Saturday, November 14, 2015

The necessity of waiting

HS #3   2015.10.6

The necessity of waiting


This seems like an odd question, but bear with me:  What does “5” mean?  Of course it can be spelled “five,” but if checked in a dictionary, there is no definition that gives the meaning we all understand.  (Try it!)

So how did we learn what “five” means?  It obviously does no good to say, “one more than four” or “one less than six” since that just raises new questions. Similarly, it does not even work to say, “It’s the number of pennies in my hand” because the word “number” doesn’t make sense until one understands what numbers are.

So how did we learn?  I think I remember.  Back in kindergarten, we were shown a page with pictures. One picture showed five butterflies. Another was of five quarters. Yet another portrayed five trees.  The question at the bottom of the page asked, “What do these pictures have in common?”  The answer, of course, is “five.”

The important thing to notice here is that the teacher never actually explains “five.” Instead, she can only continue giving examples of five objects, and wait for the spark of understanding to eventually occur in the students’ minds.

A celebrated example of waiting for the spark of inspiration is found in the life of Helen Keller.  When she was nineteen months old, Helen was struck both deaf and blind, probably by scarlet fever.  Going through her childhood years without the usual tools of communication, Helen lived an isolated existence. Imagine the frustration of being helpless and dependent, knowing that others were experiencing so much more.  Imagine the loneliness and fury of an intelligent six year old who could not communicate her thoughts and feelings, could not ask questions.   How could she learn? How could she learn to learn? 

 Anne Sullivan came to live with the Kellers when Helen was six.  
Without Helen’s ability to see or hear, Anne was forced to improvise. She used sign language, but since Helen couldn’t see, she pressed her hand symbol onto Helen’s palm.  But how does one explain to a young, strong willed girl that this strange new routine was the key to unlocking the world?

Just as in teaching the meaning of “five”, Anne could do nothing but patiently wait. As described in the well-known play, “The Miracle Worker,” the miracle occurred a month later when, after Helen had thrown a jug of water at her mentor, Anne forced her to the pump to refill the jug. Then, as the jug was filling, Anne did as she had habitually done countless times before - she spelled, “w-a-t-e-r” on Helen’s palm.

For whatever reason, this was when the spark of insight ignited. Helen, transfixed, dropped the jug in wonder.  It was a personal opening of her mind every bit as dramatic as the gospel writer’s description, “And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom.”  The veil of darkness that had kept Helen isolated and despondent was ripped apart in an instant.  Grabbing her teacher’s hand, Helen learned thirty words that day and began a great life of learning, adventure, scholarship and most important – living in community with other humans.

As an educator, I find it valuable to keep these examples in mind. Obviously, teachers and mentors are indispensible.  Anne Sullivan was proclaimed the Miracle Worker.  However, ultimately, even educators can only wait patiently for the real miracle to happen - for the spark of insight to ignite in the mind of the student.

Indeed, even the student must learn to wait. A graduate school friend once remarked that he did not consider himself to be a “thinker” but instead an “observer of thoughts.” I knew exactly what he meant. Endeavoring to discover a new mathematical theorem in pursuit of a Ph.D., the best I could do was to sit at my desk, lay my head down on my folded arms, empty my mind of its cluttered thoughts, and wait. Wait for a spark of insight and then quickly grab it before it disappeared.  I could identify with the prophet Elijah who after three years of waiting, heard but a still small voice.

Effective teaching and learning at its core then seems to involve patient waiting. For a teacher with a classroom of thirty or more students, this presents a challenge. Each student’s light bulb ignites at its own time. But oh the joy and wonder of witnessing it happen.

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1 comment:

  1. I'm often tell my thankful parents, "Don't thank me; your kid did all the work. I can't really teach anyone anything; all I can do is show them how to teach themselves."

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