Who am I as a Learner? Who am I Becoming as a Teacher?

Who am I as learner and who am I becoming as a teacher? Part 1: A Journey from a Nose on the Brick Part 2: A Journey from a Royal Bomb Heather Bloxham University of Calgary

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Part 1 Who am I as a Learner? What is a learner? Who am I as a learner? I feel that everyone is a learner, it cannot be helped. When I read this question however, I think who am I as a good learner? In my scholastic career it took me a long time to believe that I was capable of being a good learner. I believed that a learner was someone who understood what was taught to them in class. Mostly, I was not one of those people. How did this shape me as a learner? Why did I feel that I was not a good learner? Within part one of this paper I will introduce you to some learning experiences that formed my idea of who I am as a learner, share some experiences that still resonate with me and explore the mental shift that occurred and spurred this current scholastic endeavor. My early memories of learning and school are fond ones. I remember that I loved my kindergarten teacher very much. She was kind, encouraging and very accepting of the little gifts I would make for her from litter I found in the field during recess (See Artifact 1). Whether or not I have fabricated these memories over time, who can be sure? Despite the fact that I was often in my own little world, my creativity was fostered and even encouraged and a love of learning was forged (Open - Artifact 2). I seem to be equating learning with school for obvious reasons I suppose. However, I feel it pertinent to mention that I learned a lot of important things that had nothing to do with school do not put your tongue on a frozen pole, do not cut a hole in the middle of a good piece of fabric, do not stick gum in fur coats at the Bay, do not spit in your Dads glass of water, because your are mad, unless you check to see if he is behind you, to name but a few. I was a great learner when it came to survival skills but academically, my love for learning became sporadic then lackluster.

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My first learning experience that involved jubilation and humiliation were set in a new school in a new town. My encounter with jubilation involved winning my drawing contest. I was good at it and I won. It was a wonderful feeling (Artifact 3). The humiliation involved an unjust accusation, my nose and brick1. A lesson on pedagogical tact would have been very beneficial to this teacher and school. Unruly students were punished by having to stand facing the wall with their noses placed on one of the pale blue bricks that made up the school. Wrongly accused, I spent an entire class with my nose on the brick. It was a humiliating feeling. The absolute power that the teachers seemingly had over us lowly students resonates with me to this day. School: a place to learn, win a drawing contest and be humiliated. Welcome to the years of teenage angst in yet another school in another town. This angst, coupled with extracurricular activities, shaped my junior and senior high school experience. I did not ask for help when I could not understand my lessons. I was too embarrassed. I do not recall anyone offering me help either. My high school experience was nowhere near fantastic. It was much closer to unbearable. However, I had good friends and I did well on the creative side of things. I was on student council (we kept the smoking room for one more year thanks to me), I hosted an exchange student and I was in the yearbook club. I liked and enjoyed what school had to offer, but I did not fit in academically. After finishing an English exam I saw my teacher in the hallway. I looked at him and shyly said My essay really sucked. Yes, he replied. Royally. Although quite true, his comment stung and made me feel very small and very stupid. What the heck happened? I think I fell through the cracks.

Please note that no tangible artifacts exist for any negative experience due to being destroyed or for lack of interest in remembering.

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After an unceremonious graduation, some time as a sandwich artist I reluctantly enrolled in cooking school, mostly to appease my parents. In my first semester a very intuitive chef commented that although I was doing well, I seemed uninterested in the program. I assured her otherwise but she was right. I had forgone art school to make my parents happy and wound up in a very long year at cooking school. After yet another underwhelming graduation and some thankless jobs I decided it was finally do something that I had always wanted I to do. With a tremendous amount of encouragement from my friend I enrolled into Alberta College of Art and Design. I was in a creative environment with others who were also often in their own little world. It was great. I could paint, draw, weave but unfortunately I also had to write essays. My first essay attempt reflected my royal bomb. With perseverance and encouragement this time from professors as well, I overcame my fear that I was incapable. I wrote a glorious paper that received an A (See Artifact 4) It was a wonderful feeling. Fast forward five years of a successful theatre career, no fixed address, one extremely stressful wardrobe job, a short time in the hospital and a final self-diagnosed case of carpel tunnel syndrome... Part 2 - Who am I becoming as a teacher? I am definitely not one of those people that were lucky enough to know what they wanted to do since they were little, unless of course a career as a fairy counts. I did not know how people attained careers. What may have seemed obvious to some was not to me. How did people become doctors? Lawyers? Dancers? Teachers? I never understood this. Naively, I thought they were just born into doing it, like a western version of a caste system. So then, how did I fit

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into this caste system? Good question. It took me a long time to figure out this tricky strategic fact of life. One day, who knows when, I realized that if one wants to be a dancer one dances, a doctor studies science and biology and Lawyers go to law school. What if one can no longer sustain their career physically? What then? Then it occurred to me, I began to think about my complete lack of understanding of how people found their passions. I realised that somebody had to show kids what their options are. Someone has to open doors for them, introduce them to professionals, specialists, and even homemakers. Someone has to introduce them to different perspectives, show them how to get their hands into the reality of the adult world. That person could be me. I want to be a teacher. What do teachers do? They teach! With my new enlightened perspective I chose to do just this. Unfortunately, they do not let just anyone walk in off the street and teach in a classroom. I was forced to get my feet wet in alternative venues. I taught a laughable sewing lesson at the mustard seed. This experience gave me some insight on how a lot of teaching is human relations as well as improvisation. I assisted in a corset and glove making workshop for fifteen Japanese students (who did not speak English). This experience was indeed life changing as it inspired me to move to Japan for three years and five months and five days (give or take). On eleven hour flight, high humidity and some culture shock later I was in Japan. I began Teaching English as a second language at a conversational school. That is where my love for this craft was set. It was an amazing experience, but also completely humbling and occasionally awkward. I stayed in Japan for two years and five months and five days longer than I anticipated. I had never felt like this before in any of my career endeavors. I felt happy,

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important, respected, and valuable and like a grown-up. I also became devoted to my students (See Artifact 5). I loved being their teacher! I loved showing them that they had the ability to learn another language. Of course, how much of this translated I am not sure but I felt great. I had a bond and a sincere dedication to helping my students understand the nuances of English and my culture. Japan was a positive experience for me both as learner and as teacher. I know that teaching English to a small class of studious Japanese kids if a far cry from a classroom of twenty some odd kids who can understand everything you say. But it did give me an idea of what I am capable of. It was definitely not always an easy process and I totally understand that the same will be true for becoming a teacher in Canada. I will draw on all my positive, negative, awkward, humiliating and embarrassing experiences to shape myself as an educator. I know that all these things are invaluable. I want to communicate pedagogical tact to all my students I would never want to make any student feel small or stupid. I want to continue to learn about teaching and keep up with the ever-changing role that a teacher is responsible for. Perhaps my goals are idealistic and lofty. I will do my best to know my students, all of them, and show them options and what they do not even know they are capable of yet. I want my students to feel like they belong socially and academically. I think I come to teaching with a unique perspective of the reluctant student, the

one that would rather skip than admit that they have no clue what is happening in the class. As a tactful teacher, I would hope to be able to identify this in my students and be there with a support system. Flash forward - one meaningful graduation, new teaching career, teacher enters bustling classroom, her students are waiting...to be continued.