Musings from a Not-So-Master Teacher

On the first day of school, students completed a metaphor of school.  School is a _______ and I am a _________.  Many students chose prison, because, like prison, the school tells them what to wear, when to speak, when to pee, what to eat, what to study and (a few of them argued) what to believe.  It was interesting what others wrote. 

One girl wrote, "School is a family and I am a middle child," saying that in a place so big she gets lost in the shuffle.  Another used the family metaphor differently. "School is a family and I am safe."  She explained that Borman is a second home and that things are predictable and safe, that she belongs and people don't think she's stupid when she's at school.  One boy explained why school is a rock band where the teacher is the lead singer, but the best lead singers figure out how to get the band to harmonize.  "The best teacher is the one who can get all the kids to do their own thing together so that it sounds good." 

Another described school as a recycling plant, where she is handed other people's ideas and must decide whether to discard them or turn them into something that is all her own. One of my favorites was the description of school as an encyclopedia - dry, dull, too short to go deeply into the information and no connection between the subjects.  "Which leaves me with this question, 'Why do I need an encyclopedia if I can just google it all anyway?'"  

I was left with the lingering feeling that school (and education) is powerful, but not necessarily inherently good.  It can be a prison or a family, a rock band or a boring encyclopedia.