Author: mizzblue (Page 5 of 5)

Learning as Contribution

This reflection was submitted as a cross-curricular reflexive write for Foundations of Education – a Bachelor of Education course at UNBC. I wanted to take this space to reflect on a concept that’s been present in my thoughts since recently finishing the book Potlatch as Pedagogy by Sarah Florence Davidson in collaboration with her father Robert Davidson (2019). On page 71 Sarah Florence Davidson reflects,

In his teachings, my father has always emphasized the importance of making a contribution; he does this through hosting feasts and potlatches, mentoring emerging artists, and sharing the knowledge that he has gained through his experiences… Though these examples of contribution differ from fishing for halibut with his tsinii, the significance of making a contribution remains the same. 

She then goes on to reflect that there are two aspects to this teaching. The first being that when learning is for the purposes of contribution, it can feel more pressing. As an example she offers that if your family relies on fish for food, you’re likely to be a more motivated learner of the skills and lessons needed to fish well. The second involves the cultural imperative of contribution, on the subject of which she reflects, “My father learned from the Elders for the purpose of sharing his knowledge, just as I pursued my education because I wanted to be able to contribute to my community through what I learned at school.” (|Davidson, S.A., 2019)

In this book, Sarah Florence Davidson is in conversation with her father, a prolific Haida artist and the first person to carve and raise a pole in Haida Gwaii following the end of the Potlatch ban. He reflects many times throughout the book that when he began working on the poll, he had no idea of the scale and significance the project would become. As elders gathered, spoke the Haida language, and reassembled protocols from their collective memories and oral histories, the poll became part of a much bigger cultural re-knowing. The process unearthed songs, dances, ceremonies, and potlatch protocols that had been decimated by the Indian act and the Potlatch ban over the previous hundred years. In contributing this poll to his community, Robert Davidson learned stories, histories, and cultural teachings that would have likely been lost in a short few years as those elders began to pass on. 

I have a personal interest in the concept of mutual aid that stems from my career in social services, trying to access supports and communities for my clients outside of the non-profit industrial complex and the violence of the carceral justice system and government systems like MCFD and the ministry for social development and poverty reduction. The concept, which dates back in name to anarchist philosophers of the late 19th century, but which has been articulated in the ways that interest me by queer, trans, and bipoc community organisers of the late 20th and early 21st century, emphasizes a belief in solidarity over charity. An understanding that none of our needs are truly adequately met by the violent and oppressive systems under which we are governed, but that we can meet each other’s needs, communally, as they arise (Spade, 2020). 

Within a cross curricular, educational context, these ideas of “Learning Occurs Through Contribution,” (Davidson & Davidson, 2019) and “Solidarity not Charity,” (Spade, 2020) feel in keeping with the teachings of abolitionist philosophy as articulated within the teaching space by Bettina Love in her 2019 book We Want to do More Than Survive. By that I mean, she speaks to the need for genuine civics education wherein students are presented with examples of political organising and resistance to injustice so that they have a framework for true civic engagement beyond the obligations of voting and taxes. It is my belief that learning through contribution is a potential overarching philosophy for developing knowledge, skills, and sense of communal responsibility in students that is rooted in a strong sense of mutual aid and an understanding of communal love and service as a historically rooted means of resistance against violent systems that oppose the knowledge that each child, and each person, has inherent value. 

In practise, I imagine this to look like teachers taking the time to build authentic relationships with the families of their students, as well as community organisers, elders, knowledge holders, sports organisations, leaders of arts initiatives, youth center staff, community center staff, and any other “stakeholders” in the community where teachers live and work. In building these relationships, I expect that teachers will begin to see and know the needs for contribution that a community has. Then, it is my hope that teachers would work with students to understand how they might build up their communities via contribution and make a plan to embed the idea of community based mutual aid in their learning. 

An example of this in many regions of BC, would be the efforts to revitalise Indigenous plant foods and remove invasive species. In doing this type of community based contributive work, students have potential to engage with cross curricular learning in the areas of First Peoples Knowledge (science and social studies), plant ecology and ethnobotany (again, science and social studies), benefits of outdoor physical activity for holistic mental, physical, social, and spiritual health (physical education), thinking about and telling stories (language arts), and potentially with the right community collaboration, exposure to local Indigenous languages in the context of plant knowledge (languages, and social studies). In creating a model of learning founded in communal contribution, students become active participants in their learning, and have a reciprocal relationship with their teachers (the land, knowledge holders, fellow students, and their formal classroom teacher). This fits within not just standard curriculum requirements as detailed, but also strongly supports several of the First Peoples Principles of Learning. 

Ultimately, this approach has potential to meet curriculum outcomes, First Peoples Principles of Learning, and the BC Teachers Standards (particularly 1, 4, 5, 6, 8 and 9). It incorporates components of Ontological philosophies including realism, pragmatism, and existentialism, and normative philosophies including essentialism, perennialism, progressivism, and social reconstructionism. It can be used as a framework for inclusion based on true authentic connection and an understanding of differences as part of a whole community rather than deficits to a person’s function within capitalist and colonial systems of power. In learning which occurs via contribution, students integrate knowledge and develop a sense of mattering (Love, 2019) that leads to an intentional understanding of civic engagement, communal uplift, and knowledge as an integrated practice that is grounded in authentic relationships to the self, one’s community, and the land on which we learn.

Teachers as Soil – A Metaphor

I imagine a teacher to be soil. The earth from which plants grow. I imagine that a teacher can be the place where ideas are planted, and the place that they sprout from. Equally they may be the place a student begins, and hopefully, if the soil is rich, the students planted there will become more perfectly themselves as they grow from it. 

I imagine a teacher to nourish, and to know the infinite other sources of nourishment that contribute to the growth of their students. Even if the soil is perfectly rich, perfectly balanced, and packed exactly as it should be, a teacher knows that without sun, and rain, and a healthy seed, a student will not grow in all the ways they could. As the soil doesn’t blame a plant for the conditions of its growth, a teacher understands the barriers facing their students and remains a safe place to be grounded even when they cannot become the sun and the rain in their students’ lives.

The soil has no choice in which seeds are planted with them, and cannot change what plants will grow from those seeds. In perfect conditions, a teacher allows whatever students are planted with them to grow to their greatest potential, each one being unique and yet having a place in the garden of a teacher’s career. 

I imagine a teacher, like soil, is enhanced by the presence of each student planted with them. Like a garden, like soil, like plants, and even like bugs, each aspect of a classroom is reciprocal, and supports the growth of the environment itself. I imagine a classroom as a garden that benefits from the natural diversity of life. I imagine each student who thinks differently from another, who comes from a different place from another, or who came to be here differently from another, will contribute to the growth of each of their classmates, and to the richness of the soil that is their teacher. 

I know that rich soil can be home to plants at every stage of their growth, be it a thousand year old cedar tree, or a fresh shoot of thimbleberry. Great teachers, like great soil, meet their students wherever they are in their journey, and help them get to the next stage of growth, whatever that means for them. Similarly, I know the limitations of soil. I know that some plants grow best in conditions and soils that are dry, while others appreciate shade, and others need moisture. I know that no matter how rich a soil may be, not every student will see it as the best place for their growth. In those cases, I imagine that soil as a safe place for that student to remain before they find the earth they wish to grow from. 

I imagine a teacher to be soil. A rich and safe place for students to ground themselves. An important source of growth. And themselves enriched by the students who are planted with them over the course of a lifetime.

I am from

I am from tattered homemade rag dolls

From scribbled notes and the books I read until the covers fell off

I am from houses that never lasted more than four years

— More often two

Loud, lonely, somehow filled with messy love

I am from lupins

— The “almost theres” of my grandmother’s house

I am from twelve generations of grandmothers with my name

From loud women who talk with their hands

I am from catholic excommunication

I am from addiction and loss but

I am also from medicine soup and midnight pizza

From deportation and burnt villages

From immigration and orphanage

Et d’un joyeux tintamarre Acadien

I am from tea biscuits and card games with my grandmother

I am from the moments between the loud, the lonely, the messy love

I am from the “almost theres” of the lupins

And a legacy of women with my name

My first blog post!

Hi folks

This is just a quick post to introduce myself and welcome you to my e-portfolio. I will share blog posts here throughout my teacher education and professional journey, exploring my beliefs about teaching, things I’ve learned, and moments I’m reflecting on. I’m so grateful to be able to share this journey with any readers here.

With warmth,

Ms. Rosalie

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