The Teacher All Teachers Should Want to Emulate

John Hunter’s “The World Peace Game”

John Hunter shows what teaching and learning should be. Classrooms can be communities, where children share in the control and determine the learning agenda.

Where the Common Core and other political efforts try to control while grossly underestimating children, the approaches shown in the video give children tremendous power and confidence, as well as the basic set of tools for all future learning and participation in a democratic society. Of course, political efforts demean children and teachers and work to strangled democracy while promoting a corporate agenda of greed, control, and obedience.

The game is amazing, but the point is how John Hunter manifests as a co-participant and mentor in a critical community of inquiry. He’s an amazing teacher, but all teachers can create similar communities using all kinds of “activities” to get at the same fundamental principles, where children are creators of knowledge.

See more at: http://schoolsteachersparents.wikidot.com/videos:johnhunter

Meditation, Suffering, Aggression, and Taking Social-Environmental Action

I don’t want to diminish the critical importance of meditation experiences, insights, and realizations. From a Buddhist point of view (but any tradition with a contemplative practice), meditation is absolutely necessary, if we are to have any hope of taking any kind of compassionate or skillful action. However, I worry that we all can get caught up in our own (meditative and other) experiences and that we only practice compassion on the cushion. I’m quite guilty of that myself.

For the first time in the history of humanity, we face, at least during the lifetimes of our children and most certainly our grandchildren, massive global environmental, social, and population collapse. When hundreds of millions of people are dying monthly and suffering is beyond comprehension, I feel like I need to be reminded continuously of the immensity of suffering now, so that maybe I can take actions that may contribute to the survival of humanity in the future.

I started and help run a small meditation group here, but in my mind this is not enough. I have to help with the larger issues in whatever ways I can, at multiple levels of scale. If I don’t get my hands dirty helping in as many as possible small ways to create possibilities for human survival (including my own kids), I don’t really see the point in just staying in my small comfortably uncomfortable world. How can I die (hopefully sometime in the relatively distant future) knowing I haven’t tried to help with the big problems? What’s the point of practicing the Dharma, when no one will be alive to practice in the future?

Maybe I’m wrong, but constantly taking in the aggression and suffering of others helps keep me “honest.” There seems to be no shortage of aggression and suffering in what was once a friendly, laid-back college/tourist town (Flagstaff, AZ) in the mountains, not to mention the exponential increases globally. Part of this very basic level of suffering is being perpetuated by things we can change in fundamental ways. As Trungpa Rinpoche, suggested, one can’t practice the Dharma (or try to live with any joyfulness) if one is starving or struggling for survival. And, it’s at this level of fundamental survival that is going to increase and spread. We’re already peak everything (food, fertile soil, water, oil, you-name-it). How can I ignore this? And, how can I help? Maybe I’ve been inspired by the early years of Greenpeace. One book accompanied all of their early missions…Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism. And, all of their missions had protection cords and blessing from His Holiness the Karmapa. They pursued actions, but constantly tried to keep ego in check.

Now in my old age, I feel like I’ve blown many opportunities to help. Now, I’m trying to do what I can. But, it’s a tight-rope, where balance can be lost. It’s a path riddled, as Gregory Bateson would have said, with double binds (of seemingly no-win situations, Catch-22’s, etc.). But, I see no alternative to just jumping in. I’m too old to wait.

The Arts (in School?)

Even though I’m a science educator, I feel like the arts are at the core of our humanity and are critical components of schooling. But, the arts need to be “taught” well, not with more “standards” of knowledge about the arts (teaching the arts as a set of content standards is being done, by the way!), but as ways of exploring and representing children’s experiences of the world. How often do we hear children say, “I can’t draw,” “I can’t sing”? Everyone can draw and sing. But, I’m damaged goods in this regard. Personally, I feel incomplete and like damaged goods, because of a couple of bad experiences (especially in music, where the took me out of the elementary school chorus “because I couldn’t sing” and took away my melody flute “because I couldn’t play,” I am still working with those scars). I’ve tried to remedy the situation as a adult, but the lack of confidence and self-consciousness have been huge obstacles.

I dont’ know which is worse… Damaging children with poor teaching of the arts or not teaching the arts at all. However, I just keep coming back to the idea that without the arts, we’re just less than human.

I do try to draw and use photography as an art form, but music in another story. I wonder how many children share such experiences? I certainly hear children say they can’t draw, can’t play music, or can’t sing. But, the same holds true for many subjects that are kept in schools — many children say they can’t understand science, they can’t write, they don’t like to read, and so forth. It’s all pretty sad.

The reduction or elimination of the arts from schools is really an awful state of affairs. And, there’s an incredible amount of evidence that shows how the arts have impacted children in positive ways, including increased motivation and learning in other subjects. In many ways, the arts help all of us see the world in more authentic and meaningful ways. The arts provide both the artist and the receiver of the arts with deeply emotional connections to our worlds and to our own humanity.

The same sort of disconnect that is being propagated with the arts in schools is characteristic of the way the Common Core is suggesting we teach everything. Reading is about “getting” some arbitrary content. Reading (in which the Common Core has a greatly reduced emphasis on fiction, which is where the real learning and thinking lies) is not about opening up worlds of imagination, questioning social patterns, or re-developing the way one sees and connects with the world. Studying science is not about inquiry and learning about the nature of science (how science works), but about “learning” some set of concepts, but also NOT learning about other sets of concepts that might threaten the corporate status quo.

But, then again… who benefits from children’s lack of passion for the arts, for reading, for science, and so forth? “We” say we want children to be able to read, but do we want them to enjoy reading, to be voracious readers, or to read because of impassioned curiosity? Remember, people who are knowledgeable and who can think deeply can’t be manipulated as easily. So, again, who benefits? Have you ever tried to “reason” with a corporate representative about an ethical business practice? They can read the script, but they don’t understand a word of the argument. And, that’s just the way the corporations want it. They want employees who can read the script, but who are otherwise clueless. And, heaven forbid, they certainly don’t want employees at the public interface who can actually think out of the box, who see the world in different and creative ways, or who can be empathetic.

Standards, Political Rhetoric, and Underestimating Children

Embedded in the discourse of the Common Core and pretty much all of the political and corporate discussion of education is a negative view of children (teachers, too, but that’s a separate discussion). In fact, our entire institution of schooling is based on the deficits of being a child. Such a view is fundamentally poisonous. We don’t trust children. We underestimate their abilities and capabilities. We set up schools as prison factories to control every part of a child’s life. We have “manage” children as if they are a herd of cattle. We talk about building responsibility in children, as if such an idea is completely foreign to a child.

We have a tendency propagated by the politicians, corporations, media, and the institution of schooling to grossly under-estimate students in all respects. Such views are a carry-over from behaviorism and related early theories (although certainly not from John Dewey or George Herbert Mead), where children were viewed as “primitive” and as “empty vessels.” Children are very capable… way more than we think. Here’s an excerpt of observations from a teacher’s classroom in an east coast metropolitan public school. It takes place in March, in a grade 4 classroom. Although this is a specific day in one classroom, the teacher did the same thing in grades 1 through 3. This was her first year at grade 4.


EXAMPLE 9.2: OBSERVATIONS OF A DAY IN A CLASSROOM COMMUNITY

The following observations took place during a one-day visit to a public school classroom in a major urban area. The classroom (depicted in Example 9.4) consisted of 25 grade 4 students of mixed ethnic backgrounds, including a range of abilities in speaking English. This visit took place in mid-April, well into the school year, and after six or seven months of work on establishing the classroom community.

The day started with children wandering into the classroom during the 15 to 20 minutes before school started. As the children settled into the room, they talked with each other, examined some of their ongoing experiments with plant growth, played with blocks, or played with one of the two birds in a cage near the teacher’s desk in the corner. Some students engaged in short conversations with the teacher, whom they addressed her by her first name (we will call her Jane). (The teacher said that in her first teaching position, the principal told her that the children would not respect her if they called her by her first name. She replied, “I’ll keep that in mind. And if that happens, I’ll change.” She never has.) Everyone was very relaxed as the beginning of the school day approached.

With only a quiet indication by the teacher (I was not aware of any overt signal), the students gathered in the small carpeted area set aside for group gatherings. The teacher had been absent the day before. She had arranged for a substitute so that she could make her appointment with a doctor; however, the substitute was canceled due to an administrative mistake.
Jane started, “I hear you didn’t have a substitute yesterday?”
The children in near unison asked, “Yeah, where were you?”
After explaining, Jane asked, “So, what did you do?”
One girl said, “I took the attendance, then took it to the office. When I got back, we all decided that we’d continue reading [a book they were reading]. So, we all took turns reading and then we discussed it.”
Jane, half laughing, said, “Well, what do you need me for? The office was impressed that you really didn’t need a teacher.”

Following this interaction, another girl took the attendance with their bird mascot sitting on her shoulder. When she was ready to take the attendance to the office, she started to return the bird to the cage, but Jane said, “Why don’t you take him with you. Everyone likes to see him.”

Then, almost seamlessly, the first instructional activity of the day began. Jane briefly explained that she was going to pass around a sealed plastic sandwich bag with very moldy bread inside. As the bag was passed around, each child made one observation. Throughout the entire activity, the only sound besides the one child talking was the screeching of a bird from across the room. All of the children were listening intently to what each child had to say:

“It’s green.”

“It feels like clay.”

“Looks like moss.”

“Some of it feels hard.”

“Some of it looks like fried pistachio nuts.”

After this session, the children went off to work in groups on several of their plant study activities and experiments. They started examining a number of plastic baggies of different kinds of mold, which they had grown by placing fruit, bread, sandwiches, and so forth, in different locations around the room. As they finished this activity, they took measurements of their plant growth experiments and sketched and made observations of various kinds of stems.

Throughout this time, I wandered around the room talking to and observing the children. I noticed after one circuit of the room that a group I had spoken with was no longer the same. The group members had changed. Then I began to notice that all of the groups changed from time to time, as children got up and joined different groups. I also noticed that all of the talk taking place among the students was about the work in which they were engaged. They shared observations, argued about results, and negotiated explanations. As some children finished with all of their plant activities, they began other activities. A group of boys started playing on the computer. A group of girls took out a box of geo-blocks and began making different kinds of patterns. Another group of boys constructed buildings out of blocks. When all of the students were finished with the plant activities, they gathered on the carpet and shared the results from their plant experiments and activities.

The schedule for the day was written on the chalkboard:

8:20 Plants
9:20 Social Studies
9:45 Gym
10:30 Science Talk
11:00 Quiet Time
11:30–12:15 Lunch
12:30 Math
1:15 Cleanup
1:30 Meeting

However, social studies never happened. I overheard one child say to others at the table as 9:30 approached, “Aren’t we supposed to be doing social studies?” Another boy said very quietly, “It doesn’t matter. We’ll do it another time.”
After gym, the students and Jane gathered together on the carpet. Everyone sat on the floor in a big circle with a small tape recorder in the center of the circle. Jane began by saying, “Well, we haven’t done this for a while, so we’ll see how it goes (referring to doing science talks). We’ve been studying plants for a while and I thought it might be a good time to try to answer this question: How did plants begin?” Almost all of the children started talking at the same time. But as soon as one child established that he or she had the “floor”, everyone else immediately stopped and listened intently. Only occasionally did Jane speak, and usually to ask a clarifying question. Throughout the science talk session, she took notes and listened carefully to every point made by the students. The content of the science talk turned very quickly to the issue of how plants moved onto the land. One boy brought up the notion of increasing complexity (“algae doesn’t have that many parts”). Before long, a disagreement emerged about the dispersion and origin of plants on different continents. As different students stated their point and supporting rationale, everyone else listened very carefully. Finally, one girl reminded the others that all of the continents were “smushed together” a long time ago. From start to finish, all of the children were very supportive and encouraging of one another. Those who did not talk as much were supported with cheers and comments by the others, showing their interest in what the quieter individuals had to say. At one point, Jane added that one quiet girl’s comments were “very important and could have fit in after earlier comments.” She continued by explaining this girl’s comments could have led to a new theme to be followed.

Two of the ESL (English as a second language) students were almost always sitting together. One could speak and understand virtually no English, while the other was capable of functioning in English. Apparently, from the beginning of the year, these two boys paired up on their own, one acting as the translator for the other. Through the entire science talk, the two boys sat next to each other, whispering translations and comments.

At the end of the day, the children conducted a classroom meeting. One child acted as the moderator, while others brought up points or added to others’ comments. One child brought up a concern that after quiet time “it gets too noisy. And, some of us still want to read.” Other children suggested ways of accommodating the needs of those who wanted to play and those who wanted to read. Another child brought up an issue: “[A girl in another class] is always picked last when we play kick ball at recess. And now she’s crying a lot. And I don’t think it’s fair.” Both boys and girls added comments about how it feels to be picked last and generated some options for picking teams so that the same person would not always be picked last.

This day in the classroom was characterized by the teacher’s and students’ genuineness. Although energetic, the environment had a quality of being very laid back. Smiles and laughs were frequent on the faces of the teacher and children. Jane cared deeply about her students. She treated them each as respected citizens of the community — each with something important to offer. Her dealings with the children were marked by gentleness, as she prodded, guided, and supported the children. At one point, a group of children was making fun of someone, and with an almost lighthearted but obviously serious approach, Jane said very gently, “Thank you, I don’t need imitators over here.”

Her gentleness and caring seemed to be adopted by the children. The children treated everyone with respect. They cared how others felt and celebrated in each other’s successes. Jane admits that the year did not start off this way. It was only in the last month or so that the children had settled into a stable and functional community.

From: Bloom, J. W. (2008). Creating a classroom community of young scientists (Chapter 6). New York: Routledge. Purchase from: Publisher or Amazon.


Such an example from a classroom is not all that unusual. Yes, “Jane” was an exceptional teacher, but there are many exceptional teachers. But, she worked hard at creating such communities that valued children’s inherent abilities and humanity. I’ve seen many classrooms where the same sort of atmosphere and community had been established.

D.C. Bets Big on Common Core

D.C. Bets Big on Common Core.

I’ve called this the “Common Core of Ignorance” elsewhere on my blog. Diversity and variation are essential to the welfare of any system — ecological, social, and, yes, educational. Without variation systems crumble. We’re narrowing down and solidifying a set of knowledge that is flawed in both content and view. In fact, one of the hallmarks of human knowing is that all knowledge is tentative. Knowledge changes. Without emphasizing the diversity of knowledge, of teachers, of children, of learning, of teaching, and so forth, we’re creating a system that is destined to fail. And, this failure could be our whole society.

We’re strangling teachers and children. It’s time to wake up and appreciate the inherent intelligence of our children.

Learning, Testing, and the Messes We’ve Created

Gregory Bateson used to write metalogs that explored the “muddles” we create for ourselves. These metalogs were written as conversations between father and daughter. They examined the nature of a variety of issues involved in the way we understand the world. The first of his metalogs in Steps to an Ecology of Mind, in fact, focused on how things get in a muddle. We always seem to get ourselves in muddles at all levels of scale. We get in personal muddles, then muddles within our closest relationships, all the way up to the grand muddles of global ecological disasters and the degradation of international relations.

However, in this blog entry, I want to explore briefly the muddles we’ve created around learning, testing, and education. For the better part of a century we have talked about learning as if it were some discrete, measurable “thing.” We use tests to measure a person’s intelligence or learning. We see learning as the result of a specific series of steps taken by a teacher or adult to transmit some content to be learned. These ideas are part of what has created our current muddle about education.

During the 17th Century, Rene Descartes turned the world upside-down. In a time, when myths and superstitions reigned as the frameworks for making sense of the world in the west, Descartes, followed shortly thereafter by Isaac Newton, changed the way people saw and made sense of the world. Descartes and Newton introduced the explanatory metaphor of the mechanical clock or machines, in general. They maintained that everything could be understood as a machine. Nature was just a biological machine. Furthermore, we could understand the wholes (the things in our world) by understanding all of their parts. In addition to seeing things as machines with discrete parts, we also came to a point where we assumed that there was one true way of understanding everything. The whole package gave certainty and comfort to the masses. Intriguingly, this scientific revolution permeated all aspects of life with its basic assumptions about reality. Even people who were not informed about science, began to see and work with the world from the sets of assumptions that comprised this mechanistic, reductionist, and positivist worldview. One of these assumptions involves linearity (or lineality). Everything has a simple linear cause and effect. Another global assumption referred to duality or the separation of mind and body (also referred to as Cartesian dualism). The mental world had no connection to the physical world. They were separate phenomena. This dualism also built on the Christian separation of humans and nature. Human beings were seen as separate from the natural world. And, because we could understand the natural world as a mechanical system, we had even more control over how we used the resources of land and water. We could control everything.

The Cartesian (Descartes’) view of the world was a huge transition for western and other cultures over the next 300 years or so. In some ways, it was viewed as an enlightenment. However, over time, this worldview has brought us to the brink of self-destruction on many fronts. Our disregard for the natural world is straining our ability to survive as our population continues to grow and our resources continue to shrink. Our hopes that technology will fix our situation are met with even greater demands on resources. Our whole world seems transfixed by hope and wishful thinking.

Our views of teaching, learning, and education are embedded in such Cartesian assumptions and wishful thinking. We see the whole of education as a linear process. Even the debunked “Tabula Rasa” assumption, where students enter the classroom as blank slates and where teachers transmit knowledge to students, dominates much of the way in which we view education. On the other hand, we know that even the youngest children enter classrooms with a great deal of knowledge. Yet, we continue to assume they enter as blank slates and that we can use step-by-step approaches to “teach” them some discrete knowledge. The approaches to teaching, as passed down from teacher to student, are based on assumptions of mechanism (everything works like a machine), reductionism (where parts are all that are necessary to understand the whole), positivism (where there’s one right answer), and dualism (where the mental world of “learning” is completely separate from emotions, from the body, and from the social world and the environment). We continue to operate as if these assumptions are really descriptive of the way learning occurs.

Although certain rote memory operations may manifest in these linear, fragmented, and disconnected ways, the whole of learning is quite different. Learning is hard-wired into our biological nature. Learning occurs with or without schools. In fact, much of learning (unfortunately) occurs outside of school, where children are playing or getting into trouble. We can’t help but learn. The problem is how do we guide that learning in ways that are going to be useful for a child’s growth, development, and present and future well-being (the specific purposes or goals of schooling is another issue).

Learning is complex. We as a species have always learned so that we can survive and thrive. In fact, all animals learn in order to survive. Bateson even went so far as to suggest that genetic adaptation was a form of learning. However, no matter what level of scale (from the molecular to the social) we examine, learning focuses on our ability to survive and thrive in different contexts. Such learning is not really about retaining discrete bits of disconnected information. Rather, at the very core, learning is about creating multiple frameworks of connected information that serve to explain and help us make sense of our world. Learning provides us with the cognitive and emotional tools to pose and solve problems, to find ways to understand diverse and different physical and social phenomena, to imagine and create, to build and repair, to be empathetic and compassionate, to be reflective, to be responsible and respectful, and to be a participant in whatever communities one is a part. Learning occurs not just in the head, but also occurs in the heart, the body, socially, and in relation to our worlds. Learning is not a static and linear phenomenon. It morphs and changes. Learning involves the meanings we create, which also includes ideas, emotions, values, aesthetics, beliefs, metaphors, imagery, models, humor, and so forth. Learning is not just about “text.” Learning also is about how to be. (Such a view of learning is certainly a major problem for those who maintain that on-line courses are valuable!)

Yet, we continue to view learning as a simple rote memory and computational phenomena. Think about your own experiences. What do you really understand in depth? Can someone really know the extent of your understandings of this area? What areas of your life, of your very being are permeated by these understandings? How do you express your understandings? Can you ever express all of your understandings of this area? These questions are difficult. And, testing doesn’t begin to address possible answers.

Learning can’t be “measured,” because it has no substance. We can measure the dimensions of objects. We can measure density. We can measure sound and light frequencies. We can count numbers of things. We can measure the quantity of water in a container. But, we can’t measure things without substance. We can’t measure emotions. We can’t measure happiness. We can’t measure anger. We can’t measure a relationship between two people. And, we can’t measure learning. However, we can describe emotions, happiness, anger, relationships between two people, and learning. In describing learning and understandings, we can look at some of the ideas or concepts involved. We can examine the nature of the relationships that someone understands. We can look at how complicated the interconnections are between ideas. We can describe the tendencies for how one uses these understandings in dealing with various problems and situations. We can describe the tendencies one has for thinking in depth about these understandings. We can see where some misconceptions come into play and where more accurate understanding are involved. However, we can never understand the complete nature of someone’s learning and understandings. We can just pick up on certain aspects and tendencies. However, these aspects and tendencies are quite apparent to the informed teacher or observer. A teacher knows when a child understands something. A teacher knows when a student is passionate and creative. A teacher knows when a child is having difficulties and where she or he is making silly mistakes.

In the following discussion, I’ll use a metaphor of an iceberg to represent learning and understandings. Within the context of assessment, tests may show little indentations on the above water surface of an iceberg, but they really don’ tell us much more than whether they get answers right or wrong. Many very bright students, second guess test questions, see too many possible correct answers, or see errors in all of the possible test answers. Describing student learning through a wide variety of approaches (e.g., observations, interviews, all sorts of written and visual representation tasks, etc.) allow us to see much more of what lies beneath the extruding surface of the iceberg and some of what extends below the water. However, we can never see the entire iceberg.

So, we are currently in a massive muddle. We want to think that there is a simple solution to the mistaken belief that we are not educating our students very well. Between the irresponsibility of politicians and the media and the greed of publishers and testing companies, we have politicized and corporatized education to the point of a total muddle. We continue to think that test scores mean something significant. We think that we can control teachers and make teaching a linear and predictable process. We think that we can dissect out the parts in ways that will create viable wholes. We continue to think that there is one right answer and one right way to get to that answer. But, none of these ideas hold any viability.

Teachers are incredibly better than they were 100 years ago. I’m not so sure there’s any difference in the quality of teachers between 1960 and now. In discussions with principals, teacher educators, and experienced, expert teachers, the shared feeling is that the vast majority of teachers are competent or better. There are very few duds, but they do exist, as duds exist in all professions. And, there are quite a few teachers who are truly exceptional. At present, teachers certainly know much more about how children learn and think, know more about various techniques and approaches to teaching, and know more about the social and political contexts of their profession than they did 50 years ago. However, Teach For America and similar watered-down approaches to professional development of teachers are diminishing the depth and extent of this knowledge. The Common Core proponents and the entire testing industry are reducing teaching and learning to completely muddled, disconnected, and fragmented pieces of mostly irrelevant and meaningless information. The situation is further muddled by people, who have no background of study, experience, and research in education, making decisions about education. Our secretaries of education have no background in the field. School board members are dominated by people who have no background. Many state superintendents of education have no background. And, of course, as with the old Peter Principle, a number of people who were failed teachers have worked their way up the ranks into positions of leadership.

As in Finland, we could just trust teachers and save money by not testing, At the same time, we could make schools engaging, exciting, and creative places for children to grow, create, and blossom.

Resources and References:

If you’re interested, the following is a short list of some interesting readings that elaborate on some of the ideas discussed in this blog entry. Some are from my own research and others are from the work of some of the major scholars in education and related fields.

Bateson, G. (2000). Steps to an ecology of mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Bateson, M. C. (1995). Peripheral visions. New York: Harper Paperbacks.

Berliner, D. C., & Biddle, B. J. (1995). The manufactured crisis. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley.

Block, A. A. (1997). I’m Only Bleeding. New York: Peter Lang.

Bloom, J. W. (1990). Contexts of meaning: Young children’s understanding of biological phe-nom¬ena. International Journal of Science Education, 12(5), 549-561.

Bloom, J. W. (1992). Contexts of meaning and conceptual integration: How children understand and learn. In R. A. Duschl and R. Hamilton (Eds.), Philosophy of science, cognitive science in educational theory and practice (pp. 177-194). Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Bloom, J. W. (1992). The development of scientific knowledge in elementary school children: A context of meaning perspective. Science Education, 76(4), 399-413.

Bloom, J. W. (1995). Assessing and extending the scope of children’s contexts of meaning: Context maps as a methodological perspective. International Journal of Science Education, 17(2), 167-187.

Bloom, J. W. (2001). Discourse, cognition, and chaotic systems: An examination of students’ argument about density. Journal of the Learning Sciences, 10(4), 447-492.

Bloom, J. W. (2004). Patterns that connect: Rethinking our approach to learning, teaching, and curriculum. Curriculum and Teaching, 19(1), 5-26.

Bloom, J. W. (2005). The application of chaos, complexity, and emergent (meta)patterns to research in teacher education. Proceedings of the 2004 Complexity Science and Educational Research Conference (pp. 155-191), Sep 30–Oct 3 • Chaffey’s Locks, Canada (http://www.complexityandeducation.ca).

Bloom, J. W. (2006). Creating a classroom community of young scientists (2nd ed.). New York: Routledge.

Bloom, J. W. (2011). Investigating relationships: Thoughts on the pitfalls and directions. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity and Education, 8(1), 38—43. (Available at: http://ejournals.library.ualberta.ca/index.php/complicity/issue/archive)

Bloom, J. W. (2011). The really useful elementary science book. New York: Routledge.

Bloom, J. W. (2012). Ecology of mind: A Batesonian systems thinking approach to curriculum enactment. Curriculum and Teaching, 27(1), 81—100.

Bloom, J. W. (2012). The nature and dynamics of relationships in learning and teaching. In D. J. Loveless & B. Griffith (eds.), The interdependence of teaching and learning. Charlotte, NC: IAP.

Bloom, J. W. (accepted). An ecology of mind: Teaching—learning recursive systems. Kybenetes.

Bloom, J. W., & Volk, T. (2007). The use of metapatterns for research into complex systems of teaching, learning, and schooling. Part II: Applications. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity and Education, 4(1), 45—68 (Available at: http://ejournals.library.ualberta.ca/index.php/complicity/issue/archive).

Bransford, J. D., Brown, A. L., & Cocking, R. R. (Eds.). (2000). How People Learn: Brain, Mind, Experience, and School: Expanded Edition (2nd ed.). Washington, DC: National Academies Press.

Bruner, Jerome. (1987). Actual Minds, Possible Worlds. Harvard University Press.

Bruner, Jerome. (1992). Acts of Meaning: Four Lectures on Mind and Culture. Harvard University Press.

Bruner, JS, & Haste, H. (1987). Making sense: The child’s construction of the world. New York: Methuen & Co.

Cazden, C. B. (1988). Classroom Discourse: The Language of Teaching and Learning. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Dewey, J. (1997). Experience and education. New York: Touchstone/Simon & Schuster.

Doll, W. E. (2002). Curriculum visions. New York : Peter Lang.

Doll, W. E. J., Fleener, M. J., Trueit, D., & St Julien, J. (Eds.). (2005). Chaos, complexity, curriculum, and culture. New York: Peter Lang.

Donaldson, M. (1992). Human minds. New York: Allen Lane/Penguin.

Donaldson, M. C. (1978). Children’s Minds. Harper Perennial,

Donella H. Meadows. (2008). Thinking in systems: A primer. Chelsea Green Publishing.

Duckworth, E. (1987). The “Having of Wonderful Ideas” and Other Essays on Teaching and Learning. Teachers College Press.

Duckworth, E. R. (2001). Tell Me More: Listening to Learners Explain. New York: Teachers College Press.

Duckworth, E., Easley, J. A., Hawkins, D., & Henriques, A. (1990). Science Education: A Minds-on Approach for the Elementary Years.. New York: Routledge.

Edwards, D., & Mercer, N. (1987). Common Knowledge: The Development of Understanding in the Classroom. New York: Routledge.

Edwards, P. D., & Potter, J. (1992). Discursive Psychology. Sage Publications Ltd.

Egan, K. (1986). Teaching as Story Telling. London, Ontario: University of Western Ontario Press.

Egan, K. (1990). Romantic Understanding: The Development of Rationality and Imagination, Ages 8-15. New York: Routledge.

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Acura: Social and Environmental Irresponsibility

Wow! Acura must be going for the award of most socially and environmentally irresponsible. They’ve gone from Acura as the ultimate in aggression to Acura (and everything else) as the mark of extreme luxury. If we all follow their examples, we’ll self-destruct sooner than later.

Psychological Violence Against Children – A Commentary on a Huffington Post Article

What If Everybody Understood Child Development by Rae Pica (Huffington Post).

But, we don’t want children to learn, to think, to be creative, to be motivated, to know how to participate in society, or to be decent human beings. Such things don’t benefit the rich and powerful, whose children will be provided the best learning experiences despite the dreadful things public schools are encouraged or forced to do.

When I was a teacher, the principal demanded silence in the cafeteria. She said she’d give a prize to the most quiet class. During our first lunch, my 5th/6th grade kids asked if they had to be quiet. I asked if they wanted the prize. They said, “no.” So, we talked. That was over 30 years ago. It’s just getting worse.

All of the child-strangling things you mention, which also include The Common Core Standards and high-stakes testing, are acts of psychological violence. As a society, we just ignore and ask for more.