As third level teacher educators, we strive to develop students that will become skilled and competent facilitators of learning. We hope that our students will advocate for children’s agency, that they will want for children in their classes to become independent, self-directed learners, to develop their curiosity and their critical thinking skills. We promote enquiry-based learning, in the hope that young children will be equipped with life-long learning tools. We wholly reject the idea of ‘giving children the answers’, as we embrace a view of teaching as scaffolding, as supporting, as facilitating. We emphasise to our student teachers that it is these key learning dispositions that are most important to develop for young children.
Let us look then at the world of the influential world of social media and teacher education, and what it is saying to our student teachers and to our newly qualified teachers about what is important.
Firstly, I am struck by the ‘Ask me a question’ box that so frequently features on education social media accounts. Student teachers and newly qualified teachers send in questions which are answered almost immediately. Questions can range from ‘What do I need to know on the first day teaching junior infants?’ to ‘How should I prepare for my Droichead observation?’. And while I do not dispute the important source of support that such a feature provides for newly qualified teachers, and acknowledge the huge generosity and goodwill of those who offer it, I do wonder what such a feature says about enquiry, self-directed learning, independence and agency?
I wonder about it, particularly in light of the emergence of a common narrative at third level – a narrative about how ‘helpless’ students have become. How their first instinct is to send an email seeking a solution or an answer to a query, rather than to check a handbook, or look on a website for the information. Then comes the second email, only 24-hours (or less) later, asking why you haven’t replied, or Cc’ing you on the same email now sent to another member of staff who is deemed more likely to reply. There is shock, outrage, indignation amongst staff about the level of demand, the expectancy to be available 24/7 to answer queries and to provide solutions. There are questions asked about the students’ capacity to engage in self-directed learning, and why they do not have the skills to source the information for themselves.
Upon reflection on this, the ‘Ask me a question’ box came to mind, as did the multiple resources being offered on social media to students that provide them with solutions to almost any query they will encounter in their teaching – samples of first day timetables, samples of planning documents, lists of ‘top 5’ pieces of equipment, lists of books for the class library, top tips for managing challenging behavior. The list goes on, and it appears infinite. So much information. So many answers to questions.
So when did the art of teaching become something that we have all the answers to? When did it become a puzzle that can be solved?
Because the thing is, there are no answers. There is no one way to do it ‘right’. Sure, there are programmes to implement, curriculums to guide us, and courses to develop our skills. But ultimately, teaching is a moveable, malleable and changeable beast. It is a big, giant problem-solving task that demands us to keep thinking, and to never know all of the answers.
Those initial days as a newly qualified teacher are all about experimenting and succeeding, and experimenting and failing. Those really tough days when things don’t work out, they are part of a rich process of learning, of refining our skills, of enabling us to reflect on our practice. Those days are absolutely invaluable to the art of teaching, even more so than the good days. The not knowing is far more important than the knowing.
When I left St. Pat’s to begin my teaching career, I had no idea what teaching ‘looked like’. Despite my three years of teaching practice experiences, the picture in my head it was still very blurry, undefined, messy. I began with a blank canvas, and I was given an opportunity to splatter paint all over that canvas, and to see what stuck.
Now I look at our newly qualified graduates, and I see that they are bombarded with images of what teaching ‘looks like’. Thousands and thousands of little squares all contributing to a preconceived idea of what ‘good’ teaching looks like. The truth is, the true essence of teaching is impossible to capture in a photograph, in a little square. In fact, it is almost impossible to capture in words.
Teaching is a creative art. I often hear student teachers say things like ‘oh, well I am not creative’ or ‘I’m not a creative person, I couldn’t teach like that’. I said those very words myself – the rest of my family are creative, but not me. But we each have the potential to creative, and teaching is creation.
It is through the struggle and the challenge to solve the ‘problems’ that we face each and every day in the classroom, that our creativity reveals itself. To have to go away and think, to wonder about something, to dig a little deeper, to reflect…rather than to find the answer online, or imitate someone else – this is where creativity grows. And while we still might not the find answers, and we may not ‘fix’ the problems, we are sharing our unique and individual selves with the children, just as we hope we will enable them to do in the world.
It is this unknowing, this arduous truth-seeking task that rewards us with the highest of highs, and that sinks us to our lowest lows. This is teaching.


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