Prompt response

So, the prompt thing didn’t quite work out.

I clicked all the buttons, entered my email address wherever I was asked to and I waited. And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since. I’m quite annoyed that the little project on which I had hoped to embark faded into nothingness before it even got off the ground. I’ve since downloaded Wordpress’s very helpful eBook, 365 Writing Prompts which I now plan to use on a more regular basis, so let’s see if this finally gets the ball rolling properly.

However, this gave me an opportunity to reflect on something my students do: they wait for me to tell them what to do. I often get irritated and frustrated by this, because I want them to take initiative. I don’t want to be the dictatorial figure standing at the front of the room barking orders day after day. I want to give them some kind of idea and then let them run with it. I’ve tried this, but it doesn’t seem to work. What usually happens is I end up with a room full of kids looking straight back at me. Some will give it a go, but the majority tend to feel lost and frustrated by the lack of anything concrete to go on.

After much trial and error, I concluded that I needed to strike some kind of balance with how my lessons were structured. Firstly, there needed to be a sense of freedom with whatever I set. Students had to know that they could take control of their learning; they could let their minds wander. Secondly, there needed to be a sense of guidance, reassurance so that students at least know what is expected of them. They need a prompt.

This last detail has always bothered me, but now, having gone through this experience with the blog prompt, I understand how they feel.

I don’t know where to start each time I write one of these. I sit staring at a blank screen and, inevitably, I delete the first twenty attempts at writing something. Nine times out of ten, I abandon the whole idea and the blog goes unwritten.

The other contributing fact to the unposted post is fear of judgement, of failure. I want these posts to mean something to someone somewhere. Yes, I know that’s vague, but I don’t really mind who reads what I write as long as what I have to say adds some value. Perhaps it’s a different way of looking at something, or a brilliant example of precisely how not to do something. Regardless, I write this for a public forum, and that comes with the anvil of potential judgement looming over my head.

What if what I write is stupid? What if people find them boring?

Eventually I get over this fact and I remember that really, I’m doing this for me. It’s helpful to get one’s thoughts down and often while reading through what I’ve written in the past, I’m reminded of details I noticed back then and so it doesn’t really matter who reads this, if indeed anyone does at all.

This experience is very similar to what students go through on a day-to-day basis: first, they don’t know where to start. With such an enormous wealth of information available to them, it’s difficult to point oneself in any direction. If you’ve ever tried to teach yourself something without having some sort of programme mapped out for you, you’ll know this is very tricky to do. Teachers today need to be curators of knowledge. We need to collect, compile and guide students through what we have managed to find and in doing so, we need to teach them to do it for themselves.

The other block which stands in the way of unbridled student engagement is fear of failure. Education has made getting the answer wrong one of the worst things that can possibly happen. I’m guilty of perpetuating this, because I have to set tests where there are correct answers, and where incorrect ones do nothing but show the student what he or she doesn’t know. I have to do this, because of an educational system that needs to standardise, needs to test and filter and assess and report at every given opportunity. I’m sick of it, and my students are too.

What’s the solution? I don’t quite know yet. I’m still waiting for the right prompt, I guess.