Growth at Butler pt.3

             Growing up, the daughter of researchers, I internalized the notion that science was the most benevolent thing an intelligent person could do in their lifetime. My parents feared I would become bored studying education, and so I combined it with psychology. Butler’s psychology courses relied on all-knowing professors to impart wisdom, whereas education courses required discussion to facilitate learning. Like a prophecy, I disengaged from these discussions and the field of education, until I took ED 416.

            ED 416 taught strategies for developing, modifying, and implementing curriculums. To my surprise, this process was quite scientific. Initially, my peers and I were encouraged to observe our focal students and form hypotheses based on relevant theories for ways to incur cognitive growth. But, as I began testing and experimenting with my curriculum, I recognized that attempting to fit instruction into a scientific mold was a disservice to myself and my focal student: Rayah.

            Rayah was a challenging student; but I loved her tremendously. Already as a kindergartener, she was “behind” in math and reading. On October 3^rd I reflected, “I am excited for all of the learning potentials we [Rayah and I] have, but I am concerned … I will be unable to help Rayah make progress.” By the next week, something had clearly changed. I wrote, “I have to focus my attention on being a learner.” This insight stemmed from one of the most valuable concepts ED 416 taught me: that learning is a reciprocal process.

            Immersed in Reggio pedagogy at the lab schools, I developed new beliefs about the roles of teacher and student. According to Reggio philosophy, “relationships … function as a vehicle for learning.” The way I had separated myself from my professors and peers isolated me from forming the relationships necessary for growth. Slowly, I understood the ways my educators had attempted to learn alongside me, and that I was responsible for making meaning out of our classroom discussions. I learned to sit in class without becoming frustrated, and I learned to sit beside Rayah without trying to fix her.

            On our last day, each student described their progress. I listened intently and celebrated my classmates’ successes and hoped they would empathize with mine. Nervously, I explained where my predilection for science came from, and the place I believed it should occupy in the discipline. I reasoned that science was helpful for planning lessons, but teaching was artful. Most importantly, I concluded that relationships with other students promoted valuable learning that could not be represented statistically.

This course transformed the way I comprehend learning and cognition as social, rather than individual, processes. After completing ED 416, I conducted research on social processes involved in classroom achievement. This research later evolved into my thesis. Today, I remain an active and supportive classmate, happily reminding myself that everyone has something important to say, and that I am eager to learn from their perspectives. After all, all students are teachers.

Growth at Butler pt.2

         This October, I sat alongside Angela Lupton, the assistant dean of the College of Education, and Joel Martin, the Head of the Psychology Department, on a panel to share my experiences as a double major with a class of exploratory studies students. Nestled between my two advisors, I surveyed PB 150. Of the many faces watching us, my gaze drifted to a boy in the third row. I had given him a tour the previous fall. One question he had asked me was, “what do you like least about Butler?” As most Butler Student Ambassadors would agree, this is a difficult question. Nevertheless, I welcomed it as an opportunity to describe our institution’s ability to grow, change, and respond to the feedback provided by students.

            Predicated on my belief that all good teachers understand how their students learn and think, I always planned to pursue psychology in addition to education. Once at Butler, I excelled in psychology but struggled in my education courses. By sophomore year I began doubting my competence and questioning whether I should become a teacher altogether. I expressed my concerns to my professors, but they encouraged me to “stick with it.” Precisely when I felt I couldn’t “stick with it” any longer, I enrolled in a class about assessing students with special needs. During this five-week summer seminar I discovered that my skills in psychology could be valuable assets to students and families beyond the confines of a classroom.

            The following October, I met with Professor Lupton and requested to change my degree plan. “I’m going to go to graduate school for school psychology and so I do not wish to student teach.” I told her. Subsequently, professor Lupton confided that several students like me hoped to impact children through community engagement enterprises but didn’t have a way prepare for this kind of work.

One year later, Professor Lupton introduced the Youth and Community Development major to the exploratory studies students in much the same way. As she presented, I observed vacant stares refocus and dull pencils reanimate. Without the demand for differentiated training from divergent thinkers like me, who combined majors, majors and minors, and developed their own interdisciplinary curricula, the new major wouldn’t exist.

            Professor Lupton introduced me as a “trailblazer,” when it was my time to speak. I delivered my narrative as I do at every Open House and tour. “The best part about being at a small school is that you know your advisors,” I smiled at Dr. Martin and Professor Lupton, “and they know you. They know your hopes and dreams, your ambitions and your fears. And because they know you, they will help you make the most of your time at Butler no matter what it is you want to do, whether there’s a perfect program or not. When I started at Butler, there was no Youth and Community Development Major. So, I made my own; and they helped me.”

Growth at Butler pt.1

Beyond Butler’s limestone façade, students hide from the dilapidated gas stations, apartments, and businesses on 38^th street, beside which North United Methodist Church proudly stands. For a passerby, this juxtaposition indicates racial and economic disparity. After spending a summer interning with North, however, I learned to appreciate the architectural contrast and its embodiment of solidarity between members of the church and surrounding neighborhood. The socioeconomic diversity in the area is the precise reason I decided to make Butler home.

In college I hoped to acquire the skills necessary to become a responsive teacher for children experiencing urban poverty. Throughout my first three years, I explored literature written by teachers and scientists, conducted experiments, and volunteered at local schools to gain insight into my quandary. Though all of these endeavors supported of my mission, I noticed my passion for inquiry and joy of discovery diminishing. I resolved that I needed to incorporate my complete self into my work. I had lost touch with the Ellen who taught herself piano in Lilly Hall, wrote poetry in Holcomb Gardens, attended Church, and comforted friends with ice cream on their bad days. I somehow knew that these other facets of my personality would renew my purpose and enhance my pursuit of educational equity in Indianapolis.

Shortly after I made my resolution, I discovered Project Transformation. My unique talents within the organization enabled me to develop a faith-based curriculum which promoted literacy and social-emotional skills through arts and health education, play, and structured reading time.

Over the course of nine weeks, my interactions with members of the church who mentored me and the children whom I mentored changed the questions I asked, the resources I consulted, the methods I used, and the values I held.

While I still believe in the importance of holistic education, knowledge, and inquiry, Project Transformation showed me that the most important prerequisite for life-long learning is empathy. With empathy embedded into our curriculum, I watched wall flowers bloom into bold leaders and bullies befriend the shy and the awkward. I also recognized that I wasn’t going to deliver anyone from institutionalized racism and systemic poverty by teaching them how to read, or ride a bike, or play the ukulele.

What I carry with me today is not one but many new perspectives. One way these perspectives influence my life is in my research. For my senior thesis I decided to explore how empathy and perspective taking impacts the social acceptance of children growing up in poverty. Another way I have been changed is in my career ambitions. I have just accepted the position of Youth Development Professional for the Boys and Girls Club at Pleasant Run Elementary School. There, I will coordinate my efforts with students and their families in order to best support them. I’ve learned that there are no textbook solutions for inequity. Therefore, I believe empathetic listening and servant-leadership are the most meaningful things I do outside of the classroom.