‘Imagine if we did this with kids’… I said in my previous post and, within a few days, some teachers have!
The learners work in mixed groups across two Year 6 classes and respond to the same question that we gave the teachers last week: ‘What does student ownership of learning look like’?
The teachers move between the groups, asking probing questions, encouraging the learners to think more deeply.
Responses are quite revealing!
- Teachers tell students where to go, but they choose their own route to get there.
- Teachers tell the students what to do, but they decide how to do it.
- People can have their own opinions and points of view.
- Freedom to learn and independence.
- Taking pride in your own learning.
- Thinking and reflecting about what and how you learn.
- Doing your work without letting yourself be distracted.
- We are all unique in our learning and thinking styles.
- Teacher opens the door, but only we can walk through.
- Choosing wisely where to sit and who to work with.
It’s only Day 2 of the school year and I know things will develop as the year unfolds. These young learners have teachers who value student ownership and will work at establishing a culture where this is real. They are part of a learning community where ownership of learning is valued and beliefs about how this takes place have been articulated and agreed upon.
Yet I can’t help but wonder:
- Have our learners really experienced ownership of their learning within a school context?
- Are the children saying the sorts of things they think teachers are looking for?
- Can our learners imagine what really owning your learning looks and feels like?
- Do adults really believe that children can be the owners of their learning?
- Is ownership of learning compatible with traditional models of school?
- How can we help children (and teachers) separate the notion of learning from that of ‘doing school’?
- Does our practice align with our beliefs?
We had a lad I shall call Aneesh. About ten years old, he was the son of one of the traders down on the beach. The NGO I was working for had encouraged his parents to send Aneesh to school rather than have him work in their shop. For parents it’s never a case of simply finding a public school to take their children. They have often missed so much schooling that the kids fail the admissions tests. Families are then, usually, left to their own devices to seek private education. In families where little importance is attached to education, where the cost of books is significant, and where the child brings in some income, they mostly don’t bother. My organisation had its own school and provided books, transport, food and clothing, totally free of charge. It paid parents a small fee to compensate for lost income and the children received a small allowance for each day attended, as an incentive. The idea was that they would be brought up to speed over a year or so. The organisation would then fight to get them placed in mainstream publicly-funded school, while continuing to support them by covering all incidental costs. The parents would justify it in terms of doing the organisation a favour: by supplying their children in return for some money the NGO could continue to exist.
What Ed Said 