About a month and a half ago, I was accepted into a volunteer position at a nearby Montessori school. Since then, I have experienced an educational environment I had no idea existed and have learned so much. Everything about Montessori is still so new to me, and I have been hesitant to write about it for fear of stereotyping parts of the teaching method, theory, or school because of my limited exposure. Finally, after six weeks of volunteering my four hours, I feel ready to start putting what I observe into words. I am so thankful to the director, "K." for allowing me to have this experience.
K. must have thought it strange when in our first emails to each other, I made reference to her "teachers." Before my first visit, when I imagined a hypothetical Montessori school in my mind, I pictured something similar to the public schools I have worked at as a paraeducator, similar to the schools I went to when I was younger. I had no concept, besides the odd ideas of Waldorf schools I had briefly researched, of a school with so few students and teachers. There is another Montessori school in the city where I live that seems, from what I have heard, to be as large as what I had imagined, but the school where I volunteer, which is in it's first year, has only K., the director, and A., (an assistant? I haven't asked, but she is mostly there when I am, coming and going some of the time on errands) as teachers for the six students, two of which are K.'s children. There is another teacher I have met a couple of times who is the head of the early education division, on the opposite side small building. I do not know much about the early education, because they do not meet on Fridays, the only day I am there. I remember that when I was learning about Waldorf, I found it so strange that the teacher of those schools stayed with her students throughout their elementary years, but after having experienced my Montessori school for a while and having read a little more about Montessori schools in general, it seems only natural in this environment.
Almost immediately upon my first visit, I noticed how much emphasis the students put on manners. When I sat down at the table during lunchtime, (a thought never contemplated in public schools!), they told me that they were "practicing polite table conversation," an idea adorable and novel to me at the time. Politeness and consideration is prevalent in all areas, but it is not strictly reinforced, as in families that have strict, written rules and punishments. In fact, the school has no written rules that I have seen, only gentle, oral reminders of what is expected, and the only punishment that has been given while with me present has been, "Please go sit for a little while on the peace pillow," a big pillow in the quiet library section of the building, merely a chance for the student to catch her breath and settle herself. Without strict rules and punishment, students are allowed to explore their actions, view the reactions of others, and decide for themselves how they wish to act. That being said, the students at my Montessori school are (for the most part) extremely well behaved.
Another thing I realized after only a few visits was that Montessori students seem to need a lot less physical attention than I am used to. At the public schools I have worked at, there are little ones that attach themselves to me immediately, even after having just met me. It's a sort of gradual effect, actually. A couple immediately love you, a few only need a short amount of days before they are comfortable with you, some need only a month or so, and then, of course, there are the ones that take a lot of time and effort to warm up to strangers. Nevertheless, I have come to expect receiving a sudden hug at some point or another from every one of the public school children I work with. But even after six weeks, I have not seen any affection from my Montessori students apart from tone of voice and facial expression. That's not to say that it bothers me, it's just something that I find curious.
There are a few explanations I have mused on for why this is. The first is the amount of non-physical attention received in the classroom. With 20-30 students in the public school classroom, it's hard to address each one as often as they'd like. Because they get fewer chances to speak to a teacher, they might show their affection in quick hugs. Montessori students (at least, the ones I have observed), on the other hand, have a teacher available almost literally whenever they need her. Because they can talk to her whenever they have something to say, they need less of a physical expression.
Or perhaps the parents of Montessori students treat their children on a higher, more mature level than public school parents. After being able to solve problems on their own and live day-to-day becoming more independent, the children need less and less physical affection, at least from strangers.
One last idea, I'm almost afraid to voice (and please don't think me heartless for saying so!), assuming that Montessori students come from financially better off families than public school students, and thus presupposing that their families are more frequently able to show their children physical affection, they would not require as much from strangers. It does sound horrible to say, doesn't it! I hope this is not the case, but it is something I have mused on.
Anyway, more about Montessori later. I have a coffee date with K. in a couple of days, and I hope she will shed some light on some other questions I have so that I will feel comfortable sharing them.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Montessori Experience--pt I
I have been speaking with the director of a new local Montessori school through email for the past couple of weeks. I told her I was interested in volunteering, and she replied that she would love to have anyone interested in Montessori. So today I went for an interview. Having done very little research on Montessori (it's still on my to-do list), I had no idea what to expect.
The school was brand new, hidden behind a maze of miscellaneous office buildings, camouflaged with its neighbors, bearing no brightly colored school sign like one would expect. It didn't even have a somber-colored sign, no attempts to mark this building as a place of learning what-so-ever. Beginning to doubt that I was in the right place at all, I finally noticed a few small, colorful paper snowflakes in a far, dark window giving the identity of the unknown building away.
The entry way of the school was a tiny, security enhanced room that sounded a "Front door open" alarm when I arrived. It had two doors on either side leading in. I later learned that one was to the elementary side while the other was to the early childhood side. Both were shut, and finding no buzzer to push to announce myself, I wondered what to do. I didn't have to wait long; the director, having heard the door alarm, soon came to greet me.
On the inside, the school was a large, open room, learning materials organized neatly against the walls, low tables and chairs to the sides, a big colorful carpet in the center, everything cleaned to the expectations of a surgery room. There was a courtyard in the center of the school, where, I was told, vegetables and plants would be grown in the spring, and a large, fenced-in yard around the back perimeter for a playground. In the back of the building was a kitchen for learning for the elementary students and a shared library in the process of being filled. I understand that the school had been open for less than a year, but I couldn't believe how clean and perfect everything looked. The children all had their shoes off, showing their tiny socked-feed, and the three adults wore slippers. I felt awkward for having kept my shoes on, although I was not told to remove them.
The director showed me around the building, introduced me to a few key learning materials, and then we sat at one of the low tables while the seven students (one-third of a normal class-size, they didn't have many families sign up. There were four first-years, two second-years, and one third-year, the director's daughter, no one over the age of eight), who had been learning with the teacher on the carpet when I arrived, ate lunch at the long table at the other side of the room.
The children seemed intellectual, while still child-like and silly, of course, and the two teachers (the director and the teacher I saw when I came in, the other I only saw briefly--the early childhood teacher?) seemed amiable enough. The environment, however, struck me as more like a home than a classroom. Because the student-to-teacher ratio was so low, the students seemed more like children at their own home, rather than at a school. They were addressed quickly whenever they had a question, they were allowed to learn whatever they wanted (this group was fond of science, and a few had taken up crocheting), they were reprimanded easily (one boy had poured a glass of someone else's soy milk and was told he must drink it because he had already drank from the glass today), even the fact that they all ran around in socks, it was like being home-schooled by someone other than your parents (with the exception of the director's daughter).
The director asked if teaching Montessori was a future goal at the moment, to which I had to admit, it is not. When I started my education career, I told myself that the best place I could be is at a Title I public school, reaching out to as many students that need a positive role model in their lives as possible. I had considered teaching in a private school, back when I was considering teaching English, because I wasn't sure if I would be able to handle public school children. However, having now worked at a public school for a year, I realize that it is where I belong and where I can make the biggest difference. Every day when I walk into a classroom at Griffith, I am greeted with 20 small bodies that depend on me and their teachers to grow. A lot of them don't have anyone else they can rely on, anyone else that tells them that they are smart, capable people that are special and really matter in the world. They need that. At the Montessori school today, I met seven children whose parents care the world for them, read to them at night, and probably hug them constantly. I know that they need the devoted attention their parents pay good money for them to have, but I feel like I have bigger problems to attend to: the kindergartener that doesn't know his letters, the first grader that doesn't talk to any teacher, the third grader whose mother was taken back to jail last night.
I would love to explore Montessori. I want to spend as much time volunteering as they need me. But I don't think that it holds much future for me besides gaining experience in different fields of education and in learning new techniques to take back to my own students.
The director said she would call after she contacted my references as to if she had a position for me. I just have to shake that awkward feeling that every adult there was afraid for me to touch anything, lest I get my dirty public school hands on them.
The school was brand new, hidden behind a maze of miscellaneous office buildings, camouflaged with its neighbors, bearing no brightly colored school sign like one would expect. It didn't even have a somber-colored sign, no attempts to mark this building as a place of learning what-so-ever. Beginning to doubt that I was in the right place at all, I finally noticed a few small, colorful paper snowflakes in a far, dark window giving the identity of the unknown building away.
The entry way of the school was a tiny, security enhanced room that sounded a "Front door open" alarm when I arrived. It had two doors on either side leading in. I later learned that one was to the elementary side while the other was to the early childhood side. Both were shut, and finding no buzzer to push to announce myself, I wondered what to do. I didn't have to wait long; the director, having heard the door alarm, soon came to greet me.
On the inside, the school was a large, open room, learning materials organized neatly against the walls, low tables and chairs to the sides, a big colorful carpet in the center, everything cleaned to the expectations of a surgery room. There was a courtyard in the center of the school, where, I was told, vegetables and plants would be grown in the spring, and a large, fenced-in yard around the back perimeter for a playground. In the back of the building was a kitchen for learning for the elementary students and a shared library in the process of being filled. I understand that the school had been open for less than a year, but I couldn't believe how clean and perfect everything looked. The children all had their shoes off, showing their tiny socked-feed, and the three adults wore slippers. I felt awkward for having kept my shoes on, although I was not told to remove them.
The director showed me around the building, introduced me to a few key learning materials, and then we sat at one of the low tables while the seven students (one-third of a normal class-size, they didn't have many families sign up. There were four first-years, two second-years, and one third-year, the director's daughter, no one over the age of eight), who had been learning with the teacher on the carpet when I arrived, ate lunch at the long table at the other side of the room.
The children seemed intellectual, while still child-like and silly, of course, and the two teachers (the director and the teacher I saw when I came in, the other I only saw briefly--the early childhood teacher?) seemed amiable enough. The environment, however, struck me as more like a home than a classroom. Because the student-to-teacher ratio was so low, the students seemed more like children at their own home, rather than at a school. They were addressed quickly whenever they had a question, they were allowed to learn whatever they wanted (this group was fond of science, and a few had taken up crocheting), they were reprimanded easily (one boy had poured a glass of someone else's soy milk and was told he must drink it because he had already drank from the glass today), even the fact that they all ran around in socks, it was like being home-schooled by someone other than your parents (with the exception of the director's daughter).
The director asked if teaching Montessori was a future goal at the moment, to which I had to admit, it is not. When I started my education career, I told myself that the best place I could be is at a Title I public school, reaching out to as many students that need a positive role model in their lives as possible. I had considered teaching in a private school, back when I was considering teaching English, because I wasn't sure if I would be able to handle public school children. However, having now worked at a public school for a year, I realize that it is where I belong and where I can make the biggest difference. Every day when I walk into a classroom at Griffith, I am greeted with 20 small bodies that depend on me and their teachers to grow. A lot of them don't have anyone else they can rely on, anyone else that tells them that they are smart, capable people that are special and really matter in the world. They need that. At the Montessori school today, I met seven children whose parents care the world for them, read to them at night, and probably hug them constantly. I know that they need the devoted attention their parents pay good money for them to have, but I feel like I have bigger problems to attend to: the kindergartener that doesn't know his letters, the first grader that doesn't talk to any teacher, the third grader whose mother was taken back to jail last night.
I would love to explore Montessori. I want to spend as much time volunteering as they need me. But I don't think that it holds much future for me besides gaining experience in different fields of education and in learning new techniques to take back to my own students.
The director said she would call after she contacted my references as to if she had a position for me. I just have to shake that awkward feeling that every adult there was afraid for me to touch anything, lest I get my dirty public school hands on them.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Power Teaching, part II--Exploration
When I discovered Power Teaching a week ago, something about it just didn't sit right. Everything seemed to align perfectly for the students, as I said in the post, they got many opportunities to speak aloud, do motions, and have repetition of concepts. The teacher seems to be at an advantage as well, staying in constant control of her class. But there was something wrong about the video clips I watched that I couldn't explain. After a few hours of not being able to put a name to what I was feeling, I wrote it off by saying, "Well, this method is too energy-intensive, anyway. I would never be able to pull it off in a class of my own."
I started my third semester of co-op yesterday, and part of my day was assigned to a first-grade class I had been in only a few times before. While I was there, the teacher had her children sit at the carpet and discuss a book they had read together the day before. The class was talkative and eventually the teacher had to send them back to their seats (still staying positive and not raising her voice) for being unruly. Despite my previous feelings, I couldn't help but think how well Power Teaching would have gone in that situation.
That caused me to rethink. Maybe Power Teaching isn't so bad; after all, I had given it a lot of praise. It was just curious to me. Perhaps it seemed too good to be true.
Today, browsing through education blogs, I read something about the "quest for knowledge," or some idealism like that, and wouldn't you know it, that's what Power Teaching is missing. Critical pedagogy, a four-letter-word in every public school teacher's mind, actually applies in this situation.
Upon more consideration, I've realized that Power Teaching is, in entirety, fact memorizing. The job of the teachers in the videos I posted last week is to explain. They are the ones standing at the front of the room, stating facts and waiting for them to be repeated back by 20 voices in unison. The teachers teach, the students receive information, but little real "learning" is occurring. This is the essence of critical pedagogy. There is no praxis, learning by problem solving.
Power teaching, though seemingly useful as a form of classroom management, is not effective as a way of learning. With it, there is no exploration by anyone in the classroom, students or teacher. In any classroom, children should be free to consider what they are learning, why it matters, and if they fully understand it. This does not happen in a fast-paced power teaching classroom because the teacher has already moved on to the next thought of her lesson.
I started my third semester of co-op yesterday, and part of my day was assigned to a first-grade class I had been in only a few times before. While I was there, the teacher had her children sit at the carpet and discuss a book they had read together the day before. The class was talkative and eventually the teacher had to send them back to their seats (still staying positive and not raising her voice) for being unruly. Despite my previous feelings, I couldn't help but think how well Power Teaching would have gone in that situation.
That caused me to rethink. Maybe Power Teaching isn't so bad; after all, I had given it a lot of praise. It was just curious to me. Perhaps it seemed too good to be true.
Today, browsing through education blogs, I read something about the "quest for knowledge," or some idealism like that, and wouldn't you know it, that's what Power Teaching is missing. Critical pedagogy, a four-letter-word in every public school teacher's mind, actually applies in this situation.
Upon more consideration, I've realized that Power Teaching is, in entirety, fact memorizing. The job of the teachers in the videos I posted last week is to explain. They are the ones standing at the front of the room, stating facts and waiting for them to be repeated back by 20 voices in unison. The teachers teach, the students receive information, but little real "learning" is occurring. This is the essence of critical pedagogy. There is no praxis, learning by problem solving.
Power teaching, though seemingly useful as a form of classroom management, is not effective as a way of learning. With it, there is no exploration by anyone in the classroom, students or teacher. In any classroom, children should be free to consider what they are learning, why it matters, and if they fully understand it. This does not happen in a fast-paced power teaching classroom because the teacher has already moved on to the next thought of her lesson.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Power Teaching
Whole-brain teaching, or as I like to call it because I think it more aptly describes the method, power teaching, is a high-energy level instructional method. Here is Chris Biffle, the creator, to describe it himself.
But does it work with small children? Absolutely.
Power teaching stresses two very important keys of learning: high-energy for maintaining students' attention and gestures to get through to the ever present kinesthetic learner (a part of every student). Everything about power teaching makes it perfect for the students, the knowing when to talk and when to listen, the micro-lessons and 'tell your neighbor' which allow for short bursts of learning coupled with lots of soaking in time as well as the ability to talk about what they're learning and feeling in-control of learning, as opposed to being talked to death by the teacher.
However, despite all of the positives, my first impressions of power teaching were intimidation and of being overwhelmed. It does take a lot of energy to maintain a class in this fashion. The way I speak, I don't think I could handle 20-some voices saying, 'Yes?' every time I addressed them as 'class.' I don't think the gestures (apart from kindergarteners writing P in the air) reflect their meaning well enough; they aren't specific enough for me. And the 'teach-okay' step (the words, not the actions) just seem silly to me.
Power teaching seems to be a wonderfully effective way of teaching, and though it would not work for me, there are a few points I can take away from it to benefit me. The fact that the teacher has the whole class's attention at "Class," or more importantly, "Hands and eyes," is crucial to any classroom. It is not wholly a power teaching trait, but having a key word, phrase, or action to silence the class is essential. Allowing students to discuss with a partner what they've just learned cements the learning, and the short bursts of information is ideal, especially for younger children. And of course, most students learn better with actions and movement. Also, having the students say, "It's cool," when a classmate answers a question incorrectly creates a positive atmosphere in which children aren't afraid of being wrong, although I might use "That's okay," with students in 2nd grade and below.
Resources:
Whole Brain Teaching--detailed descriptions and instruction of the Whole Brain Teaching instructional methods
Chris Biffle Youtube profile--more videos from the creator
But does it work with small children? Absolutely.
Power teaching stresses two very important keys of learning: high-energy for maintaining students' attention and gestures to get through to the ever present kinesthetic learner (a part of every student). Everything about power teaching makes it perfect for the students, the knowing when to talk and when to listen, the micro-lessons and 'tell your neighbor' which allow for short bursts of learning coupled with lots of soaking in time as well as the ability to talk about what they're learning and feeling in-control of learning, as opposed to being talked to death by the teacher.
However, despite all of the positives, my first impressions of power teaching were intimidation and of being overwhelmed. It does take a lot of energy to maintain a class in this fashion. The way I speak, I don't think I could handle 20-some voices saying, 'Yes?' every time I addressed them as 'class.' I don't think the gestures (apart from kindergarteners writing P in the air) reflect their meaning well enough; they aren't specific enough for me. And the 'teach-okay' step (the words, not the actions) just seem silly to me.
Power teaching seems to be a wonderfully effective way of teaching, and though it would not work for me, there are a few points I can take away from it to benefit me. The fact that the teacher has the whole class's attention at "Class," or more importantly, "Hands and eyes," is crucial to any classroom. It is not wholly a power teaching trait, but having a key word, phrase, or action to silence the class is essential. Allowing students to discuss with a partner what they've just learned cements the learning, and the short bursts of information is ideal, especially for younger children. And of course, most students learn better with actions and movement. Also, having the students say, "It's cool," when a classmate answers a question incorrectly creates a positive atmosphere in which children aren't afraid of being wrong, although I might use "That's okay," with students in 2nd grade and below.
Resources:
Whole Brain Teaching--detailed descriptions and instruction of the Whole Brain Teaching instructional methods
Chris Biffle Youtube profile--more videos from the creator
Monday, November 16, 2009
Alternative Schools--Waldorf
First in an ongoing series
Rudolf Steiner (1861—1925) Austrian
Waldorf schools are fairly popular throughout the world. There are currently 994 schools in 60 countries currently in operation. Teachers stay with a class for their entire lower- or upper-grade education to develop a bond in which it is safe to explore and learn.
A very artistic school, children are taught to draw exceedingly well and to perform in choreographed movements called Eurythmy. First graders are taught to draw a perfect freehand circle, sixth graders are taught to create intricate geometrical patterns, and by high school, students are copying classical works of art and detailed architecture. They learn to draw well, I assume, by copying their teacher, who does detailed chalk drawings on the board. Kindergarteners are taught to make perfect letters by first learning lines: vertical, horizontal, and different types of curves. The teacher eventually directs the children to turning these lines into perfect letters. Writing thereafter is done artistically and without error.
Ways and methods at Waldorf schools seem peculiar. Toys in the classroom are all organic. Clothing worn during Eurythmy performances is a simple frock. Work done in the classroom is error free. The only reason I can determine for why this is, is because Waldorf teachers believe in Anthroposophy, a spiritual “philosophy” Steiner created in which one has an inner nature that is to be brought out. It is what must account for the nontraditional methods. Apart from creating what seem to be an idealistic attitude in the classroom, it does, however, create a new way of thinking about teaching the students. From what I've gathered, the students are allowed to focus their education on areas in which they excel or are very interested.
Sources:
Waldorf Education wiki page
Why Waldorf Works.org
E. Schwartz youtube page
Rudolf Steiner (1861—1925) Austrian
Waldorf schools are fairly popular throughout the world. There are currently 994 schools in 60 countries currently in operation. Teachers stay with a class for their entire lower- or upper-grade education to develop a bond in which it is safe to explore and learn.
A very artistic school, children are taught to draw exceedingly well and to perform in choreographed movements called Eurythmy. First graders are taught to draw a perfect freehand circle, sixth graders are taught to create intricate geometrical patterns, and by high school, students are copying classical works of art and detailed architecture. They learn to draw well, I assume, by copying their teacher, who does detailed chalk drawings on the board. Kindergarteners are taught to make perfect letters by first learning lines: vertical, horizontal, and different types of curves. The teacher eventually directs the children to turning these lines into perfect letters. Writing thereafter is done artistically and without error.
Ways and methods at Waldorf schools seem peculiar. Toys in the classroom are all organic. Clothing worn during Eurythmy performances is a simple frock. Work done in the classroom is error free. The only reason I can determine for why this is, is because Waldorf teachers believe in Anthroposophy, a spiritual “philosophy” Steiner created in which one has an inner nature that is to be brought out. It is what must account for the nontraditional methods. Apart from creating what seem to be an idealistic attitude in the classroom, it does, however, create a new way of thinking about teaching the students. From what I've gathered, the students are allowed to focus their education on areas in which they excel or are very interested.
Sources:
Waldorf Education wiki page
Why Waldorf Works.org
E. Schwartz youtube page
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Alternative Orthography and Alphabet Reform
When I was younger, I took up learning Japanese. The first step in learning a language is usually to learn correct pronunciation, and when learning languages with a non-Roman alphabet, it is common practice to spell words using your own familiar alphabet. Japanese written as such is called romanji (lit., Roman letters). I quickly discovered that while reading Japanese romanji, there were very few questions about how to pronounce the words I was learning. The only discrepancies between different transliterators of Japanese text seem to be dropping a silent 'u' when it follows an 'o' (similar to words like colour and favour the Queen's English), and spelling the hiragana (Japanese phonetic alphabet) character ち as 'ti' or 'chi.' Learning Japanese this way struck me as remarkably easy, especially when compared to the difficulties of learning English spelling. Suddenly I started questioning. Why IS English one of the hardest languages to learn? Why do we have so many rules with so many exceptions? Why do we have silent letters? And above all, why does our alphabet have letters with two to three or more sounds as well as redundant letters?
Allow me to explain the last question from a student's prospective. When learning words that include an 'a,' how, as a five-year-old, am I supposed to know whether to pronounce it as in add, ale, or all? How can the same letter even make three different sounds? And when I'm trying to spell a word that has a particular sound, how am I supposed to know if that sound is a 'cuh,' as in 'cat,' or 'kuh,' as in 'kat'? And when I'm in the middle of the room, am I in the 'center' or the 'senter'?
I am not even close to the first person to wonder these things. From the beginning of written language, alphabets have changed so frequently, it's difficult to read texts from more than 300 years ago in almost any culture. But in our modern society, changing something as much of a foundation as our alphabet is unheard of and often deemed ridiculous. And yet, even in modern times, there have been some radicals that have aimed to do just that. With minimal research, here are my findings on alphabet reform.
Our first radical is none other than lovable Mr. Benjamin Franklin. Along with being a founding father of our nation, appearing on our money, inventing every day objects such as bifocals, and doing innovative work in electricity, politics, civics, and so on, Mr. Franklin was interested in orthography. In 1768, he wrote A Scheme for a new Alphabet and a Reformed Mode of Spelling, which included a phonetic alphabet, removing the redundant letters c, j, q, w, x, and y and adding six new letters he felt were sounds that needed to be represented. These new letters included Ŋ (eng, pronounced ng), as well as a letter for the 'au' in 'caught,' the 'sh' in 'she,' the 'u' in 'umbrella,' the 'th' in 'thought,' and the 'th' in 'this.' (And before I go on, let me explain that the difference I see between the last two characters is the placement of the tongue. That one sure had me confused for a while.) The letters are mostly modified lower case h's, and the resulting text looks a little jumbled and confusing. Franklin's alphabet wasn't very popular, obviously, and it doesn't look as simple as I think the ideal alphabet should, but I definitely think his effort is noteworthy. The removal of the redundant letters is the most important part of this system, but I don't think every vowel sound was represented. Franklin doubled some vowels to make different sounds in his reform, spelling 'dear' as 'diir,' etc. This is one approach, but I don't think it is effective enough. I also think the letters should be more distinct and different from one another than his modified h's.
Next comes an alternative alphabet that as actually been used in schools. Initial Teaching Alphabet (ITA) was invented in 1961 by Sir James Pitman, whose grandfather also invented a shorthand alphabet. It has 44 letters, which includes Latin letters as well as letters for sound blends, etc. It is meant to be taught to little ones just learning to read in the hopes that it will be less confusing than traditional orthography. The hope is that they will learn the basics of reading with ITA and then have enough interest to make the switch to traditional reading and writing themselves. There are also rumors that it helps with reading disorders such as dyslexia and dysgraphia. In practice, it does seem to help with spelling, and even comprehension somehow, but only temporarily. The problem comes when it's time to switch to the “adult” alphabet, which confuses almost all of the students who had just gotten the hang of one system of writing and are now thrown into another that is very different. Not to mention the students who were on their way to reading normally with help from their parents at home but were completely left behind in the classroom. ITA also lends itself to spelling errors later in life to those students that relied too heavily on spelling words exactly as they sounded.
ITA seems to have started off with a good basic idea, considering how difficult reading and writing is to very young children. The trouble lies in the tradition, which doesn't seem to be very well thought out. It was originally mildly popular throughout England and parts of Australia and the United States, but is only rarely used today, probably because, apart from confusing students, it is an expensive program to fund, as the class requires all new textbooks. I haven't seen many instances of ITA text, so I can't speak on the appearance, but the letter system, despite all of the hype about it, still isn't perfect. K and C both appear in the alphabet, still making the same sound, and some sources list a backwards Z (as in 'daisy,' they claim) which seems to make the same sound as a regular Z.
Finally, I have saved the best for last. A system called Unifon was created by Dr. John R. Malone in the 1950's to, you guessed it, have one character for “one sound.” It lends itself to reading so precisely, it has been compared to a pronunciation guide in a dictionary. The letters are familiar, using 23 letters of the traditional alphabet and creating 17 more that are very similar to their traditional counterparts. There are three ways to say the letter A, as I have mentioned before, and in Unifon, all three look enough like capital A's that you can tell that they are going to make an A sound, but are different enough that once you learn the difference between the three, they can be easily distinguished. With minimal practice, you can read any Unifon text, and once you can read it, the transition to writing is simple because every word is spelled exactly as it sounds.
Like ITA, Unifon was created to be used as training wheels for young children just learning to read and write, but unlike ITA, Unifon has an easy transition plan into traditional English. Because the letters look so similar to the “adult” alphabet, the only things a student needs to adjust to is the weird spelling rules and lower case characters. Proponents of Uniform claim that it's just as useful to ESL and illiterate adults as it is to children, and that children can master the system in three months, while English-speaking adults can become fluent in less than one week.
I truly see this as the best form of alternative orthography because of its simplicity and familiarity. There are no redundant letters for once, and 40 does seem to be the magical number, at least in today's American English. For some reason, since it's creation, Unifon has been used in few schools with even fewer professional writings about it, most likely because it has been outshone by ITA. Most of its proponents seem to be non-activists on the internet that don't put their love of the system into effect in the real world. Therefore, I don't see it, as someone on the Unifon website declared, overcoming traditional orthography any time soon.
Notice: As a teacher in a public school, it is not my agenda to teach alternative orthography. However, as an educated instructor, I wish to be informed of different methods of teaching.
Sources:
Onmiglot
Wikipedia
Unifon Homepage
Allow me to explain the last question from a student's prospective. When learning words that include an 'a,' how, as a five-year-old, am I supposed to know whether to pronounce it as in add, ale, or all? How can the same letter even make three different sounds? And when I'm trying to spell a word that has a particular sound, how am I supposed to know if that sound is a 'cuh,' as in 'cat,' or 'kuh,' as in 'kat'? And when I'm in the middle of the room, am I in the 'center' or the 'senter'?
I am not even close to the first person to wonder these things. From the beginning of written language, alphabets have changed so frequently, it's difficult to read texts from more than 300 years ago in almost any culture. But in our modern society, changing something as much of a foundation as our alphabet is unheard of and often deemed ridiculous. And yet, even in modern times, there have been some radicals that have aimed to do just that. With minimal research, here are my findings on alphabet reform.
Our first radical is none other than lovable Mr. Benjamin Franklin. Along with being a founding father of our nation, appearing on our money, inventing every day objects such as bifocals, and doing innovative work in electricity, politics, civics, and so on, Mr. Franklin was interested in orthography. In 1768, he wrote A Scheme for a new Alphabet and a Reformed Mode of Spelling, which included a phonetic alphabet, removing the redundant letters c, j, q, w, x, and y and adding six new letters he felt were sounds that needed to be represented. These new letters included Ŋ (eng, pronounced ng), as well as a letter for the 'au' in 'caught,' the 'sh' in 'she,' the 'u' in 'umbrella,' the 'th' in 'thought,' and the 'th' in 'this.' (And before I go on, let me explain that the difference I see between the last two characters is the placement of the tongue. That one sure had me confused for a while.) The letters are mostly modified lower case h's, and the resulting text looks a little jumbled and confusing. Franklin's alphabet wasn't very popular, obviously, and it doesn't look as simple as I think the ideal alphabet should, but I definitely think his effort is noteworthy. The removal of the redundant letters is the most important part of this system, but I don't think every vowel sound was represented. Franklin doubled some vowels to make different sounds in his reform, spelling 'dear' as 'diir,' etc. This is one approach, but I don't think it is effective enough. I also think the letters should be more distinct and different from one another than his modified h's.
Next comes an alternative alphabet that as actually been used in schools. Initial Teaching Alphabet (ITA) was invented in 1961 by Sir James Pitman, whose grandfather also invented a shorthand alphabet. It has 44 letters, which includes Latin letters as well as letters for sound blends, etc. It is meant to be taught to little ones just learning to read in the hopes that it will be less confusing than traditional orthography. The hope is that they will learn the basics of reading with ITA and then have enough interest to make the switch to traditional reading and writing themselves. There are also rumors that it helps with reading disorders such as dyslexia and dysgraphia. In practice, it does seem to help with spelling, and even comprehension somehow, but only temporarily. The problem comes when it's time to switch to the “adult” alphabet, which confuses almost all of the students who had just gotten the hang of one system of writing and are now thrown into another that is very different. Not to mention the students who were on their way to reading normally with help from their parents at home but were completely left behind in the classroom. ITA also lends itself to spelling errors later in life to those students that relied too heavily on spelling words exactly as they sounded.
ITA seems to have started off with a good basic idea, considering how difficult reading and writing is to very young children. The trouble lies in the tradition, which doesn't seem to be very well thought out. It was originally mildly popular throughout England and parts of Australia and the United States, but is only rarely used today, probably because, apart from confusing students, it is an expensive program to fund, as the class requires all new textbooks. I haven't seen many instances of ITA text, so I can't speak on the appearance, but the letter system, despite all of the hype about it, still isn't perfect. K and C both appear in the alphabet, still making the same sound, and some sources list a backwards Z (as in 'daisy,' they claim) which seems to make the same sound as a regular Z.
Finally, I have saved the best for last. A system called Unifon was created by Dr. John R. Malone in the 1950's to, you guessed it, have one character for “one sound.” It lends itself to reading so precisely, it has been compared to a pronunciation guide in a dictionary. The letters are familiar, using 23 letters of the traditional alphabet and creating 17 more that are very similar to their traditional counterparts. There are three ways to say the letter A, as I have mentioned before, and in Unifon, all three look enough like capital A's that you can tell that they are going to make an A sound, but are different enough that once you learn the difference between the three, they can be easily distinguished. With minimal practice, you can read any Unifon text, and once you can read it, the transition to writing is simple because every word is spelled exactly as it sounds.
Like ITA, Unifon was created to be used as training wheels for young children just learning to read and write, but unlike ITA, Unifon has an easy transition plan into traditional English. Because the letters look so similar to the “adult” alphabet, the only things a student needs to adjust to is the weird spelling rules and lower case characters. Proponents of Uniform claim that it's just as useful to ESL and illiterate adults as it is to children, and that children can master the system in three months, while English-speaking adults can become fluent in less than one week.
I truly see this as the best form of alternative orthography because of its simplicity and familiarity. There are no redundant letters for once, and 40 does seem to be the magical number, at least in today's American English. For some reason, since it's creation, Unifon has been used in few schools with even fewer professional writings about it, most likely because it has been outshone by ITA. Most of its proponents seem to be non-activists on the internet that don't put their love of the system into effect in the real world. Therefore, I don't see it, as someone on the Unifon website declared, overcoming traditional orthography any time soon.
Notice: As a teacher in a public school, it is not my agenda to teach alternative orthography. However, as an educated instructor, I wish to be informed of different methods of teaching.
Sources:
Onmiglot
Wikipedia
Unifon Homepage
Friday, November 13, 2009
Whole Word vs. Phonics
Consciousness and day-to-day life is something that I awoke to around when I was six years old. Before that, everything seems hazy and dream-like. I don't remember learning to read, because it must have happened before this time. What I do remember though, is a big emphasis on phonics. The Hooked On Phonics commercials are forever implanted in my mind, “1-800-ABCDEFG, Hooked on Phonics works for me!” A typical problem-solving technique that I use or would tell someone to use if they didn't know a word is, “Sound it out,” which is the basics of what the Phonics method tries to teach. This is the only way that I knew how to teach reading.
So imagine my surprise when I began my co-op career last year and was introduced to a new concept, Sight Words. What? Words that kids just automatically know? It sounded like a cheat sheet. It sounded like teachers weren't teaching reading anymore, they were GIVING students the answers! I was repulsed.
Since then, I've done a little research on the Whole Word vs. Phonics debate, and while I haven't fully accepted it, I understand some of the theory and reasons why it is taught.
The Whole Word (also called Look-and-Say) approach to reading has been around since the 1830s, when it was invented by Rev. Thomas H. Gallaudet. A number of popular children's authors have written using this technique, including Dr. Suess and William S. Gray, the author of Dick and Jane. It is a theory based on memorization, rather than learning specific sounds of letters.
There are instances where I see this method as being completely acceptable, specifically in cases where words don't follow the rules of phonics like weird letter combinations (au in aunt), or silent e's, or when to use a 'k' or a 'c'. When is a vowel pronounced as a long or short sound? English is a difficult language full of anomalies and exceptions. Rules to reading English are complex college-level material certainly not fit for a kindergartener. Teaching reading is a daunting task indeed!
I still maintain that sight words seem like the easy way out. There is only so much that a child can memorize. In my limited exposure, students don't fully understand the reading that they learn through the Whole Word approach. In a class where I work, kindergarteners are given four-page books with lines of simple sight words to read. For instance in one, the pages said “It can go fast” and “It can go slow” and showed pictures of fast and slow boats, cars, and trains. The students read the content of the book fine, but the problem came with the title of the book, “Fast or Slow.” No matter how many times I asked, every one of them told me that the title was “It-can-go-fast-it-can-go-slow.” When given these sight word books, the children aren't reading the words in front of them! They are merely memorizing and reciting.
But what more can you ask from a five-year-old, I suppose. A five-year-old not involved in the Whole Word method couldn't be asked to read even minimal word books like that, could they? At the very least, I see one major benefit of this strategy: children gain the confidence to read. They can go up to their mothers and say, “Look, I can read!” even though they are reciting four simple lines that they repeated 15 times in class. They are no longer hesitant about books, and have the basic knowledge of how letters form words that they can use when they are older and ready to actually learn phonics.
Schools today use a combination of Whole Word and Phonic approaches, and I need to learn how to work with both if I am to be as effective as possible. Here are two fantastic ideas about sight words that my school uses:
Sight word game: Write the sight words on one set of notecards. On another set of note cards, write action words in which to perform while spelling the words: clap, dance, say in a spooky voice, say in a kings and queens voice, sing, etc. One student at a time will pick from both piles, and all of the class spells the word. For instance, if the word was blue, and action word was “Say in a spooky voice,” the students (as well as the teacher, modeling for the shy ones) say in their scariest voices, “B... L... U... E... That spells blue~!” Be careful, this game makes kindergarteners VERY bouncy!
Sight word practice: Rainbow words. Little ones need all the practice they can get with writing, especially sight words. Write the sight words of the week (I've seen it done in a crosswords fashion, just to make it look more like a game), photocopy, and have the students trace the letters in different colored crayons. It's a great way to practice spelling (or just tracing the letters, for those that need a little more help), and the kids will think it looks pretty.
So imagine my surprise when I began my co-op career last year and was introduced to a new concept, Sight Words. What? Words that kids just automatically know? It sounded like a cheat sheet. It sounded like teachers weren't teaching reading anymore, they were GIVING students the answers! I was repulsed.
Since then, I've done a little research on the Whole Word vs. Phonics debate, and while I haven't fully accepted it, I understand some of the theory and reasons why it is taught.
The Whole Word (also called Look-and-Say) approach to reading has been around since the 1830s, when it was invented by Rev. Thomas H. Gallaudet. A number of popular children's authors have written using this technique, including Dr. Suess and William S. Gray, the author of Dick and Jane. It is a theory based on memorization, rather than learning specific sounds of letters.
There are instances where I see this method as being completely acceptable, specifically in cases where words don't follow the rules of phonics like weird letter combinations (au in aunt), or silent e's, or when to use a 'k' or a 'c'. When is a vowel pronounced as a long or short sound? English is a difficult language full of anomalies and exceptions. Rules to reading English are complex college-level material certainly not fit for a kindergartener. Teaching reading is a daunting task indeed!
I still maintain that sight words seem like the easy way out. There is only so much that a child can memorize. In my limited exposure, students don't fully understand the reading that they learn through the Whole Word approach. In a class where I work, kindergarteners are given four-page books with lines of simple sight words to read. For instance in one, the pages said “It can go fast” and “It can go slow” and showed pictures of fast and slow boats, cars, and trains. The students read the content of the book fine, but the problem came with the title of the book, “Fast or Slow.” No matter how many times I asked, every one of them told me that the title was “It-can-go-fast-it-can-go-slow.” When given these sight word books, the children aren't reading the words in front of them! They are merely memorizing and reciting.
But what more can you ask from a five-year-old, I suppose. A five-year-old not involved in the Whole Word method couldn't be asked to read even minimal word books like that, could they? At the very least, I see one major benefit of this strategy: children gain the confidence to read. They can go up to their mothers and say, “Look, I can read!” even though they are reciting four simple lines that they repeated 15 times in class. They are no longer hesitant about books, and have the basic knowledge of how letters form words that they can use when they are older and ready to actually learn phonics.
Schools today use a combination of Whole Word and Phonic approaches, and I need to learn how to work with both if I am to be as effective as possible. Here are two fantastic ideas about sight words that my school uses:
Sight word game: Write the sight words on one set of notecards. On another set of note cards, write action words in which to perform while spelling the words: clap, dance, say in a spooky voice, say in a kings and queens voice, sing, etc. One student at a time will pick from both piles, and all of the class spells the word. For instance, if the word was blue, and action word was “Say in a spooky voice,” the students (as well as the teacher, modeling for the shy ones) say in their scariest voices, “B... L... U... E... That spells blue~!” Be careful, this game makes kindergarteners VERY bouncy!
Sight word practice: Rainbow words. Little ones need all the practice they can get with writing, especially sight words. Write the sight words of the week (I've seen it done in a crosswords fashion, just to make it look more like a game), photocopy, and have the students trace the letters in different colored crayons. It's a great way to practice spelling (or just tracing the letters, for those that need a little more help), and the kids will think it looks pretty.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)