20th Century Teacher in a 21st Century Classroom

Chalk is limestone, a porous substance comprised of the skeletal remains of sea creatures. I have spent my life writing with the bones of dead fish.

The future doesn't look good for chalk.

The landscape in the classrooms I teach in provides little room for the scratching of fish bone on slate.  In order for me to scrawl my archaic cursive, with the dust of the dead, I have to find a patch of board in the classroom.  That ground is now squeezed between a smart-board and a laptop, usually cut off by a cart full of Chromebooks.  It is a precious as a vacant lot in Toronto.

I am an anachronism, like a wrist watch in a gladiator movie, I am out of time.  It's the 21st Century you know.  The century of the "learner centered classroom."  The century of the "flipped classroom".  The century of "bring your own device." The century of screens, of virtual learning.  The century of "teacher as facilitator."  The current gurus tell us, "We don't need a sage on the stage." It's the century of the "innovator's mindset."  The century of the Google classroom.

Professor John O'Connor is a sage.  John taught me many English courses at the University of Toronto. He is a master of his subject.  His mind is as sharp as any I have ever met and his eyes lock on you in a class discussion and you know that there is no place to hide.  John taught me a very valuable lesson in the 1980's; he taught me to never ask a question that Google could answer. He did this before there was Google.

Sister Joan Peck was a sage.  She taught me grade eleven math. Sister Joan would snap her fingers at me, and smile at me and say "Come on de Souza, come on kid, I know you can do it."  Sometimes the only reason I was able to do it was because of her voice encouraging me.  Some of you who have had me as a teacher have heard her echo in my teaching.

Ultimately these memorable teachers saw me.  Their interactions with me were real, organic and human.   They saw me for who I was, they saw me for who I might become.

I sometimes worry about the future of our classrooms.  Our very best, our very brightest teachers are giving in to the gurus, many of whom have rarely stood in front of a class.  They are listening to the slick patter; it is a sales pitch, snake oil masquerading as innovation.   These gurus are the migrating birds of education, heard for a short time, then gone.

If I could scrawl a message, on a little patch of ground, with tools from ancient times, it would say:   

Teacher be the center of your classroom.  Earn that center by keeping your mind vibrant and your skills sharp.  Bring the student to your subject and show the students who each can be.

Be a sage, use the chalk.