Equity Focused | Inquiry Driven | Problem-Based-Learning | Transformational Leadership

A Reflection Protocol

People know my walk. It is quick and staccatoed, intentioned and direct. I don’t slow down for the chuckle with my colleague but instead smile and laugh without breaking stride. I get so much done with this walk. But it confines me, forcing me into a constant state of busy.

Too often, we are rushing from our grade level meeting to pick up our kids, to the front office for that IEP meeting we’ve been trying to schedule for too many weeks, or hurrying to set up the newest classroom Breakout EDU – this one staged like a crime scene. But on occasion, I challenge you to break away from the hurry and find yourself sitting around a table with like-minded educators for a long, saturated pause to reflect on the good. It is not only soul-filling, a reminder of why we do the work, but necessary.

One of my favorite protocols to use when sitting down with a group of teachers who are trying to shift their practice is one I modeled after the School Reform Initiative’s protocol called The Best Ever: A Constructivist Protocol. We sit down, all of us at the table, and take the length of one song to think back to our “best ever” learning experience. Some identify one from their childhood in elementary school, others as a kid trying to find their path in middle and high school, others as an academic bravely walking the halls of the university, and some even have a “best ever” as an adult seeking growth and professional learning.

My best ever was my four-credit Environmental Science course in my undergrad, a class that isn’t typically expected to excite those that find themselves enrolled in it. But this class. After the first day, this class was one I couldn’t wait for. I don’t recall my professor’s name, but I remember every last second of that learning experience. And even more than I couldn’t wait for class, I couldn’t wait for the field work.

To study the health of our ecosystem, we drove to a mountain lake an hour away from campus, donned chest waders, and mucked around the edges of the lake to track, find, and categorize salamanders – a keystone species. To understand mortality rates across centuries, we went to a local cemetery and gathered actual birth and death dates and studied the data for correlations. Extra credit was earned by identifying local birds, and for an entire semester, I became an enthused ornithologist, pointing out Red Tailed Hawks and Turkey Vultures soaring through the heights to my uninterested friends and searching diligently for the forked tail of the Barn Swallow.

But the moment that is my best ever was our study of the impact of pollution on the health of a small, mountain river. Again with chest waders on but this time, standing deep in the cold, rushing water of the river that came precipitously close to the edge of the protective bib, my professor stood upstream, emitting a small, electric shock into the water while my classmates and I held a seining net across the river’s expanse. I will never forget the way that the species represented in the samplings completely changed above and below the runoff from a power plant. I’ll never forget the way we learned how certain fish are found in certain parts of the river and long, thin bodies fight against current while broad, flat bodies stay in calm water.

He taught me how to teach by the way he taught and showed me how much I loved the process of learning. Walking into my own classroom each day, I measure every learning experience I craft for my students against the ruler of that experience. It is the tiny, nuanced moments that have filled every ounce of our souls with inspiration that drive us to greater things.

“Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn.”

Commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin; adapted from an original writing by Chinese Confucian philosopher Xunzi (312-230 BC)

Author: Alexandra Laing