Things I Know 74 of 365: Story is currency

On the day when man told the story of his life to man, history was born.

- Alfred de Vigny

Stories have always fascinated me. My family trades stories like currency. From the garbled message from my cousin Milo explaining why the book I sent him was so important to my great-grandparents’ and now grandparents’ recollections of where we come from, stories matter in my family.

When I interviewed to teach at SLA, I was asked to describe my dream class. I was nervous and unprepared. I have no idea what I described. Now, though, I am teaching it. Second semester, for two years now, I teach a class called Storytelling to SLA seniors.

As I’ve explained before, Tuesday afternoons, I set up the class like a performance space, heat a percolator of coffee and one of hot water for tea. I set out cream and sugar and cookies. Beside them, I have a tip jar.

At the front of the room is a microphone. Beside it is a table with a small sound board and a laptop.

For two hours at the end of my Tuesday, I sit at that table and listen as my students share and explode moments of their lives in our weekly class story slams. Built around the rules of Philadelphia’s First Person Arts Story Slams, the rules are simple.

Three random audience judges scoring on content and presentation.

Five random storytellers.

No more than 5 minutes.

No notes.

True stories.

Tuesday, I woke up with a Daylight Saving Time hangover. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to leave their bed. I dragged through much of the day. Then, during lunch, I remembered – slams.

I set up the room, bought the supplies and greeted the students as they filed in.

Describing the stories would fall short. There’s something at once vulnerable and empowered as my students stand behind the mic and share parts of their lives the people in the room have usually never been privy to.

I’ll stop here and let you listen to two selections from this week’s slam around Malice.

No matter the discipline, story should be the currency of our classrooms.
Ralen and Freda by MrChase

Things I Know 73 of 365: It’s time to write our declarations

We hold these truths to be self-evident…

- Declaration of Independence

Students, teachers, community members across the country taking a day to stop, think about great moments of learning, pull from those moments the pieces that made them valuable and then declare what they need from learning.

This the is the idea behind the Great American Teach In.

It doesn’t stop there.

What if we took those ideas – in classrooms, schools, coffee shops – and asked what our places of learning are doing to support and hinder those moments? When we figured that out, what if we as learners drew up the steps we – and I’m talking the totality of the “we” – drafted the steps we would take to make more perfect places to work and learn?

Tuesday, we announced the launch of the Teach In.

For some it will be a first step. For others, a next step.

It will be a step away from political parties or ideology. Asking our students and ourselves to share powerful positive moments of learning should never be political.

It should and must be pedagogical. It must be informed by pedagogy and it must inform our pedagogy.

The discourse about education in America has lost its course. What should be rooted in the curiosity of the people and should work to build a more democratic citizenry rarely asks students what they would like to learn and how they would like to learn it. Much too infrequently do we stop and ask our students and ourselves to reflect on those real and true and pure moments of learning and then cobble together the best parts to build tomorrow’s learning.

Let’s do that.

In the week leading up to the Great American Teach In, let’s schedule Teach In Talks in restaurants, bars, coffee houses and living rooms where we ask our family, our friends and strangers to share their stories of learning. Let’s ask everyone to the table of discourse and really and truly think about what we want and need to make our places of learning more perfect.

Let’s share those stories at elev8ed and Faces of Learning. Let’s upload them to Youtube and Facebook. Let’s write them on our blogs and tweet them, tagging each and every one with #teachin11 so they can live and be archived together and we can learn from how each other learns.

Knowing, though, and doing are different things.

Once we have learned, let’s make choices about teaching and learning that respect what students need. Let’s build places of learning that don’t ask students to conform, but conform themselves to the needs of those students.

If you have ever asked what you can do to help children learn, first ask them how they have learned and then ask how you can help them do it again.

We will learn more if we begin from a place of questions rather than answers.