“Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing
there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
Rumi.
I have shared a quote from this famous poem in previous blogs but, in recent times, I’ve found myself referring to it both internally and in my conversations with others. In fact, the notion of a ‘field beyond’ seems to have permeated SO much of my recent reading, listening, viewing and thinking that I felt compelled to blog about it.
Because, of course, I see such a strong connection between it and inquiry (yes, it’s true, I can find a connection to inquiry in almost anything)
The connection to inquiry is not the obvious one - but let’s get that out of the way first. This is a contested approach. Despite so much evolution in the way inquiry is practiced in contemporary classrooms, it continues to be routinely pitted against the so-called traditional approach of direct instruction. I have written about this in previous posts (here and here) so won’t go on about it here but suffice to say (again) inquiry learning is not about abrogating our responsibility as educators. The pedagogy is primarily about careful listening, observing, noticing, questioning and scaffolding but it can also include strategic explaining, modelling, demonstrating - used at the point of need. The either/or, us/them, works/doesn’t work, arguments that remain alive in this field are beginning, quite frankly, to bore me. I feel like so many of us have moved on. The inquiry-oriented educators I encounter in schools have a much more nuanced, sophisticated understanding of inquiry as a stance and find the simplistic, sweeping declaration that it simply ‘doesn’t work’ to be absurd. For whom? In what context? I like to think that I operate in the ‘field beyond’ when it comes to inquiry. I have no interest in proselytising nor mounting a defence – I am interested in moving forward to the space beyond the argument.
Polarisation and false dichotomies abound in education. I have noticed, for example, a recent resurgence in the media of the most public war of all – that between phonics and ‘balanced literacy’ and witnessed some tense conversations in schools where people referred to being on a ‘side’ in that debate. Really? ‘Sides’? Another common argument is the skills vs knowledge one. Again, this is puzzling. Surely we can and should value both learning how to learn while we learn about the world around us? A teacher I met at a recent social gathering proudly asserted that his school ‘didn’t believe in or do play-based learning’ because they had a ‘curriculum to get through.’ As we talked, it wasn’t the lack of understanding of the nature of play based learning that troubled me most– it was the strident certainty with which the opinion was delivered. There was no room for AND in his thinking. It was either/or.
Twitter, of course, is awash with the kind of toxic, unproductive ‘Punch and Judy’ show commentary (thanks for that analogy Guy Claxton!) and has meant several people I know have stopped engaging with it. I happened to read through a recent facebook thread of comments related to an article on Covid Vaccinations and was absolutely horrified by the tone and manner of argument between people. It was, for the most part, personal, abusive, strident and absolute - with no ‘ground giving’ at all. I could go on and on with examples of what feels like conflict for the sake of conflict and our inability to let go of an idea and rethink our position. But I don’t need to – I am sure you all have plenty of your own examples within and beyond education.
So, what DOES all this have to do with inquiry? Well, a lot – as it turns out. I am far from the first to say this but the missing ingredient in so many of these unnecessary polarisations is curiosity.
Curiosity and an open mind are surely amongst the most powerful and important dispositions to nurture not only in our learners but in ourselves. When we are curious, rather than defensive, we begin to discover the more useful space beyond right and wrong - and we grow. But this kind of curiosity means we need to be prepared to be vulnerable, to be ready to loosen ourselves from our safe, comfortable ‘tribe’ and go into the unknown. Curiosity of this kind requires courage.
I recently listened to a lengthy interview with a well-known British educator, Adam Boxer. Adam is what many would describe as a traditional teacher who is critical of inquiry learning, collaboration, project based learning and other approaches regarded as more progressive. I think even 10 years ago, his comments would have really pressed my buttons- but with 36 years of teaching behind me and a growing fascination for the way curiosity can shift one’s engagement in challenging conversations, I found the whole interview stimulating and useful - even as I listened to inquiry being described as ‘fluffy’ and completely ineffective! Cultivating curiosity in the face of criticism is one of the most liberating skills we can teach ourselves and our young learners. Cultivating curiosity means we help ourselves find some common ground - it helps us truly listen to ideas that can enhance and broaden our thinking and ultimately enrich what we do. ‘Otherness’ (other views/beliefs/cultures) becomes an opportunity for learning rather than a basis for fear. We can choose to be fascinated or fearful. Why not choose fascination?
In his recent book, ‘Think Again’ Adam Grant puts a compelling case for the art of changing one’s mind:
“Intelligence is traditionally viewed as the ability to think and learn. Yet in a turbulent world, there’s another set of cognitive skills that might matter more: the ability to rethink and unlearn.”
Grant suggests that what we think, know and believe needs to be routinely ‘renovated’. How often do we renovate our thinking? Are we clinging to views we have held for decades without stopping to consider whether they may need a refresh? How open are we to changing our minds?
In addition to Adam Grant’s incredible work, I have been working my way through Tyson Yunkaporta’s brilliant book ‘Sandtalk : how Indigenous thinking can save the world’ (2019) This stunning and challenging book has again helped me think more deeply about the nature of knowledge and ways of knowing as it eloquently blasts through the dominant paradigm of classification, linearity and binary thinking in favour of connectedness, flow and diversity. He argues for new ways of being drawing on indigenous ways of thinking that can prevent us from “clustering into narcissistic flashmobs”
“You must allow yourself to be transformed through your interaction with other agents and the knowledge that passes through you from them.”
Both Grant and Yunkaporta’s work is exactly what I need to read right now.
This is the true spirit of inquiry. The beautiful, spiralling, complex path that we travel as we inquire is enriched by a willingness to be challenged and changed. This requires an openness to be transformed even in the smallest way, by the encounters we have as we inquire. Ron Ritchhart’s elegant thinking routine ‘I used to think but now I think’ captures this spirit well. Inquiry is not about getting to the right answer. Inquiry is about staying open to possibility, being comfortable with uncertainty, being prepared to arrive at an unexpected destination. Inquiry is a life-long preparedness to change our minds, to listen to those whose ways of seeing, thinking and feeling are very different to our own and to remain curious, open-minded and open-hearted as we encounter even the most challenging perspectives. .
And how can we possibly support our young learners to be true inquirers if we ourselves are incapable of meeting the ‘other’ with an open mind? Surely they need to hear the adults in their world say things like “I have changed my mind about that”, “Oh – they think so differently to me, I wonder what I can learn from them?” “I wonder what thinking we might have in common?” The capacity to nurture inclusive, open, respectful, curiosity-driven dialogue in our students begins with cultivating it in ourselves as educators. In the staffroom, around the planning table, and of course on social media. It’s really not that hard to ‘put down your clever’ (as Viv Mcwaters and Johnnie Moore say) and, instead, pick up your curiosity.
Perhaps one of the most compelling reasons for bringing a stronger inquiry stance to our practice is that it nurtures a way of being that resists binary, oppositional and narrow ways of thinking. Let’s all work to bring this experience into the journeys of inquiry we design with and for our learners. Let’s ensure that multiple ways of thinking about concepts are included, and that we help our young learners to develop the ‘confident humility’ championed by Adam Grant that might move us closer to the field beyond. Let’s keep building our repertoire of questions that invite a curious disposition when we encounter views different to our own and let’s help kids learn to use these questions with a curious rather than interrogative tone, for example:
That’s interesting. Can you tell me more about that?
Can you help me understand what you mean?
What makes you say that?
I wonder how our ideas might connect?
Can you share some examples of what you mean?
I can see this is something you feel really passionate about- can you explain why?
In Zen practice there is a well-known concept called ‘the beginner’s mind’ which aligns with the idea of an inquiry stance. The beginner’s mind is curious and open – withholding judgement and expectations - seeking to understand something as if for the first time. Even the most experienced of educators can benefit from employing the beginner’s mind as a potential path to the field beyond.
How do you manage polarised, conflicting ideas in your school community?
Do your students see inquiry as a process of evolving and changing thinking?
Have you renovated your thinking lately?
Just wondering…