Information, Explanation and Celebration: wall documentation in an inquiry classroom

I distinctly recall the phrase ‘walls that teach’ coming into my orbit as a young teacher and the way it made me stop to question just how I was using the visual environment in my classroom.  Like many teachers ‘back in the day,’ my walls were more about decoration than learning – birthday charts, alphabets, posters, work samples … and it wasn’t just my walls, my classroom was awash with what I now think of as ‘dingle dangles’ and there were WAY too many dingle dangles! This mostly consisted of student work (even worksheets!) pegged on string across the room, far too high for the children to read but low enough for many adults to have to fight their way through as they entered the classroom. Again – more decoration than anything else.  Early on in my career, I never really stopped to think about why I was posting the things I chose to ‘display. ’Maybe it’s because I spend so much time in classrooms or perhaps it’s the plethora of images shared on social media … whatever the reason,  I certainly think about it a lot more now! 

 I have previously shared several posts on learning environments.  In 2014, I wrote about the first impressions that learning environments make. In 2015, I wrote about the amazing environment at Mother Teresa Primary School and in 2019, I wrote about curating staff and planning rooms - how visual spaces in schools are as important to adults as they are to children.

In this post, I want to focus on the simple aspect of the way we use our walls. Having readily available ways to share visual images through social media has no doubt contributed to a renewed attention to this aspect of our work. What is heartening to see is a move away from ‘Pinterest’ inspired walls (the more contemporary version of my walls in the 80s) to more authentic, co constructed and purposeful walls with a focus on learning rather than decoration and display. This shift has been happening for many years of course but social media allows it to be more present in our thinking and to be discussed more widely.   Despite the fact that digital and virtual learning spaces are now part of the landscape, most early and elementary classrooms have areas are designed to house ‘hard copy’ documents of some sort. What is on the walls is easily and immediately accessible. It is tangible, shared and very public which provides a very different experience than a screen.

 When entering a classroom, I am acutely aware of the messages the ‘walls’ (and the use of space, furniture arrangements, choice of materials) convey about what is valued. We know children learn a great deal simply from what we do and this includes what we choose (and don’t choose) to document and share and HOW we go about the documentation and sharing. These decisions teach surreptitiously. If 25 identical art works are proudly displayed we promote conformity.  If the walls only ever display ‘final products’ we promote product over process. If it is only the educator’s words or annotations on the walls we promote our voice, authority and ownership. If the walls are filled with commercial posters and decorations, we promote decoration over functionality.   As we face a new school semester or year, we have an opportunity to look at this aspect of our learning spaces anew. Some questions for reflection might include:

• What (and who) might these walls teach?

• What story are we telling about learning?

• What do our walls say about what we value?

• What is dominant in the space? What takes up the most space? How important is this and how do children benefit from this?

• How might we use documentation to support children’s understanding of their learning processes?

• How might we invite children to compose and design the documentation?

• How do children use what is on the walls? What does it mean to them?

• Can our children talk about the significance or purpose of what’s on the walls? What sense of ownership do they have?

• How do WE use these walls? Do they grow with the inquiry?

• Given inquiry is deeply rooted in process and an emergent design - how can we allow this documentation to build over time?

• How can we use our public documentation to prompt review and reflection?

• How can we use our walls to hold traces of learning that allow us to revisit and go deeper?

• How much is too much? Are we overloading the space? 

• How might we house previous stories of learning?

• What might we worthy of year-long ‘display’?

Perhaps the most important question to ask ourselves is: What’s the purpose? Ultimately, what is on the walls should be in the service of children’s learning. In an inquiry classroom, we can think of the purpose of wall documentation in three broad categories that support children: information, explanation and celebration.

A summary of ways to ‘notice’ by 5 year olds at Launceston West primary School. Useful, co constructed information to return to.

 Information: here is where children and educators use the wall as a resource, reference or reminder. Ideally, much of this is co-constructed with the aim being to strengthen agency and independence by having items in the space that children can go to for help/reminders/examples. These might include anchor charts (co constructed), criteria and exemplars, question or dalogic prompts, QR codes that link to often used sites, reminders and instructions (for example, menus of thinking routines or graphic organisers that children might choose to use), timetables, protocols and learning agreements. I have been in several classrooms where there are anchor charts EVERYWHERE, yet the children can tell me very little about what they are, let alone whether they use them. We need to be mindful of information overload. Less is more.  

Narratives of Inquiry at Riverside Primary School - part of the shared documentation in the school’s central hallway . These explanations are gradually built over time.

Explanation: Central to the work of an inquiry educator is the emphasis on metacognition.  The way we document with and for learners can be a powerful contribution to helping children understand not just what they are learning but how.  I like to think of this as ‘telling the story’ of an inquiry as it unfolds – whether it is a whole or small group project.  This might include photos of children engaged in their learning, learning samples, evidence of changed thinking, questions driving the investigations, etc. The key to this is the annotation – the documentation acts as a form of explanation to ourselves, to families and the wider community. What are we doing? Why are we doing it?  What are we learning? What are we wondering now ? This kind of narrative documentation helps build the meta-language of inquiry and explains the cyclical, iterative nature of the process. When the annotation is constructed or co constructed by children – the ownership and engagement is even stronger. This kind of documentation is powerful during an inquiry and can be captured and revisited long after the inquiry has run its course. The wall documentation can be taken down and housed in a journal or photographed for a digital record. Key pieces or traces of the story may remain so that links can be made as new inquiries emerge.  This kind of wall documentation can also serve as a prompt for professional dialogue. Many years ago, I watched educators at Island Bay teachers in NZ holding a staff meeting in a classroom as they regularly did. The host teachers would stand at their wall and tell the story of learning - inviting questions and feedback. Such a powerful and effective vehicle for staff learning. 

A celebration of carefully designed and created art works proudly displayed at Hartwell Primary School

 Celebration: there is no doubt that public sharing of children’s artefacts is one way of honouring the hard work, imagination and creativity of our learners and can be the source of pride and motivation. Consider having a smaller area of the classroom or corridor intentionally devoted to the celebration of what Ron Berger describes as ‘beautiful work’. By this, he does mean necessarily mean aesthetically pleasing - but more work that is often the result of multiple drafts, responses to feedback and gradual crafting towards excellence. This work is produced for a real audience or in response to a real challenge or problem.  Having some examples of the various drafts/attempts etc leading to the final product can make the celebration even more powerful. And what is celebrated in this space should not selected by the educator alone. We want children to recognise the opportunity to lift each other up and be part of the decisions about what belongs in the ‘gallery’.

As with all aspects of our work, what we put on the walls should be highly intentional. Involve your learners, avoid being seduced or intimidated by what you see online, remember less is more and keep asking:  ‘What’s the purpose?’

Nellie Gibson at the International School of Prague works with her 5 year olds to enable them as documenters of their own learning.

How do you use your walls to nourish inquiry?

 Just wondering …

Experiencing the cycle of inquiry: reflections and reminders on World Ocean Day.

on world ocean day, I was lucky enough to be in one of my favourite places on this earth – the far nW coast of Australia. My inquiring mind is constantly activated in this ancient, sacred place.  A visit to a remote beach prompted this reflection on the concept of an inquiry cycle.  Perhaps the best way to understand ‘the cycle’ and to avoid the often simplistic misinterpretations of the process is to simply become aware of the way this process works in your own life. If you do this, you may better notice the recursive and nuanced nature of inquiry and understand it in your heart – as well as your head.

It takes is a while to find this particular beach. We make a few wrong turns and we are not even sure it is the right one until we walk down into it. Ah yes, this is the one. We are here.

Even with the best planning, not all inquiries begin with certainty and confidence. The first steps can be tentative:  Is this worth inquiring into? Is the ‘fit’ right for these learners?

It takes me a while to get into the rhythm of walking along what is very wet, soft and ‘sinking’ sand. It’s hard work and need to take it slowly.  My husband charges ahead – much more adept in this terrain. I am grateful for his patience and try to quell my frustration. Gradually I get the hang of it.

Even when we design the same learning task for our learners, it is inevitable some will need more time than others.  Being rushed has such a negative impact on learning.

 We find our way to the rocky platform further up the beach. With firmer footing, I begin to notice the environment around me. Memories of my young children scampering up cliff faces come flooding back together with a recollection of finding beautiful shells in similar beaches. I am struck by the way the cliffs have the same shapes and colours as one of my favourite beaches at home -I wonder if they have the same geological origins.

 Tuning in and connecting to prior experience is a natural, important part of an inquiry process.  We seek connection with what we know as new experiences trigger memories and invite us to look for patterns and relationships to existing schema. This provides us with a kind of cognitive anchor, a stable space from which to explore the new. Here is where we ponder the questions: ‘what do I know that is like this?’ ‘What does this remind me of?’

 The sun warms my back and I breathe in the beauty around me, closing my eyes. It is then that I notice it. The strange sound … a soft kind of crackling, crunching sound. Tiny little ‘popping’ noises that I can’t quite place. As I listen more intently, it gets louder. What IS that?

 Curiosity is often the result of an encounter with the unfamiliar and is nourished by the engagement of the senses. A true journey of inquiry begins when we are genuinely provoked to want to discover more – when we are engaged, fascinated and hungry to discover.

 I call Steve over. We theorise.  ‘What do you think that noise is?’  ‘I think that is just the water over the rocks’  Is it when we step on this seaweed? Here let me try – is that the noise?’ ‘No, listen, it is still there when we are standing still’  I think it is maybe something eating … it kind of sounds like chewing’ … listen, it is louder here…

 Opportunities to share theories, predictions and hypotheses are a vital part of the inquiry journey. Here is where tuning in becomes a deeper, more considered process. As theories are exchanged, the social construction of understanding begins. We are already beginning to find out from each other, testing possibilities, discounting some ideas and strengthening others. As our theories both connect and collide, questions naturally emerge.

And then we see it. Scuttling into a small crevice in the rock is a tiny hermit crab. We crouch down excitedly and begin to scan the area. Gradually, as our eyes adjust, we see more of them. They are so small! THIS is what is making the noise.  Dozens of minute hermit crabs each with a unique shell, scuttling across the rock surfaces. We have never seen such small ones. New theories emerge as we observe them closely. ‘Maybe this is like ‘the nursery’ for hermit crabs? Maybe they lay their eggs up this end of the beach where it is safer? We are mesmerized. Steve gathers some up in his hands for us to look at more closely.

In the early iterations of the model of inquiry cycle (first developed at the University of Melbourne) we used the phrase ‘the shared experience’ to describe what I now call simply ‘finding out’.  But there is no doubt that a direct, shared experience is the very best way for young learners to gather information.  When we design inquiry journeys, we place a heavy emphasis on field trips (or excursions as they are called in some parts of the world) as a powerful initial way for children to gather information. Firsthand experiences trump google every time.

It's only when we have spent some time delighting in this discovery – finding more and more tiny specimens as we explore, that our theorising morphs into question formulation. We have so many!  How do they ‘find’ the shell when they are born?  What attracts them to a particular kind of shell? What makes them move from one shell to another?  What do they eat? Are the huge hermit crabs we found as children still in existence? Why don’t we see them on beaches at home? Do they eat the animal that is in the shell and then take it over? Did the Aboriginal people in this area use hermit crabs for anything?

We often expect children to ask questions about something before they have actually had some kind of encounter or experience. But we don’t know what we don’t know.  While our prior knowledge might mean we have some questions entering a new inquiry, questions are more likely to emerge as a result of experience.  Questions ‘bubble up’ AS we begin our research. Theorising, investigating and questioning are not linear processes – they weave in and out of each other.

We don’t need answers then and there. We are enjoying our conversation, playing with possibilities, growing our thinking. As we observe the crabs more closely, we become even more curious and find ourselves in awe of their dexterity and speed. They make us laugh as they scuttle and tumble across the rocks. We don’t need information at this point. It would almost spoil things to have someone provide us with information then and there (unless it was David Attenborough of course!)  

When given time, opportunities to engage the senses and a direct shared encounter, - two powerful ingredients for learning can emerge: wonder and joy.  The opportunity to explore prior to receiving explanation is incredibly empowering for learners. It fuels curiosity (which makes new learning ‘stick’) stretches thinking and builds engagement.

We take videos and photos as we explore. It is important for us to document our discoveries in some way.  On our return, we re-visit the photos, google a few things and realise there are some questions we have that we want to ask a friend of ours (who is a marine biologist) when we next see him. 

 Documentation is pivotal to meaning making.  As we document and as we re-visit and reflect on that documentation, we help learners ‘sort out’ their experience. Some questions are answered, some remain. Theories are revised in the light of new information and tentative conclusions are drawn. The documentation allows us to leave traces of the inquiry to return to and connect with even as new inquiries emerge. Journeys of inquiry are braided throughout the year. And so much of this meaning making happens through the dialogue born of our shared experience.

 Later that evening, I notice something that has really stayed with me. I keep wondering about the hermit crabs my father used to occasionally bring home in buckets of seawater after fishing trips before returning them to the sea again. Giant, orange creatures housed in huge, exotic shells.  That was over fifty years ago. Are they still found in that part of the world? The question is connected to precious memories of my dad, of my childhood at the beach, of family. I want to find out more.

 The cycle of inquiry I have shared for many years includes an element I simply call ‘going further’. This is often misunderstood or reinterpreted by others in ways that do not align with the original intent. For the most part, ‘going further’ is about giving individuals and small groups opportunity to continue to inquire into aspects that are meaningful or interesting to them. This element is about really personalising the inquiry.

 Our encounter with these tiny, extraordinary creatures stays with us. We have, once again, been reminded of the precious beauty of this extraordinary planet.  Our senses feel heightened and our ‘antennae’ are up as we continue to explore this wild coastline. We feel more protective of it than ever before.

 Our ‘hermit crab’ inquiry was about much more than crabs. ‘Zooming out’ of the experience, there are so many powerful concept connections.  Continuity and change, cycles, adaptation, structure and function, diversity, care and sustainability to name a few.  Treating ‘topics’ as case studies and finding the conceptual connections that arise from them ensures our journeys of inquiry not only build knowledge but strengthen deeper, sustained conceptual understanding over time.

 Experiencing a journey of inquiry is only partly supported by process and the right ‘encounters’. It is the attitude we bring to these encounters that makes the difference. Curiosity, optimism, open mindedness, persistence and patience were pivotal to the ‘success’ of my experience.  In short – it was having an inquiry stance or ‘way of being’ that allowed me to be fully engaged.  These are dispositions nurtured in me from childhood but also those I have learned and grown through the years.

 And the very best teacher has always been nature itself.

When did you last experience your OWN journey of inquiry? How might this help you understand the process more deeply? How can we use our own experience of deep awe, wonder and joy to provide the same opportunities for children?

Just wondering…

Listening to small moments of wonder

On my final walk of the summer holidays, I decided to take a different path towards the beach. A little way along I almost stepped on this guy …a beautiful echidna, snuffling for ants and seemingly oblivious to my presence. It let me stay so close I could see the strange curve of its claws, the  colour of its spines and the tiny hairs on its beak.  This glorious, strange monotreme, unique to this country. Right in front of me and endlessly fascinating. This was a small but beautiful moment of ‘awe and wonder’. It slowed me down and drew me in. What a generous parting gift from nature as my holiday came to an end.  For me, such encounters, never fail to be exhilarating.  I can literally feel my heart respond, beating loudly in my chest, my breath quickening and the smile growing on my face.  I am alone, deeply connected  and fully present.

I am fortunate to be able to spend a lot of time in the natural environment. It is the source of my well-being and the sustenance of my curiosity. As has been noted by many, being in nature also helps keep our ego in check. It literally puts us in our place.  We are reminded that we are indeed, a tiny speck in what is a much bigger universe. We don’t matter as much as we think we think we do.  The natural environment is also the place I can rely on to nurture my curiosity – a disposition so vital to inquiry.

My echidna encounter was, of course, a simple, natural provocation. As I kept walking, I was aware of the questions ‘bubbling up’ in my mind.  ‘Why didn’t it walk away? Does it have a burrow/nest somewhere? Why do I only ever see them on their own? Are they solitary? What are its predators here?  I have written elsewhere  about what I feel to be at times, and a necessary emphasis on artificially constructed provocations for children. Or the sense that at times children are required to ask questions about things that they actually have no genuine curiosity about.

As we move into a new year, and after several weeks of being immersed in the natural environment, I am convinced yet again, that the best way to provoke, curiosity or and wonder in our learners is to remain open to the natural provocations that are around us each day.  Whilst there are copious resources and advice about cultivating curiosity these days (my own work included!), perhaps the best advice is the most simple. Get outside and, as the wonderful astrophysicist Neil de Grasse Dyson implores, get out of their way. Use the natural world, the surrounding community, the school grounds, a walk around the block. The world will provide.  And be curious. Share your moments of curiosity and wonder with your learners. Susan Engel and others who have done the deep research work in this field conclude that the role of the adult in nurturing children’s curiosity is critical.  I know that my little Echidna story and video will find its way into my teaching in the coming weeks. I will show children the photos and clips I took and share how I felt, what I noticed, and the questions that I walked away with.  It will be real and it will be from the heart. I may show them how I did some further investigation or they may start sharing their own moments of wonder from their holidays. Or both! Either way, I plan to intentionally and authentically be the curious learner I want to see in them. (And, no, they won’t need to be studying ‘animals’ to warrant that moment.)

Cultivating curiosity in children begins with cultivating it in ourselves. It means giving ourselves permission to take an unexpected pathway, slow down, notice and wonder. My time away was filled with small moments of wonder and awe gifted to me by nature. The politics of the birds in my garden (why are some species so much more aggressive than others?), the changing landscape of the beach I have walked since childhood (where have all the shells gone?), the sudden arrival of hundreds of dragonflies (why now?), the fog hanging so low over the ocean on a warm morning (why fog? is this basically a low cloud? What causes this?).  These musings not only help me continue to walk the world with a curious mind but provide me with something simple, real and rich to share with learners.  

… and when I do, I want them to reciprocate. I want to create a culture in which THEY excitedly bring their small moments of wonder into the classroom like precious jewels cupped in their hands.  Not only do we stimulate creativity and imagination through such sharing , we light the spark for true dialogue and discovery.  Each moment of genuine wonder has the potential to connect with powerful and transferable concepts. My Echidna encounter connects to concepts such as diversity, adaptation, environment and behaviour: ‘from little things,’ as singer Paul Kelly writes, ‘big things grow’

 In almost all cases, the authentic moments of wonder experienced by learners be easily traced back to the curriculum. Knowing your curriculum deeply helps you let it go and give yourself permission to lean in close to your learners and say, “I’m listening, that sounds WONDERful, tell us more …

How will you nurture your own and your learners’ curiosity as you begin the year?

How will you stay awake to the simple provocations the world will bring to you?

Just wondering…

 Kath

I come in peace ... (more) thoughts on navigating the extremes

Ingredients for a perfect storm …

-  A report suggesting teacher burnout should be addressed by providing teachers with more scripted lesson plans so they don’t need to plan so much

- A conference featuring a prominent academic who continues to characterize inquiry as an approach that is all about ‘minimal instruction’ and high cognitive load.

- A visiting principal of a radically strict, highly conservative school in London that has produced stellar results

All three things have happened in Australia in the last couple of weeks and seem to have reignited the annual fire, fuelled by media reports claiming inquiry-based/student centred learning is a ‘wacky’ pedagogy and asserting that parents are longing for the same kind of instruction they had at school, etc. etc. etc. The language used in print and social media is often littered with war vocabulary: ‘battle’, ‘sides’, rebels’ or blinding us with science (‘science of … ‘evidence’, ‘data’) almost gleefully pitting educator against educator with breathless claims that one or other pedagogy is ruining the lives of our children.

It's all a bit much and, quite frankly, each time it happens, my instinct is to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and wait until it dies down. 

Which may, in fact, be the most constructive thing to do …

 Because it certainly isn’t constructive to share – with ever so carefully crafted language, a response to these articles on twitter. I made the mistake of doing that on Sunday and within minutes was hit by a couple of nasty replies.  I don’t have the stomach for that stuff. I muted the conversation and then deleted the tweets and reminded myself why I keep twitter as a space for simple sharing of nice things. It can’t handle anything more.

 And yet – I DO feel some responsibility to respond. So I am choosing this space to share my response. I know I am preaching to the choir but that may not be such a bad thing. Perhaps, my attempts to offer (another) response to this futile, fabricated ‘war’ might help provide some language if you should find yourself confronted by a confused parent who has read the articles or simply as some discussion points with your colleagues. 

 OK – so here goes. Some thoughts …

 On definitions …

Just as explicit instruction has many definitions, interpretations and manifestations – so does inquiry. Simply stating that inquiry ‘means letting kids do what they want without little teacher guidance’ is as simplistic and ridiculous as saying explicit teaching means kids in silent rows reading powerpoint slides.  Before we weigh in on the argument, it is always useful to ask people to define their terms ‘What do you mean by explicit teaching/ inquiry learning? What actually happens? What do you do? What do kids do?  When I do that, I often find we have much more common ground than we assume.

 On quality teaching

There is (very) poor teaching in every approach. As I have said before, I would prefer to have a passionate, skilled, hardworking, knowledgeable teacher who wants the best for their kids using more teacher directed approaches than a half-hearted, ill-informed and unskilled teacher attempting to use inquiry. Teacher quality matters.

 On diversity

In an ecosystem of ‘schooling’ we may well need diversity of approaches. Inquiry does not suit every teacher (nor does it suit every student.) No one has ever said it does.

 On being explicit

Teachers who bring an inquiry stance to their work understand the importance of being explicit. It is more a matter of timing and emphasis. Inquiry teachers will generally design opportunities for exploration before detailed explanation but even this will depend on what is being inquired into and the degree of experience and background knowledge a student has.  Being explicit is about being clear and intentional  - this is as important in an inquiry approach as it is in any approach. A blend of explaining, modelling and demonstrating with problem solving, exploring, testing is often what a good lesson entails. Again, my hunch is we meet more in the ‘messy middle’ than we might think.  For example, we ALL seem to talk about activating schema, linking to past learning, checking for understanding …

 On evidence

There are many research papers supporting the effectiveness of inquiry-based approaches just as there are for more traditional methods. There is ample support for the approach amongst some cognitive scientists just as there is criticism from others. I am not sure that flinging evidence at counter evidence is particularly helpful. What is helpful is a strong, clear focus on the impact of how we work with the children and families in our communities.

 On knowledge

Although an inquiry-based approach favours conceptual understanding, it is impossible to develop that understanding without knowledge and you can’t ask questions about something of which you have no knowledge. Concepts are built from facts. While knowing isn’t understanding – it is the basis of it. Knowledge is important in an inquiry classroom.

On the curriculum

Inquiry approaches are sometimes seen as anti-curriculum. I often get asked that very question “but what about the curriculum that we have to cover?’  My recommendation is always to know the curriculum inside out. Then better you know it, the better equipped you are to help support students’ grasp of the ideas and skills it outlines. It is about how we address the curriculum. The Australian curriculum is full of references to skilled inquiry across several learning areas.  The fact that there is certain knowledge identified in the curriculum should not cause hand wringing angst for those who use an inquiry approach. That content may not lend itself to inquiry OR, if it does, then help children uncover it.

 On success

Claiming one method is more successful than another requires further interrogation. What do we mean by success? What is our view of the purpose of school? What is being measured?  Stellar exam results are one measure of success but as we all know too well – there is so much that is not measured that many people value – particularly in current contexts. The development of character, the capacity to learn independently, curiosity, flexibility, creativity and collaborative skills to name a few.

On staying open

Fuelling the unnecessary, simplistic and inaccurate polarization of approaches to teaching is unhelpful.  The media does it and so do those with extreme views but for most of us, a more nuanced approach fits best.  Let’s all refuse to be positioned as warring tribes.  Without wishing to sound too Polyanna about it all – there is a LOT we can learn when we take time to listen to the views of others that have different perspectives and beliefs to our own.  I have a whole section in my new book on the lessons I have learned from those who criticize inquiry. Staying open minded, willing to really listen, staying curious and willing to give ground feels much more productive and much less stressful – for me anyway

 On values

We all owe it to our kids to stay informed about our craft. Make no mistake, I come from a constructivist perspective and my deeply held values of learner agency, curiosity, collaboration and authenticity remain at my core and continue to guide my work. I believe in and have witnessed around the world, the power of high-quality inquiry based teaching and learning.  We need to keep reading, talking, listening and learning.  Finding the sweet spot between having clear values and beliefs about teaching and learning while staying receptive to the kaleidoscope of viewpoints out there is not easy … but ultimately if inquiry is at my core, I need to live the philosophy as I engage with different and often challenging perspectives - and refuse to be sent to war.

An (unexpected) wonder of Winsome

“ Names have power” Rick Riordan (The Lightening Thief)

She was always going to be ‘Winsome’ ,  the curious girl who inhabited my head for a long time before I wrote her into existence.  Maybe it was the alliteration, or the fact that the name itself represents a kind of innocence and lightness - wherever she came from, she was simply there.  She was Winsome, she was so clear in my imagination, and she was born wondering. 

From “The Wonder of Winsome’ by Kath Murdoch. illustrated by Sharyn Madder (2021)

Since publishing the book last year I have had so many delightful conversations with children about it. One of the first questions I hear is “Where did her name come from?” or ‘Why did you call her that?”  It seems that the name itself provokes wondering – it’s a welcome, albeit unexpected, outcome of publishing the story almost a year ago.  These questions have led to some beautiful conversations about names and how writers create their characters and how the name helps bring the person alive in your mind and, hopefully, in your readers’ minds too. 

 Ultimately, a writer hopes to connect with their readers in some way.  I am fortunate to work regularly in schools and have children and teachers talk to me about the way they feel about the story - but there has been one, quite different response I will never forget -one outcome of writing this book I could never have predicted and one gift that Winsome quietly gave, simply because she was called Winsome. 

……………….

One warm summer’s day earlier this year, when the streets of inner Melbourne remained empty and the doors of the magnificent state library were closed to the public, the staff continued to work with their ever-growing collection – receiving, cataloguing and shelving new books.  On this particular day, a staff member was assigned to the children’s book section and busily began the process.  Working her way through the new stack of titles, she picked up ‘The Wonder of Winsome’ and found herself, for the first time, seeing her name on the cover of a book.  Her response to that moment held such significance, she wrote to me: 

“ Holding the book for the first time a rather emotional moment for me...I have never seen another book with my name in it- I would buy books for my children with their names in them but I have never had one of my own. I was teased a lot at school because of my name (Win some, lose some, Winnie the Pooh) and even now as a 54 year old, I have at least one conversation a week about it with lots of people questioning it or making comments about my 'strange name'. I love your book for many reasons...I looked very similar to 'Winsome' at that age (same haircut, same face) and I am also very curious by nature (a self-confessed 'bookaholic', and I love study...I already have two degrees and other various certificates and course completions and am just about to embark on yet another course...). Thank you for writing your beautiful book.”

A couple of weeks later, I headed to the state library (now tentatively open to the public) with a copy of the book tucked under my arm, eager to meet Winsome herself.  It was a strangely emotional moment.  

Sitting in the glorious ‘dome’ room in which I’d spent so many hours reading and writing as a university student, the ‘real life’ Winsome told me a little more about her own story. As she spoke, I was reminded of the hidden power of names – of the ways we see ourselves in relation to the ways others see us and of the identities we attach to our names. I myself, spent my primary school years as Kathleen. The name my family called me and the name my friends called me were one and the same.  Perhaps as a reflection of our need to forge a separate identity in our teens, I became ‘Kathy’ for several years in high school until a teacher I absolutely adored (and who helped me see myself as a writer) called me Kath. From then on, I was Kath.  Our names can signify so much about the relationship we have with others and even with ourselves. Certain friends and family still call me Kathleen (and it would be odd if they didn’t) but when someone calls me ‘Kathy’ it jars … it’s more than simply not my name, it’s not ME. It’s not who I am.  For my new ‘real life’ Winsome, seeing her name used in such a celebratory and positive way seemed to signify a shift in how she could see herself – how she could choose to see, and feel, her beautiful name. 

Winsome and Winsome …

When I work in classrooms, I insist the children have name tags. I know the power of using their names. It is an instant bridge builder, a show of respect, a force for inclusivity and an opportunity to connect to culture. Our names do indeed, have power – the power to help us feel seen and loved and the power to be used as weapons of indifference (when they are forgotten or not used) or even worse, humiliation.  Talking to Winsome that day reminded me of the inextricable link between our names and our identity and how important it is for us to be reminded of that as educators. When we talked, Winsome said she felt a kind of ‘reclaiming’ of the name with which he had had such a conflicted relationship.  And in reclaiming our names, we can also begin reclaim the self that may have once felt unseen or misunderstood. 

 Among my favourite inquiries has long been to offer learners an opportunity to investigate their own names – the origin, meaning, cultural significance, and to share their learning with others which, in turn, can help contribute to the development of a strong, connected community. 

 I remain so grateful to whatever it was that brought the name Winsome to me. This little girl I manifested onto the page whose name held more power than I could have imagined.  

How have the power of names found their way into your teaching and learning experiences?

Just wondering …

(With thanks to ‘the real life Winsome’ who so generously gave me permission to share this story.)

What lies beneath? Personal values and inquiry learning

I recently had the pleasure of teaming up with two of my inquiry-pals, Trevor Mackenzie and Kimberly Mitchell for a ‘fireside chat,’ hosted by Toddle. As always, the conversation with stimulating and affirming and, hopefully, helpful for the audience who had posed some fascinating questions for us to discuss.  At one point in the conversation, Trevor explained the way he anchors his practice in his five personal values. It was one of those moments that gave me unexpected pause to ponder … ‘hang on, when did I last do a ‘values check’ on myself?’ 

We talk a lot about the importance of schools articulating their values and how these values help form principles that underpin actions, but it has been a while since I had stopped to think carefully about my ownvalues as an educator. If I had to identify the five that anchor me as an educator, what would they be? And have they changed over the years? And what difference would it make if I was more explicit and transparent about those values when working with teachers? And, most importantly, do my actions when working with teachers and kids reflect those values? 

I found it really stimulating to ponder these questions over the weekend and thought I would take a moment to share the five I finally settled on.  These values guide me as an educator with an inquiry stance. They guide me but I know I don’t always successfully honour them when I should, nevertheless, naming them might help that strengthen my actions. I am thinking about my values being like the roots of a tree: anchoring me, growing over time, nurturing me and intertwined with each other. 

Curiosity 

This will come as no surprise given my passion for inquiry, but I really DO think I hold this value deeply in my life, both in and out of education. Valuing curiosity helps keep my mind open to possibilities. It helps me approach interactions with questions, it promotes a healthy (I think) scepticism and encourages me to keep learning and stay humble. If I truly value curiosity, I welcome learners’ questions and I remain intrigued by their ways of seeing the world. If I value curiosity, I design learning experiences to cultivate that curiosity in others. If I value curiosity, I remain curious about myself as a learner and a teacher, hopefully always open to discovering new ideas and ways of thinking and being prepared to shed what no longer serves me and my colleagues well.

Connection (with the natural world and with people)

This is a big one, and one I think many educators share. For an inquiry-based educator, it is our willingness to build strong connections with learners and to each other that fuels our practice. Inquiry does not work well in an environment where people feel they need to keep arm’s length from others, rather it is unashamedly dependent on strong, authentic relationships that deepen over time. In order to sustain these human connections, I need to ensure they are authentic and they are nurtured. Ironically, having thousands of on-line connections can reduce the quality of those connections nearest and dearest to us or even give us a false sense of ‘being connected’. I think I have been made very aware of how strongly I value connection on returning to onsite work with staff and kids and experiencing, once again, the way true connection fuels our teaching souls! 

My connection to nature is where I find personal renewal and purpose.  This is an easy value to talk about but a more challenging one to truly live in practice. If I value connection to nature, I need to honour that connection in my everyday life, in my teaching, in decisions I make as a consumer and in where I choose to spend my time.  What I do know is that without re-connecting with the natural world on a regular basis,  I feel depleted.  This is one value I am trying to consciously strengthen in my conversations with teachers, the resources I share and my work with children. Talk that needs more walk! 

 Integrity

The older I get, the more significant this value is to me. I wonder if it would have made the top five list in my early career? I doubt it. There are so many threads woven into the concept of integrity, but I think the rise and rise of social media in education has a lot to do with the need for this value in my life. More then ever before, material is being produced, shared and sold without acknowledgemen or substantial research. The internet is awash with shiny, shallow offerings produced for (and by) teachers that look tantalizingly engaging but lack little substance or credibility.  I think this value helps me to be discerning and maintain a focus on quality wherever possible.    In many ways, valuing integrity helps me honour the other values. Am I truly living these out or simply talking and writing about them?  To value integrity requires courage. It means calling our injustice when you see it, it means asking hard questions around the planning table even when it feels uncomfortable, it means staying ‘above the line’ and resisting the temptation to compromise your beliefs for the sake of a smoother or easier process. I feel it when I fall below the line – we all do – but the more conscious I am of where that line is for me, the better teacher I can be. 

Depth

I struggled to find the right word for this one. But it really is a guiding value. When I am working with teachers and with children, my aim is always to get beyond the surface and to find time to dig more deeply into whatever we are thinking about. Over the years, I have come to understand more fully, the power of space, time and silence to nurture reflection and to remind myself to look, listen and think more closely and more deeply into whatever I am exploring. Give me a substantive conversation over a worksheet any day and loosen me from the shackles of ‘covering’ rather than uncovering. I have come to value the inevitable complexities that emerge when an idea is given time and space to reveal itself to a group. Rather than be alarmed by confusion, tension or uncertainty, I think experience can help us lean it to the fog, and stay with it knowing the view will be all the more clear and profound when it lifts.  When I am in the presence of educators unafraid to go deep, I know it brings out the best in my own thinking and helps me encourage young learners to deepen their thinking in the classroom. 

Creativity

I think this core value is one of the reasons I was attracted to teaching in the first place! I adore the creativity of being an educator!  It was this value that I also think drew me to inquiry all those years ago.  There is nothing more compelling, for me, than working with teachers and children to design experiences for learning and to witness the amazing range of ways that learning can be expressed. Because I value creativity, I need to design experiences that allow learners to communicate in a myriad of ways. Because I value creativity, I need to stay open to different ways of seeing. Because I value creativity, I need to ask questions that nurture it in others .. What if? How might? How could?  Because I value creativity, I am disinclined to use scripted materials, programs, pre-planned units or any ‘cookie-cutter’ activities.  Teachers are amazingly creative people and deserve the freedom to design for learning in response to what they see and hear in their students. Creativity brings ‘alive-ness’ to teaching. Creativity brings joy. 

So, there they are. At least there they are right now:  curiosity, connection, integrity, depth and creativity.  They are the amongst values that brought me to inquiry learning and the values that underpin the ways I approach it.  Of course, like any of these kinds of lists, it is impossible to really ascertain what your ‘top’ are – I may re-read this tomorrow and think that the other contenders (authenticity, humility, playfulness, beauty, agency…) should have made it onto the top 5, but the exercise alone is such a useful one. 

 I am so grateful to Trevor for his prompt and hope that by sharing these thoughts with you, I may prompt a similar reflection.  Exploring our personal values and sharing them with colleagues seem to me to be paramount to effective professional learning.  As has been said by many, one of the reasons behind failures for ‘innovation’ to be sustained in classrooms is when the personal values of the educator is in conflict with the spirit or intention of the innovation. If you strongly value ‘compliance’, for example, (a valid value particularly in some cultures) then approaches that are all about nurturing agency will be harder to implement.  

So, what are your top five?  Do they successfully guide your practice? How do we manage ourselves when our core values conflict with the school’s values?  When was the last time you did a personal values ‘check in’?  What might others assume you value from the way you teach and interact with children, colleagues and parents? Have your values as an educator changed over time? 

 Just wondering …