katseducblog

[katseducblog]

Here’s one of my favourite songs by one of my favourite artists. His discography was on repeat for much of the semester, and as we advance into a new spring term, here’s to jamming out and remembering the nostalgic quality that music has.

We’re gonna go far!

[katseducblog]

Emerging Credo + Final Thoughts

I will create an inclusive, safe environment in which the humanity and complexity of my students will be encouraged to shine. I think that learning should be a beautiful, ongoing process that constantly layers upon itself, and I would like to foster that through helping students explore their identity and learn from the land. I believe that students should be able to engage with the curriculum in non-linear ways, pushing forward and pulling back in order to create a more rich, whole picture. I will be a patient teacher who both teaches and learns in tandem with my students.

As the semester draws to a close, I naturally find myself practicing the art of reflection and looking back at my growth. While studying, I have also been working, and across from my workplace, a new apartment building has been in the process of being built. Every time I come into the office, there seems to be another layer or pillar that has been laid down, and I spend my lunch breaks in awe of how quickly the building seems to be coming together. 

This feels parallel to my own learning journey; there were times when I was unsure about how to take away certain information and apply it to my own pedagogy, which resulted in a couple bouts of imposter syndrome. However, while looking at the construction project, I decided to reframe my thinking, utilizing the knowledge I was gaining and seeing each piece as a building block towards a larger, bigger picture. Just like the course title indicates, I was truly laying a foundation for the future, supporting it with the core pillars necessary to do so (inclusive education, Indigenous education, intersecting identity and explorations of practice — engagements in which I hope were exemplified throughout my portfolio). 

Going forward, there are still some questions that are starting to appear in my mind — the beginning of another building block. How can I continue to show up for my students and for myself? What does universally designed learning look like —  both in and outdoors? How can I be more inclusive and foster open, honest conversations (even when they may be hard ones to have)? As I explore these questions, I would also like to dig deeper into Bryan Gidinski’s wonderful website (http://www.lostboysconsulting.ca), familiarizing myself with SOGI rhetoric in order to amplify LGBTQIA+ voices and create a truly safe space. 

[katseducblog]

Comfort in the Discomfort

I pen this reflection with a heavy heart as the news plays in the background, updating the restless Western world on the current state of what is left of the Gaza Strip.

As I do my EDUC 400 coursework in tandem, it is difficult not to think about such affairs and the nature of broaching sensitive material in the classroom. As society progresses in what I hope to be a positive socio-political direction, I often find myself wondering what is considered “acceptable” to be addressed.

Coming from an English Literature background, I am forever grateful to have done my studies in Canada, where I was not shielded away from classic novels such as The Kite Runner and To Kill a Mockingbird, books of which a large portion of my American colleagues did not have the opportunity to discuss in an institutional, academic setting. Sometimes I think of having read these pieces as a luxury, but then I stop and unpack that sentiment: what about it was a luxury, besides the access to material? The opportunity to read without a censorship barrier should be a given right in North America.

In this vein, Eamonn Callan argues “that moral dialogue in schools is an essential part of teaching students to become fully participating members of democratic society” (220). It is in these times where our positionality as both human beings and as educators come into play. I often think about how to navigate the boundary between education and unintentional indoctrination, as well as how to juggle and juxtapose the individual wishes of parents and the pedagogy and curriculum they wish to see for their children against the province’s and my own, in the plausible likelihood that their vision involves shielding their family from the complex —  yet necessary — nature of the outside world.

Reid et. al’s article, “Religion in the classroom: It’s not just a can of worms,” brings me some solace and guidance in this matter, outlining that we are often comprised of multiple identities, and that understanding our relativity and privileges that may come with each identity is integral to handling this tension.

It is akin to a question that my high school philosophy teacher posed to me once that still echoes in my mind: who am I, and how many?

Branching off my last reflection about facets of identity and what gets shown and what stays concealed, I still find myself needing to toggle with this notion more, learning and unlearning.

Going forward, I would like to create comfort within this discomfort, augmenting myself in a way that establishes rapport with both my students, their parents, and the community in which we all are a part of, in order to encourage ethical thinking and action. 

Callan, Eamonn, Creating Citizens: Political Education and Liberal Democracy (Oxford, 1997; online edn, Oxford Academic, 1 Nov. 2003), https://doi.org/10.1093/0198292589.001.0001, accessed 3 Nov. 2023.

Erin Reid, Dr. C. A. H. P.-S., by: Phyllis Dalley, H. S., & Donald, by: Dr. D. (2022, September 16). Religion in the classroom: Education Canada Magazine. EdCan Network. https://www.edcan.ca/articles/religion-in-the-classroom/ 

[katseducblog]

Me (or one sixth)

I am from my childhood bedroom’s peeling blue wallpaper, 

from making the first snow out of asbestos. 

I am from diluted orange juice and the sting of Tiger Balm on wounds that still haven’t quite healed.

I am from three generations — three sets of hands and one heart, all crammed into the kitchen corner folding dumpling skin, dog-earing them, as if creasing a page in our collective memories.

I am from my sister’s overgrown green onions, willowy jade stalks that shot up from the abandoned bath tub in the yard, towering over her. Sometimes I wonder if she could have been that tall, too, if given the space.

I am from dozens of torrented DVDs being tossed around like frisbees, the reflection of the sun on the silver disc casting tiny rainbows on scribbled-on walls — a light that has since been lost.

I am from my mother’s mouth, the manifestation of her wanting a girl and then getting three — one after another, like the mangoes that she said used to fall from the trees back in rural Laos.

I am from the rocky waves of the East Sea, from the rotting wood of the fishing boat that my father stowed away on, the salt of the ocean below almost as coarse as the demeanour of the border guards that stopped him.

I am from silent sacrifices and loud scrapes of my mother’s favourite fruit-cutting knife on the worn exterior of her wooden chopping board, each notch keeping tally of all the times we received a plate of fruit in lieu of an apology.

I am from days of absentmindedly gnawing on these fruits, the nectar both sweet and bitter on my tongue.

___

For this reflection, I chose to write an I-Am-From poem, as it served several purposes: it allowed me to heal my inner child by reengaging with an activity that I have not done since grade school, as did it prompt me to reflect on how much has changed since then — both in terms of my own personal development, as well as how I claim my identity and history. 

Growing up, I had teachers that wove parts of their culture and identity into the classroom, and now that I am looking at myself through the objective lens of a future educator, I now find myself trying to synthesize and pick apart what facets of me should be presented when I am teaching and relating to my students. Jo Chrona describes our connection to identity as being “inextricably linked to learning […] it’s what connects us to the world around us, to the land that we are on” (4). She points out that our self-definition is integral to separating information into knowledge/content/skill bases, thus aiding us in streamlining and outlining what values and what learning should be happening under our watch. 

Diving back into the idea of us being connected to the land, the process of penning this poem had me musing on my status as a child of the diaspora, with refugee parents. Land to me, ironically, ebbs and flows; Canada is both home and not. Land itself does not move, but the concept of it and how much I find myself in one place or another does. I do think that the “melting pot” of diversity that Canada prides itself on is to be lauded, however. It is in keeping these individual, non-homogenous experiences that allows a rich depth of learning. The Meininger article outlines that “only in a direct social environment in which people are not anonymous to one another [can] they can separate themselves from the disciplining, assimilating and annexing forces that dominate society” (35). Thus, by knowing who I am and what shapes my identity, I can be a better educator by including all sorts of backgrounds and experiences.

As I move forward, I will continue to ask myself: how much of myself will I show and how much will I conceal? How do I peel back biases that may have come with my cultural upbringing in order to better listen and support those around me?

Chrona, J. (n.d.). First Peoples Principles of Learning. Open School BC. Retrieved November 7, 2023, from https://www.openschool.bc.ca/indigenoused/pdf/Module2VideoTranscript.pdf

Meininger, Herman. (2013). Inclusion as heterotopia: Spaces of encounter between people with and without intellectual disability. Journal of Social Inclusion. 25-44.

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The Missing Piece

There’s a quote by Khaled Hosseini (author of The Kite Runner) that has always stood out to me — “children are not colouring books; you do not get to fill them in with your favourite colours.” The idea behind this really came front and center when we started dissecting the concept of the “whole child,” and how our own preconceived notions and thus subsequent creation of our environments can alter our students in ways that are less than positive. Lori Malaguzzi introduces an idea that we can see a stark difference in the quality of the relationships we build with our students when we curate the learning environment to be one that builds on itself in tandem with rapport, rather than one founded on formally formed biases that lack uniqueness and fluidity (3).

I witnessed this in actuality during Exploration C, when speaking with some of the leadership students at Burnaby North. When asked what makes a “good” educator in their eyes, many of them were quick to point out that they value a solid connection with their teachers, emphasizing the importance of feeling seen, heard and understood. These are all benchmarks of any solid interpersonal relationship, and it really made me realize that that’s what teaching is all about — we are all humans first, and part of the human experience is learning. We as educators should curate the space for this learning to take place and help our students flourish. Along this vein, I also thought about the idea of erasure and assimilation of Indigenous children that was made apparent time and time again by Chelsea Vowel. There is a great injustice that is done when we try to create a false “level-playing field” (132), in which we strip away parts of Indigenous identity in order to mold these students into a homogenous canon. 

As a result of these thoughts, the above image is an AI-generated image of a child holding a colouring book; the child is missing a piece of their body. This art is a visual representation of the opening quote of this entry, fleshing out that when we try to mold and “colour” our students into a certain prototype, we do not allow them to be wholly themselves. 

Malaguzzi, L. (1994). Your image of the child: Where teaching begins. Child Care Information Exchange, 52-52

Vowel C. (2016). Indigenous writes : a guide to first nations métis & inuit issues in canada. HighWater Press.

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Inverting the Paradigm of Modern Education

The image above depicts the impressive architecture found within the Louvre Museum in Paris, France. One of the museum’s most distinguishable physical attributes comes in the form of a glass pyramid, visible from outside the building. However, the pyramid also extends beyond the surface, inverting itself and extending into the interior of the museum. It is a privilege to be able to explore this extension, and I was fortunate enough to be able to see it firsthand in 2014. Since then, I have always thought of this pyramid and its relativity to pedagogy and learning — there is so much depth that requires multiple vantage points to fully see and experience the impact of it all.

Throughout this semester, we’ve been encouraged to dig deeper into the “why’s,” pondering what it means to be an educator and how we position ourselves in the world around us. Looking at this pyramid, you can only see what is underneath by going down, forcing you to interact with the space around you. However, like I mentioned earlier, not everyone is able to do so, as the museum requires ticketed entry. It is also worth noting that this museum in particular is steeped in Colonial roots, and as fascinating as the many artifacts housed are, we should still be cognizant that these pieces are largely stolen. This is reminiscent of us as settlers on Indigenous land, and how recognizing this and how the system works, and how many of the things we appreciate and laud have been presented to us through means of forceful violence, is what equips us with the knowledge and tools to shape our pedagogy around our positionality.

Michael Apple’s article, “Challenging the Epistemological Fog: The Roles of the Scholar/Activist in Education,” discusses Gramsci’s (1971) argument that in order to participate and propel “truly counter-hegemonic education” and to be a “committed cultural worker,” we need to take conventionally distributed “elite knowledge” and “reconstruct its form and content so that it serve(s) genuinely progressive social needs “ (Apple, 511). To me, the concept of the subverted pyramid feels like utilizing the knowledge that we have and putting it through a prism in order to challenge convention and encompass more space (much like Nicole West-Burns’ TEDtalk about seeing perspectives through a metaphorical kaleidoscope).

Now the question I have is: how? How do we do this? At what point will I have done enough inner work to be able to feel confident in the classroom?

Apple, M. W. (2016). Challenging the epistemological fog: The roles of the scholar/activist in education. European Educational Research Journal, 15(5), 505-515. https://doi.org/10.1177/1474904116647732

West-Burns, N. (2019, November). Building Critical Consciousness for Educational Equity [Video]. TED Conferences. https://www.ted.com/talks/nicole_west_burns_building_critical_consciousness_for_educational_equity

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Poplar and Planes: Musings on the Juxtaposition and Harmony between Technology and the Natural Scape 

Being in the forest again after traveling through some big cities was surprisingly rejuvenating. I never considered myself an outdoors person, but taking the time to speak to my peers and take this walk together left me feeling content. Through our walk, we all talked about our upbringings and experiences, and how being in the forest now reflects our past while shaping our present. Tehreem addressed the point that these trees were older than us, and that they would (ideally) be there when we're gone. It was silent after she said that, and although I cannot speak for the rest of my group, I myself really felt the magnitude of the notion that we are so small in relation to the universe that we are so lucky to visit. Our time on earth is so fleeting, but the world around us will continue to shift and change — yet stay the same — long after we bid it adieu. That made me realize that we have to take proper care of our surroundings, as I want future generations to be able to walk through these forests and simply feel and understand their positionality when faced against the archaic wonder of nature.

I also really mulled over how much of our daily lives is spent on electronic devices — digital literacy has become a subject taught in schools, driving home the shift from the analog systems that I grew up on, to electronic. Technology surrounds us, allowing convenience and a wealth of information and speed at our fingertips. As we walked through Mundy Park, there were several instances in which one could hear or see planes overhead, with the sound of the engine ricocheting against the wide berth of the natural, still forest.  It reminded me of standing at one of the highest points in London, UK, and seeing the juxtaposition of the old buildings in the background of the new —  all of which are highly revered and make up London's iconic skyline. We as a society have progressed so much in terms of technology, but there's still unparalleled beauty in sitting back and enjoying what has been here for years, while acknowledging and making good use of the innovation that has come from our generation.

Now, how could I, as an educator, work to have my students be more in touch with the natural land? Would incorporating tech elements such as AR make them appreciate nature more or less? What experiences should I curate and what stories can be told and/or made in such a setting? These are the questions that ran through my mind, supplemented with the discussions about our roots and stories being linked to the land. 

—

This reflection was written towards the beginning of my PDP journey, after our very first session in Mundy Park. I had never really taken a course that emphasized outdoor, land-based learning the way that EDUC 400 did, and now that the semester is wrapping up, I have some further thoughts on the idea of universal design and how to incorporate the outdoors into learning. 

When I first penned this reflection, I was focused on a technology-based approach to immersing my students in nature. However, after completing Exploration C and seeing how much technology has already infiltrated the conventional classroom, I realized that I would like to try and encourage an affinity for nature in a way that is separate from using a device. An instance that stood out to me was when I was shadowing a teacher and she confiscated a student’s phone, telling the student that she was helping them to “self-regulate.” This term resurfaced again on the Green Schoolyards website, which emphasized that spending time outdoors could “remove barriers to learning and may improve self-regulation and social-emotional development,” making outdoor play universally engaging and beneficial for an interabled classroom. It could also encourage children to start to be environmentally cautious from a young age, as they would be prompted to build a relationship with nature, weaving it into their identity and thus subsequently caring for it with more caution. 

As the semester comes to a close and I reflect on our time in Mundy Park, I think about the activities we did, from scavenger hunts to simply walking and talking amongst our peers. Although ten years from now, I may not remember everything, what I will remember is the feelings that being in the forest brought me — heightened senses, relaxation, and increased comradery with my peers. Even though the weather was different every time we were in the park, the forest itself stayed unchanging. I will always be grateful for how we were able to have such different, diverse experiences within the same space. 

Inclusive design for outdoor spaces - national COVID-19 Outdoor Learning initiative. Green Schoolyards America. (n.d.). https://www.greenschoolyards.org/inclusive-design 

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Leaning In: Navigating the Boundary between Fact and Opinion

Reading Diangelo’s article “Leaning In: A Student’s Guide to Engaging Constructively with Social Justice Content” truly challenged some rather rigid perspectives that I had carried with me all my life, both as a potential teacher and member of society, highlighting the nuanced complexity of holding space for opinions while also striving to educate based on facts. 

Diangelo uses an example of a student firmly claiming that Pluto is a planet, despite their teacher’s academic evidence that supports otherwise (6). In all honesty, I found myself aligning with the student, feeling a sense of pride that they were willing to stand up for their opinion — ironically making me the very prototype of someone who had pigeonholed themselves into a certain way of thinking. This prompted me to take a moment to reflect on how anecdotal evidence shows up in such scenarios, and my own positionality: as I’m writing this reflection, my anecdotes are vital as I am the subject, and how I am interacting with the text and content is the main focus of such literature. However, shifting to the role of an educator, I realized that anecdotes, albeit enriching, cannot be held as fact. In the example of the student vehemently defending Pluto, the anecdotes that he presents culminate to support an opinion rather than what would academically be considered truth. Although my personal opinion is shared with the student, I have to let go of that notion and accept that opinions are great to have, but they cannot be equated to what is real.

Now, what would happen if you do not agree with an individual? Whether in life or in the classroom? As both a student or an educator? Diangelo invites us to consider focusing on understanding rather than agreement (8). They are not mutually exclusive, but rather striving to understand someone and why they hold certain opinions as personal truths are a good stepping stone to opening the floor to a more educated/informed discussion. However, this makes me rather nervous, as I come from a position where I may be seen as a “model minority,” which has not allowed me to be privy to certain issues, creating a “blind spot” (12) that may take a further amount of education and understanding for me to see certain points as they should be addressed. 

Going forward, I believe the best way to navigate the overlap in opinions and fact in the classroom is to encourage sharing opinions, but to keep cognizant of the fact that these opinions are often simply ungrounded in peer reviewed factual knowledge. Seeing where these opinions stem from, and the emotional responses that follow, will provide for a better reflective foundation. I should also be aware of my role when facing my future students, and how I am a part of several systems — societal as well as structural, that my students may not be. 

Diangelo, Robin & Sensoy, Özlem & Associate,. (2014). Leaning in: A student's guide to engaging constructively with social justice content. Radical Pedagogy. 11.

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I would like to acknowledge the traditional, ancestral, unceded territory of the Musqueam, Tsleil-Waututh, Kwikwetlem and Squamish First Nations on which we are learning today. As an immigrant, I would like to respect and honour this land and pay my dues by committing to doing my part in dismantling the systems of oppression that Indigenous communities face as a result of dispossession.

We share this Earth, and so we must take care of it and of each other.

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Introducing…Me!

They say that curiosity killed the cat, but in my case, curiosity fueled the Kat. 

That’s me! I’m pictured here at the age of five-years-old, seated next to my best friend (to this day) at our very first spelling bee. This was just one moment among many that became a core memory for me, as I will never forget the energy in the air as we all bonded over literacy. That wide-eyed kid that was secretly jealous of her friend gripping a juice box is now a twenty-five-year-old English Literature graduate who now grips a shaken espresso instead, but there are some constants that still remain. 

I am still a child of the Chinese-Laotian diaspora who has always had a passion for education. My purpose has always been to constantly learn and unlearn, letting my natural musings guide me into discovering more about myself and the world around me as I navigate my way into the classroom. I chose this particular medium to showcase my learning path as Tumblr is something that I used a lot in my preteen/teen years. I wanted to have this project be something that reflects my own growth and change in brief vignette-esque snapshots, going from childhood to adolescence to now, paralleling being an academic student to that of being one of life. My hopes are that this blog can be engaged with in a way that evokes nostalgia and also piques curiosity. 

Thanks for joining me!