Reflections on Forty Years of Teaching

As with most experience in life and with time, there’s been an alarming and more or less constant acceleration over the forty years I’ve been teaching high school students. Each subsequent year represents a smaller percentage of my teacher career, of my life, and this produces distortion and foreshortening. Among the various effects of this phenomenon (and I am far from the first to ponder it – one of my favorite books is, after all, The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann [a book that deals cogently with time compression – long, drawn out days and fleeting years]) is that I can recall my students from the first years more clearly than those from, say, five or ten years ago (with many exceptions). This can be unsettling and even embarrassing, since the ones from the recent past occasionally show up – at school, in the grocery store… .

A very short story that I think would make a great epitaph (originally coined by co-founder of National Lampoon Magazine, Michael O’Donahue) follows: “One thing led to another, and before we knew it, we were dead.” This “story” encapsulates my thoughts on life, time, and death, and it also captures our existential insignificance.

I have taught many wonderful young people. They have gone on to become engineers, professors (biology, anthropology, psychology, even chemistry), doctors and nurses, teachers, an advertising executive, small business owners, journalists, homeless people, grief counselors, authors, and suicides. There is something ineffable about this list and the way it flowed from my keyboard. However, it is crystal clear that I did not make any of these kids into who they became. Frankly, I doubt I had any influence whatsoever on the inchoate advertising executive, and I sincerely hope whatever influence I had on the homeless and the suicidal was in a positive rather than negative direction. I did, perhaps throw a switch that turned some of them in a particular direction – down a branch in their path forward among the very many branchings that they must negotiate in life.

A few of the aforementioned young people are my lifelong friends. I have attended and even officiated a few of their weddings, and some of my students are the children of my students (the first time this happened was weird, yet comfortingly circular). A handful of former students have become friends with my own sons (who are also my former students).

From my current vantage point, I have another year or so to devote to shaping other people’s kid’s lives. I hope to make the best of it, and I anticipate an eventual retirement that keeps me in touch with youth: my former student friends, kids falling in the circle of my volunteer efforts, my sons. 

On Fit and Fitness at The Galloway School

What comes to mind when one considers the word “fit?” To fit in; a good fit guarantees comfort (If the shoe fits, wear it.); one size fits all; physical and mental fitness; survival of the fittest.

Charles Darwin is often quoted as follows: “It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the most responsive to change.” Although these exact words never appear in Darwin’s writing, we think we know what he means; hence, the resonance and durability of this misquote.

How does “the Galloway Way” relate to Darwinian (or any other rendition of) fitness? John Elliott Galloway often spoke about the inextricability of mind, body, and spirit; about how a fit body augments clarity of thought, and how a spiritual nature completes a whole person. Does the putative Darwinian interpretation of fitness – i.e., adaptability to change – relate to the philosophy of Mr. Galloway and of The Galloway School? Is the school, itself, fit?

A school, such as The Galloway School, that allows individual teachers and individual students to decide on important components of their own teaching or learning develops maximum – optimal – adaptability. We who teach at Galloway are free to interpret our specific curricula as we choose (within a broad framework of Georgia and national standards); we can focus on what we are most passionate about and what we know best; we can make our teaching topical and relevant; we can seize the teachable moment. Students at Galloway have considerable freedom in the way they engage with their own educational process. They may choose many of the courses they take or subjects they study (although more choices exist for seniors than for five year-olds). Upper Learning students may, in effect, select a major – humanities, arts, math-science, technology – and pursue it to breadths and depths unavailable at less progressive schools. Or they may sample from the full array of courses of study and participate, as well, in drama, sports, music and visual arts, or student leadership and governance. Students graduate from Galloway with diverse cognitive and social skill sets along with a capacity for handling choice and change in practiced, systematic, and growth-promoting ways. One of the most important skills Galloway graduates possess is a well-developed capacity for working in social groups. Group work and group dynamics are very important at Galloway.

Over its forty year history, The Galloway School has evolved; adapted to changes in educational practice and in society at large. Galloway is certainly surviving – even thriving – in a competitive private school environment. As such, Galloway is a fit school that survives without compromising its core culture.

“Fit” from another perspective suggests congruence with sociocultural mores. The Galloway School is a diverse community that is tolerant of – even celebratory of – a wide range of co-cultures, types, and individual adaptive patterns. Because of its complex ecology, Galloway provides niches into which most individual students can comfortably fit, for fit implies comfort. Comfort and fit are both reciprocal and dynamic (in the analogy of the shoe: a shoe that fits is comfortable and becomes more so with the passage of time; yet, as the well-fitting shoe changes – fits better and better – it alters the foot in subtle ways; this is a feedback loop*).

A student new to Galloway undergoes a period of adaptation to the culture of the school. To be even marginally successful, he or she must quickly learn the approaches, habits, and quirks of seven or eight adults (teachers, principals, advisors, counselors) and enter into a reciprocal relationship (i.e., craft a fit) with those individuals. Simultaneously, the new student must cast about for a cadre of friends with whom he or she can fit in. To the adolescent, the fitting in with peers is more immediately important than fitting in with the academic culture, hence, there is often a lag phase in the scholarly performance for students new to the Galloway community. Students find their new friends within (and between) all the micro-cultures that exist in a school: cultures that relate to music tastes and/or music performance skills; athletic interests and skills; broad academic content interests (“I’m not a math person.” “I’m into drama.” “I want to go to Georgia Tech.” “Art is my thing.” “I am a reader.”); and a variety of other co-cultural domains such as pop culture(s), sexual orientation, socioeconomic class, ethnicity. Personality (introversion versus extraversion; openness; neuroticism; risk-taking; temperament and energy level) also affects and predicts the niche(s) a student comes to occupy at The Galloway School.

The Galloway School is a rich, ecologically complex, synergistic environment in which children and young adults can become who they are. It is a place where all of the people that comprise its community can find a place to relate, to learn, to grow and adapt.

* Extremely tangential footnote (to a blog post filled with tangents): students at The Galloway School often report that the only school rules are “behave yourself, try… and wear shoes.”

Philosophy in Elliott's Circle

Philosophy in Elliott’s Circle

During the waning days of MM’s Philosophy class -- on Cinco de Mayo – the class met in recently inaugurated Elliott’s Circle. Coincidently, the philosophy students have been learning about educational philosophies, including Mr. Galloway’s thoughts on education and on The Galloway School. As soon as we arrayed ourselves on the circle of logs, talk turned specifically to Elliott Galloway, himself, and the bronze statue of him. Students knew that the representative cup in Mr. Galloway’s hand contained hot water, not coffee. They thought it appropriate that he was holding a book, but that his attention was on the student(s) in the circle. We talked about the process the sculptor, Marty Dawe, used to “get it right”: looking at photographs and videos of Mr. Galloway (running, talking, interacting with students); talking with people – the Galloway family, students, and teachers – who knew him. They learned that EL art teacher, CG helped especially with verisimilitude, pointing out to the sculptor that Mr. Galloway had, at some point in his long and active life, broken his nose; that he usually wore Navy-style brogans.

 

Following the aforementioned lively and poignant conversation, the class turned its attention to the final reading in our philosophy text, entitled “The Will to Believe” by William James. We took turns reading passages and discussing their meaning. The essay ends as follows:

 

We stand on a mountain pass in the midst of whirling snow and blinding mist, through which we get glimpses now and then of paths which may be deceptive. If we take the wrong road we shall be dashed to pieces. We do not certainly know whether there is any right one. What must we do? “Be strong and of good courage.” Act for the best, hope for the best, and take what comes… . If death ends all, we cannot meet death better.

 

What better way to end a philosophy class in Elliott’s Circle. We think Mr. Galloway would have approved.

Kurt Hahn Educator Initiative

Scattered Showers & Peak Experiences –

Kurt Hahn Fellows Spend Eight Days on an Outward Bound Voyage of Self-Discovery in the Pisgah National Forest

Without self-discovery, a person may still have self-confidence, but it is a self-confidence built on ignorance, and it melts in the face of heavy burdens. Self-discovery is the end product of a great challenge mastered, when the mind commands the body to do the seemingly impossible, when strength and courage are summoned to extraordinary limits for the sake of something outside the self – a principle, an onerous task, another human life.

— Kurt Hahn

Kurt Hahn Educator Initiative Fellows include six teachers from The Galloway School in Atlanta, Georgia and six teachers from Myers Park High School in Charlotte, North Carolina – Henry D., Peter E., Lexi H., Thalley M., Mark M., and Wyatt P.; Andy D., Kristen O., Jim S., Julia T., Chalisa W., and Steve W.. We twelve backpacked through an Outward Bound course in the Pisgah National Forest of North Carolina from June 23 through 30, 2007. Our collective goal is to transfer some of our outdoor/experiential learning – environmental ethics, woodcraft, interpersonal dynamics, and Kurt Hahn philosophies and practices – back to Galloway and Myers Park, and we will pursue this goal over the years to come. Personal goals ranged from simply surviving the rigors of the course to mastering the complexities of expedition life to expanding our physical and human networking limits. All twelve of us came home, more or less intact, evidence of the mastery of the skills of wilderness living. We hiked approximately 25 miles through rough and spectacular country; we climbed rock faces and negotiated a high ropes course. All twelve of us are changed by the experience.

What did we learn?

First and foremost, we learned to trust our selves and our fellows. Secondarily, to leave no trace – no discernible trace. To find our position and chart our course using map and compass. We learned the vulnerability and beauty of the southern Appalachian rainforest. That it can hail in the mountains. That solitude is a blessing. We learned about red efts, the McCall family’s Long Branch legacy – real or imagined – the pros and cons of tarps. We learned to trust one another with our life stories; to trust one another and ourselves to find a route, to prepare a palatable supper, to carry the requisite weight. That cloud/sunrise on Pilot Mountain is tantamount to heaven. That the eroded, steepest portion of the Art Loeb trail is hell. We learned the phenomenal biodiversity of the temperate rainforest – mosses, ferns, rhododendron, laurel, tulip poplar, loblolly pine, and hemlock – and the sickening disease of the hemlock forest. We learned that a few square meters of forest floor can contain dozens of species of plants. We heard the plaintive call of the whippoorwill. And witnessed the glory of blooming flame azalea, buttercup, jack-in-the-pulpit, rhododendron, saxifrage, wintergreen, rattlesnake plantain.

There is a curious rhythm to expedition life. Time expands and contracts oddly. A dozen steps up and up a steep trail take forever, while hours of vigorous hiking pass in a seeming blur. Life is simplified, overall, yet the simplest acts become complicated. The elemental aspects of existence stand out in relief: relieving oneself, personal hygiene, cooking and eating, foot comfort, the seeking and protection of dryness, and the conundrum of thermoregulation. Quotidian tasks are carried out against a backdrop of spectacular natural beauty – grandeur that diminishes the human scale, starkness of rock contrasted with ecological diversity and strangeness, sporadic glimpses or hearings of wildlife (a fox ghosts through a solo campsite; the distant mating sound of the ruffed grouse is mistaken for one’s own heartbeat; the haunting call of the screech owl raises the hairs on the back of one’s neck). It is as if our hierarchy of needs is reduced to a mere two levels of existence, the fundamental biological and the transcendent. These coexist or are, perhaps, coequal. One trudges along and looks up or aside to see ancient, richly cloaked mountains broken up into grassy balds, stands of hemlock, rhododendron thickets; one absorbs the intricate plant community in parts and in wholes. One’s heart thumps along at 150 bpm while simultaneously, consciousness slows and expands and reaches into the dream landscape and apprehends it as if of a piece. The oceanic feeling overlies and almost obviates one’s burning calf muscles and tender knees. The two seemingly irreconcilable levels of experience are brought together by pure will.

None of us knew fully what we were getting into when we signed on for the Kurt Hahn Educator Initiative. We pored over the literature, met with one of our facilitators, and fantasized about what it might be like, but there is virtually no preparation for carrying a backpack containing everything one needs that may weigh in excess of one-third of one’s body weight.

The first day, after sorting gear and food and leaving North Carolina Outward Bound Cedar Rock Base Camp, we hiked less than five miles from Graveyard Fields in the Shining Rock Wilderness and exhaustedly set up our first camp. During this initial hike, we began practicing map and compass use. After we reached our first bivouac at Ivestor Gap, we implemented black bear precautions: cooking at a site at least 50 yards away from sleeping areas; stowing anything edible or sweet smelling (baby powder, toothpaste) with cooking equipment and food and then suspending it ten feet above the ground in a craftily engineered bear hang. We broadcast gray water (cooking/cleaning/ toothbrushing water) and left no food scraps lying about.

As day followed day, we mastered the Outward Bound food system, and each day our loads lightened as food mass was converted into ATP for trekking. Each morning, we consumed a high carbohydrate breakfast and divided up trail snacks – mostly dried fruits and nuts. Lunches were equally simple, but suppers were more sumptuous: falafel stew served on a tortilla (what a glorious ethnic crossover); pasta alfredo with carrots and pimento (?); the infamous chili-mac-n-cheese. We licked our bowls clean after such meals. We met the Pudding Goddess.

After evening meals, we formed a circle to talk about the next day, to share appreciations, and to exchange the “four pillar” ribbons (Kurt Hahn’s four educational pillars are self-reliance, physical fitness, craftsmanship, and compassion), a process that required us to think about who had exhibited what attributes during the day and to make difficult approach-approach decisions. Our instructors were both experienced Outward Bound leaders: Erin P. – a sanguine fifth-grade teacher who is empathetic, determined and funny – and Kelly M. – a former library/communications science professor with a passion for humane teaching and an intuitive knowledge of group dynamics – taught continuously during the early days, but gradually backed off to let the Kurt Hahn Fellows take responsibility for the expedition’s successes and glitches. We all shared observations as we moved through the country – of wildflowers, birds, scenic vistas, clouds and weather. We talked about our families, our lives, and about our home schools, as well.

Weather in the southern Appalachian mountains is nothing if not changeable. We experienced bright sunny days with mixed cirrus, patchy stratus, and towering cumulus clouds; we hiked, camped, and hunkered down amid drizzle, dramatic thunderstorms, and hail. Mostly it was warm and humid, which brought out the insects – no-seeums, mosquitoes, flies. Each day provided at least a little sun, so we were able to dry gear – wet packs, clothes and tarps weigh 10% more than dry ones. We relished sunny conditions. The rain and hail and bugs, we endured. We learned and practiced the Outward Bound lightning safety protocol.

Early in the trek, the dichotomous character of our crew was obvious. Some of us had significant outdoor experience; some none at all. Some of us moved slowly and determinedly through the landscape, one step at a time. Some of us strode forth to take on each new challenge. But as the adventure unfolded, the inexperienced metamorphosed. Woodcraft developed rapidly; fitness differentials were compensated for – as the less fit became better conditioned and as loads were redistributed. On the whole, we took very good care of one another; when we became aware that an individual was having a rough day, others filled in to carry some of their literal or figurative weight. The trek was characterized by collegiality among the Kurt Hahn Fellows and with our instructors, who increasingly deferred to our leadership. During the latter half of the trip, Kelly and Erin behaved as if they were just two other members of the expedition. They even allowed us to make some mistakes.

High points and low points came and went each day; however, for many of us, the paramount peak experience was solo – twenty-four hours in the woods by ourselves. On day four, each of us was blindfolded and lead by one of the instructor/facilitators to a solo campsite along bubbling Grogan Creek. Most of us chose to fast for the duration of the solo experience. When one is by oneself in the wild, one is forced into reflection mode, and each person took great advantage of this: journaling, meditating, looking at and into nature until she stood out in clear relief. The perceived risk of solo (no one was really more than a few dozen meters away from a fellow adventurer, although line of sight was cut off by thick vegetation) lends it piquancy, sharpens the senses. Solo also provided a welcome respite from hiking and an antidote to sleep deprivation.

On day six, we met Glenn, our climbing instructor, and we hiked with climbing gear to a sloping rock face on Cedar Rock. After top-belay climbs were set, individuals confronted their personal rock-climbing demons (several of our party had never climbed before) and ascended moderately easy to moderately difficult climbs. Thunder and lightning drove us from the cliff face before everyone had a chance to climb, but for those of us who did climb, the challenge was met with aplomb.

Glenn was also our high ropes course facilitator on day seven. He is a quietly encouraging fellow with obvious and impressive climbing skills. He urged us through the course, and all twelve fellows succeeded in meeting the challenge. No one fell (we were thoroughly protected by backup rigging, in any case), and no one even hesitated as we moved smoothly through the half-dozen ropes course elements.

On returning to NCOB Cedar Rock Base Camp, we felt greatly let-down by encroaching civilization, by the sense of the impending diaspora of our highly coalesced little community. Even the pond water shower was insufficient to bring us fully back into ourselves, but we participated, yeoman-like, in the educator workshops that will ultimately allow us to carry out the larger purposes of the Educator Initiative.

The first phase of the Kurt Hahn Educator Initiative – the eight-day Outward Bound course – was a great success. The first rule of expedition life is to come home, and we succeeded admirably in this regard, among many others. Each of us knows a little more about himself or herself, and we all know a great deal more about our Kurt Hahn fellow travelers. We are committed to bringing aspects of the Kurt Hahn philosophy of experiential learning back to our school communities, and we look forward to meeting again during Fall and Spring retreats.

— Mark M. – July, 2007

The Value of Perseverance in Learning Chemistry

I frequently meet parents – successful physicians, lawyers, and other professionals – who recall their high school and college chemistry experiences with something less than pleasure. Things that cause discomfiture include the apparent memory-intensiveness of chemistry, the weird problems, and the obsessive attention to very tiny measurements or to unimaginably large numbers (for example, the number of atoms in twelve grams [a modest size stick of charcoal] of carbon is 602,210,000,000,000,000,000,000, a number greater than all the pennies spent by all the economies in the history of the world!). On the surface of it, chemistry seems remote and inaccessible. However, in my nineteen years of teaching chemistry – predominantly to sophomores – I have yet to encounter a student who did not go away from my course without the sense of mastering the fundamentals of chemistry. For some – those bound toward the science/math/tech track – it was pretty easy. Their brains somehow find that chemistry’s inherent logic and internal consistency made sense. For others, the mysteries of chemistry come with some effort; however, with perseverance and, perhaps a little help from their friends (and their teacher), they do well. For a few, chemistry proves quite daunting. These students require more attention, more practice, more stick-to-itiveness, even as they tend to shy away from extended practice. The success rate for these students in Introductory Chemistry is still very good, but it comes with considerably more effort on both the student’s and the teacher’s part. I personally know two people who were on the doctor pathway in college, but changed majors after failing organic chemistry (organic chemistry is the most memorization-based branch of chemistry; for example, the chemical name for Prozac® is “N-methyl-3-phenyl-3-α-α-α-trifluoro-p-tylol-oxypropylamine hydrochloride”, and there is no other way to master its nomenclature besides learning the rules by rote memory).

So, just how hard is chemistry, anyway? There’s no escaping the complexity of problem-solving in chemistry. Yet, in Introductory Chemistry, students internalize a problem-solving method that is extremely powerful; one that will serve them well in all future science classes both in high school and in college. Mastering a consistent problem-solving method (analysis, planning, computation, and evaluation) takes time. No one comes to chemistry with this methodology fully in place. Indeed, the key difference between 8th grade physical science/chemistry and high school chemistry is the latter’s focus on quantitative problem solving, which is what real chemists do, after all. The basic concepts are the same (although I have found sophomore amnesia for 8th grade chemistry to be a common disorder). Students grow into effective problem-solvers, some faster than others. It is important to note that I systematically reduce the memorization load in Introductory Chemistry by allowing students to use the periodic table and the chemical ion table during tests; I generally provide at least a partial formula set for students to use on tests, as well. My focus is on understanding, application, and synthesis rather than raw memorization.

Let me briefly address the cognitive functioning of the average sophomore. A friend and former colleague of mine discovered during her PhD dissertation work in science education that seventy percent of freshman chemistry students operate predominantly at the Piagetian level of concrete operations. Piaget’s ages and stages work with cognitive development suggested that most young people move from concrete operations – a level that allows them to solve complex problems, but only when they have physical means (i.e. manipulative objects, learning tools) at their disposal – to formal operations at about the age of twelve. Formal operational thinking allows us to understand figurative language and to truly grasp things like algebra, metaphors, and archetypes. My friend found that most 19 year-olds were still processing information concretely, yet they were, for the most part, passing freshman chemistry, many with A’s and B’s.

Chemistry, then, would seem to be a surprisingly concrete science. It yields its secrets to those who keep at it; who, in a word, persevere. I do not expect my students to know how to solve complex chemistry problems when they come to me. I do, however, ask them to plug away at the process until they achieve mastery, and this involves, essentially, a year-long program of study. Parents should be patient. Even if a child is struggling (and he or she should be consistently encouraged to assiduously apply themselves) with chemistry in September, I can say with confidence that he or she will be OK with the discipline by November, December… (although I can not guarantee that everyone will opt for a chemical engineering major at Georgia Tech – someone has to teach history and fill the law schools).

-- Mark McCandless

Why the Galloway Way?

We at Galloway spend an inordinate amount of time talking about how we implement the Galloway Way, while at the same time, we reflect little on what the Galloway Way is and why we might want to look at everything we do through its lens.
· TGW calls to mind the parable of the five blind men and the elephant. Each has his own perspective on the elephant (leg, trunk, tail, flank, ear) and therefore perceives a part without grasping the whole, the gestalt. Similarly, most Galloway students, teachers, parents, and administrators understand facets of TGW without seeing the big picture, particularly the “why”.
· TGW is not so much democracy as anarchy: individuals treading their own path in ways that do not significantly impinge on the journeys of others. TGW assumes that people are essentially good, if necessarily self-interested. See below: a segment on TGW and anarchy from the Crane “Review and Reflection Paper”.
· TGW is relationship as well as individual quest. Teachers and students are collaborators in the learning process. At its best, TGW promotes caring and stewardship among students and between students and teachers.
· Why TGW? We follow TGW because we – students and teachers together – crave growth and freedom. Teachers want their students to grow to be whole, good, productive, caring, and fulfilled people capable of sustaining their own growth both individually and in relationship with others. Students, likewise, wish to grow and change and become who they are.
· Why TGW? We follow TGW because we believe that it underlies the best educational practice. It gradually places the onus of responsibility for learning on the learner. It promotes the movement of locus of control steadily inward; that is, students pursuing TGW with teachers who understand and practice TGW come to know that they are the ultimate arbiters of their fate.
· Why TGW? As teachers, we follow TGW because we are willing to be responsible for creating a safe yet challenging learning – and living – environment for our students.
· Why TGW? As students, we follow TGW because we are becoming steadily less egocentric and more able to accept responsibility for our freedoms and our choices.


Crane Metamarketing. “Review and Reflection Paper – The Galloway School”. 2006:14-15.

"Anarchy? Does this bring to mind chaotic lawlessness, the extreme methods of anarchist radicals? What on earth can anarchy have to do with the utopian ideals of the gentle Mr. Galloway?
In fact, the two philosophies have a great deal in common. Quite the opposite of advocating chaos, nihilism, or anomie, authentic anarchists offer positive, harmonious visions of what they consider a truly free society: one made up of self-governing individuals. We find the philosophy best stated as 'a desired form of human interrelationship based upon voluntary cooperation without coercion or control of others; also, a social orgnization modeled to accomplish this dynamic.' This utopian vision bears striking similarities to Mr. Galloway’s dream of a school where students are free to learn.
Again, we raise this loaded term not to shock or invite political debate – and certainly not to label Mr. Galloway as an anarchist – but rather to recast the current predicament of the Galloway School by drawing a useful comparison. The conceptual resemblance includes:

· minimal laws or rules;
· a high value on personal freedom;
· the reliance on internal motivation to behave and be a responsible member of a community;
· an abiding belief in the potential of every person to master such internal motivation;
· a belief that in every person exists the innate desire for acceptance and approval;
· and a reliance on natural and social consequences to curb destructive or antisocial behavior.

In this popularly misunderstood philosophy, we can see many of the very same, and often misunderstood, ideals that foster joyful learning at Galloway – freedom, self-givernance, personal responsibility, to name a few. And what a beautiful vision it is. Why wouldn’t every person want to live and work toward such a society?"

Indeed, why wouldn’t every person?

Important Questions for a Teacher

Does he like his students? Does he communicate this liking through patience and consistent kindness?
Does he respect his students?
Does he teach individual students or merely classes?
Does he understand his students? Does he understand the psychology of adolescence?
Does he meet his students where they are – cognitively, socio-emotionally, and in terms of acquired knowledge?
Is he effective in his teaching (effectiveness is much more important than efficiency)? That is, do his students achieve mastery of essential aspects of the material, and do they grow in skill and confidence?
Does he know his subject matter? Does he understand the essence of his subject? Is he passionate about his subject? Does he convey this love of knowledge and learning? Is he, himself, a learner?
Does he keep up with the “best practice” literature? Does he reflect on his teaching while maintaining skepticism about the faddishness of “best practice”?
Does he consistently communicate to his students how they are doing? Does he manage his students’ learning so that none flounders too often, too much, or too long – understanding that some preliminary floundering is a part of the learning process while at the same time monitoring student vulnerability to being left on their own?
Does he take steps to revivify his teaching?
Does he create and sustain an environment in which learning can take place?
Does he learn from his students? Does he explicitly acknowledge that he is not the be-all and end-all, the arbiter of all knowledge and all ways of knowing?
Does he help his students construct their own learning?
Does he draw his students to learning rather than push them?