The Heart of Teaching

The Heart of Teaching

An Essay based on

Bridging the Heart and Mind: Community as a Device For Linking Cognitive and Affective Learning by Maureen P. Hall

Written by

Marcial I. Enginco

For

Dr. Grace S. Koo

Professor, EDFD 206 Affective Learning

College of Education

University of the Philippines Diliman

With various personal concerns and modern distractions such as the internet with its amazing array of youth-oriented web and social networking sites, gadgets, gaming applications and whatever is in in popular culture plaguing the consciousness of today’s students, getting them to pay attention long enough to engage in meaningful, sustained learning is getting more and more challenging for the classroom teacher wishing to impart cognitive-directed lessons.  This alarming reality can be observed in schools everywhere where many students enter the classroom showing pedestrian interest in enriching their minds in the manner by which the subject teacher deems fit and appropriate in a learning environment; such students instead give more time and effort on superficial concerns that make their young life relevant to themselves, their peers and the times.

If the mind is the final frontier in education, then it has certainly moved to a place where it has become more difficult to reach.

I agree with Maureen P. Hall’s assertion that one of the most effective accesses to the mind – for cognitive learning and I say also for psychological development -- is through the heart as a gate, or across it as a bridge.  But perhaps due to her singular focus on the positive and ideal applications of the concept, she did not broach the idea that affective classroom experiences may also result in negative implications, and thus teachers should be wary of their speech and actions because they do carry weight in the young’s mind and will essentially serve as a kneading pressure in the shaping of his still developing psychological makeup.

My youthful schooling was characterized by restlessness, apathy and general disinterest in classroom proceedings.  However, I recall separate instances when appeal to my emotions either encouraged or forced me to sit up, pay attention and learn something new.

When I was in Grade 2, I was a fairly quiet and observant student.  I generally kept to myself in my seat at the last row where I did my time, being one of the tallest.  While I was not a nuisance inside the classroom I was also neither a star in class discussions and activities.  I was just a boy who stood up or participated only when called to do so.  One time, I was busy twirling the ends of a plastic straw under my desk, hidden from view of my teacher Mrs V who was busy writing something on the board.  When the straw had turned into a tight cord with only a small air bubble trapped in the center I knew the twirling part was over and the exciting finale – the bursting of the air bubble with a violent flick of a coiled finger – must inevitably ensue.  The climax was signaled by a small but sharp exploding sound that caught my teacher’s attention, and ire.  She looked at my direction, and because my seatmates were also looking at me, she readily knew who the culprit was.  She threw a lengthy rant at my direction but the only thing I remembered was her telling me in a shrill voice “Sabi ko na nga ba makulit ka, eh!” which surprised me because until then I never knew that quietly working on a project constituted kakulitan.  I have witnessed some of my teachers let out steam before but they were mostly directed towards a collective misdeed by the class or a particular group; never have I experienced being singled out which brought a feeling of embarrassment and the equivalent of a psychological christening that I was a mischief.  Branding made me learn that I was.  Until now I don’t know what triggered that conclusion; perhaps she noticed something in me that stewed and brewed suspicion inside of her, which boiled out in a convenient outlet in that single innocent moment.  I know that things could have been different had she been more tactful, composed and non-judgmental in her treatment of me.

Mrs V was not alone in misusing the affect to create a cognitive effect.  Miss M, a large woman with a menacing stare and a frightening demeanor taught me, and practically all my classmates in Grade IV, how to do a proper squat: the more it hurts, the more we are doing it right.  She made us do this for any missed assignment, wrong answer or any perceived misdeed which she thought can only be redeemed when our knees began to tremble.  When we gained enough strength in our limbs because of repeated training, she upped the ante by placing books on our outstretched arms which ultimately accomplished her goal of seeing trembling knees.  She did not only keep an eye on me inside the classroom but also outside of it.  I was an energetic kid who loved to run and jump, jump more particularly.  Once during a recess, I gave in to the urge to reach a gumamela flower perched high atop a branch.  I did manage to bring down the flower, along with the entire branch.  I was feeling some sense of accomplishment holding a nice little flower attached to a four-foot long twig when Miss M came along, introduced two of her fingers to a select few of my hairs in my developing sideburn so that I can better hear how she was vigorously telling me that I was such a destructive little gnat.  I learned that day that even boys can freely cry, bawl if needed, when subjected to severe physical pain coupled with extreme fear and humiliation.  Last I heard of her, she became a Missus then a Miss again when she mistakenly believed that a hammer may also be used to create a lump in a husband’s cranium.

And there were more who contributed to my treasure trove of dread, rage, disdain and discomfort inside the classroom.  But for all the Mrs V’s and Ms M’s of my school life, there were also those who engaged my cognitive mind by warming my heart and making me feel secure and appreciated.  Sense of security and feeling appreciated are hallmarks of students that, according to Hall, are more open and motivated to learn.

There is my Grade III teacher, Mrs Encarnacion who was firm but gentle, patient and reassuring.  She was the first teacher who made me feel at ease, secure and at peace inside the classroom.  I felt appreciated when she consistently gave me high marks and praises in the only subject that I truly liked and was good at – Arts.  And it was only under her tutelage that I managed to crack the Honors’ Roll for the first and only time (lasted for a single grading period), not because I was particularly impressive but because, and this is only my conclusion now, she thought that I would be more motivated to study harder if I knew I was good enough to be officially considered as part of the top of the class.  Unfortunately, there was a lot of turmoil and uncertainties happening in my personal life that made such a desired change of heart difficult to actualize.  As I look back, I know that if all was well in my home front then that would have been the perfect time for me to pick up my interest in school.

There is also Ms Katigbak, whom we called Ms Grammar, who despite her silence-inducing stare and low droning voice, singled out my essays as impressive and aligned me on a long trajectory to a field where I will be part of someday; Mr Katigbak (Ms Katigbak’s brother) who cracked jokes and made us laugh at our mistakes and frivolities us we orated, “Friends, Romans, countrymen… lend me your ears,” and inspired us to read the newspaper, particularly the editorial, because he was confident and intelligently conversant in so many issues and topics, and; Ms Millendes, our pretty Social Studies teacher who recognized that I had something important to say when she called on me during recitations where no one among my classmates had answered correctly or sufficiently, and who advised me, in a caring tone, to prove that I have more between my ears than I would care to use or show.

I always believe that the teachers whom students remember best and learned most from are not necessarily the most intelligent nor the most organized and prepared, but rather those that have shown the most passion inside the classroom, who wore their hearts on their sleeve and filled the classroom with emotions and feelings.  Intense feelings are what help students to be engaged, to learn and unlearn, or to be inspired and driven.

My first brush with teaching came when I served as a volunteer tutor for the wards of Tuloy sa Don Bosco, a foundation that took children off the streets, sheltered them, and provided them with education with the end goal of integrating them to mainstream society as productive and responsible members.  Volunteers like me -- professionals willing to devote 2 to 3 hours after work, once or twice a week -- served as the link between the street-toughened kids and the tough real world.

The tutorial sessions were very informal, consisting mainly of an hour of lessons and a medley of conversations, sharing, counseling and prayers.  Surprisingly, the kids gravitated towards me; freely revealing stories they kept from other volunteers, which made them more open to accepting guidance and of course, learning their lessons.  Soon, the core group of volunteers began assigning me to the most difficult boys; those who have committed crimes but cannot be jailed because they are minors, the violent ones who a lot of volunteers try to avoid, and those that rarely talked or displayed their emotions.  I managed to connect with them cognitively by establishing an affective affinity.  But that was years before I had the urge to teach in a formal educational institution.

In many ways, I felt like a man outside looking in when I started to teach for real.  My lack of formal training in education exposed me to a strange world of structures such as syllabus, time and classroom management, planning lessons and modules, test constructions and many others which I all had to learn on the fly.  Not surprisingly, it was my ability to connect on an affective level that helped me create a learning environment that worked for me and my students.

Inside my classroom, I encouraged my students to ask questions, share ideas, make mistakes, explore possibilities, take on challenges, challenge me, criticize me, laugh, cry, get angry, feel frustration, empathize.  In short, I regarded them as valuable individuals with important options and decisions to make – not just mere students programmed to receive and follow because they are equally capable of giving and teaching if they are empowered to do so.

The modern time has made it more difficult for teachers to penetrate the students seeming blanket of apathy towards learning.  But one thing hasn’t changed, connect with the heart, and the mind will open up.