Online Teaching has been a real learning curve for me. In a subject like English, it is difficult to transition from such a discussion-based methodology to one where a dialogue is created on a screen. This, I feel, is a barrier to the meaningful debate and as a result, I have attempted to create engaging and enriching material which will serve as a springboard into my students'imagination. At least, that is the hope. I tend to structure my lessons with some sort of a hook, or idea to get them going, then build onto our online meeting and then finish with their task. I have used YouTube as a platform for some of my resources, and felt that sharing a few here would at least document what I feel will be a watershed in our thinking about teaching. What I have learnt in this space, is that with providing resources online, there is the promise of students being able to govern their own initial learning, and this is a rich epiphany. Perhaps we can recreate schools where we see the students three or four times a week, with one day dedicated to the tasks, and the development of responses? Maybe we can look at a later start to allow for sport in the morning? Many of my boys have found that they are far more productive after a morning run or cycle - and it makes sense. Fresh oxygen is going to their brain, they feel the release of endorphins and are energised for the work ahead. And then we could devote our contact time to the richness of discussion that is foregrounded by the work already done on that day at home. Anyway - some thoughts. I just hope that we take this opportunity to grow our teaching craft, because history doesn't afford opportunities to redefine a system very often. So, here are some of my works - predominantly around the Grade 10s where the boys are studying an elected 'Into the Wild' module with our setwork being one of my all-time favorite books - 'Where the Crawdads Sing' by Delia Owens. There is some other work from my Grade 11s related to the Power of Words as well. Enjoy.
I guess that gleaming a lesson from everything is wired into my Teacher DNA. We search for meaning and purpose in everything.
This is the insight that Lockdown has given me. Let me start from day 1. Like many of you, when I found out that I would be confined to my home with my family for this extended period, I started to plan. I made lists of things I was going to do: came up with little projects to sustain the days and tried to work out how I was going to balance my life. All I wanted during Lockdown was for our household to be a happy place – full of laughter and shining eyes. How I was going to achieve this, goodness only knew. Whilst I was trying to get my head around the next few weeks quite by accident I came across a Mindfulness Journey run online by Londolozi. I hadn’t done anything like it before, so thought I would give the course a go. Their quiet reflections often spoke about gratitude, and this became a subtle theme in the background to my Lockdown. The most over-riding emotion that I feel after looking back on the past 21+14 Days is that of gratitude. I have always known my thankfulness for the life that I have been given, but considering the perspective which I have gleaned now, this gratitude is more intense. I have gleaned a better understanding of what it means to be grateful. I think that too often being appreciative is dummed down to a list of obligations, or sometimes guilts, but I learnt that being grateful is a million little realisations that happen all the time, and leave one feeling humbled. I am grateful for being able to live on a campus abundant with birds and small wildlife: an oasis in the city. I am grateful for having my wife and two children with me over Lockdown. I am grateful to be able to end each day in the arms of the woman I love. I am grateful for having a salary where I could put food on the table. Grateful for the warm summer days, for imagination, for virtual safaris, my workshop, laughter, warm conversations after the kids had gone to sleep, books, a pencil and paper, music, wine (until it ran out). Grateful for the rain, for the “Good Lord Deliver Us” Nightjar in the field next to our house. I am grateful for all of the people that were not with me: my parents, brother, friends, students, colleagues. I would start my day with these thoughts every morning, trying not to repeat any of my gratitudes. Before the sun came up, and the dawn was an orange blush on the horizon, I would ride my mountain bike around our school trails on my own. We were lucky to have this privilege living on the campus. Our house and the rest of the world was still asleep, and as I rode, the world would awaken with a chorus of birds, each one joining with songs as they were shaken from rest. There was a peacefulness without traffic, without aircraft overhead. I would startle spurfowl near the ridge, the same family of two adults and three podgy chicks. I joined flocks of brown red bishops, fluffy in their winter coats and watched long-tailed mousebirds fly overhead. The grass would be entwined with dewy spiderwebs and if I was lucky I would see the slender mongooses behind the astro. And I would escape into my mind as I rode. This me time became so important. It gave me a space to reflect on past, present and future. In the pace of our world, brimming with doing and not enough breathing, I had forgotten to be still and introspect. And so in this way I began to look at how to disrupt the imminent “Groundhog Day” feel that lockdown would wear. I found that social media became a scrapbook more than an activity. I found that television and Netflix lost their appeal very quickly. So instead of a digital world, we decided to explore our garden more and make things together. We started creating a list of birds that visited our garden which swelled to over 50 different species. We watched a Black Sparrowhawk chase a dove overhead, counted the starlings and barbets that feasted at our bird table. We crept up to the thrushes and robins that flitted in the dark recesses of trees. On one afternoon, the louries were alarming in the paperbark tree and following their gaze, we saw a spotted eagle owl that was sunning itself on a hidden corner of our roof. We made kites, flew tethered Chinese Lanterns, created board games. We watched the sunrise and counted the stars. We had picnics on the lawn and created pretend campsites under the trees. We played with the dogs, whittled model boats from wood and had drive ins in the garden. We watched our neighboring the blacksmith plovers hatch and fledge. My daughter created safaris where we stalked around the garden to find hidden soft toy animals. We painted, sketched and drew. Made things out of clay. And baked…a lot. We made our own pizzas, braai’d on the patio and read books. We made milkshakes, roasted marshmallows, climbed trees and lay in the sun. We enjoyed virtual game drives and watched the hyaena pups grow up on Wild Earth. We revisited old photographs of family holidays and made our own colorfully frothy experiments. We did all of the things that we never seemed to find the time for in our normal life. Not that there weren’t the distractions of the odd iPad here and there, but we tried to bury the technology as much as we could. Outside was our refuge. And in each of these moments, I realsed something. I found that creating time together as a family where we did small things together was so important, and something that I had neglected prior to lockdown. And most of it evolved around being outdoors. As a family we began to thirst for the bush, for the wild spaces. I don’t know how many other people felt the same. I guess that with the silence of the deserted streets and clear skies, nature showed herself more regularly, or maybe we just spent more time outside to see her. I wonder how many other things had been forgotten prior to Lockdown. I wonder how many of those things would hold more meaning in all of our lives after Lockdown? I wonder if we will all carry on being grateful for the world around us when life returns to normal? I wonder… I guess that what I am trying to say is that despite being confined to missing so much, I think that we gained a lot as a family as well. I am not sure that I want to be inside all the time in front of a screen. I think that I need to slow things down sometimes. I need to make more time for the people that are rooted in my heart. I need to make space to think. Time has allowed me more moments to be thankful for all of this. As the crisp autumn leaves begin to drop from the trees, I find that my gratitude has made me re-scaffold my priorities. I will not always have time like this, and when work begins again, another layer will be added to my world. As it must. But I should not forget what I have learnt. As I prepare for the new term, I find that my teaching prep is becoming more inquisitive, more probing. I focus my efforts more on life lessons than how to guides. I look at transplanting more introspection between lines of literature and self-awareness in the rhyme of a poem. I will work at the balance of my life. What can say with conviction, is that there is something about being outside that serves as a constant reminder of this balance. As the wind presses gently against my skin and the sun warms my back, I feel something nourishing about just being outside. Being able to look at the piercing blue sky just feels less sterile. There is an energy to the world that is given by the elements. It brings a feeling of interconnectedness, it brings a sense of rhythmic life. It brings joy. And what I have realized, is what I am most grateful for: the opportunities that the outside world creates to feel this joy with the people that I love. Because eventually, our global crisis will end, and when it does, it will be important that what we have all learnt during Lockdown does not. I went on a ride on my bike through the spirit towards Delta Park. When I reached the park, it was bursting with people (all at an appropriate social distance) absorbing their last chance to be in nature for a while. There was so much joy and happiness at being outdoors which was in stark contrast to the crisis looming over our country. It was moving. So I got off my bike and wrote this.
The Corona Prism Tomorrow has taken on new significance: Tonight not just another sunset Today not just another day. Tomorrow has filtered the spectrum of our lives Colours for what is important And what Is not. We lived today for itself Realizing the little things that matter And forgetting the big things that don’t. We walked together in parks (At a distance) Wrapping ourselves in nature Some for the first time In a long time. We noticed pinkwhite cosmos That were rooted there for months And bee eaters of telephone lines That have been here since October. We reveled in the simplicity of a walk And dusted off a bicycle. We listened to the wind in the leaves And children laughing. The world seemed different today. Maybe a difference that should be A just is. And tomorrow things will change. But maybe we will look through our prisms And nurture the nucleus of our families. We will find joy in books again, Have real conversations And learn about each other. We will empathize, Reassess And love. Maybe the day after tomorrow Will reveal a world Of better people All because of today. The Round Square Regional Conference in Grahamstown was an incredibly enlightening experience for me. This was the first gathering of this nature that I attended and what is unique is that the student programs are driven by the learners themselves. The staff ran with a parallel program that sometimes overlapped what the students were doing, and as such, it allowed us space to make connections, share ideas and debate good practise amongst ourselves.
The delegates from Namibia, Ghana, Tanzania, Kenya and South Africa, therefore created a colourfully diverse arena where we were able share varied opinions and ideas derived from different experiences in different schools. Grahamstown was an ideal space where this could happen. This part of the Eastern Cape is an area that I have not been to before. The layout of St Andrews College as well as the accessibility of everything in this student city made it an ideal landscape for the conference. There is a sense of history to the town, and I think that this added an underlying gravitas to the significance of what was explored over the four days. The Round Square Conferences run according to the acronym IDEALS (Internationalism, Democracy, Environment, Adventure, Leadership and Service) coupled with the Discovery Framework. As such, in addition to the guest speakers that elicited discussions amongst the students about world issues, the group attended a number of outings. I was fortunate to attend the Environmental excursion to the renound Born Free Foundation at the Shamwari Private Reserve. This reserve had gained fame as being part of an Animal Planet television series as well as being home of the charity formed by the actress that played Joy Adamson in the film Born Free. This facility is crucial for the education around the dire situation that big cats find themselves, and in particular, leopards and lions. We were able to meet a number of these felines that had been confiscated from zoos and circuses where they had previously been the victim of abusive practises. The most vocal was a lion names Nelson who had been confiscated from a zoo in France. His deep roars were loud enough to resonate in my chest as we approached his enclosure and saw this magnificent lack-maned male. The staff from the Foundation were passionate about explaining their work, and driving home the dangers of lion petting facilities. On our game drive we were lucky enough to explore some of the arid landscape and close to the Bushmans River we came across a free-roaming lion walking along the road. Further highlights for me included the Park Run at the Botanical Gardens where we sweated up the deceptively steep hill to the encouragement of the other delegates. I also enjoyed the adventure race that took place on a section of the Oldenburgia Hiking Trail. The students had to make their way around a course, solving various challenges at the same time. These included a scavenger hunt, cycling around an off-road track, fishing and map reading. The boys and girls had a great time making their way through the valley and for many this was one of the highlights of the trip. We also spent some leisure time at Kenton on the beach. The sea was icy and not many chose to swim, but the scenery was breath-taking with the Kariege Lagoon an entrancing azure blue. But aside from all of this, making connections with the various staff from other schools was probably the most important ‘take home’ for me. From discussion the increasing liabilities of excursions to sharing ideas on how to use the Discovery framework in our schools. The Round Square organisation is about the sharing of ideas. This is a vital component in driving education forward. It was heart-warming to hear from various heads and teachers who are doing their utmost to create a better global future through the encouragement of students with integrity, responsibility and a social conscience. There are a number of initiatives which I would like to implement as a result of these conversations, and therein lies the significance of my experience. Two tragedies occurred on Monday. The one received massive publicity and the other was barely noticed.
At the same time as Notre-Dame burnt down, the last female Yangtze Softshell Turtle died in China’s Suzhou Shangfangshan Forest Zoo, making this species officially extinct. Within 24hrs over €600million had been pledged to rebuild an iconic building yet the extinction of another species has gone with barely an acknowledgement let alone the pledge of millions of Euros to halt or at least slow the current mass extinction event. The donation of funds towards Notre Dame's rebuilding is noble, but is it as much of a priority as finding was to halt the natural destruction that is besieging our planet? We place a ridiculously skewed value on objects that are far from essential to our (human) survival yet watch as ecosystems rapidly degrade to the point of collapse - at what cost to humanity? I value both our cultural and natural history but it’s essential to remember and value planetary integrity over symbolism. The French would, inventive as they are, certainly be able to rebuild their monument without this injection of funds, and I am not trying to demean their personal and iconic loss. It just makes me think about the things that are prioritised in our world. Are Shelley's observations in his poem Ozymandias being repeated? Just my two cents and maybe food for thought. No intention to offend. There is an old building in the centre of the Pilanesberg National Park which used to be a Magistrate’s Court, built in 1936. It is a bit of a neglected old building, with chipped white paint that bleaches an arched entrance into an open courtyard. From there, the view opens up beyond the wooden railing to meteoric hills and thorned acacia trees. There is a small wallow of a watering hole that meandering game paths network towards, bringing with them herds of kudu, giraffe and zebra. Sometimes glimpses of ambling elephants or even the odd leopard have frequented the spot. It is also a busy human space as many of the people who visit the park use the centre to break up game drives with a cup of coffee or an ice-cream. There is a restaurant, but one that is ramshackle in its approach: sticky cooldrinks bringing thirsty bees and left-over food attracting cheeky hornbills or monkeys. And that is a real shame, because it could be a place of bushveld reverie and insight. Imagine capturing the spirit of the old building with a book shop that offers a plethora of Africana literature. The courtyard could be refirbished with a dark wooden deck, its centerpiece a giant tree that has long-since extinguished its life but is reborn into a towering trunk that cascades leafless branches over the intense blue sky. It could be decorated with tasteful beaded animals and birds indigenous to the park. Maybe a geko is caught in mid-escape up the bark, or the statues of hoepoes, frozen crested on a delicate branch. To enhance the shade their are triangular sails that swipe the sky, pressing a cool breeze down to the deck below. Beneath the tree are scatterings of mismatched chairs which catch dapples of shade. There is also a giant table, made by weathered railway sleepers where people sip a cup of coffee or a refreshing Steelworks and page through titles like Cry of the Kalahari, The Elephant Whisperer or The Man with the Black Dog. They are distracted by the birds and animals that intersect with this human sanctuary, and look up from a white rhino on the page of a book, to see the real thing masticate a mouthful of grass. Around the perimeter of the courtyard are tall shelves of books, interspersed with watercolour paintings of different animals. Between the books are artifacts from the park: a nest from a weaver; the skull from a bushbuck or a gleaming white ostrich egg. The books would form an unsurpassed collection of wildlife in words: a glimpse into the insights and passions that devoted lovers of the wilderness have made into their own. The light fittings, paraffin lanterns adapted for electricity, create gentle pools of light into the darker spaces. Often new books on the subject of the environment are launched from here and often authors decide to do signings and informal talks in this unique space. The book shop is also something of a living museum with indigenous plans and bonsai versions of local trees scattered on and between small coffee tables. There is a private glass booth where all of the bird and animals calls can be identified. One of the walls is made of plaster-cast hoof and footprints, interspersed with various insects preserved in resin. The patrons, brimming with enthusiasm from being in the bush, eagerly seek more and new information on wildlife they have just seen. It is a book shop with a pulse of life. Outside, and beside the old building, there is a fenced, grassy area where families can enjoy a picnic beneath the trees. This replaces the restaurant of fast foods and sugary drinks. Instead, one can order a basket of crackers, freshly-baked bread and rolls or a variety of cheeses and preserves. Families swap stories of their sightings, brag about the photographs they have taken and absorb the beauty of the space around them. There is that frequent question of, if you won the lottery, what would you do with the money? Well, this bushveld book shop would be at the top of my list. Sometimes we forget that getting away from the city can happy within its confines. Whether it is hitting the Spruit on a mountain bike, running through the blooming cosmos in Delta Park or having a picnic by Emmerentia Dam, escaping the bustle of everyday life can be as easy as just that.
This past weekend a few of us decided to take advantage of the place where we life and have a camp out just below the school dam. We set up in the mid-afternoon underneath a row of paperbark trees that ran along a terrace just beneath the dam wall. The Sandton lights were a flicker in the distance, and with a bit of imagination, it felt like we were in fact out in the bush. We spent time with our kids, fishing in the dam and walking between the trees in search of birds until sunset. Then it was around lit fires that we braai’d our meat, made smores and told stories. Bella and the boys enjoyed cramming treats into sugar cones that were then wrapped into foil and melted over the coals. So it was with sticky fingers that we drank in the evening, close to home but so far away from it. The stress of everyday slowly evaporated from my shoulders as tiredness took over and I crept into a soundless sleep underneath the canvas tent. You don’t need to go far to retreat. Siyawela
Contours flow like fingerprints Of spent lead meandering across a page: Named by those who found them. They migrate to passes in the kloofs, Follow the hoof and paw prints of animals, Over a tumbling Crocodile River Or buzzcut open plains. Sometimes they are hidden by arms of acacias, Where the ghosts of trogans and louries Bark between mottled leaves: In a spark of daisy-red wings. They weave between solemn stone kraals Forgotten to the trees of time. Picking their way over rocky descents Or the saddle where a mountain meets. Their namesakes are a memory of fineprint Gears and Wyldes and Pimple. Marked with a yellow emblem: A beacon if boyhood adventure. Three thousand footprints, Give or take Have shouldered their dreams Their laughter and reflection Along the Schoemanskloof trails. Because there is truth in the way But also experience when it’s lost. One of my tutees spoke in chapel today about his experience at the Round Square Conference held in Canada and in particular, the keynote speech by a chap called Wade Davis. I was so proud of the young man who spoke to the school as he was articulate, confident and it was clear that Davis's speech had made a real impact on him. the notion of cultural identity and celebrating diversity and our own differences as a crucial element in trying to understand what it is that makes us human was particularly insightful. I was so taken aback that I asked my student for a copy of his speech which he has allowed me to reproduce here. Enjoy... Wade Davis Keynote speaker - RSIC Chapel 2018 Mr Wade Davis, a famous anthropologist, writer, photographer and ethnobotanist who has devoted his life to exploring and immersing himself in indigenous cultures across world. He was the first of the keynote speakers we had the privilege of listening too. Through each of his expeditions, he focussed on the traditional uses and beliefs of psychoactive plants each culture uses and has access to. Mr Davis delved into the meaning of diversity and culture within our modern societies today, for which have seemed to disappear in the development of our urban jungles and busy lives. He posed us the question of why is diversity and culture so important and how can we ensure the survival of those diminishing. Mr Davis spoke of his many excursions across the world, from the rainforests of Borneo, to plains of Mongolia, to the dunes and sand of the Sahara and to the frozen lands of the Arctic, he discussed how each group of indigenous people from all parts of the globe had their own cultures just as we do sitting in chapel today. He labelled this, “the ethnosphere,” describing the diversity and knowledge each culture possess. Unfortunately, to our disbelief, he stated that cultures all over the world are becoming extinct. We are losing traditions, knowledge, languages and of course the cultures they are associated with. Every two weeks, a village elder passes away, with their knowledge being carried with them, not being passed on down to the next generation. We all as human beings come from the one common ancestor (a genetic cloth if you will). We are all related to one another, so why is it that we allow ourselves to witness the demise of cultures globally when each of us are related to one? When each cultural group does become extinct, we lose the answer of those people to the question of what it is to be human. Mr Davis urged us to protect and preserve not only our own culture but also those around us. Each culture group (especially traditional cultural groups) have a specific set of skills, talents and knowledge which simply cannot be replaced or learned easily today. For example, the people of the Amazon have used specific toxins which they put on the tip of their arrows which act as a muscle relaxant which has now revolutionised modern surgery. Mr Davis brought up the thought of what is threatening today’s traditional societies. The answer was not technology and technological advancements however, the true answer is power. Powerful men and women, cultures, cities and the ways of life modern day societies have over traditional cultures are causing their demise. We are the cause of cultural destruction however, we can be the facilitators of cultural sustainability and growth. Mr Davis stated that we need to find a way for cultures to survive in the modern world as they allows people to feel sensations and emotions. It is a set of morals and ethics for which a person is set to. When these morals and ethics die with a particular person, we lose traditions and knowledge which could be beneficial to the greater world. Mr Davis concluded by saying that we, as human beings, must strive to the preserve and promote cultural growth. |
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