Was with a small group of junior youth (10 to 13 year olds) at a day camp here in Malta. My role was purely supervision. They had been given a task which they had 45 minutes to complete. All the teams where handed a sheet of information which they had to prepare a presentation on. At the end of the 45 minutes they would all have to present what they had learnt to the plenarily session. It helped we were all outside seated at a park in the sun working at a table. Another big help was the A2 coloured sheets of cardboard, Sellotape, glue, colourful pens etc. What was an issue was our particular topic, wind erosion. Nearly all of them had already covered this topic at school and were reluctant to become involved with it again. As they spoke about their school, their total boredom with the educational process leeched into the atmosphere. When I asked them to get started, one covered an area of the cardboard with glue and poured a handful of soil onto the sticky surface. Determined to be encouraging I praised this initiative and asked how they could show it blowing in the wind? Immediately, a small girl starting work with large arrows but was restrained by the rest, "Do it in pencil, In case you make a mistake”, they said. She drew arrows in light pencil checking with her peers as to size and position.
My heart sank. What is it about our systems that they kill creativity but bolster self-doubt and and the need to avoid criticism at all costs. The group was concerned that too much space had already been used up by the soil and arrows. “How would they get the rest of the information on the page”. This was combined with various cries of “No way, am I saying anything during the presentation”! The only heated discussion was on who would claim the role of holding the poster. That obviously was a nonspeaking role and much sought after. Since, the wind erosion affected rocks, I suggested perhaps we could include this on the poster I lifted a large pebble and put it on the corner of the poster. The group was horrified. It's far too big!” Followed by, “It'll never stick!” One courageous soul got going with masses of Sellotape and the rest grabbed their own stones and got sticking. Glue turned out to be useless, but by means of half of a roll of Sellotape all succeeded in placing their own rocks. They insisted on checking stability by holding the poster up right and doubling Sellotape on a pebble which showed signs of movement. Water waves erosion of sea arches was captured in a series of five pictures beginning with an arch and ending with two solitary pillars pointing skyward. Rain and it's effects was beautifully drawn in intricate coloured tear drops of rain falling abundantly above a stuck on pebble.
It reminded me of how I used to spend ages colouring in the sea in history maps for homework. On one on the Spanish Armada I had had tiny blue lines extending out around the entire European coastline. I cannot remember a single historical fact about the Armada but I recall with pleasure the intricate blue lines faning out from Cornwall in the south to the Hebrides in the north. It took me hours and my history teacher was not over enthusiastic about my efforts. So, when critics began complaining about how many raindrops the girl had drawn, I countered with ample enthusiasm for more! She purred purred in delight and did 10 more of the multicoloured drops.
We were left with all the knowledge in diagram form but no words. An entire 30 minutes had already passed and there was now growing rebellion about speaking in public. They all looked at the poster's assortment of sketches, stones, arrows and soil. At one point tiny branches of trees had been added to the sides by someone unable to find an appropriately sized pebble. I could see why they were doubting their creation and dreading the public humiliation of having to show it to the wider group.
I advised them to take one fact each and talk on that. That way each person would only have one sentence to say in public. They reluctantly agreed that this might make it easier. They had a diagram to point to for each fact so that would also help. There were many doubtful looks at each other. Obviously, they figured their poster would be more confusing than helpful. I pointed out that half the difficulty in explaining the different processes involved was the stupid names given in the text.
“How about each of you rename them and when you explain to the group use your name instead of the technical terms.”
There was shocked looks around as if I'd asked them to lie in public. “You mean just make them up!” One shouted.
“Sure as long as you know what it means, what odds what you call it? You're more likely to remember your own chosen name for the things anyway.” I added.
This was greeted with howls of laughter and delight. They all came up with ridiculous names. Wind blowing soil and sand across the landscape was renamed Wind-oh! (pronounced wind dash oh). Rain water falling into cracks in stones was called H2O Sponge formation. Water freezing in the cracks as ice and causes bigger cracks was renamed Aquacracking. And so it went on. Strangely knowing that they could use their own 'made up' names, all were eager to present their idea. The deliciousness of falsehood in public was heady. So pleased were they with their new terminology they decided to end with a quiz to test if the audience could remember the new words.
The young presenters had a field day. Each spouting on about about their names. Getting the audience to pronounce it properly. Spelling it aloud so everyone could appreciate it’s cleverness. During the quiz the entire audience remembered each term perfectly, the team was ecstatic! In triumph, they stormed off. One concerned whistleblower stayed and warned the audience that all these terms had been made up. That they didn't actually exist. Just in case someone used them in school.
“You mean all of them!” One boy in the front row asked in despair. None of the adults there noticed or questioned the strange terminology. We have long grown accustomed to new terminology and are willing to swallow it down wholesale.
But it struck me that isn't that what most education is about? The memorisation of facts and terms and the regurgitation of the same in tests. Knowledge of these code words means passing and ignorance of them failing. Isn't it mostly a complete waste of time that just sucks creativity out of every topic. Education becomes fence jumping, teaching entails training the horses to jump higher and faster over a known obstacle course. Those who mastered this useless skill are called the intelligent among us and go on to further education. More advanced fence jumping takes place. Astute at swallowing terminology wholesale, with excellent memories and obedient regurgitators when faced with the end of term exams. They used to say only the cream of the cream get to university 'the rich and the thick'. Now I have begun to question everything we commonly accept as education. When did we think the information conveyed mattered more than the purveyor or the recipient? Exactly what do we celebrate on their graduation? My son and nephew refused to go to their graduations. At the time, I resented not having the ceremony, the photographs the shared celebration. But, in hindsight, I reckon it was a statement about how little any of that actually meant. Three years of what exactly? The brains that emerge from many of our educational systems are stultified by its regime. Somewhere, along the way they lose that most vital of all things. The passion for truth and discovery. Jaded and unsatisfied they become excellent folder for this world. Hungry for things to buy to fill the void. We have forgotten that when a horse gallops it does so instinctively, it was born to run free across its landscape. Perhaps, we have forgotten the purpose of education. If our system converts curiosity into apathy we must ask how can we recapture the joy of learning?
