From The Power of Teaching Vulnerably by David Rockower.
Teachers frequently encourage students to be themselves, to not try to be like everyone else. I think we could benefit from heeding our own advice, as we often feel beholden to the delivery methods and structures placed in front of us. We can find alternative, creative, and engaging ways to meet standards. It will require personal risk, and those who dive in may, at times, feel ostracized, but the potential payoff is huge. We can blame the system, the standards, the testing, but change often occurs from the bottom up, and we cannot afford to wait. Let’s keep working on removing structural barriers to creativity, but while we do so, let’s also push through our personal fear of failure, of retribution, of being different. “Although educators face many constraints when it comes to fostering student creativity in the classroom, the greatest barrier to creativity isn’t the constraints. There will always be constraints. The greatest barrier is often ourselves and our timidity about exploring new territory. The key is to have the courage to take the beautiful risks necessary for supporting our students’ (and our own) creativity” (Beghetto 2018).
Reviewing Risk
My first real curriculum risk came when teaching fifth grade. I was young and had only been teaching for five years. I read an article about a teacher who took her students to a local restaurant where they were schooled in all aspects of running the business. After studying the operation, students cooked for and served their parents for an evening. I thought this was amazing and wanted to tackle something similar. As it turned out, our high school had a culinary arts program, so I contacted the chef. She was on board, and after getting permission from my administrator, we started collaborating.
Throughout the school year, my class made several trips to the high school where we were trained (by the chef and several juniors and seniors) on how to purchase ingredients, use the equipment, take orders in the cafe, and clean up. On Fridays in class, we carved out a bit of time to practice setting tables, serving, and doing the math involved. Students applied for specific roles in the restaurant and several staff members conducted interviews. We asked the parent-teacher organization for funds to purchase ingredients for an end-of-year meal, where we would prep, cook for, serve, and clean up after the students’ parents, siblings, and grandparents. All profits would be donated to the Red Cross.
By May, we were ready to go. We experienced true engagement, and not just the night of the meal—I felt it throughout the entire school year. Working toward something as exciting and real as running a restaurant brought us together, and there was a layer of authenticity that permeated all of our work. When the night arrived, I was nervous. What made me think it was OK to use instructional time to teach my fifth graders how to prepare a meal? When things got rolling, there were mistakes. A couple drinks were spilled, a meal was dropped, and there was bickering among my student cooks. But it was all real, and they were learning so many valuable lessons.
Looking back on that year, I wondered what was left out of the curriculum because of our project. Not much. Occasionally, we used time on Friday afternoons for field trips and prepping for the big night. And we found ways to squeeze it into our schedule. If we finished a lesson or unit early, I didn’t need to find a time filler; we already had this common goal, a project that was always on our minds. But somehow we were still able to cover the required standards.
Even though I had the backing of my principal, I didn’t receive the same support from all of my colleagues. They asked things like, “How are you going to do this and still teach everything? What, are you just dropping social studies so you can have them cook for their parents?” I remember one teacher asking me to stop because it wasn’t fair to her students that only mine got the chance to participate in the project.
Tackling this project required personal vulnerability. Anytime we move away from the norm, we should brace for the ensuing scrutiny. I knew that what I was doing rubbed some of my colleagues the wrong way. I opened myself up to questioning from my administrator and the parents of my students; they would all want to know how I was going to manage this and still teach the required curriculum. I won’t lie, I felt uncertain and emotionally exposed until the event was over. But looking back, it was one of the most rewarding endeavors of my teaching career.
Invitation and Action Steps: Be Brave
After getting to know your students, take what you’ve learned and consider adapting a lesson or unit to better meet their needs. How might your informational writing unit change as a result of the students in front of you this year? After understanding the interests and needs of your class, what read-alouds, novel studies, or articles might you bring in to inspire this unique group of students? Collaborate with a trusted colleague to codesign and possibly co-teach a new unit.
Open your journal to a fresh page. Spend five minutes writing about your most memorable learning experiences in school.
- What made them stick?
- What inspired you as a learner?
- What did the teacher do to make this experience so important?
- What tasks or projects were involved?
Next, consider your current curriculum. Restart your five-minute timer and write about how you might adapt the current curriculum to include projects like the ones you remember. List these ideas at the bottom of your page. Run them by a trusted colleague, administrator, or curriculum specialist. Start the process of bringing these ideas to life. Repeat this process with your students. Ask them to revisit impactful learning experiences and invent new project ideas; this could lead to meaningful curricular change.
