I can be apathetic. I can be quixotic. I can be realistic.
He won’t do anything. There’s nothing I can do for him.
He won’t do anything. I will show him the promise of education.
He won’t do anything. I have to try something different.
It’s the last, the realistic, that prompted yesterday’s post about finding paths of possibility for him.
To be sure, I have fallen to apathy over the course of my career and turned my back on him. There was nothing I could do.
To be sure, I have risen to the romantic over the course of my career and tilted at windmills. I can make him see the light.
To be sure, I have dared different over the course of my career and sought ways to help outside the bounds, off the path. He’s not working because this ain’t working.
It ain’t working for him. And I have had him–many hims–for the past 25 years. I have him right now. And I will have him next year. And while there are still times that apathetic and overly-idealistic urges pull me from the path, I committed to pursuing a more realistic path for him, by which I mean, really, going off the path when things ain’t working. That’s the path of possibility of which I speak and seek–for him.
And so I dare different with a statement and a question to help me find my way.
I believe kids are learning with or without us.
How can I help kids find value in ELA beyond the academic?
The idea of the “C” from yesterday isn’t intended to be a gift. It’s intended to shed pretense. For him, these halls aren’t hallowed. It’s intended to push away the fear of failing and deficit dealing. For him, there is no more fear and deficit has too long been the destination. He knows “F” and he knows “D.” But what if we introduced him to “C” as his new companion? And more, what if we also paved the path with only the possibility of adding to, instead of taking away?
But if you give him a C, he won’t do anything. Maybe. But he wasn’t doing anything before. And turning away or exulting education weren’t working, so I have to dare different. Seems little to lose in such a venture.
But what about all the things he has to learn? What about the priority standards? Well, I don’t know–yet. But I want to imagine if they’re truly priorities, there has to be a way. And if there’s not, then maybe they aren’t really priorities after all. Take the learning target below.
I can make, support, and clarify claims.
I believe these are priorities, for I believe they have value beyond academics. But my belief alone is not enough–I have learned and relearned this truth many times. I have to help him find the value, but that may mean different content, different contexts, different conversations. But it will also likely mean that what works for one him may not work for another him. It will be different. Seems there is something to different. Seems realistic if something’s not working. And so, I will dare different. For him.
Happy Wednesday, all.
Do. Reflect. Do Better.