Nexus

I had such a treat this past weekend. I attended the 100th birthday celebration of the teacher I had for most of the eight years of elementary school. I haven’t seen her in decades and at 100, I wasn’t sure how I’d find her. What a thrill to reconnect with this alert, bright, energetic woman! She remembered my name, when and where she taught me, and the names of my siblings. She apparently also followed my career, knowing much of what I’ve accomplished in past years. As I was leaving, she told me to make sure I looked at the notebook she had compiled of her years teaching at our school. More than an hour later, I left with a much better sense of my own history than when I arrived!

In the past couple of years, this remarkable educator has painstakingly compiled a notebook for each of the schools, all rural one or two-room school houses, at which she had taught. In beautiful cursive writing, was the record of her career, and a record of part of my life. There were “class” photos for every year, students lined up by grade, me always “shepherding” the little ones. There were lists of the “honours” achieved by the students. I have a memory of being lifted up on a hay wagon, (at the age of 6), and reciting a poem at the fall fair. I was awarded a ribbon I know, but I had no recollection that that poem brought county honours to our little school and was a source of pride for the teacher. There were lists of the musical numbers and plays performed at every Christmas concert and who the lead performers were. Every class trip and special event was recorded. There were yellowed newspaper clippings that chronicled newsworthy events and important achievements of the students of our little schoolhouse. I had forgotten about many of those achievements.

I attended this little school house from 1957 to 1965. Unfortunately, I’ve been in some schools of today, where there are more similarities than differences in the way the learning experience is organized. Learning (in school) was a typically linear process, in that there was a rigid daily schedule, (reading at 9:00, followed by Math at 10:00), and an equally rigid grade structure. But I realize now that for me that was the very beginning of my need for expanded and connected learning experiences. I read in a copy of some kind of yearly report to the county superintendent that reading was being capably taught by one of the students (me), who had “much patience to try many approaches with even the slowest of students”. I remember my role as teacher’s aid; I didn’t know that I had in effect became the teacher. (Is there any wonder my only career goal was to become a teacher?) These were valuable experiences for my own learning. They provided a built-in spiralling where reading, for instance, didn’t neccesarily happen at 9:00. It happened as I listened to the story discussions of the older grades, and as I found my own techniques to teach the younger students. Through connecting all of those experiences I became a more proficient (and self-directed) learner.

The gift I received yesterday from my centenarian teacher, the gift of memory, was far more valuable than anything I could possibly have given her. What will my legacy teaching archive look like if I am ever fortunate enough to reach her age? The only thing I know for sure is that it won’t be beautifully captured in cursive writing. It’s looking to me that it will be digital and distributed; beyond that I have no clear picture. Check back in forty-five years…

Technorati tags: ontario canada rural schools

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Image Citation
Gilbert A. Milne fonds. “A child at the front of the classroom at the rural school .” Archives of Ontario, I0004522. July 1946. 16 Jul 2007 < http://www.archives.gov.on.ca/ENGLISH/exhibits.education>.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 16th, 2007 at 10:55 am and is filed under connected learning. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.