Curiosity as your compass
I love my work.
I love the spontaneity and I love the intention.
I love how willing the children are to leave the confines of their predictable classrooms and travel by bus or train to this 400 acre working farm that will double as their ‘school’ today.
As they travel, they move in pods. They might express interest in something extraordinary like a passing fire truck, but their collective attention is introspective and they tend not to engage the world around them. Their conversations are centered inside the group and quite often I can hear them chattering and screaming a half kilometer away. They are instructed to stay together, keep to themselves and be courteous.
They’ve essentially brought the walls of their classroom with them and just like in the classroom, when a child strays from the main road to follow an instinct or interest she is immediately called back with a few words of warning.
Keeping the children reeled in, might keep them safe in the moment—or make the teacher’s work easier during a particular lesson. Yet, it also hampers any lateral thinking. In the current system of education, subjects are sort of attached to children at times when they have little or no interest in them. Their tendency is to create a narrative about those subjects that gets cultivated into a belief until the belief becomes a reality—and that reality is “math isn’t interesting” or “I’ve seen cows on tv before. I’m not interested”.
And when children adopt such apathy to learning, they miss out on all the finer details of life that make our world infinitely interesting: How do cows change their coat from summer to winter fur? What does dirt smell like? How many hearts do earthworms have and what do they look like? What role does carbon play in both your life and the life of flowers? What is the temperature of wheat versus trees?
So how do I cultivate their interest in the things about which they’ve no idea? Or worse, about the things they already dislike?
It’s no secret that children learn deeply about the things that interest them the most. I’ve found that by introducing curiosity as a learning tool children can expand their own interests moment by moment, allowing their inner will to decide how to interact with the world around them.
It’s no secret that children learn deeply about the things that interest them the most. I’ve found that by introducing curiosity as a learning tool children can expand their own interests moment by moment, allowing their inner will to decide how to interact with the world around them.
That’s why teaching in the open air setting is where I thrive as an educator. We’ve removed the walls that aided their focus and placed them in an environment of endless possibilities for exploration driven by their own inner curiosity.
“What I look for at this point is not their undivided attention. Right now I want to rouse their curiosity. ”
I lead the group with no formation. What I look for at this point is not their undivided attention. Right now I want to rouse their curiosity. I lead them over grassy areas bordered by greenhouses and hedges and call out things like, “I see something yellow on this fallen log” and let them discover it as they walk by. We walk down long, narrow paths canopied by oak and maple trees. “What does this room remind you of?” I ask into the air, hinting at the expansive churches and sacred places the kids may be familiar with in their own lives. We burrow through woody hedges and cross irrigation ditches. We break out onto open fields with room to run.
Brilliant! Oh, to be a kid again.
Gathering the group, I listen to their chatter. It’s transitioned from discomfort and discord to conversations about their present experiences and sharing with me what they’re discovering.
As the end of the line catches up and we all have caught our breath I ask the group, “Our destination is just over this hill. We could take the path everyone else takes or the adventurous path. Which would you prefer?”
“THE ADVENTUROUS PATH!!”
It’s clear the children never stop learning. I love to connect to the group so deeply that when I want the group to physically stop and mentally focus, they willingly and completely open up to the wonder of some unknown detail of the universe they never knew existed.
That thrills me. It thrills me that they can still be captivated by the wonder in my voice, the delight in my eyes and the honest connection the subject has to their own lives.
At the end of our day together I often comment on the students’ attentiveness and the teacher’s response is along the lines of,
“Well, they are completely different kids today. They are certainly not this observant in the classroom.”
A sailor needs a compass if she has a destination in mind. Curiosity is the child’s compass. And as teachers we can remind them to use that tool, instead of asking them over and over again to disregards its call.
“A sailor needs a compass if she has a destination in mind. Curiosity is the child’s compass.”
Creating opportunity is not the challenge. The key is to stay present to the opportunities the environment is giving you and teaching the children to explore those opportunities with curiosity and enthusiasm. That’s the key to a great lesson.
Delve deeper:
Reawaken your own curiosity by focusing on the mundane details of the physical world around you: colors, textures and sounds. How many shades of yellow can you see from where you stand? Make yourself aware of the various textures your fingertips connect to. How far away can you hear? From the song playing in the headphones of the guy next to you on the bus to the sound of an airplane 30,000 feet above your head.
Make this a daily practice. If you do this every time you walk towards your school building and again as go home you will be surprised at the result. Get a small journal and jot down your observations. This will get you out of your head and into the world as seen by your students. The more you see, the more you can share and the connections you make together will enhance your lessons by leaps and bounds.