., Townsend, B., & Stoddard, K. (1994). Constructive classroom management: Strategies for creating positive learning environments. Grove City, CA: Brooks/Cole Publishing Co.
Lincoln, Y. & Guba, E. (1985). Naturalistic inquiry. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications
Those whose research sensibilities are aligned with more traditional quantitative methods often look at naturalistic inquiry and have great concerns about objectivity. “How can one expect to find objective truth when one is so closely associated with the phenomenon under study,” they might ask. Part of the answer is for those conducting research using naturalistic inquiry to produce a “human as instrument” statement in which they state with as much objectivity as they can muster at the onset of a study who they are, and what their beliefs and biases are relative to the study. Doing so gives context to the study, it provides a lens through which the reader can view the findings.
In order for you to have the proper context to understand the posts in this blog, I suppose it is important for me to provide you with a human as instrument statement of sorts. In this blog version, you will get a fairly idealized sense of what it is I believe about the endeavors of teaching and learning.
In my mind, classrooms (or schools) ought to be, in all respects, close-knit communities in which all members (students and teachers) enjoy certain freedoms and are protected from certain harms. It is place where the search for truth and knowledge always remains the central purpose. Classrooms and schools should strive to ensure academic, social, and physical safety for all. For example, students and teachers should be free to take academic risks without fear of invective reactions from others or the loss of academic empowerment. All members (teachers and students) should realize that in order to achieve this, they will act at times as teachers and at times as learners; we all stand to learn from each other.
The ability to attain this sort of community of learning is mediated by the nature of the relationships between and among the members of the community. When teachers employ authoritarian, teacher-directed approaches, they create a community in which there are two classes of members. When teachers, as singular "owners" of new knowledge, use pedagogical techniques in which students are made to be passive vessels to be filled with this knowledge, they preclude the students from actively engaging in the construction of new knowledge through their own, often collaborative, processes.
However, when members of the community make authentic commitments to the needs and abilities of the others during the search for knowledge and truth, a classroom becomes an interactive, nurturing place. When a teacher makes an earnest commitment to a student such that the latter is provided with authentic, rigorous opportunities to gain truth and knowledge, each benefits, each learns.
Put another way—a shorter way (and as inspired by Epanchin, Townsend, & Stoddard, 1994), I believe it is important to:
• avoid teacher-centered, authoritarian approaches to educating children that stress passivity by students, conformity to teacher-made rules, and a need for overt control of students;
• advocate for student-centered and student-directed pedagogies using meaningful, relevant, and rigorous curricular materials and instructional strategies in which students are challenged to take control of their own learning (i.e., are empowered with a sense of control of their own “intellectual” destiny) and are reinforced for taking risks; and
• develop deep, positive, and caring interactions with students and their families and make, as professional educators and, when appropriate, as friends, strong commitments to them.
And so there you have it, my beliefs about education, about teaching and learning and the nature of the classroom. When, down the road, I write about one topic or another you can use this human as instrument statement to give you context for what I am saying, to use as a lens through which to view my work. Then you can make the decision to accept what I say or reject it.
Until next time…
References
Epanchin, B. C., Townsend, B., & Stoddard, K. (1994). Constructive classroom management: Strategies for creating positive learning environments. Grove City, CA: Brooks/Cole Publishing Co.
Lincoln, Y. & Guba, E. (1985). Naturalistic inquiry. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications
16 February 2006
On the Purpose of this Blog…
There are many measures of good teaching, I suppose. Those who consider teaching to be more an art than a science may look to qualitative indicators related to the perception of others of how well instruction is delivered—through captivating lectures or by using compelling classroom activities, for example. Or good teaching may be characterized by the quality of the relationships between teachers and students and their families, “she is a great teacher because she cares about me and about what is going in my life outside the classroom.” Those who take the scientific view of teaching tend to use data to measure their efforts—standardized test scores, class grade distributions…the quantification of achievement.
As important as it is to strive to become a good teacher and to revel in it when it is accomplished by whatever measure is used to provide evidence, it is just as important to strive to remain good. One of the ways this can be accomplished by teachers, I believe, is through reflective thought about the art and science of teaching undertaken on the fly, day in and day out, in the classroom.
I talk about this with my undergraduate teacher education students. I help them understand that it is not enough to accomplish something good in the classroom related to the delivery of instruction unless it is followed up by some sort of self-analysis that serves to maintain similarly inspired teaching practice in the future. It is not enough to be perceived by students and parents as being good unless constant thought is given to why they think this, if the perception is appropriate, and how it can be maintained. It is not enough to collect multiple datasets unless they are examined and decisions made about how their replication can be ensured.
One of the ways I get my undergraduates accustomed to being reflective is by asking them to maintain a reflective journal associated with the classes they take from me. For example, one of the courses they are getting from me is a six-credit methods and field course containing both university classroom contact time (so they can learn methods from me) and field experience time (for them to try these methods or see them used by their cooperating teachers in K-12 classrooms). As you might imagine, there are many important connections to be made between the theoretical content covered in the university classroom and its practical application in the K-12 classroom. I want all my students to make these connections, to connect these dots. I want to see evidence that they have thought about what we have done together at the university, about how they can use what we have discussed in their own classrooms, about how what we are talking about relates to what other professors in the College of Education are telling them, and about how all of it connects to their lives outside of teaching. In believe the journal provides an important context for these various connections to be made.
So then, more to the point of this entry. This blog is my journal. In it I intend to reflect on my thoughts and experiences related to the important endeavors of teaching and learning. My perception at this point is that my entries will cover any topic related to teaching and learning that seems interesting to me and has caused me to be reflective. The entries may be related to what we are talking about in class or they may be about some other pedagogical tidbit that I just happen to be thinking about. As I tell my students to do, I will be on the lookout for tacit thoughts that enter my consciousness so that I can record and reflect on them in written form. When it seems appropriate to do so, I will share these essays with you.
Until next time…
As important as it is to strive to become a good teacher and to revel in it when it is accomplished by whatever measure is used to provide evidence, it is just as important to strive to remain good. One of the ways this can be accomplished by teachers, I believe, is through reflective thought about the art and science of teaching undertaken on the fly, day in and day out, in the classroom.
I talk about this with my undergraduate teacher education students. I help them understand that it is not enough to accomplish something good in the classroom related to the delivery of instruction unless it is followed up by some sort of self-analysis that serves to maintain similarly inspired teaching practice in the future. It is not enough to be perceived by students and parents as being good unless constant thought is given to why they think this, if the perception is appropriate, and how it can be maintained. It is not enough to collect multiple datasets unless they are examined and decisions made about how their replication can be ensured.
One of the ways I get my undergraduates accustomed to being reflective is by asking them to maintain a reflective journal associated with the classes they take from me. For example, one of the courses they are getting from me is a six-credit methods and field course containing both university classroom contact time (so they can learn methods from me) and field experience time (for them to try these methods or see them used by their cooperating teachers in K-12 classrooms). As you might imagine, there are many important connections to be made between the theoretical content covered in the university classroom and its practical application in the K-12 classroom. I want all my students to make these connections, to connect these dots. I want to see evidence that they have thought about what we have done together at the university, about how they can use what we have discussed in their own classrooms, about how what we are talking about relates to what other professors in the College of Education are telling them, and about how all of it connects to their lives outside of teaching. In believe the journal provides an important context for these various connections to be made.
So then, more to the point of this entry. This blog is my journal. In it I intend to reflect on my thoughts and experiences related to the important endeavors of teaching and learning. My perception at this point is that my entries will cover any topic related to teaching and learning that seems interesting to me and has caused me to be reflective. The entries may be related to what we are talking about in class or they may be about some other pedagogical tidbit that I just happen to be thinking about. As I tell my students to do, I will be on the lookout for tacit thoughts that enter my consciousness so that I can record and reflect on them in written form. When it seems appropriate to do so, I will share these essays with you.
Until next time…
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