Learning Record Midterm

 

            When I was a young girl, I spent endless hours pretending to be a teacher.  My best friend Jennifer and I would take over her mother’s elementary school classroom.  Then, we would argue to determine whom we would award with the esteemed position of teacher and who would be stuck with the dreaded role of student.  Pouting during the few times she joined us, our other friend Emily would beg us to play dress-up.  That way, she touted, everyone could be whatever they wanted to be.  No amount of convincing, however, would change our stubborn, eight-year-old minds.  We loved our imaginary classroom, regardless of its inequities. 

Now, I wistfully look back on those days of steadfast determination and decisiveness with nostalgia and recognition that “time brings continuity and change.”[1]    I have come to realize my feelings are “largely dependent on repetition or routine.  You don’t feel nostalgic for something that happened in isolation; you merely retain a fond memory of it.  But things like the sum of what happened in your childhood…allow nostalgia to develop.”[2]  I am thankful that I have the powerful and vivid memories necessary to provoke nostalgia, but I still question the personal transformation I have undergone from my childhood self.  I sometimes wonder if I have lost parts of my childhood self needed to achieve my adult dreams.  The question has continued to resurface in E603, a class in which we are encouraged to return to childhood.  For example, in the tradition of childhood birthday parties, we busted a piñata in class one day. 

Noel and I eat candy after breaking the piñata.

            As I continue to reflect on my childhood, more questions come to mind.  When did decisions become so hard?  When did the imagination fade and reality take center stage?  As I look back on the past eighteen years, I see education and helping others as common themes in my pilgrimage. 

During elementary school, my fascination with pretending to be a teacher faded away.  When I reached high school, however, my enthrallment with teaching and learning returned.  My childhood disgust at being a student turned to pleasure and appreciation as I developed from an all-knowing five-year-old into a young adult with an understanding that “education begins in humility—in our recognizing that we always have much still to learn, and that each person is our potential teacher.”[3]  In elementary school, I was dismayed at Jennifer being the teacher because I could read better than she could.  I thought she should naturally be the student.  In high school, I embraced the opportunity to learn from others’ unique views and experiences.  Jennifer’s difficulties in school became a starting point for learning about different methods of teaching and learning . 

Jennifer never embodied any conception of the typical student.  I vividly remember one day during my sophomore year of high school.  The night before, my boyfriend had left for his freshman year at Dartmouth.  Jennifer came over to keep me company while I was studying.  I sat down at one desk in my room, and I began studying as I typically did by memorizing information with flashcards.  While I always knew Jennifer studied differently than I did, I soon realized the stark comparison between our learning styles.  Jennifer had to experience what she was learning to understand the information.  Instead of mirroring me in reading countless chapters from our physics textbook and transferring the information onto flashcards, she pulled out a set of random objects, including balls, string, and blocks, and began building experiments.  She learned with an understanding that “that knowledge can be constructed by you rather than received from a higher authority.”[4]  That day, I barely read the suggestions for experiments given in our textbook, but those sections were all that Jennifer read.   

After this initial experience, I began reflecting on my education.  I attended a Montessori school for pre-school and kindergarten.  During that period of my life, I learned almost entirely through experiences.  Most of my days at school were filled with stations where I would pick activities I wanted to complete.  The only requirement was to complete activities in three different areas assigned by the teacher for that day, such as math, writing, and spelling.  I progressed magnificently.  By the time I started first grade, I could spell, read, write, add, subtract, and divide.  In middle school, however, I detested experiential learning.  I hated the interactive problems we completed in math class.  I just wanted to work the math problems from the book out on a sheet of paper.  By reflecting on my reactions to these different teaching methods, I realized the necessity for uniqueness in teaching.  Not only does each child learn differently from her peers, but also a single child can require different methods at different points in her life.  This lesson continued in E603A where we analyzed teaching and learning styles in relation to personality types.  My love of teaching and recognition of different teaching methods and learning styles forms the first component of my vision.  The next element of my vision comes from the summer after my senior year in high school.

One night, shortly before I came to the University of Texas, I went to a party at my friend Elizabeth’s house.  I had spent the past week with my family at our house on Lake LBJ, and I had been at the party for about an hour when Win arrived.  My friends and I were laughing and having a good time as we tried to cling to those last days of summer.  After a few minutes, Win led me to another room.  He asked me if I had been checking my e-mail lately.  I told him I had been out of town, and I had just gotten back to Austin a couple of hours ago.  His eyes swelled with tears as he explained that a mutual friend, John, had committed suicide a week ago.  Stunned, I left the party and went to my house. 

I opened my e-mail to search for the dreaded news Win had described.  I soon discovered an e-mail in my outbox that I had meant to send to John before I left for the lake.  For some reason, Outlook had never actually sent the e-mail.  In January of that year, John founded a non-profit organization, VOICES, devoted to helping underprivileged high school students compete nationally in debate in two ways.  First, the organization recognized parents, coaches, and students who displayed a selfless spirit in helping others in the debate community.  Second, John aspired to develop VOICES’ financial capability to assist underprivileged debaters by funding their time at debate camps and paying their tournament fees.  A few hours before he passed away, John posted an announcement on the organization’s website unveiling the first fifteen scholarships VOICES would be able to provide.  He had accomplished the second aspect of VOICES’ vision.  I had tried to e-mail John a few hours before I left for Lake LBJ to become involved in the organization.  That night, he passed away.

John and I were not close friends.  He lived in California, and we saw each other a few times a year, but I could not understand how someone so driven and so intelligent could take his life.  We had debated against each other, and each time I was more amazed by his arguments and knowledge.  He was just naturally brilliant.  After the debates, we would go to dinner or spend time with mutual friends.  The respect that his fun, goofy, witty, and intelligent personality instigated in others was evident.  To this day, no one knows what drove his depression.  His friends and parents struggled trying to find a rational explanation where none seemed to exist. 

That night, as I quietly sobbed and read the obituary, I found another element of my vision.  I realized that I had never felt more alive than I did while I was debating in high school.  My parents forced me to take a debate class during my sophomore year of high school, and my friends watched with surprise as I become engrossed in the activity.  I felt free as I discovered how much knowledge there is to learn and how many different arguments exist for different conflicts.  As I started to “participate actively in the learning process rather than passively receiving knowledge as if [I am] an empty vessel to be filled by the instructor,” my learning method began to resemble that of Jennifer.[5]  I would take the assigned topic, find a part of the topic I was passionate about, and run with the information.  The debates that take place in our E603 class and on the discussion board inspire me to read, learn, and develop arguments relevant to our class.  For example, when we wrote about the final section of reading for Jane Eyre, the discussion topics prompted me to complete independent research of world religions.  In order to better respond to my classmates’ comments, I delved into Jane Eyre to find support for St. John’s restless attitude. 

Noel, Susan, and I debate in our E603B class. 

From debate, I learned to be myself and let my interests drive my education.  Like John, I want to pass these benefits on to high school students across the country. 

I believe the best way to inspire debaters is to start at the local level.  At local tournaments, I encountered brilliant debaters who lacked the funds to travel nationally.  To this day, I have a hard time reconciling the activity’s conflict between the ego and something greater than the ego.  It’s difficult to understand how luxuries, like traveling across the nation, can possibly satisfy something other than self-centered competition.  Unfortunately, the time I spent debating proved that sometimes national success produces conceit. 

Here I am receiving first place at the University Interscholastic League State Meet my sophomore year.  This quick success is evidence of my passion and determination when debating.

I, however, tried to remain focused on the educational value of the activity by remembering “that we are but a speck in an unfathomably large universe.”[6]  Although I might have been discussing interesting ideas, I was simply one person expressing one set of views and one set of knowledge in a universe where billions of possibilities exist. 

After much reflection on the conflict between conceit and humility in national debate, I have concluded that the national setting is beneficial because it allows one’s ideas to be better heard and discussed by others.  An interesting and thought-provoking case heard at a prestigious tournament will be discussed for weeks on websites like victorybriefs.net, making debate a worthwhile forum for opening people to new ideas.  Thus, the discussion, discovery learning, and self-knowledge that often arise from debating makes promoting debate the second part of my vision.

The next component of my vision comes from the years I have spent volunteering at the Austin Children’s Shelter.  The children constantly reminded me that “if you will remember everyday to feel the mystery and if you will remember to feel that you are more than what you look and if you will remember to be the mystery itself then you will be happy, every day, and all kinds of wonderful happenings will come up for you.”[7]  This feeling of mystery returned as I interacted with Dr. Bump’s granddaughter in E603A.  Her comments and drawings conveyed a unique understanding of both nature and the classroom. 

As I worked with the children, I found it almost impossible to forget their pasts. 

Here I am drawing and listening on Alice Day. 

I went through hours of orientation before I began volunteering at the Austin Children’s Shelter, and volunteers are constantly reminded to reflect on how the children, after coming from an environment of physical and mental abuse, interpret volunteers’ actions and words.  Still, amidst this strong understanding of their pasts, the children at the Austin Children’s Shelter radiate a sense of imagination and determination.  Although the abuse has undoubtedly affected the children, it is evident that “[the children] are more than what [they] look like.”[8] 

In addition to the mystery I re-discovered while interacting with the younger children, ages one through eight, I heard countless stories about the older children running away.  When children come to the Austin Children’s Shelter, their reactions to the new environment vary between appreciation and resentment.  According to the staff, finding a niche within this new place generally makes them feel more stable.  The staff worked hard to give the older children, ages nine through eighteen, special tasks and responsibilities to make them feel vital to the success of the Austin Children’s Shelter.  I think providing children’s shelters with special programs, such as art and debate, would further this feeling of importance and provide the children with a continuous outlet for expressing their emotions and experiences. 

Additionally, the programs would provide building blocks for the children to develop a passion for an activity.  The younger children are already provided with a computer lab and computer classes.  The results are outstanding.  The children have become excited about technology, and the older children always want to use the lab.  Specifically, to implement the programs, I would establish an organization with local chapters to provide debate training to children’s shelters.  Additionally, the organization would provide mentors for underprivileged children.  These chapters would be located in cities around the United States, and they would remain available to the children as they progress through foster homes.  The organization’s availability would give the children a constant support system for mentorship and involvement.

As the children encounter life-changing events, debate and art will give them powerful discovery learning tools, instilling in them the experience of “questioning and solving problems without expecting someone to give [them] the answer” which “enables [them] to develop confidence in [their] own ability to handle problems in this area, which in turn encourages [them] to go further.”[9]  In place of the solutions and opinions of those who they are currently residing with, the children will be able to develop independent views and means of expressing their emotions.  Instead of having their identity uprooted each time they move, they will be able to carry these discoveries with them throughout their life. 

My vision requires a firm understanding of leadership and teaching.  During the summer after my freshman year of high school, I participated in the Leadership Training Program at Camp Balcones Springs.  I lived in a house with fifteen boys and fifteen girls who were also participating in the program.  Each day, we would spend time with the children of a younger cabin.  After the first week, the counselors daringly trusted us alone with the children.  It had been raining almost constantly for a week, and the counselors were meeting about the possibility of evacuating the cabins.  The meeting fell during Pow Wow, the daily cabin devotional.  That afternoon, I sat down ready to lead the girls in my cabin through a lesson on Grace.  As I began the lesson, a girl’s cell phone rang.  The girls quickly became distracted and uninterested.  I returned to the house that night slightly frustrated with my inability to reach out to the campers.  My friends felt the same disappointment.  Over the next four weeks, however, our leadership skills progressed. 

Six of my friends and I pose for a picture before taking our places throughout the scavenger hunt.

As opposed to simply expecting the campers to listen to us, we learned to lead by example and to teach through experience and reflection. For example, our program planned a scavenger hunt for the campers.  We designed the activity so the children would discover the importance of teamwork, confidence, and determination.  We also learned to offer praise and recognize campers’ achievements.  The weeks of learning about leadership culminated on the last day of camp.  Counselors and members of the program offered a testimonial of each camper’s virtues, as seen in this video.  Also, campers with exceptional skills performed for the other campers and their parents.  The top four horseback riders presented the flags at the ceremony that morning.

Thus far, I have explained instances, such as pretending to be a teacher, studying different learning and teaching styles, debating, working with children, and using discovery learning, that have formed my vision of becoming a leader who helps underprivileged children develop skills in debate and art.  Specifically, I want to fund these programs while also remaining active in their implementation through teaching. 

Furthermore, I hope to provide programs that will appeal to a wide range of children.  Generally, one activity will not motivate every person.  As I attend my Plan II classes, I notice the incredible diversity of interests.  My classmates are athletes, debaters, religious advocates, artists, musicians, actors, and writers.  I know I probably could not motivate every person in Plan II or every person in my high school with debate.  Instead, after I establish the initial organization for promoting debate, I hope to team with successful artists, musicians, actors, and writers to incorporate fine arts into the organization’s mission.  Offering a wide range of activities will increase the chance the organization can impact each child’s life.

In preparation for carrying out my vision, there are three areas I aspire to develop while at the University of Texas.  First, I hope attending the University of Texas gives me the skills and experiences necessary for others to wish to follow my goal.  Second, through the Business Honors Program, I plan to gain the professional skills necessary to be successful in the business world.  This success will give me money to fund the programs as well as the business skills to ensure the organization is financially stable.  The organization must be financially stable so it can offer continuous and reliable services to the children.  Third, I anticipate that Plan II’s approach to liberal arts will ensure that I graduate with a wide range of knowledge which will be useful when teaching debate.  I will be able to lead by example with an intellectually and professionally curious life that Plan II will hopefully continue to foster.  Furthermore, I will meet and remain in contact with meeting a range of people with diverse interests in Plan II to aid me when I am trying to team with artists, musicians, actors, and writers to broaden the scope of the organization.  Throughout college and after I graduate, I hope to continue acknowledging my nostalgia for childhood and find inspiration in that nostalgia while also helping underprivileged children.

As my first year at the University of Texas comes to a close, I trust I will not be one of the “students who leave the Forty Acres, as many do now, without knowing themselves, without testing what they can best do for themselves and for other people, without developing serious intellectual skepticism, without developing cultural passions.”[10]  Instead, I hope being challenged and taught by the faculty and students at the University of Texas will prepare me to be a lifelong teacher and student. 

 

P1A Word Count Without Quotes: 2,444

P1B Total Word Count: 3,197

Quotes: 333

P1B Word Count Without Quotes: 2,864

Words Added:  420

 

webspace.utexas.edu/cmj443/LR/LR MidtermBW.htm



[1] Author Unknown, “UT Freshmen Write About Nostalgia” in Composition and Reading in World Literature E603A, ed. Jerome Bump (Austin: Jenn’s Copying and Binding, 2005), 877.

[2] Unknown, UT Freshman Write About Nostalgia, 872.

[3] John Trimble, “UT Core Values” in Composition and Reading in World Literature E603A, ed. Jerome Bump (Austin: Jenn’s Copying and Binding, 2005), 298.

[4] Author Unknown, “Discovery Learning” in Composition and Reading in World Literature E603A, ed. Jerome Bump (Austin: Jenn’s Copying and Binding, 2005), 332.

[5] Unknown, Discovery Learning, 332.

[6] Author Unknown, “Blocks To Creativity: Pride/Hubris vs. Humility” in Composition and Reading in World Literature E603A, ed. Jerome Bump (Austin: Jenn’s Copying and Binding, 2005), 184.

[7] A Child, “The Mystery” in Composition and Reading in World Literature E603A, ed. Jerome Bump (Austin: Jenn’s Copying and Binding, 2005), 186.

[8] Child, The Mystery, 186.

[9] Unknown, Discovery Learning, 332.

[10] Palaima, “At UT, An Education That Leaves Out Essentials” in Composition and Reading in World Literature E603A, ed. Jerome Bump (Austin: Jenn’s Copying and Binding, 2005), 321.