The talented yet road-worn indie guitarist stands diminutive in front of a wall of potential instruments. He sees a great deal of potential in many of the guitars but knows that he has to work with what he has. Resources are tight. Given his talent and passion, it seems unjust that he plays night after night for often difficult crowds without a choice guitar. He does however know that he signed up for this. He reflects and shortly after realizes that it is that tattered six-stringed companion of his that is tried and true. It is the tool by which he has been able to inventively and artistically project emotions and ideas to all willing to embrace the auditory complexities of one of his masterpieces. He turns his back and walks out of the music store.
If his talent were a guitar, it surely would have been handcrafted on the turbulent and inspiring shores of Italy by one of the ancestors of Stradivarius himself. Talent is not a guitar. It is many things though: inspiration, meaning, emotion, creativity, intensity, authenticity, complexity, etc. It transcends the very tool that is used to convey it.
The truth about teaching is that it isn’t fair. There is no level playing field. We all know that. I don’t mind though, well not anymore. I used to be so concerned with the outward appearance of my instruction that I made it a point to bring out the newest and most conspicuous tech-tools out there. I was never a “yes” man or out to please but given the deteriorating quality of instruction of this inner city school, I just wanted to cover my bases. It didn’t even matter that I previously found a tremendous amount of depth in what would have seemed mundane to others. I just had to look good… things changed though. I wanted to see students express themselves. I wanted them to realize their talents. I wanted them to become independent learners.
Much like the traveling indie band, I found myself playing dual roles. I felt myself become an artist and manager in the classroom. The artist yearned to create and show others how to create. The manager had to make things happen given the social context and minimal access to resources. I went indie. The students went indie. It didn’t matter what others thought anymore. It was about the process of expression and creation. After all, the true instructional leader would easily recognize the depth and creativity in products that the students created, not the kinds of tools being used. It wasn’t flashy, it was raw talent on its way to something greater.
I love this series. Your piece speaks truth to the fact that we may not always have the tools we want, but we have our own voice.
Awesome post. It's nice to have you writing here as well. Thanks.
Anonymous,
Your reply in this context has a great deal of voice and meaning to it. Thank you for your kind words.
Paul,
Thanks. This series is interesting and I'm exited to be working with John on this.
Thank you for once again articulating what has been bubbling around in the back of my head.
I recently taught at a rough, inner-city alternative school. The building was falling down around us and teachers and students were micro-managed to the point of paralysis but we had the latest and greatest tech gadgets. Students were parked in front of computers and required to complete hours of "interactive" training modules. Now I am at a lovely suburban school where the administration is very tight with tech purse strings but encourages innovation and gives teachers a great deal of lea way. I know that there are a lot of other variables in play here, but the lack of cutting edge technology does not seem to be a problem, even for students who do not have much access to technology at home. Students are intellectually, physically and socially engaged and challenged. What a concept!