Feedback. Silence(d).

It has always been there.

I feel my foot struggling for purchase in the shale.

I hear the torrent bellowing far below.


I glance up as the crow calls.

It angles its wings and dips behind a copse.

We clasp hands, we move on.

Feedback.

It was there on the space above the fireplace.

It was there on the sandstone wall.

I look at the back of the painting, to find the attached note.

It has always been there.

Feedback.

I listen to the sound of the branch.

It sounds brittle, I move my hand to another.

I remember the sound of the branch which broke.

I remember hitting the ground, the wind crushed from my lungs.

I feel for the solidity of the hold, it brings me reassurance.

I remember sudden imbalance and fear.

"What if I were to...?"

I remember words spoken with care.

I repeat those words.

I repeat those words.

"Breathe deeply, concentrate on the task in hand." 

"That is not a step for me to make."

"This is your path, this is your path." 

I remember gestures of encouragement.

I remember that empathetic silence of anticipation.

A sharp intake of breath.

I feel intuitively that this is my path.

I forget the babble of those who would know better.

"The babble", "the babble", "the babble".

Be silent now.

This is my path.

Judge me if you will.

Footnote on feedback.

I was going to speak of a Twitter conversation concerning feedback, assessment and grades.

Try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to include the "tweet babble".

It seemed an irrelevant footnote to this feedback story.

I came back to this exchange:

@sensor63 Yes. The only way to know who students are is to listen to them tell us. #digped

— Sean Michael Morris (@slamteacher) October 14, 2016

On reflection, even "telling" seems superfluous.

We are so much more than words.

I remember moments of grace.

There are no words spoken.

I find another tweet exchange to conclude.

@ken_bauer @slamteacher silence isn't awkward if we are not #digped

— Simon Ensor (@sensor63) October 14, 2016

Post Script 

Later on this morning, I fell upon an article entitled:

"4 minutes of silence can boost your empathy for others."  

It featured a video:
 

The video was accompanied by the following text:

"When talking about the problem of refugees, we use dehumanised language, which reduces human tragedy to numbers and statistics. But this suffering concerns real people, who – just like us - have families, loved ones, friends; their own stories, dreams, goals... Only when you sit down opposite a specific person and look into their eyes, you no longer see an anonymous refugee, one of the migrants, and notice the human before you, just like yourself – loving, suffering, dreaming... 

20 years ago, psychologist Arthur Aron discovered that 4 minutes of looking into each other's eyes can bring people closer. Using this discovery, we decided to carry out a simple experiment, during which refugees and Europeans sat opposite each other and looked into each other's eyes. Clearly, it is most important to give each other time to better understand and get to know each other."

I noted the following:

"we use dehumanised language, which reduces human tragedy to numbers and statistics."

Isn't the tragedy of education the use of  "dehumanised language" which reduces people, all our children to "numbers and statistics" ?

I fell upon the words of Clint Smith.

I looked back at what I had written:  

"telling seems superfluous".  

I felt ashamed.

What is education if it is not about enabling others to tell their truth?

"This is your path, this is your path."  
"Your path is not my path."

Life paths may be limited by words given to us even before our birth.

There are those who are born to be heard, there are those who are born and are silenced.

"There's really no such thing as the 'voiceless'. There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard." 

Arundhati Roy.

Disciplined Minds...

He was about twenty years old.

"Well we're not used to freedom, we are so used to being told what to do, what to learn. It's good what you are trying to do but you need to start with younger students..."

A remark of a wise old hand at the education game. It is already too late. He is nearing the end of his university degree course. He has important exams to take. Doing anything like real learning is perhaps fun but a bit of a distraction.

Class work Instructions.

• Take two tablets once a week.
• Give them a list of any old stuff  apparently very serious subject matter to cram revise a week before the test. 
• Don't give them too much, nor too little. 
• Avoid embarrassing spelling mistakes.
• Ensure an average mark of 12. (A higher mark will not be satisfactory for other departments.) 
• Make sure there is no brou ha ha in the classroom.
• Make sure there are no complaints, no cheating, and no taxing thinking for anybody to do.
• Don't forget how lucky you are. (to have a job)

We are all much too busy.

Those above, they have the time, they will decide for us. They are paid enough for goodness sake!

"What do I need to do to get the average? What do I do to get enough to retire?"

Completely unlinked links

Disciplined Minds 

The Stockhom Syndrome

One flew over the Cuckoo's nest

Postman's progress...

Do postmen deliver?

Yes! Everyday, they sort mail, deliver bills, brochures, and the odd postcard (becoming rarer) pretty reliably to the right door.

To reduce postmen to such a role however is to do them a disservice. Postmen have also often played an important but unheralded part in bringing human presence to the needy and lonely in our communities. Pat your postman on the back;  his days as an unpaid social worker are sorely counted.

In this age of climactic economic crisis, politicians have grand plans for our faithful posties. . .They are now also to  become...ECO-WARRIORS! They are on the front-line fighting for our planet's survival. Thanks to the latest techological advances their rounds are now becoming electric.

Out the noisy, smelly, polluting combusion engine, in the shiny yellow rechargeable minivans!

Progress indeed!

This is what first struck me when I came across the shiny yellow rechargeable minivan parked on my way to attending the conference Cyberlangues at the cinema in Marly le Roi last week. So impressed was I, I forgot my haste and I took three photographs of the thing.  This aroused the curiosity of the proud postman pilot of the aforesaid vehicule.

"Zero C02 emmissions! La Poste engages itself to provide a responsible mail service!" The slogan on the side of the van boomed out, accompanied by the World Wild Life Fund panda, in logo.

We started talking, Marcel and I, (we shall call him Marcel) about his new van.

"It's great fun to drive", he said, "Would be ideal for an older postman, or on certain rounds. But for me," he added, "I prefer a bicycle."

I looked perplexed, wasn't this yellow dream progress?

"You see with a bicycle, I can go right up to the house, put the letters in the box and have time to chat with the people. Oh yes, and  it used to keep me fit! With the minivan, I have to get out of the van, open the back, get a basket, walk to the house, post the letter, go back to the van, put the basket in the box, close the back, get into the driver's seat put my foot down on the accelerator and rush to the next stop. It's slower than it used to be on a bike.  I don't have time for people any more..."

"The managment only measure the number of letters  I post and how  fast I do my round...."

Do teachers deliver? 

Well, children are sorted into categories, their letters are checked and they are pretty reliably sent to the appropriate destination.  Children who are difficult to put into boxes get left in sorting offices or are sometimes lost in transit.

To reduce teachers to this role, is maybe alienating but it makes economic sense. After all the public expects a reliable education service which will take their children to the right employer's door.  Global competition, means that we are obliged to make sure that our rounds are up to standard.

Shanghai standards are the criteria by which our universities, for example, are to be assessed. Proud is the university president who can claim his entrance into this universally accepted top-performing league! Such educational institutions win a glowing stamp of approval.

Telegram!


It has come to our notice that French education is lagging behind the UK in the integration of shiny modern technology into the classroom.  The measure of this lag? The number of Interactive White Boards in classrooms. These are shiny, impressive, expensive (now out of date) replacements for the outdated chalk and blackboard . Catching up with the AngloSaxons is surely a must.

Progress indeed for some!

Certain universities currently pride themselves on their "personalised learning" allowed by  sophisticated "Virtual Learning Environments". Students follow cleverly defined, scientifically evaluated routes towards their final stamp of approval. I myself was able to share in the communicative satisfaction of a colleague at Cyberlangues who described this modern process.  She glowed with her university's recognition at Shanghai.

Didn't we feel impressed!

Telegram!


Elsewhere, thanks to political demand, iPads are flooding into the Corrèze, these new saviours of National Education, are to be touchy/feely digital satchels for new flashy digital textbooks. Brilliant, innovative, brave measures...

Do politicians deliver?

By which criteria should we evaluate their progress? Are we only interested in speed, economic efficiency, competitive performance? Wouldn't individual postmen on their rounds, or particular teachers in their specific classrooms not be better judges of the tools necessary to better perform their difficult tasks?  Shouldn't we be taking the time to stop, to  look, to listen, and  to talk, together?

How should we evaluate technological progress?

Do politicians deliver (what we want)?

Are we going to continue to allow politicians and people to stamp on the lonely, the needy, on the misdirected on their way to career success?

Shouldn't we be educating our children, to analyse 'progress' more critically? (I am just asking questions. I am just a teacher.)

This post arrived to your screen only thanks to Marcel, the critical postman.