EDible sits down with Dr. Lorin Schwarz
English Professor at York & Teacher at Toronto's Dragon Academy
Michael Gyssels, Staff Writer
What is the single most salient point to be taken away from your high school teaching philosophy? And how might it differ from the way you approach university courses?
LS: I'm going to start with the last question first. I don't really see a difference in my pedagogical philosophy between teaching university and high school. In fact, as someone who has taught every grade (except kindergarten) as well as at college and university, I can say that the foundations of teaching for me are uniform throughout all levels. I start with the premise that this project, the work of education, is a human endeavour. We are human beings involved in a communicative process with other human beings. Within that equation are all the wishes and dreams, fears, hopes and limitations—as well as all the possibilities—that come from any experience of the human. We have to keep this in mind, because I think there is too much emphasis on "best practice" and test scores—increasing the numbers, advancing careers. What we should be concerned with is what kind of knowledge is produced (both curricular and otherwise) when we are together. As John Dewey said almost a hundred years ago, "What avail is it to win prescribed amounts of information about geography and history, to win ability to read and write, if in the process the individual loses his own soul?"
You teach at The Dragon Academy, a private alternative school. Could you talk a little bit about the intersections of the private and alternative spheres? What kinds of kids do you teach and how might you teach them differently than traditional private schools or public alternative schools?
LS: Sure! At the Dragon, quite often our student population is one with what we call "multiple exceptionalities." Some of the students have ADD or ADHD or social anxiety disorder, dyslexia, some undiagnosed learning exceptionality or aspergers. Many of these exceptionalities also come with a measure of what the Ministry calls "giftedness." (I think that most children and most people are "gifted" at something, so I balk at this as a label.) Some of the students were simply unsuccessful at other schools for various reasons; we have had gay students who were being beaten up so badly that they simply stopped going to school and needed a more supportive environment. I think we teach with an emphasis on helping students advocate for themselves, telling us what they need. It's a success when a student who has dyslexia tells me on the first day of class, "I am dyslexic and I am going to need you to read important parts of the text out loud to me." We specialize in this kind of support, but we are also good at playing to the kids strengths—and we have high expectations. Nobody gets away with "doing less" because of exceptionalities or learning challenges. Last week, one of my students in Grade 12 English was having trouble with anxiety over writing an essay. She is severely dyslexic, but a gifted artist. Together we came up with the idea that she might create a movie poster for the book—with the conditions that the poster demonstrate to me that she understands something about the major themes of the novel, the characters and the setting.
On my first day at the school, Meg Fox—the principal and founder of the Dragon—told me that the only classroom management I should worry about at the school is "relationship." This has been good advice. The classes are small, the students are often grateful to be somewhere supportive—usually after they have been asked to leave other schools--and when they know that I have high expectations and am there to support them, this works really well. It's what we do best at the school. It's not perfect, and we don't always get it right—it doesn't work for everyone, on both sides of the chalkboard! A few teachers have run screaming from the school and obviously not every student passes every subject—but we try.
I think the fact that this is a private school allows Dr. Fox to set the tone and culture of the school somewhat more intimately than would happen at a public school. The parents are very involved and they can come see us at any time. We also have really long staff meetings each and every week and this allows us to conference and talk about each student and program. Larger public schools don't always do this. It is a private school—which is a business. Dr. Fox sets the rules; when she says there's a staff meeting, we go. There is no union to protect us or to tell us we are working too hard—although most of the time, to be honest, Dr. Fox is a better advocate for fairness and equity than anyone could ever ask for. We also struggle with money issues, student recruitment and retention, and passing all the rigorous inspections the government sets for private schools. These are issues teachers in the public system don't have to worry about.
How does the alternative system augment your philosophy of “teaching poetically” and vice versa?
LS: I'm not sure if it's the alternative system or simply having a really great boss who has a PhD in English! I am able to "teach poetically" at the Dragon because the classes are small enough that I can get to know my students and can try to offer them something beautiful in the curriculum and their experience of our time together. Part of the mandate of the Dragon Academy is to go out into the city often, not to stay in the classroom for all school hours. We go to the Royal Conservatory of Music and read poetry together; we see films and have dinner together afterwards. All of this makes for a more human experience and hopefully increases the poetry of our time.
What kinds of pedagogical opportunities does the alt. system present? Or, to ask this question another way, what are some highlights from your time at the Dragon?
LS: I think the alternative system allows for a bit more interaction with students, it allows us to get to know them, to help them self-advocate, to give them a chance to do well on their own terms. These are great skills to have as a teacher, and probably should be part of what we do in education across the board. We teach students how to write academic essays—which is an important and beautiful thing to be able to do, and everyone graduating high school should be able to do it—but how many of them will ever have to do that when they graduate? The alternative system allows us to create programming that plays to student strengths—using the computer to create brochures, using visual media to demonstrate understanding of text, using embodied forms of the arts such as dance to express learning. The students who are great at these skills are given a chance to fulfill curriculum using them, so they learn and grow from what they already love and are good at. I like to think that this means they will continue doing this after graduation, which will lead to successful careers and happy lives! There are other ways of knowing and of being in the world, and the alternative system specializes in these.
There are so many moments at the Dragon I'd like to discuss. I think the field trips are my favourite, when I get to know the students outside of the walls of the school, when I experience the museum or an art gallery or a film with them, through their eyes. I think the average days when I walk in the school and someone has created a website or written a short story or finished reading a novel and they can't wait to tell me about it, those are among my most special memories, the times I cherish most.
I think the time I am most grateful for happened last year. I wasn't at the school because I was diagnosed with cancer. I felt really awful for doing that to the students; the teacher should be caring for and protecting and supporting the students, not making the kids worry about him! However, every single time I went for a chemotherapy treatment there were text messages and emails and cards from the Dragon community wishing me luck, telling me they were thinking of me, demanding that I get better and come back soon. That was education too, for the Dragon students and for one very appreciative teacher. We learned something about what it meant to be together, to care about each other, to have a community and to be in relation to one another in the face of frightening and difficult knowledge. I grew as a teacher and as a person from that.
What is one change you would make to the B.Ed. program if you could?
LS: I thought about this question a lot and decided to stick to the "one" change rather suggesting a few! I think in the B.Ed program new teachers should be given more of a chance to talk, in a non-judgemental and ungraded atmosphere, about their experiences. Students in our faculty seem so frightened of getting the wrong answer or of not being perfect enough—or of living up to some impossible standard of teaching. Nobody can teach another person how to teach; at best, we can offer stories about what we did that worked, and this is always incomplete and emotionally local. What we can do, though, is give a context, contain the good and bad classroom experiences—as well as the emotions and affects that arise from the time in school—so that when a bad day happens, it doesn't seem like the end of the world and when a good day happens it doesn't become a fantasy victory. To go back to my first question, I think having a space within teacher education for really honest and open discussion will allow the human element to flourish—the element that can't be put on a rubric or assessed on a report card or written up on a curriculum document. It's the most important thing, and if we ignore it in favour of best practice theory or how great technology is (without wondering who it is great for, and why it might be great, and what's not great about it) at the faculty of education, we have to ask ourselves what kind of a system we will have in twenty years.
