Don’t know too much

Four Pears, colour study in oil on paper, 3”x 3”, 2021, by my good friend T R Koubois.

It’s such an exciting time

Big brains are having amazing thoughts. Restless hands are building important things. Here we are at the frontier; at the very edge of what we can see as possible. We are each of us balancing very carefully while passing instructions back down the line for how we can bring the last plank forward. When we have it in our hands we will be able to lay it out in front and take our next steps.

What lies ahead is a kaleidoscope of dazzling opportunity; new learning shapes slowly churning on the turn of a finger and thumb. It’s exhilarating, of course, but a rising sense of nausea is not uncommon when the weight of hope and possibility is so febrile; nor is a sense that it’s all too much and actually quite impossible.

It feels like this, don’t you think?

There, but not quite there.

The pit

It was there between a 13 year old girl and her teacher as they both leaned in over the desk to review the recipe together. I have no doubt that the teacher knew everything she needed to help the girl. Certainly the girl suspected this, judging by her questions. The teacher, however, was not going to cross the gaping maw and rescue the child. She didn’t even try to meet her half way: you reach out your hand, I’ll do the same. Instead she led the girl into the pit.

Oh my. There she goes!

The girl didn’t like it in there. That much was obvious from her initial floundering. It is upsetting to witness such distress.

Oh no, I thought to myself. It’s going to happen. She’s going to weaken and save her. I could see the teacher wobbling; conflicted as she quickly made new calculations. She could probably bring about a full rescue and then convince herself that the girl’s immersion in itself was learning enough, but thankfully she fought this impulse, though it was all there in her eyes.

As for the girl, she actually adapted to her new situation quite quickly, adjusting to the rules of the pit. Unsafe in the new knowledge that simply generating questions - one half of an old paradigm that saw the adult gamely completing the transaction by supplying the answers - was not going to help her here, the girl started to find her own answers. It was slow going. The walls were crumbly in some parts and slippery in others. Roots were dangled and stones were protruded, all providing some hope, but so little could actually be trusted or relied upon when it came to it. It was hard to watch and it was no less tense at the lip.

Up from the depths

All the time, the teacher’s eyes were peering over, and behind them new computations whirring. She had settled down. Now it was all about timing and knowing when to lower the rope. Here I would witness the essence of transformational teaching.

This is where I come in, she thinks. She’s done enough for now.

Down goes the rope. Up comes the child. They move away from the edge and collapse into each other, both knowing what has been achieved here. The sound of laboured breathing is broken by a call from across the room: Miss, can you help me, please.

In from the edges

Sometimes I think it’s actually better not to know too much in the first place. That way you can get in with them. This replaces the hope of rescue with a need for co-construction, co-solution. Of course it’s slower and harder and more frustrating, and it’s hugely inefficient, but who ever said that learning should be efficient?

What it is, though, is powerful and lasting and, dare I say it, enormous fun! If I was you, I’d add a spade to your order for September.