Why Am I Doing This? : A New Philosophy

My Teaching Philosophy

As both teacher and artist, I find the most significant meaning in understanding the world we live in and how we relate to it. We all seek to find out place in the world. We seek it in family, in friends, in academia, in a job, in our passions. As we grow and learn, we build ourselves a place of safety that encompasses all that we have learned and understand. This safety includes our emotions, our biases, our views on life, and our trusted peers. This safe space, or paradigm, is like a house; constantly in need of repairs and updates. In each of our personal histories, even the specific knowledge and skills we learn through our formative years is constantly in need of updating, editing, or curating. There is always something new to learn. The world in which we currently exist is not the world our children will inherit. The present skills we need to succeed may not be the best match for the tasks of the future. Greek philosopher Heraclitus said “change is the only constant;” a statement I observe to be true, while simultaneously at odds with the focus on standardization in education. For this reason, I strive to be a lifelong learner and model a growth mindset for my students. As our paradigm-house enlarges, so too does our safe space of understanding. As a teacher I strive to create a space that is conducive to keeping my students enlarging their paradigm-houses by creating, by thinking, and by learning.

I have learned much from the artists, educators, and researchers that I have studied both in and out of academia. Experiencing a diverse group of seemingly unrelated individuals, like artist Allan Kaprow, art teacher-researcher Olivia Gude, and British Anthropologist Tim Ingold, I find more common threads that what might be clear on the surface. Something I have experienced most often is my reflection on the work of others helps me realize things about myself. I have had ADHD my entire life, and in recent years I am beginning to understand more fully what that means and how it has changed the floorplan of my paradigm-house. I find that I can pull from seemingly unrelated experiences to create a common thoroughfare for future connections to be made. This rhizomatic method of thinking has served me well in building a bigger paradigm that helps me understand, and create, the world in which I live. I have come to realize that I have always had an interest in building these connections to make something new, something better. I have experienced people making better worlds since childhood; I watched my dad built a different world for his clients by physically altering their spaces as an excavator/demolitionist, and my mom build a better experience for hers by altering how they interacted with products and people in the software and publishing industry. I have found that my methods of teaching have some similarities to artists like Allan Kaprow’s artworks, which he labeled “Happenings.” Kaprow requires his participants in his Happenings to perform actions that rely on seemingly random triggers from the environment. His work titled Self-Service (1967) asked his volunteers to choose from a menu of tasks that in some way involved performing an action in relation to something in their environment (like finding individuals with “pleasant faces”) or until an event in their environment releases them from their task (i.e. they have counted 200 red cars) (Walker, 2014, p. 14). Much like the focus of a still life drawing or a science experiment, Kaprow asks us to focus on the details of our surroundings. We learn from our environments; they shape who we are and how we perceive the world. Educators strive to build a specific environment conducive to learning and meaning-making for our students/participants. This act of creation has become more challenging in a post Covid-19 pandemic era, wrought with technological changes, political strife, social unrest, and the destabilization these events cause in the field of education itself. Teachers all over America express the sentiment that creating this “ideal” environment on what feels like an increasingly shaky, unstable ground. It has been said that necessity is the mother of invention, and I cannot think of a more needful time. I believe that we build the world we need, as we need it, in a similar practice to artist Abraham Cruzvillegas’s Autoconstrucción (Walker Art Center, n.d.). This act of making creates a feedback loop like the process of art criticism in which we create/observe, analyze, interpret, evaluate, and repeat. Like learning, it is never-ending if done correctly. Tim Ingold explains the similar plight of the builder in his book Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, and Architecture; “Builders know all too well that operations seldom, if ever, go according to plan. Working in a fickle and inconstant environment, they have continually to improvise solutions to problems that could not have been anticipated… Completion is, at best, a legal fiction” (2013, p. 48). Ingold postulates that art, anthropology, architecture, and archaeology can be explored best by actively engaging with the processes and materials of study. From educational theory, the Universal Design for Learning (UDL) requires teachers to know that students learn in different ways dependent on the context of where, when, with whom, and how they can show their learning (Nelson, 2021, p. 3). The learning environment that our students will need at present should actively engage them in a way that encourages and allows for them to learn in the way that works best for their situation. As Kaprow involved his participants to create their own meaning from his Happenings, I believe classrooms of today should be structured to actively involve students in the exploration and meaning-making of their own learning environment.

I strive to create an environment in my classroom that is conducive to creating positive experiences through cognitive challenges, play, and rhizomatic thinking. Our paradigm-houses are built by the bricks we call our experiences. To build a bigger house, one needs more bricks. Building houses, metaphorical or actual, is hard work. It is easy to see the challenge of making something new as arduous and difficult if there is no interest in the task. Our past experiences drive our interests, and our interests drive our work. To quote teacher-researcher Olivia Gude, a purely technical and formal art course “would not engender in teen artists the commitment to get out of bed on chilly Saturday mornings” (2004, p. 7). Play and exploration have always been a hallmark of childhood, and while it is meant entirely in fun, the underlying lessons learned from play help us build skills that will benefit us as adults. Baby tigers play fight and learn how to hunt. Baby otters play with rocks and pebbles to cultivate dexterity they will need to forage later in life. Human children pretend to be someone else, which teaches them to think about how others might see the world. Play in childhood teaches us much, and should not be discounted as a valuable experience in education. Pablo Picasso was famously quoted, saying “every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” Children are asked sooner and sooner by society to “grow up.” In my classroom I work to create experiences that include play to encourage rhizomatic thinking. Much like play in adolescent animals, learning is something that sometimes sneaks up on you while you enjoy an experience. Cross-curricular connections are made as we look at adjacent or seemingly unrelated experiences, like contour lines and learning how to drive. But when making marks on paper to map the contour of an object is likened to the pencil acting as the Google Maps Car finding highways, a new understanding of perception can be experienced. Setting a speed limit of your hand, starting the “drive” in an area of comfort before getting to the complicated “highways,” and keeping your eyes on the “road” are now just rules to the game. Students are then allowed to expand the game by choosing their own “map” to play on by selecting their choice of subject matter. Through the process of play a student can learn about perceiving their surroundings, drawing contour lines, and driving simultaneously. Understanding connections between varied individuals or subjects through cross-curricular lessons and scaffolding from knowledge learned through other experiences makes lasting associations that students can call on when new problems are presented to them. I strive to encourage students to understand that, while they may not yet know this new content, they do know something that will help them learn it.

My philosophy on my teaching practice is centered on the idea that education is not simply about transferring knowledge, but about nurturing a lifelong passion for learning that will help my students create the better world they will live in. Drawing upon my experiences as a practicing artist, I have come to believe that the most effective way to learn is by doing, and that exploration, play, and critical thinking are crucial to developing a student's artistic and personal identity. By creating a classroom environment that is supportive and encourages individual growth, I believe that I can provide my students with the tools and skills they need to thrive both in and out of the art classroom. As we look towards an uncertain future, it is essential that we equip our students with the ability to think for themselves and to approach challenges with creativity and resilience. With this in mind, I am committed to creating a learning experience that is dynamic, challenging, and ultimately rewarding for all of my students. None of us know for sure what changes the future will hold, but with a little creativity, encouragement, and some grit I believe our students will succeed.

References:

Gude, O. (2004). Investigation the Culture of Curriculum. Unedited version of chapter 9 in Real-World Readings in Art Education: Things Your Professor Never Told You, edited by Fehr, D., Fehr, K., Kiefer-Boyd, K. Falmer Press, New York, NY. 2000.

Ingold, Tim. (2013). Making: Anthropology, Archaeology, Art, and Architecture. Routledge.

Nelson, L. L. (2021). Design and deliver: planning and teaching using universal design for learning. Paul H. Brookes Publishing Co.

Walker Art Center. (n.d.). Abraham Cruzvillegas: The Autoconstrucción Suites. Walker Art Center. https://walkerart.org/calendar/2013/abraham-cruzvillegas-autoconstruccion-suites

Walker, S.R. (2014). Chapter 2: Everyday Play. Unpublished manuscript for Artmaking, Play, and Meaning-Making.

Reflections on Reflections: How I came to this updated philosophy

To prepare for the process of rewriting my teaching philosophy I pored over many of my past written works. I peered at the screen, trying to find myself reflected in the words on the page. Like an old mirror they required polishing to bring out a clearer image of the person standing before them. Some of these passages felt disjointed; more of a mosaic than a mirror. As I look back, my earliest teaching philosophy read like a treatise of what I thought a teacher should be. In the last few years I have come to see myself instead as the teacher I am, and less of the teacher I think others think I should be. There does not need to be any grand ideas or moral imperatives in my philosophy. There is no need to impress anyone. I am a teacher who has always looked for connections and tried to understand his place in his community, and would like his students to find their own similar path of self-discovery in their future. I hope that this new philosophy rings true to those that know me as I think I know myself.

Over many long sessions of reading and notating I found myself coming back to passages that felt more “true” than others. These most often brought up my interests in building things and how people see meaning in what is created. I often find my mind taking an interest in something novel or new, with a little twist to keep it interesting to me. Finding new connections has always been something I considered fun. Many of the artists whose work I have found meaningful experiences in, like Allan Kaprow or Nina Katchadourian, have been artists that draw upon play as the means to bridge gaps and forge new connections. Their sometimes seemingly unrelated endpoints are the stitches that tie the fabric of their worldview together. With each new connection I make my understanding of the world hold together just a little better. As I find myself entwined in the web of my understandings and that of my peers I feel more a part of something. I have always created art, built materials or tools, and organized systems to help myself or my students fit in to the current space we occupy. My reimagined teaching philosophy leans more heavily into this interest in building a space that is conducive to a more interconnected community of individuals.

Some of my earlier teaching philosophies focused on the ideas of STEAM or cross-curricular lessons because of the inclusion of the arts. This was in part due to a selfish desire to ensure a future with jobs for art teachers. Typically the first on the chopping block, the arts needed something to act as their champion. I completed my undergraduate degree in spring of 2009, in the middle of the recession. To find an art teacher position could have been described as "difficult" at best. There was some masked fear and frustration in the earlier teaching philosophies. It spoke of the bravado of youth that hides feelings of uncertainty so common in my generation. We elder Millennials grew up in a world that prefers a murmured “doing fine” or “living the dream” as we pass a stranger we call “coworker” in the hallway. I grew up in a world that required these platitudes to keep people happy. This lack of real connections leads to isolation. That feeling of isolation also crept up between the subjects in school. Each subject like its own tower, members shouting at one another about who is more deserving of the kings gold, not realizing they are all part of the same castle. I subbed for 6 years, in over 200 schools and at least 12 school districts, and I saw inklings of this problem in more places that I would prefer to admit. Some school districts would prioritize the sciences over humanities because they felt that this alone would be the savior of their students. The STEM classroom teacher would ride in on its white horse, adorned in a shining white lab coat and gilded beakers held aloft, sparkling in the sunlight of a brilliant future. Meanwhile the art gremlins lurked in the corners of their school, pushing around nubs of burnt wood on scraps of parchment, teaching some sort of magic or witchcraft to the children that made pictures appear on paper, acting as a quirky babysitter when the real teachers needed their planning period.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t still feel frustrated from time to time with this mentality. 2023 had been a very hard year for me as a teacher and I know I am not the only one. Many teachers are fleeing the profession entirely for safer fields where they can earn more money and appreciation. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider it myself. I’ve stuck around as long as I have because I truly do enjoy making those connections I mentioned earlier, and seeing my students do the same. As I continue to learn and to teach I find that the world can make more and more sense. I’ve wanted a world that made sense to me since I was young. If I didn’t make sense, I would make one that did. Maybe my sense was not the same sense as my peers, but it was at least some sense. As my paradigm collided with those of my peers and colleagues we exchanged our ideas of sense and nonsense. The more our paradigms collide, the more rubs off on each other. Like stones in a rock polisher we lose our sharp edges as we interact with others. The more we interact the more we shine.

My current philosophy has more to do with this idea of connections and interactions than the prior versions. Connections between the subjects in school make all the difference. In my experience, when a student sees how things fit together they are more likely to take an interest in the lesson. The goal is not to be interested, however. The goal is to create a lifelong learner. A holistic approach to education is a more valuable approach because a student is made of many facets and, while kids are often pushed to become a firefighter, doctor, lawyer, etc. when they grow up, we never truly know what the future holds for them. Their future is not yet done being constructed. Teaching a student with a focus on one single subject is like feeding them only one type of food. The child misses out on a lot of important nutrition if they only eat salads, no matter how healthy that salad is. I’ve found this roundabout focus in education of seeking the next cure-all to make students successful frustrating. Like a dog chasing it’s own tail, the education system focuses first on STEM, then on STEAM, then on SEL. Each time we add something to the new acronym to make up for what is missing in the current subjects, the acronym just gets bigger. I hope eventually we shorten the ever-lengthening acronym back to simply “school.” There are enough connections to be made in those 6 letters to last a lifetime.

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