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Thoughts on teaching.

4th March 2020 

Learning is a frown. 

 

 

I only ever wanted to be the best teacher I could be. I wanted my students to enjoy learning, to be excited about learning new things. I took them on journeys into the past, across culture, across generations, across epochs and into a future only they could imagine. 

 

Friday afternoon when your teenagers come bumbling in off the playground- who knows what’s just been happening out there? They come in full of controversy and scandal, and who did what when and to whom. As their coats come off and their bags get put down its like they shed the fuss of the corridor- I knew just the starters to have on the board, or the questions to ask them, to bring them in. Not just sat there, watching the clock tick to 3pm, not only pushing the pen because I threatened them.  We’ll discuss something from an ancient book, or a far off land and yet it will be infinitely relevant to them as they sit there in that moment. 

 

Someone will ask a really good question, and I know its good as soon as its said, but then it ripples around the room as one by one each student has a think of what could be the answer. You might hear someone do a gentle “hmmm” or even a frustrated sigh. Sometimes the really good questions are from me- but usually they’re from that student at the back who you’d assume isn’t paying attention. 

 

And I always wonder to myself, what would my teenage self say if I were the other side of the desk?  And just as I’m about to enlighten the class, with a my teenage self’s view on our paradox, someone who hardly ever speaks will pipe up “Could it be…” They will say something so on point, so succinct, hitting the nail on the head so hard that the relief in the room is palpable, that there is a solution after all. 

 

A classic teacher-training question is “What does learning look like?” 

A Frown. Learning is a frown, learning is gazing out the window with a frown on your face. Learning is chewing the end of your pen mulling over a point, with that frown telling me something is brewing up there. And my students don’t even know it. I’ll stop them in that moment “look at that expression!” I force the class to go meta- we break out of our frowning to recognize the magic it brings. 

4th February 2020

 

Teaching Religion in France?

 

My 10 year old daughter was asked to teach a song to her French classmates recently so she belted out her current favourite “Take me to Ch-”. She was stopped at this point of the chorus, due to the act of saying the word “Church” in the classroom breaking the principle of Laicite or Secularism which runs through the State of France.  I asked her if she told the teacher that its not a religious song, but was written to highlight issues with the Catholic church and its stance on homosexuality? Seeing as her French was still fairly minimal at this point, she said she just stopped singing and returned to her seat. 

 

I’m a Religious Studies teacher currently on sabbatical in France and the principle of Laicite fascinates me. I’m not teaching Religion whilst I’m here, I couldn’t if I wanted to due to the Laicite- and so I’m intrigued as to how and when the teenagers of France get to have those heated debates in the classroom around the existence of God, and all the various belief systems humanity has developed around it. A typical day for me as a London RS teacher involved debates around homosexuality and religious views, discussions of predestination and free will and singing the Lords Prayer Anglican style to unsuspecting and slightly alarmed kids when we got to that bit of a handout on Christian practices- how could they not get a weekly lesson of this here? 

 

I wonder if not discussing religion in French state classrooms leaves anything missing from those student’s lives? Bumping into ex-students of mine years later on the highstreets of East London and hearing them say that they remembered our lessons and “oh! The debates we had Miss!”- shows me the importance of the space given in RS for evaluating views that are different to our own, and how much teenagers love to argue. As RS teachers we relish the chance to play Devil’s advocate- role-playing the questions and challenges in the classroom that our students may be asked, or may even ask of themselves later in life.  

 

If the discussion of religion is contained in the private sphere- then how can a teacher role-model intelligent and respectful discussions around the tricky material that religions can give us? Students would often say to me that they could talk about things in my classroom they never would at home, or at least could try out their views and hear people’s reactions before discussing it with family and friends. 

 

And whilst I have on occasion, had to inform my students that I do not have a hotline to The Almighty, when they are alarmed by world events- “Miss is that hurricane a sign of the end of the world?”  I know that my classroom was a space for them to discuss world events, including the role that religions and religious followers may have had in them. 

 

When I worked as a volunteer teacher in Nablus, the West Bank , I lived in a house full of other volunteers from around the world.  At one point a few from France and the USA asked me to give them RE lessons in the evening, so they could understand Islam better, and so understand the children we worked with more, interestingly both are countries that have this separation of Church and State in the school system.  When I told my adult English class of Palestinian peace-workers what I taught in the UK, they asked me for lessons on the key similarities between Islam and Judaism so that they could understand the Israeli’s over the border a few miles away, better. 

 

And here in France? I find myself in the same position, English conversation sessions have turned into me explaining what the Bah’ai religion is, and dinner table small talk has ended up as a debate around interpretations of Hijab or the Veil within Islam. I’ve met so many people here fascinated by religion and spirituality that I take any opportunity to discuss it. I might have stopped teaching RS to come and live here, but I will always be an RS teacher. 

 

2012

 

Tales of an athiest RE teacher...

 

“What are you going to do when you face Jesus on judgment day?” A 12 year old student asks me. The whole class becomes silent, and looks over to hear the response. “How’s she going to get out of this one?” I read upon their faces.

 

“Well,” I reply, “I will tell him that I had loved him, and tried to follow him, belong to his Church and believe his Bible, but that there were too many questions and unsolved things. That if he had created me with my brain,  he would know all the questions I had, and things I had experienced and the reasons why I thought the things I did. He would know that I have tried to live my life caring for others and treating them as I would like to be treated, as he had taught. Even though I don’t believe in his religion now, I believe in faith in humanity, beauty, art, love, loyalty and hope all the same- even more so now that I have the freedom to find out the answers for myself.”

For a brief moment, for the first time that academic year in fact, there was silence in the class. It was as if you could reach out and touch the enlightenment dawning upon their faces, one by one they would realise that…

“Nah, you’re still going to burn in hell” She replied, and the moment had passed.

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