Field Trip to the Field Museum

Today, I loved my nuggets. I loved them whole-heartedly and unabashedly, even though I felt almost as much their mother than their teacher. I have to admit, at the beginning of the day, as I passed out the birthday treat donuts, I thought, "Sugar. Great. Exactly what I need to give them when they get on the bus."

But, once I got to the museum, I felt the tingles of what I used to do. I felt the excitement of not "having" to get through a lesson plan, but simply getting to explore. We were randomly assigning groups, and I got a fantastic group of kids, many of whom aren't in my homeroom (or at my school, called "gibush" which is a Hebrew term from family). The first thing we did was to take a picture by the elephants, because, despite being at the Field to see Egyptian artifacts, we all know it's the most important to take random pictures.

Then, we went through a permanent exhibit there called "Africa" which talks about several of the different modern communities in Africa. Mainly, I was excited to talk to the nuggets about the artwork and the masks and figures that were in the museum--they have some amazing things from Cameroon and a lot of twin figures from several areas. I got to talk to them about texture, and colors and what they felt seeping from the figure. They were able to talk about power and fear and majesty. They were surprised that I could talk to them about those things.

We then went to the purpose of our visit--Egypt. I really felt like I was getting them to look and think. Initially, the teacher group had made an announcement to the entire grade--slow down and actually LOOK at what's in front of you--but, unless you ask them questions, it's difficult to get them to slow down. Since I've been really trained in object-based learning, I asked them a lot of questions about what they saw, what they expected and what they remembered and how what they saw in the museum related to what they remembered from either their research projects or something else. They did a great job of talking together and of taking down some great observations. I actually ended up making them late for lunch because we started having a discussion about what they remembered me telling them about twin figures in the modern African diaspora and then the large number of mummies of twins that they saw in the exhibit. The picture is me in action with some of my kiddos [clearly, I need to stop the hair-on-top-of-head look].

We ate lunch and then walked through the "Evolving Planet" exhibit. I had this whole group of kids, some from my gibush, some from my tour group and some who just heard me talking about evolution and dinosaurs and what it all could possibly mean. It was fantastic to watch the students come alive--to start questioning and asking on their very own. They wanted to know more and more about how we came to be and it got them thinking about what it means to go extinct, about what a mass extinction looked like or would look like ("Are we in one now?" asks one of my favorites, ES. I respond, "Well, do you know about the plague?" ES: "No, what does that mean?" I briefly explain how 2/3 of Europe got wiped out. On her own she goes, "Like AIDS in Africa?" It was as if I could see the light bulb go off above her head).

After learning about how things die and how things live, one of my other gibush students declared, "It's all hopeless." But, then I started talking about life cycle and what other kinds of things do you think COULD evolve? It was amazing! I really felt like I was teaching and they were learning. At the end of it, one of the children said, "I forgot to draw something for this exhibit! I was just listening to you and looking at the bones!" I couldn't have cared less about the trip sheet. The fact that they all wanted to go home and look things up--that's all I wanted.

It wasn't even so much about Egypt; I tried to explain to my co-workers before hand that it's not about "knowing" the artifacts (it did help that I knew a LOT about African art, Evolution and Egypt--I would have been worthless in their "underground world" exhibit), but it's about knowing the questions that can get students thinking. I felt effective today. The children trusted that I would not lead them astray. Even students I didn't usually see engaged were ready to go--I remembered why I went into education in the first place--to watch their faces and to see light bulbs go off in their heads.

Somehow, over time I've learned how to ask the right questions--not the questions that produce the right answers but the questions that produce ideas. The last picture is some of my favorites--my grammar genius, my "Boogar," my little rockstar/"panic" button pusher (every friday, he comes in, pushes the panic button on my car keys and rolls--stop drop and roll style-- under my desk), my little lovable slacker whose going to be a heartbreaker, my Mr. sensitive and Mr. excitement (he's always so ready to go for me).

Since the conference on Saturday, I've been thinking about what I can do to make my job better--how can I possibly be the best teacher that I can be? From extra spelling words, to challenge questions, to moments like this, I realize it's asking them what they notice, and what makes them say that that is going to really make the difference. How on earth could I resist them?

I'm trying to integrate--I taught irony by using the poem "Richard Cory" and playing the Simon and Garfunkel song by the same name for my 8th graders. Or this for my 5th graders. From cave paintings to character sketches, I just want them leaving feeling smarter than when they came in. On Monday, I was talking to CA about what I think it should look like, this world of teaching. He listened and kept telling me, "You're going to change things. It's not self-indulgent for you to go back to school, get a phd and change things." Sometimes, I think I don't want to.

But today, today, I wanted to.