Work serves as one of the foundations of our society. Work can be viewed in two ways: labor or love. Some of us--teachers in particular-- have generally merged avocation and vocation. Patricia Carini addresses the concept of work in her book, Starting Strong: A Different Look at Children, Schools, and Standards: "Sometimes work is understood to be a calling, a vocation, or it may put bread on the table—or should fortune smile, both at once" (44). When we watch young children at play, they are really at work. For the daily play of young children—inventing stories and imaginary play-- is all part of the creation of self and the understanding of the roles in our society. A child deeply involved in a dramatic scene with another child, a painter intently at work on a painting, an athlete absorbed in a grueling moment of intense concentration, a scientist on the verge of a major discovery: these are all examples of meaningful, focused, life-affirming work. In these cases, work does not carry with it the negative connotations we associate with labor, but instead is a place where mind, body and soul merge.
Our goal, as adults raising and teaching children, is to help children find the meaningful, passionate work that will sustain them and serve as the foundation of their adult lives. Harvard educator, Howard Gardner, claims that
...truly creative individuals do seem to lead their lives in a way different from most others. They are fully engaged and passionate about their work; they exhibit a need to do something new and have a strong sense of their purpose and ultimate goals and they are extremely reflective about their activities, their use of time and their products." (Gardner paraphrasing Gurber 171)
This is one way to look at what we do in our classrooms: do we encourage students to develop their passions? Do we allow them to find something that gives them a strong sense of purpose and will sustain them through their adulthood? Patricia Carini looks at this idea in yet another way: she encourages teachers and learners to become "poets of our lives"—a condition she describes as " a dialectic in which the human desire to make things author works, and works, reciprocally, author lives" or—encouraging each of us to create what stirs our soul (Carini 43).
Yet, as a parent of young children and the teacher of high school students, I wonder: how do we sustain the child-like enthusiasm for work as play and play as work? When does this change occur? I see boundless intellectual enthusiasm for all subjects in elementary school classrooms. Each activity opens up a new world to a kindergartner or 1st grader. Wide eyes, open arms and an uninhibited willingness to take risks describes many elementary school children. Creativity is maximized; the feeling of burdened work is non-existent. Yet, as much as I enjoy the intellectual agility of my high school students, they often are beleaguered, weary and nervous about taking a risk. And, they feel that the work they do in school, is just that: work.
Working in a K-12 school, I watch the entire spectrum with fascination. When does work become laborious and burdensome, and why does that change occur? In high school classes, it is clear that some students are fully engaged in certain projects and others see the project only as work to be completed.
What theory tells us about the practices in our classrooms: Developing the Imagination
"If we regard curriculum as an undertaking involving continuous interpretation and a conscious search for meanings, we come to see many connections between the grasping of a text or artwork and the gaining of multiple perspective by means of disciplines" (Greene 96)
As we examine what we teach at the middle and high school levels, we also need to carefully examine the assessments we create. What do we want to students to really know? What is important and meaningful in the structure of our society? What kinds of papers and projects will allow students to be creative, engaged learners—ones who will recall, synthesize and really embrace what they have learned? In addition to examining the many ways a student learns, it is also important view students fully. From Howard Gardner's Theory of Multiple Intelligences to Patricia Strong's calling to become the poets of our lives, we must find ways to nurture student growth and not stunt it.
Howard Gardner's definition of intelligence serves well as a springboard for examining what we teach and how we assess it. He states that intelligence is "the ability to solve problems, or to fashion products, that are valued in one or more cultural or community settings" (7). This means that we need, in the assessments we create, to help students solve problems or create products that are meaningful in their journeys to adulthood. This is not as simple as it may sound. According to Gardner, in the area of literature and writing students should be able to understand and create simple works in various genres and relate them to their own lives (185). In addition to understanding these works at the various concrete and metaphorical levels, students, ideally, should use these pieces to create their own artistic pieces. The depth of their understanding of the style, tone and voice of a piece of literature can then come through in the creation of a new piece of writing or art.
In Maxine Green's, Releasing the Imagination, she states,
"Only when teacher can engage with learners as distinctive, questioning persons—persons in the process of defining themselves—can teachers develop what are called 'authentic assessment' measures" (Greene quoting Darling-Hammond and Ancess, 1993, 13). This suggests a different approach to creating tests and essay prompts. As we write each exam and create each project, do we ask: how does this project help my students define themselves?
In particular, adolescents need to be given the opportunity to create and to imagine. The curriculum of elementary schools typically integrates the arts with all the other disciplines. Primary school children study about the sea, for example, in multiple ways from reading about sea creatures to drawing sea creatures, to visiting the aquarium, to acting out the life of a whale, to, ultimately, writing their own story about these animals. As Gardner points out:
An individual understands a concept, skill, theory or domain of knowledge to the extent that she or she can apply it appropriately in a new situation. An individual with a keen memory might well understand a topic; however, it is also plausible that he or she merely remembers the information and has not a clue about how to use it appropriately in an unfamiliar circumstance (119).
As middle and high school educators, we are at a place of particular influence with adolescents. They are at a crossroads of sorts: students are finding their talents and strengths and at a developmental place where they can truly take flight in a particular field. How can we, and the "work" we focus on, allow them to take greater risks and push the limits of convention (Gardner 58), so that their work becomes play, and their work becomes their passion? For, ultimately, as we assess student understanding of a time period, a novel or a math equation, our goal is to make sure that the knowledge goes deep and finds its way to deep memory—and ensure that they can use it in a new way to facilitate a deeper understanding and passion.
As we rethink and redesign what we do in our classroom, even what we do well, the research reminds us to find ways to center on the student's needs and growth, think about many ways students learn well, provide multiple opportunities for releasing creativity and imagination (which will most probably lead to passionate and engaged learners), and, finally, begin to think about what may be both a useful and meaningful assessment piece.
Rethinking Assessment: What works?
"Whenever possible, artistic learning should be organized around meaningful projects, which are carried out over a significant period of time, and allow ample opportunity for feedback, discussion, and reflection." (Gardner 142)
If we asked our students, a year after our class with them is over, what they recalled from the course, they might remember a title or a unit or a particularly engaging project. They probably won't remember a comment on a specific essay, or the quote test on The Scarlet Letter. So, why do we teach what we teach? What is important for students to truly know?
As I examine the novels I teach, the ways I ask students to enter into the world of the text, and the assessments I use, it is clear that certain types of "work" are more effective than others. Typically, assignments that give choice, offer a chance for personal engagement or provide an avenue to do deeper imaginative exploration provide for creativity and response. David Allen writes in Assessing Student Learning that we need to encourage teachers to "reduce the proportion of assignments that prescribe work too closely and rob students of the satisfaction they get from doing their 'best work'" (205).
In my years of classroom teaching, I have found one project in particular resonates with students years after they complete the final paper. The 9th grade "I-Search" paper (based on a model from the Bay Area Writing Project) asks students to choose any topic to research and write about—but the research is based on personal contacts and interviews. Students develop probing questions about their topic, conduct traditional research, and then venture out into the real world to conduct formal interviews with experts in the field. Students return from their first interview bubbling over with excitement. They meet doctors, scientists, cartoonists, mime artists, politicians, writers and more—and then write about the process and their findings. I continue to be amazed at the success of the project—year after year. As I change texts, adopt a new philosophy of writing, adjust my teaching to the needs of the students, I keep this successful writing project because it does what a project should do: engage student personally, provide latitude in response and open up creative floodgates. Recently, one student "wrote" his I-Search, on comic-strip writers, in a comic strip form, and through his final product demonstrated how effectively he reinterpreted a traditional form in a creative and artistic alternative.
The other essential component is how well students remember this project—and if successful—integrate it into their development as students and learners. Many 9th graders have stumbled upon a true passion in this process and follow up on the interest later years in high school and college. This, to me, is an indication that the I-Search goes beyond a typical assignment or assessment, and is "real work" that is connects creative thinking, real-world learning and the formation of a future interest or passion.
Our goal is to create imaginative opportunities for students of all ages so they will enthusiastically embrace "work" as an essential part of their being. Designing thoughtful, creative assessments grounded in what crucial for students to know and then finding ways to help them creatively discover that knowledge should be our mission as teachers and coaches of learners. Perhaps as we access our own imagination in the process, we will create a place for students to work and play in our classrooms.
Works Cited
Allen, David, ed. Assessing Student Learning: From Grading to Understanding. New York: Teachers College Press. 1998.
Carini, Patricia F. Starting Strong: A Different Look at Children, Schools, and Standards. New York: Teachers College Press, 2001.
Gardner, Howard. Multiple Intelligences: The Theory in Practice. New York: Harper, 1993.
Greene, Maxine. Releasing the Imagination: Essays on Education, the Arts, and Social Change. San Francisco: Joessey-Bass Publishers, 1995