So much to say. To start, I note a few ideas and views I now hold strongly which were (at least partly) birthed in this course.
The Garden as a teacher
Thank you
Susan for insisting that we learn from an energy / spirt / place that is as
wise as this garden. The time we spent here taught me perception, delicacy, and
so much more. I plan to continue learning from the land and I hope that I am
able to offer my students the same opportunity.
Cities as producers, not (only) consumers
Recently, this
idea has been presented to me in many ways. In this course the various weavings
we created, as well as the food we enjoyed from the garden were radiant
reminders of the gifts hiding right under our nose.
Alternate ways of knowing
Recalling
our conversation relating to Western Binaries, I was again struck by this
phrase we hear so often, ‘alternate ways of knowing’. Earlier in the semester,
I believed that alternate ways of knowing constituted as understanding the
world with different binaries. However, other classes and books now lead me
elsewhere. I believe that these binaries exist (and may be even necessary) for
our world and psyche – however, it is working towards some sort of paradoxical,
sublime ‘third’ option - a synthesis of binaries - which will ultimately constitute
as new (old?) ways of knowing.
I’m also extremely
grateful this course offered me the opportunity to explore topics of my own
interest as a teacher, namely collaboration. I adamantly do not want to be a
tyrant in my classroom – I want students to learn from each other and to see me
as a facilitator. In this role, I am able to create a safe space for students
to explore autonomously. As I move forward in my teaching journey, I hope to
find many ways to enable students without insisting on a particular direction (or destination). Currently,
I hope to explore potential connections between the culture and norms of drum
circles to inform new teaching strategies that serve to cultivate a community
of learners.
I recently
visited my sit spot again. The garden has transformed in the recent months – far
fewer colors and leaves; a decay which reveals the underlying structure of the
place. In my sit spot, I admired the three tree, the hyperbolic gates, and many
plants which seem to not notice the cold. As much as death pervades this place,
life seeps through the cracks.
I was again
moved by the chute I placed; the orange ribbon in sharp contrast to the duller
pallet of winter. As I approached the ribbon I saw that strong winds had caused
it to fray, tangling some loose threads around a nearby plant. Initially I felt
guilty – had I placed the ribbon in an irresponsible way? However, after
further inspection, I realized that very little damage had been done. It was in
a way beautiful – the ribbon integrating, weaving, winding its way with the
land. Neither the plant or ribbon seemed to be in distress, so I took no action
other than to reflect. The child of this chute feels like an elder to me – although
it is embarrassing to need such a glaring reminder of on whose land I teach, I
am grateful for this aid.
Finally, as
with most memorable experiences, it is the people who burn brightly in my
memory. The math cohort is undoubtably the most passionate group of learners I’ve
ever been a part of. The friends I’ve made in this course (and others) are of
the highest quality.
It is
difficult to hold this much gratitude! Thank you, all that has shaped and been
shaped these past months.