AUREET'S ESSAYS AND STORIES
Education, 1977
Under what conditions do we learn better, absorb and remember more usable information? Is it from having a general mandatory curriculum that we must know and have all the "right" answers on exams? Or is it from developing your own interests in an informal, non-structured environment?
When I was thirteen my family moved to Israel. The school there was a totally different type than the fairly progressive American schools I had been used to. Tichon Earoni Hay in Haifa, Israel was a conservative European school, where schooling consisted of formal lecturing, passive note taking, and exams. Teacher-student relations were most formal and involved minimal personal interaction.
The first day I put on my new uniform, a shirt of a faded, aging yellow color and a dull, muddy-brown skirt, complaining all along because I wanted to wear my bright pretty new dress.
Arriving at school I fell in line with my new classmates in the courtyard, where we stood very quietly for 15 minutes. Then in a vary orderly single file we entered the dingy old building. We were seated according to alphabetical order and introduced to our teacher whom we were supposed to address as "Sir." After that we received a huge pile of textbooks, one for every hour of the day, and class began.
There was nothing in the room but 40 desks with 40 students who looked exactly alike, sitting very quietly taking notes from the teacher's lecture. In the last 20 minutes of class the teacher dictated the questions he wanted answered by the next day, and the chapters we were to read.
The day progressed in this fashion. No one spoke, no one asked questions, we just sat like mindless extensions of our pens scribbling away. We went home, read our chapters, found the exact sentences that answered the questions, and wrote them down. For example, in French the question read, "Is the hat on the table?" You look it up in the chapter, find the exact answering sentence and copy, "Yes, the hat is on the table." Next question, "Where is the hat?" "The hat is on the table." "What is on the table?" "The hat is on the table," and so on, and so on.
I took it for a week, and then I couldn't take it anymore. I rebelled, and began disrupting classes. The teacher was droning on in his monotonous voice as usual. I had had enough. I threw my book across the room. The teacher looked up and asked me why I was throwing books. I answered back in my best put-on drippingly sweet-innocent voice, "But Sir, it's not my book."
He glared at me, then settled back into his oblivious monotony. I opened my umbrella. The teacher naturally asked why I had opened it. Sweet little innocent me answered, "Because, Sir, it's raining outside," as if he was asking an obviously ridiculous question.
All at once every umbrella in the room was open. Pandemonium broke loose. All the years of suppressed energy and hate came crashing out. Books were thrown, everyone was screaming and yelling.
The teacher stood bewildered, not knowing what to do. So I decided to show him. I ran up in front of the class and screamed, "If this class is not quiet in 5 minutes, I'll … !!" I stormed my way out, slamming the door as hard as I could. Of course this had no effect on the class except to bring gales of laughter and everyone screamed all the louder.
The only disciplinary action that was taken was that I had to see a "guidance counselor" once. He said that if I wanted to become somebody important someday I had to be good. Well, the way I felt about that was that I was somebody important right then!
I didn't learn anything all year except how to effectively disrupt classes. As far as the rest of the students, who like robots repeated the correct answers they had memorized the night before, they learned nothing either.
The object of that school was not to teach. It was to process nameless, spineless uncooked packages through the assembly line of grade levels eventually to spit them out into society wrapped in cellophane wrappers marked "smart" or "dumb." No one learned, and no one cared.
In comparison and contrast I take my senior year in Brookline High School where I opted to be in an alternative school. School Within a School, or S.W.S., was an alternative learning environment created within the public high school which students could choose to be in.
It was small, only about a hundred students and 4 full-time teachers, located on the fourth floor away from the main student body. We knew our teachers informally by their first names and most of us had warm personal relationships with at least one if not all the teachers.
The year started with a getting-to-know-each-other picnic and softball game. After choosing which classes we wanted to take, classes began. The rooms were carpeted and there were no desks, just comfortable old overstuffed easy chairs arranged in a cozy circle. We all curled up in the chairs, even the teacher, munching on fruit or candy and began talking about what we were interested in, sharing our ideas and experiences. After a while, this being the English class, we moved to sprawl out on the floor and wrote about anything we wanted to say in any way we wished to. Then we discussed what books we had enjoyed and what kinds of books we would like to read.
We, the students, were treated like intelligent human beings who had ideas and interests equally as important as the "educators" to contribute towards our learning. In other words we were respected as individuals.
It's a novel, wonderful feeling after years of being treated like irresponsible children. We all had something to say, and for the first time in our lives adults really cared. It made a difference.
Because they cared about us, we began to care about them. We found out that teachers were actually human beings; they had lives of their own and stories to tell and share. They weren't all knowing, overpowering, or above and beyond us little people. They made mistakes like we did, and of course they didn't know everything.