FEB 2025 - Outsider

As part of a rotating team of selected faculty, I spent a semester working at the Center for Teaching Effectiveness at the University of Delaware after having taught many workshops for them. My primary responsibility was to support teachers who were experiencing difficulties in their classrooms and had asked for help. My practice was to spend time watching the person teach, noticing the students’ reactions, often videotaping the session. I then met with the faculty member to offer suggestions. 

One of the professors I helped taught in the College of Education and nominated me to be part of a newly formed curriculum committee whose task was to restructure the course of study for students majoring in elementary education. He supported my appointment by listing the workshops I’d led both in the US and abroad as well as the essays and books I’d written—all focusing on creative approaches to education using the arts. I accepted the subsequent invitation and asked for the current elementary education curriculum.

The first meeting was organizational. As people talked about their experiences, I realized none of the faculty had spent any time teaching in an elementary school classroom—not a good sign for innovation. We were given copies of a new possible curriculum, which we were told was developed by a few senior faculty, which we were told was temporary. I was not impressed, but, given that it was temporary, I raised the questions: “What does temporary mean? What is the educational philosophy behind the agenda? What is the impetus behind restructuring a curriculum that has been in place for decades?” The Chair of the committee wrote down my questions without asking for comments and talked about the College of Education’s fine reputation. The meeting ended with handshakes and smiles, neither of which included me.

I spent a fair amount of time analyzing the old and new curricula, unable to see much of a difference, but maybe the so-called new curriculum was just a starting point. I attended the next session obviously holding the two documents. I asked the Chair if we could talk about what was considered new. “I’m curious as to why there is no mention of kids writing and illustrating their own books to develop reading and writing skills, and no inclusion of creative drama—a well-tested technique for developing language arts and self-esteem.” When this was received with frosty silence, I added, “Perhaps, since the new curriculum is temporary, these kinds of creative approaches to learning will be included.”

The subsequent discussion focused on test requirements and preparation for practice teaching. It was as if I wasn’t in the room. Before the meeting ended, I tried once again. “When we next meet, I’d like to talk about creative approaches to learning. I’ll bring copies of referred articles to document the relevance of arts-based education as well as the importance of using the arts to teach reading, writing, and speaking.” I tried to lighten the atmosphere by adding, “I even used a story to teach arithmetic.” The Chair thanked everyone for coming and left the room, followed by the faculty—all male.

When I told colleagues about the sessions, they said, in various ways, I should go along with the program or resign. There was no chance the faculty would agree to any kind of innovation such as those I had suggested because they hadn’t been taught this when they were in graduate school and they taught what they had been taught. Even though I agreed with them, I kept going to the meetings, curious as to what the “new” curriculum would look like.

We received copies of the final document ahead of time so we could comment on it at the next meeting. I couldn’t see much difference. No mention of any arts-based activity. We went around the table. All of the comments were positive. When it was my turn I said, “This ‘new’ curriculum might have been new 15 years ago but it doesn’t take into account any of the current research on innovative approaches to learning.”

The Chair didn’t hesitate.” That you for coming Dr. King. Your service is no longer required.” I don’t stay where I’m not wanted. I said, “Thank you,” and left. 

About a year later, I developed an educational curriculum for honors students who wanted to teach elementary school but didn’t want to be education majors. I arranged for internships between the junior and senior years, courses in arts-based activities, and the promise of post-graduate fellowships. Those applying were assured this program would enable them to teach elementary school without having an elementary education major. 

How you ever had to confront peers who refuse to look at new possibilities? If so, how did you respond?

---

FEBRUARY 2025 MONTHLY STORIES