13 August 09
Last Thursday was a bit of a frustration. I say this because understanding last Thursday is important to understanding the mood with which I took on today.
Last Thursday, I had the charge of leading back-to-back workshops introducing the concept of backward design to Kenyan teachers who admitted afterward they often don’t plan their lessons until they arrive at school, let alone plan entire units of study.
Even state-side, this can be a difficult concept, necessitating 1 or 2-day workshops to effectively communicate the methodology and its implementation. Last Thursday, I had 90 minutes in a poorly ventilated room with teachers who were either waiting to go to their next session dealing with digital storytelling or who had just come from a session on digital storytelling. An hour-and-a-half pedagogy session on a complex and difficult concept wasn’t quite what they were hoping for.
Add to this the cantankerous nature of the Kenyan educational work scheme (Read, “scope and sequence,” though mainly “sequence.”) and you’ve got a party.
That is you’ve got a party if your idea of a party is a hot and sticky room filled with confused teachers who, at times, were clearly just nodding at what the hyperactive muzungu was saying.
Last Thursday dispensed with, one can imagine the feeling in the pit of my stomach when Sunday’s planning session included assigning me the task of leading the backward design session today.
You know what, though? It rocked.
I’ll admit I entered the room with a bit of trepidation. My confidence hadn’t exactly been boosted at Wednesday night’s planning session when Simon, one of the Kenyan facilitators helping with the session, said, “I cannot see the implication for this in our system.” Awesome.
I told Simon he wasn’t the first Kenyan I’d heard that from.
By the end of the session, though, Simon and Mary, the other Kenyan facilitator in the session, were singing a different tune.
I approached them during the session’s second run and asked if they felt comfortable circulating amongst the groups of teachers who were working to backward design their plans for when they return from break in September. Mary gripped my hand, saying, “I am so happy to be learning this.” And I’m pretty sure she meant it.
Simon nodded in agreement and made his assent further known when he stood and told his colleagues “As an architect plans how a house will be finished before it is built, teachers must plan how they want their students to show what they have learned before teachers begin teaching.”
When another participant suggested to his group that they change their planned assessment because it didn’t seem relevant or authentic enough, I think I could have kissed him.
Take that, Thursday!
Tag: gilgil
Will this be on the exam?
12 August 09
As several of the teachers attending this week’s workshops are commuting to Utimishi Academy rather than boarding here, the late afternoon workshops are optional.
Add that to the fact that subject-specific offerings run concurrently with sessions in the computer lab, and it’s easy to imagine attendance in a session on creative writing at 4:30 in the afternoon might be a bit low.
Such was the case for Moses’ session Wednesday.
Determined to make certain Moses had a full house, Silvia and I strongly encouraged the boys who remain here at school during break to join us for the session.
It was a thing of beauty. Teachers and students blended together to a crowd of learners.
Moses rolled through concrete and abstract wording, death by adjectives, vivid imagery and on into poetry.
It was when he asked the students to create their own poems that a certain hitch was thrown into his giddy-up.
Alex, a boy in Form 4 raised his hand.
“Because I am used to the Kenyan way of doing things,” he began, “is this for examination purposes? Or, is it for enjoyment purposes?”
I’ve written and thought quite a bit lately about the exam-centered nature of the Kenyan educational system, but it wasn’t until Alex’s question that its true effects hit home.
Here we were, talking of poetry and creation and beauty (Moses had begun the lesson by writing “Poetry is all that is worth remembering in life,” on the board) and Alex wants to know if this will be on the test.
Moses rolled with it, though, telling Alex that being able to understand and create poetry will surely serve him when he’s asked about literature in a more formal setting.
Still, that Alex was torn between his natural creativity and curiosity and his perceived need to regurgitated what he receives in school speaks volumes.
I worried he hadn’t taken Moses’ words to heart until the end of the session when Moses asked if the participants wanted to share what they had written.
Alex volunteered first:
Across the Indian Ocean,
Lapses of the reimental blue waves against equatorial gold shore,
Grits of sand like smithereens,
Mother Nature at her uttermost,
Golden field rays with rich viramin,
Sweet sunny weather;
A Faira fisher man rows, rows away from shore,
Boar moving mermaidously.
The white-capped wadawidan drums of goatskin fill the ambience.
Choirs of angels on earth, with beat alone.
A spotted swordfish cannabar, peony and violet essence.
The African Coast, home.
In the deep vaults of my mind.
I think things might be ok here.
Change Agents
11 August 09
In the same way I forget how daunting beginning to work with kids can be to novice teachers until I get to observe them, I’d forgotten how nerve-wracking conference presentation can be to the uninitiated.
Tuesday was a refresher course.
As part of building capacity in the second year of TWB-C being her in Naivasha District, some of last year’s participants are leading the sessions this week.
For North Americans, conference attendance and even presentation may seem like part and parcel to the teaching gig. For most Kenyan teachers, such is not the case. Indeed, last week, I was trying to explain continued professional development to a teacher in Suba District and received the reply of, “If you’ve graduated from teacher college, why would you need to attend more trainings?”
Luckily, this particular sentiment is not held by the majority – at least not the majority of those teachers I’ve met.
For my own part, I was proud of and impressed by the confidence and preparedness of the Kenyan facilitators. Things weren’t perfect, but nothing went haywire either.
Whilst I could sense some anxiety, I didn’t have a clue as to what they were feeling until our debriefing Tuesday night.
Nerves all around, we found.
One Kenyan facilitator, Samuel, summed it up best, “I thank God I gathered my courage and kept on.”
I’m thankful he did too. If the comment from the teacher in Suba is any indication, many teachers here don’t see the need for continued professional development. With colleagues like Samuel, though, I expect minds will be changing.
Feeling Thirsty
10 August 09
Things are a little different in Gilgil. For one, workshops are starting Tuesday and running through Saturday. For two, this is the second year a TWB-C team is working with teachers here. For three, our ICT team has joined with the other subject-area team on the ground here in Kenya to form one uber-team. (Perhaps that’s over-selling it, but I like using “uber” as a prefix.)
For the uninitiated, TWB-C works on a 4-year model of capacity building. The first year, a team works with local teachers in areas those teachers have identified as high-need. The second year, the TWB-C teachers and local teachers run the workshops together. The third year, the local teachers plan the workshops and TWB-C teachers fill in and help as needed. By year four, the local teachers should have it all under control and only a few TWB-C teachers will be around for program analysis and to gather feedback.
The teachers here who are returning from last year to help organize the workshops are great.
During a subject-area meeting between the team’s English teachers and local returning English teachers today, I got to see what a difference a year makes.
“The Kenyan teacher has to change,” Samuel told us, “I want to see a different Kenya.”
I’m fairly certain any North American teacher could stick their country in those sentiments and have them ring just as true.
Another teacher, Nduati, said, “We subject our students to a lot of torture by always standing at the front of the class and giving them ideas.”
Agreed.
Overall, the meeting was one of hope. Noble remarked, “What they’re saying means we’re doing good.” I hope so.
Kenya, from what I can gather, is on the precipice of moving away from its restrictive exams-based system toward one that values creativity is centered around the needs of the students and has them working collaboratively in multiple modalities.
The U.S., from what I can gather, is sliding down the hill of moving away from a student-centered model that encourages creativity toward one that is, well, what the Kenyans are moving away from.
In a way that’s not nearly as sarcastic as I wish it was, I wonder if maybe our downward slide will end up as a positive because it will force U.S. teachers to be as thirsty for change as the Kenyans.
I’ve learned in running that if you wait until you are thirsty to drink, you are already dehydrated. I’m not sure I like the metaphorical implications.