Bedtime Stories

Once upon a time, a Dad read “Winnie the Pooh” stories to his daughter. (With all the right voices, Disney take note.) And thus a love of books, of words, of literature (and of Piglet) was born.

My word for this year was “learn”. This year has been a hard year of learning. But what I’d like most to reflect on is the re-learning I have done this year. 2015 has reminded me of the power of stories.

What seems like a lifetime ago, in early October, I had the pleasure of sitting with my fellow eFellows, and listening to the stories of their inquiries. They were varied, they were beautiful, they were touching. And I felt, that regardless of how different they were, the meta-story was about the power of stories.

Camilla asked, “where’s the person in personalised learning?” Vivita focused on hearing the voices of the unheard. Richard reflected on identity. And I learned that it’s the simplest things that matter: to be heard, and to listen to others.

I’m a voracious reader. As a completely unadventurous person, I love to wander in lands unknown, to meet strange and unexpected people, to be exposed to violence and passion. I’m currently reading about 3 or 4 novels a week. Yes, it’s escapism. And it’s also learning.

Just a few weeks ago my beloved Dad passed away. After dinner one night, my husband and I went for an icecream. As we wandered back down Courtenay Place, I thought to myself: none of these people know my Dad is dead. And my very next thought was: I wonder what tragedies and celebrations, what stories are happening in their lives that I don’t know about?

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Engaging with stories is a way to experience things you might not otherwise experience. Engaging with stories is to enter into the life of someone else – to walk in their shoes for a while, if you will. Engaging with stories causes you to reflect on the story of your own life. Is it following the path you would like? Is the main character living a full and rich life? What threads or themes can be observed? Is this way, in a circle of stories, identity is formed and I think empathy is learned.

A key and crucial difference between a printed story and the story of one’s life though is agency. We have the power to change the arc that our story is on. We have the power to act.

But first, we must realise that we have this power. We are not passively living out a pre-determined life. We, if you’ll excuse the cheesy cliché, are the authors of our own lives.

And so, I’ve been thinking. The thoughts are half-formed at best, but I’ve been wondering about agency and the power to be active participants in our lives. I’ve been wondering about the power of language and of stories and their role in forging identity. And I’ve been wondering about this in the context of teachers.

One of the great privileges of 2015 has been to listen to the stories of teachers as a facilitator of professional learning. It’s endlessly fascinating to me the unpredictability of what people will latch onto to take away with them to experiment with. You just don’t know, as a teacher, even as a teacher of teachers, what will have an impact. You never know when your story might spark a new chapter in someone else’s story. But it’s this potential to help light a spark that keeps me going.

Exploring this potential spark was the unwritten story of my eFellowship. And I don’t think I’m done with it yet. I want to learn more, to hear more stories about what might ignite the spark and then keep the spark burning.

We talk a lot about learner agency. It’s a bit of an edu-buzz word. But, in my experience, when we’re using the phrase we’re meaning students. We want our students to manage themselves and their learning. But what about us?

This new story is ill-defined at present, but I think there’s something in there worth chasing. How might the power of stories be tapped into to create agentic teacher learners?

To be continued…

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