Evolutionary Experiences

My learning experience (so far) has been examined under a microscope, with the results below. You’ll also learn a little on behaviour (but only if you are eager to)!


When a word in a dictionary ‘spots’ a new reader: Hello, my name is Floccinaucinihilipilification.Nice to meet you – what’s yours?

The reaction when the reader struggles to comprehend the word: Bonjour, je m’appelle Claire. Encantada de conecerte.

That feeling. Complete bewilderment. The first time I encountered the above 29-letter word, that is indeed English, my neurons fooled me by befriending my breakfast cereal. Snap. Crackle. Pop. The native fuse had blown within grapheme number two: mother tongue was forced to re-circuit to the foreign languages, before realising that wire was also home to many flaws. No conduction shut access to the main street, so information alleyways were ‘helpfully’ blocked off too! The logical words inside me were spat out as jargon. To (temporarily) swap my brain matter- like we swiftly switch between our WIFI and 3G – would have removed the obstacles; evolution is a placid tortoise, however. I suppose that’s better than this biological process being like an over-zealous, super jealous (MacDonald loving) ‘rabbit.’ Slow and steady wins the…
…but, the race was cancelled. For stormy weather, that is. The next sun ray never beamed down until Semester Two. Poor tortoise and her many miles left to doddle. Left foot, right foot, left foot – and so it went on. Just if trudging one foot in front of the other was so weightless! Looking on the bright side, the weather-proof shell provided more than sufficient shelter whilst my brain muscles went through the trek of adapting to my first term at university.

As we all do, you are now most likely donning your black Sherlock Homes’ coat with ‘evidence’ of this slog as merely the typical freshers’ homesickness. Stop now. Claire’s brain has a mobile home, the shell – remember? Leaving family never threw me off kilt, yet surprisingly penning my first academic essay did. Informative essays – the dry mixture – were never flavour of the month for me but throughout school, I had learnt to cope with them. English teachers only insisted on one being written every academic year (bearable) but I was soon to realise that university has its own agenda. Higher educational establishments, in general, treat these fact-driven essays like classroom Starters of the Day. Draft one for this project; scribble another for that. I knew brushing these aside would only surmount to another pile of problems, especially since they constitute as our summative assessments. A failure to submit sets off vexatious alarms: no-one craves a crab-pinching headache or the prospect of a degree bursting into snake-tongue flames.

The robotic, methodological approach to academic writing boxes up any expressionist. Jack (my brain’s creative animal) is not easily dispelled, however – oh yes, his nostrils catch those oxygen bubbles every time. Air forcefully weaves through the mouse-nibbled holes in the wafer-like layers of carboard for ventilation. His spring’s metal remains sturdy and shining, but four years of these conditions could be idealistic for rot and rust. Dead. Jack would be… Isn’t it a (table)spoon full of sugar that my degree programme has, in a way, ‘adopted’ him? In clearer (and other) words, personal reflection has become embedded into my coursework through GLOW Blogs. The online space starts out as bare ‘walls,’ but slowly and steadily we can hang up ‘pictures’ to create a gallery of our progress as teachers-in-training. Seeing others’ exhibited work twists any frown around as honest answers are given to hot-topic issues. This platform puts Brookfield’s Lenses into this cheetah-paced, techno-centred century; the truth magnified in everyone’s discourse considerably helps to settle any teaching niggles. Pinning up my first post… with the hammer of a mouse… made me realise that points can be argued in other ways than emotionless (but logical) essays. Jack hardly needed any ice to recover from this mental ordeal – literally, his rest and recovery constituted army-style star jump drills. Up and out, simply stretch about. Was he pretending to morph into a starfish in my head? At least he can gain credit for knowing seventy-percent of our brains are water-tanks. It’s only sad he loses my brownie point for idolising a brainless species.

The fear of harnessing in my creativity eased off by the end of my first term at university. Tortoise (or to the biologists, evolution) had gained courage – and for sure, some strong ‘biceps’. Today, tackling academic essays isn’t an arduous adventure into the unknown because expanding my blog and writing skills is more of a hobby. Assuredly people will judge my opinions, my style, my whole empire: irrelevant. As much as feedback is any author’s energy drink, it is the mental stimulation, clarification and justification that continually sharpen our pencils. Recently, three learning theories – behaviourism, constructivism and social constructivism – peaked my interest. (Fun fact: the suffix -ism is also the noun for a distinctive theory, doctrine or practice.) These theories must be underlined more often; our preferred learning styles as teachers affect our success in classroom management ( Wray, 2010). No identification as to how I best assimilate knowledge could quickly escalate into a convergent earthquake: the entrance of placement would powerfully rise, and time could do little but subduct. Since the earthquake’s focus would be myself, my students would dreadfully be at the epicentre of this disaster. What a magnitude of a problem. Aren’t we all just glad it wasn’t under the watchful eye of nature? Preventative research and reflection: taken.

As by literacy’s (more than ten) commandments, the next paragraph would succinctly follow on with a written debate as to which teacher-ism approach I will adopt on placement. However, the floccinaucinihilipilification of words sitting row upon row is evident when I then admit that my learning style weighs up to be that of a social constructivist. People who are like-minded hold this worldview because we are satisfied by actively seeking out information collaboratively; transmission of knowledge constructs didactic robots. A chance to extend beyond the margins of the paper is when our brains’ glue guns heat up. So, for that reason, this blog post will have a line drawn under it soon. Fret not, lovely readers: my Sway presentation is the firefighter ready to rescue those confused and curious neurons from sparking to extreme explosions. Cliff-hangers are everyone’s bug-bearers, so respectfully sharing my reflections is simply of common courtesy. Don’t let it slip your mind to hold down that ‘off’ button on your mobile phone (copyright rules do apply!) and enjoy the silent ‘movie.’ It’s never too late to dash for that bag of popcorn – or bowl of Rice Krispies!

Dry: This word is notoriously synonymous with derogatory terms – boring, uninspiring, fruitless – however my usage does not aim to convey that academic writing is tedious. In fact, factual essays are the golden sponge in a Victoria sandwich. Regarding other literature styles, personal compositions fill us up like the oozing jam and cream whereas creative pieces dust the icing sugar on top (with a pick of strawberries if we’re lucky.) As a constructivist, my preference lies in creating subjective-based work that is less associated with a specific end-goal. Nonetheless, there are still hundreds and thousands of sprinkles in the reading of informative work by those who kindly lead knowledge discovery: my mind’s schema is like Rainbow land. Point is: saying you prefer blog writing is not scientific proof for your peers’ believing you loathe studying the ‘meaty’ works, the protein.


Due acknowledgements for this blog post:

Arthur and Cremin’s book (2nd edition)-  Learning to Teach in the Primary School 

Wray, D. (2010) ‘Looking at Learning’ in Arthur, J. and Cremin, T. (eds.) Learning to Teach in the Primary School. 2nd edn. Oxon: Routledge, 2010, pp.129-145.

Po-Value-rty and Education

Our lives are constantly changing – and so must our values. It’s not something I’ve ever really stopped to ponder about until now. I know I am only eighteen – and that according to society, I should be living up my youth- but reaching the age of majority has added a new dimension of seriousness. As a child, your values are primarily based upon the people dearest to you. Until you break away from your childhood support network, you can never properly live by your own moral principles. That said, after merely a month of self-sufficiency (and seeing Fairy Liquid bubbles in my dreams) l headed back to the land of familiarity: home.

Home may only have four letters to its name, however its significance runs oceans deep. (Sorry, I detest being ‘cringy’ but in this instance, I deem it acceptable.) Whilst returning to family is an excuse for bringing out the good-old box of Celebrations, it’s also the only time in daylight where I become ridiculously nostalgic. Before you ask, I’m a tad ashamed to admit that! Nevertheless, this meaningful reflection led me to consider the impact my parents have had on my education.

Right from birth, my parents did their upmost to support my academic and social development. No joke, my first real memory (apart from fearing dress up characters) was learning how to draw a triangle. I’m genuinely sorry this is maybe not the stereotypical “let’s play with Barbie” memory you were secretly hoping for, however it does hold some points of interest. In nursery, we were assigned homework to practise drawing triangles -but there’s a catch… without rulers. What a challenge, to say the least. (Thinking back, rulers were of great health and safety hazard to three-year old Claire.) Despite the endless words of wisdom from Mum and Dad, the artist within me resigned. Drawing the tip of the triangle was not happening any day soon, certainly not until I gained rights for ruler usage. Anyway, this tiny example clarifies a much greater point: a lack of resources complicates the simplest of tasks. Unconditional support will take you to the start line, but without the right resources you will never finish the race.

As teachers, many of us will feel compelled to buy disadvantaged students the required resources: this urge, I warn you, must never translate into what you classify as ‘a good deed.’ It’s far from a sweet habit; it is simply creating an even larger divide in society. Britain does not need to live up to the great (pitying) heights of Trump’s wall – honestly. On a more serious note, the widespread issue of poverty is something all educational professionals desire to tackle. From 2015-2016, “26 per cent of children in Scotland were living in relative poverty.” Now, that figure embarrasses me on many levels. We must remember in all our poverty-reducing efforts that money is not the rocket power. It never will be: only love can fuel a notable change. You may think that I’m crazy saying that, however certain experiences have highlighted to me just how much our society needs to reconsider its core values. The standard “money solves all problems” attitude needs to be exchanged for a more heartfelt outlook.

Funnily enough, my first-ever university seminar managed to summarise all of that…in merely an hour.During the sixty-minutes in the classroom, our tutor demonstrated to us why our professional occupation can never be thought of as ‘charity work.’ He also made a teenager ever so thankful for her parents’ teachings! Through a simple, peer-learning art task (in which resources were unevenly distributed between the groups) the importance of having a solid set of values hit home. My family have always steered me away from materialism and excessive individualism: love, respect and being true to yourself were what they deemed (and still do) as being crucial to success. (My parents, I agree with you wholeheartedly.) When it came to the end of the task, the groups who lacked in resources actually came out on top. Undoubtedly, they acknowledged their situation of poverty, yet they didn’t let inequality rule them. Doesn’t that just show us something? Teachers need to stop ruling out of their pockets – and reach out from their heart.

As much as one may want to run away from all of these discussions, it is imperative that we pause in our hectic schedules to reflect on our values. I know we, primary teachers, all have an inner-child within us, so let’s think of it in this way: reconsider your own standards of judgement like kids ideally follow The Green Cross Code. Think about your existing values. Stop right before you decide to change anything. Look around and see how other teachers conduct themselves. Listen to the advice of those who have dealt with poverty first-hand. Okay, I’d admit it takes time. Yes, reconsidering our values will never solve the infamous educational debate on equity vs. equality. However, it’s for sure the first steps in beating poverty – without money. I’ll leave you (and close this half parental appreciation post) with the wise words of Jackson, Boostrom and Hansen (1993):

“Values are reflected in what teachers choose to permit or encourage in the classroom and in the way they respond to children’s contributions to learning, and children learn values from such responses.”

Due acknowledgements for this blog post: