I continue to enjoy and find food for thought in this book as I read it. In keeping with his original premise that teachers must understand themselves in order to grow as teachers, Mr. Palmer next proceeded to a detailed discussion of the “Culture of Fear” that can permeate education. Although this may sound overly dramatic at first consideration, Mr. Palmer makes a sound case for his assertion that much of what teachers and students do in the classroom is the outgrowth of fear. Teachers are afraid of failing in front of an audience, and students are, as well. We fear connections with others and we fear the lack of connections with others. Teachers fear the judgment of our students, and students fear the judgments of their teachers.
Palmer’s willingness to name these fears and describe their impact in his own life is refreshing, and particularly encouraging to someone just starting out. It is helpful to me to be reminded that the sullen, uncooperative student is probably acting out of their own place of fear. And, it is equally helpful to know that I am not the only teacher who feels fear when facing an unresponsive classroom. Palmer goes another step, further, however, and points to a solution. “Surrounded and invaded by fear, how can we transcend it and reconnect with reality for the sake of teaching and learning? The only path I know that might take us in that direction is the one marked ‘spiritual.’” (p.56-67) His suggestion is that, by connecting (with ourselves, with each other, with the “Great Unknown”) on a spiritual level, we can begin to get to a point at which we can choose the place from which our teaching will come and the place within our students at which it is aimed. In other words, “I can have fear, but I need not be fear -- if I am willing to stand someplace else in my inner landscape.” (p. 57). What an amazing goal to aim for as a new teacher!
From his exploration of fear, Palmer moves into a realm that is familiar territory for anyone who has studied modern Christian theology: the limiting nature of Western thought’s reliance on polarities and dichotomies to understand the world around us. Palmer’s explanation of the problems with this mode of thought are not as clear as some I have read, and I am not sure I would have fully understood him if this was my first introduction to the idea of paradox. But, after having been introduced to these concepts elsewhere, it was thrilling to come across an exploration of the application of these concepts to teaching and learning. In particular, I was intrigued with his juxtaposition of two sections of the same class during the same semester at the same school, in which his strengths and the counterbalancing weaknesses played out to make one class very successful and the other class a real failure (at least in his mind). We so often think of “good teachers” vs. “bad teachers,” and assume that every teacher falls within one category or the other. Instead, Palmer suggests that the very things that can make us a good teacher in one situation can work against us in a different context. We are not immutably one or the other, but can use our own self-knowledge to analyze our teaching and understand the adjustments we need to make for a class we are finding difficult to reach.
Palmer’s willingness to name these fears and describe their impact in his own life is refreshing, and particularly encouraging to someone just starting out. It is helpful to me to be reminded that the sullen, uncooperative student is probably acting out of their own place of fear. And, it is equally helpful to know that I am not the only teacher who feels fear when facing an unresponsive classroom. Palmer goes another step, further, however, and points to a solution. “Surrounded and invaded by fear, how can we transcend it and reconnect with reality for the sake of teaching and learning? The only path I know that might take us in that direction is the one marked ‘spiritual.’” (p.56-67) His suggestion is that, by connecting (with ourselves, with each other, with the “Great Unknown”) on a spiritual level, we can begin to get to a point at which we can choose the place from which our teaching will come and the place within our students at which it is aimed. In other words, “I can have fear, but I need not be fear -- if I am willing to stand someplace else in my inner landscape.” (p. 57). What an amazing goal to aim for as a new teacher!
From his exploration of fear, Palmer moves into a realm that is familiar territory for anyone who has studied modern Christian theology: the limiting nature of Western thought’s reliance on polarities and dichotomies to understand the world around us. Palmer’s explanation of the problems with this mode of thought are not as clear as some I have read, and I am not sure I would have fully understood him if this was my first introduction to the idea of paradox. But, after having been introduced to these concepts elsewhere, it was thrilling to come across an exploration of the application of these concepts to teaching and learning. In particular, I was intrigued with his juxtaposition of two sections of the same class during the same semester at the same school, in which his strengths and the counterbalancing weaknesses played out to make one class very successful and the other class a real failure (at least in his mind). We so often think of “good teachers” vs. “bad teachers,” and assume that every teacher falls within one category or the other. Instead, Palmer suggests that the very things that can make us a good teacher in one situation can work against us in a different context. We are not immutably one or the other, but can use our own self-knowledge to analyze our teaching and understand the adjustments we need to make for a class we are finding difficult to reach.