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The Myth of Socialization: Part One of Meditations on Effective Teaching

OK…I realize I have been away for a very long time, but – I’m on the rebound! Get ready for some straight-from-the hip TRUTH about education as it exists in America today. ~~~ I recently had a conversation with a friend over a particular dilemma I had. It involved an attempt at homeschooling that another friend had initiated on behalf of an elementary-school-aged relative. I expressed my frustration at the uncertain, disorganized nature of this endeavor; nothing about this homeschooling attempt appeared to be thought-out or organized. Several months ago, I had been invited to be an established member of the network of instructors (one of the better features of homeschooling is to include knowledgeable people in the instruction), and I had readily agreed. Now, at the beginning of a new school year, the effort – though continuing – was in shambles, and my input was unwelcome. My first friend had offered that the problem was “socialization” – the theory that children learn best in a co...

When Words Are Wrong

  If you have been a thinking, feeling human being during the last decade or so, you no doubt have been influenced to “think before you speak.” It’s not a hard concept, really. Since Adam and Eve, human beings have had the ability to process sensory data, form a conclusion about said data, and then speak or respond to other human beings (or even God) through speech (and later, writing). Wise human beings have always endeavored to speak the truth . The concept of what is “true” is elementary; it is some fact or speech that resembles reality in the closest possible fashion. For example, a person who observes another human being committing a crime such as looting or murder is entitled to report what he or she has observed. There can be no doubt that criminals are not entitled to stop the speech that will identify their wrongdoing. All this assumes, of course, that the person observing the crime speaks a language that can convey the details of a crime to those in authority to stop ...

A Question of Inspiration

As a lowly English teacher / instructor / professor, I am quite familiar with the “tools of my trade”: books and textbooks of literature. The difference between a book and a textbook is not that important to this discussion, but, nevertheless, I will explain it: A book almost always covers one subject or topic or story and is commonly written by one author. A literature textbook contains more than one subject, topic, or story, and, while it often has one or more editors, it also features a number of authors. The latter offers a teacher a more varied amount of material to use in his or her class / course. When I was a young person, I loved both. I loved reading particular authors, or topics, or themes. I felt enriched by the experience of reading, chiefly because those in authority over me chose helpful or inspirational books. My choices were not censured; rather, I was given a wide choice of appropriate material to feed my imagination, my interest, and my faith. God was, as I exp...

The Philosophy of Teaching

The philosophy of the school room in one generation will be the philosophy of government in the next. ~ Abraham Lincoln I grew up in Catholic schools, elementary and high school (there were no junior high or middle schools in the Catholic parochial system when I was young). I generally loved school in all of its seasons. Despite modern-day rumors and half-truths, the nuns who taught me were not abusive to me or to any of my classmates. Yes, children got well-deserved punishments for bad behavior, but no one ever complained in my hearing that the punishments were arbitrary or outlandish; everyone knew better. I have photographic proof that our school was completely and fairly integrated; in fact, I was smitten with a young mulatto boy in first grade, and proudly boasted to my racist grandmother that I intended to marry him one day. (World War III almost started in our house that day!) Being a Catholic at the time, I attended Mass every day when I could. I heard many, many pass...