THE JOURNEY:
CRITICAL SELF REFLECTION THROUGH WRITING

Edith M. Wilde

The signs were everywhere, but I was not watching for signs. I focused on the destination. What is it that they say….hind sight is 20/20?

Hurdle One

Every year my husband's company has an annual event. This year the event was in Banff. The company was flying us out to the Banff Springs Hotel for a gala event. When my husband asked me if I wanted to go I said that it was up to him. We hemmed and hawed. Should we go alone or should we take the children? It did not take much to convince us that we should go alone, just the two of us for a romantic little get-a- way.

The two weeks prior to the trip were very busy for me. I remember telling my husband that I really needed his support. I had to read and make comments on 435 report cards. The week before the reports go out the teachers are always stressed. We get more students in the office because of behavioural related concerns than at any other time. My husband replied," Every week you say that it is your busiest week." Could that really be? Do I say "This is my busiest week" a lot? Perhaps that is my reality- busy, busy, busy with school, kids, lessons, church, family, university.

The event in Banff is always fairly formal. I had a need to look good…really good.

"Hi mom. Do you want to go shopping with me?"
"Sure. Where do you want to go?"
"Let's go down town. I'll pick you up in half an hour."
We went to the Bay. They were having a sale. We looked around, selected a number of dresses and went to the change rooms.
"This blue suit doesn't look bad," I said. "But I'm not sure. Let's just go to a few other stores and check things out first."
We went to three other stores. Each store had a pricey possibility. For some reason I could not make up my mind. We ended up back at the Bay in the Bridal department. My mom pulled out a long blue velvet dress. "This is it," she said.
I took the dress along with a few others to the dressing room. The dress my mom had selected was gorgeous. She was right. This was it. I was tired however, and I was not prepared to pay the price. As we were leaving, the clerk asked how we were doing. "Fine," I said. "Too bad the dress isn't on sale." Without blinking, she took off 15%. God I love Winnipeg…the "let's make a deal" capital of Canada.
As we were standing at the till, I noticed a pair of matching shoes. "Do you have a size eight?" Within minutes we were on our way…shoes and all…weary, but smiling.

Hurdle Two

Child care…perhaps my sister could look after the kids.

"Angie, will you look after the kids while we are gone?"
"Sure. That will give us some bonding time."
"Great. The boys will be thrilled that they do not need to go to Oma's. It is not that they don't like being there. It is just that they would rather be at home.
"Ha-choooooooo."…Oh no…not a cold!

Hurdle Three

Remembrance day weekend is report card weekend. For some reason Bill was in a bad mood all weekend. Finally on Monday I said, "If you don't want to go just tell me. I can't stand the mood."

Bill was worried about his own hurdles. He needed to get ready for a busy week of meetings that he was not looking forward to. He had to pack and psych himself into a working frame of mind. Why couldn't he be moody at some other time? I let Bill know that I did not need to go on the trip. After some discussion we decided that it would be good to be alone with each other. The trip would go on. Bill left in the morning for Calgary. I had to survive four days before "D day." What else could go wrong?

The week was busy, but for the most part everything went smoothly. It sure is a good thing that we have family back up when our jobs are busy. My mother looked after the children while I was busy with parent/student conferences on Wednesday and Thursday evening. Everything went fine until Thursday evening. One of the teachers on staff had her car stolen from the school parking lot while we were conferencing with students and parents. We took care of business and went home. I was too tired to pack. I went to bed and decided to pack in the morning.

Friday, November 15,1996

School book sale went fine.

Conferences went fine…only one problem to deal with on Monday.

3:30 p.m. I get my coat and go outside. It's time to go.

"…they stole my car!"

I go back inside the building. Fuming, I call the police. I get an incident number. What now? Not only is my car stolen, but so are my suitcase and my beautiful blue velvet dress, Margaret Swain's thesis…(God, how am I going to tell Judith?) Judith's rough copy of the Tensions of Teaching that I had been responding to, and two years worth of notes. I try to fight back the tears as I contemplate my next moves. I get my ticket and phone the emergency number. The ticket is non refundable. What should I do? I try to contact my husband at the Banff Springs Hotel. No luck. Is he on his way to the airport to pick me up? A group of staff members surround me . They try to console me. What am I going to do? At the same time as my crisis, my administrative partner Jan is having her own crisis. She has locked her keys in her car. What a pair we make. I call home.

"Guess what? They stole my car! Can you pick me up?"
After a few minutes of retelling the situation, I decide to call them back with my next move in a few minutes.
So, what do I do?
Jan gets her husband to drive me to the airport. What the heck…I might as well go.
I hand my ticket to the person at the counter.
"No luggage?" she asks.
"No, I'm traveling light."

I smile knowing that I have a strand of pearls and some massage lotion that my friend Nancy has given me in my purse. Who needs luggage when you have a purse full of essentials.

I settle myself into the airline seat. I find myself sitting between two gentlemen. We begin to converse. I might as well make the best of a bad situation. As I look out of the window I see that they are de-icing the plane. Please God…don't let this be another sign.

The flight is uneventful. I have a glass of wine and enjoy the company of strangers. The fellow on my left is in education as well. We continue to talk. It ends up that he knows Judith Newman. He was a colleague of hers at the Mount. Small world….the fellow on the right interrupts our conversation. "So, you are both in education. So am I." This fellow owns a school that trains people for the multi media business. He explains that he did not enjoy or get much out of his education. The debate begins. He is an entrepreneur looking to make a fast buck. I challenge his position. "You are not talking about education or learning. You are talking about training. The conversation continues. John on my left settles back into his book.

"You are promising a magic bullet that you can not deliver." I challenge.

"For the mere sum of six thousand dollars you will train your charges for a career…a possible career."

I think of the moms that I see on a regular basis. All are hoping to get jobs, to get off the welfare rolls. These women would not stand a chance of raising six thousand dollars for a magic bullet. I think of one mom in particular who managed to get the funding to enroll in a private college only to find out that they had trained her on old technology. Now she was back where she started. My skin begins to crawl as I see the sign of the way that things could go in the future, with business knocking on the door of education…a new frontier for the entrepreneur. Is it mere coincidence that John is on my left and Joel is on my right?

The plane lands almost two hours late. My husband is there to pick me up and all is well…well, as good as it could be under the circumstances. We head out for Banff. The roads are treacherous. Bill tells me it is the aftermath of a major blizzard. This blizzard had made the national news on Thursday. I keep my fingers crossed.

Banff is lovely. We sleep in, go for a lovely breakfast, then a hike and go shopping. I decide that I will go to the ball in what I have on. After all, I have a story to tell. Who needs clothes when you have a story. The party ends up being lovely. It is nice to see old friends, to eat fine food, and dance the night away.

On Sunday we head home. The roads back into Calgary are treacherous, but we make it to the airport on time. We check in. Within minutes we find out that there is a storm in Winnipeg. Oh no. What next? The flight is canceled. We register on standby for the next two flights. After waiting a few more hours they announce that planes will not be leaving. For some reason I am beginning to feel like I am on an odyssey. These are my trials, the gods are watching my responses to see if I am worthy.

We manage to get one of the last hotel rooms. I phone home to make sure that things are O.K. on the home front.

"Hi, how are things at home?"
"The superintendent called. They broke into the school at about five thirty this morning. The place has been ransacked."
"Oh, God…will this saga ever end?"

Monday morning

We get up and have breakfast. The music in the restaurant strains, "All right…think we're going to make it, think it might just work out this time." I hope this one is the right sign. We finish breakfast and go to the airport. The flight has been delayed .

I phone the school. The secretary answers. The office is a mess and her phone is ringing off the wall. "Is there school?" It seems like the entire school population wants to know the answer to that question. I get the school update and prepare to get myself home.

Within an hour after our scheduled departure time we have lift off.

I settle into my seat. I take a deep breath and read the Globe and Mail.

Trustees urge war on child poverty. Canada's school boards called today for concerted action by federal and provincial governments, social-service agencies and the education sector to "stem the tide of child poverty in Canada."…For school boards, whose role and numbers have shrunk in recent years, the focus on child poverty is a way to demonstrate their stake in important issues affecting students, not just their own political survival (November 18,1996).

The skeptic in me wants to shout, "Right, I really believe you."

*****

So, why am I telling this tale? In education there are many signs that are becoming more and more visible in the wake of a government that has a balanced budget as its goal. They have a vision in mind and I suppose an emergency team will have to clean up the aftermath at a later date. The car robbery and the school break in are a sign of the times…a sign that I have to deal with on a regular basis. My school neighbourhood faces poverty daily. In order to survive, some members of the community have turned to crime. Some of our students have become involved in gangs. Here they get acceptance. They do not have to be smart, or be athletic. They just have to have "guts." When I talk to these young people I hear tales of wanting and not having. In order to get their needs met, they resort to crime. The parents can not compete with the lure of new Adidas clothing, Starter jackets, Starter hats, designer runners, and excitement…drugs, music and a young offenders act that has no muscle.

My days are often taken over by "things" that get in the way, trivial things, that prevent me from focusing on true educational leadership. However, I will not allow myself to be overcome nor resigned, for I am on a journey, an educational journey…one that focuses on learning.

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and tumbling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of basic minds. There is only one thing for it then- to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you. (White, 1958)"

After my series of misadventures I had a need to write…a compulsion to write. My story had to be told. I sat in the Calgary airport with my husband's computer plugged into the wall and I began. The words just flowed. What is so unusual about this is that a mere ten months ago I was not a writer. If this situation would have happened at that time, I would have simply begun to deal with my problems. That I chose to write, to name the experience, to share it, and to think about the bigger meanings related to the story, illustrates a transformation that is a direct result of my involvement in the the school division's master's in teacher research project. At present every conversation is considered in terms of values and beliefs and is looked at as a possible story.

*****

I am not exactly sure when I first heard about the school division wanting to initiate a master's program in teacher research, I only remember wanting to be a part of it from the start. The superintendents' were responsible for initiating this program. I was invited to participate in the initial discussions and help shape the program. From the very start I could tell that this was going to be an important program for me. I was at a particular point in my career where taking this program was the next logical step for me in terms of my professional development. I was excited yet apprehensive at the same time. My apprehension revolved around my writing ability. It had been over twelve years since I had set foot in the University. The last time that I had written a paper, using footnotes at the bottom of the page was considered appropriate. How was I ever going to write a thesis? I was good at the verbal game but I had forgotten how to write. Perhaps I never really knew how to write. I certainly never used writing as a first choice for thinking or learning. If I really wanted to learn something I would find an opportunity to teach. I would research a topic and present my findings orally. It was through the interactions with others that I would synthesize my thoughts. I remember having a conversation with the assistant superintendent of the school division. He was a writer. He clarified his thinking through writing. I envied his ability to do that. Somehow I thought that this ability to write was something you either had or didn't have. It must be a genetic ability. Would I ever be able to clarify my thoughts through writing?

In September 1995, the assistant superintendent, sent a memo out to all staff in the school division stating that the division was going to try to initiate a master's program in teacher research. Interested staff were invited to an initial meeting. I was surprised by the number of teachers who expressed an interest. This was exciting. Perhaps we would be able to make this proposal fly. At this meeting people were asked to express why they were interested in the potential program. I was surprised by the thoughtful responses and the fact that many people had ideas for topics that they wanted to research. I was not one of them. I remember feeling as if I had to come up with some kind of topic. I actually had lunch with the assistant superintendent trying to get input on possible topics. Looking back, I can see that I had many false notions about teacher research and the thesis writing process.

Our introduction to teacher research began with a symposium given by Gordon Wells. Teachers interested in taking part in the program were given an opportunity to spend time with Gordon as he explained his notions of teacher research. As part of our session, we were asked to video tape some of our teaching. As I did not have a class to teach, I volunteered to do the video taping for the teachers at EPS who were interested in taking the course. I did not have a clue as to how I should go about video taping. I did not know if I should be focusing on the students, the teacher or both. I muddled through the experience and the teachers and I were ready. Our session with Gordon was very interesting. It was a good beginning despite the contrived video taping assignment. All the teachers present were keen. Their enthusiasm filled the room. Gordon was surprised by the fact that almost everyone had completed the video taping and many had transcribed their tape, given that we had had such a short lead time. The symposium was a success. We were hooked on the notion of teacher as researcher.

Then came black Wednesday. Black Wednesday was the day that the government announced the funding cuts to education. As part of the plan, it was suggested that teachers' wages be rolled back. All teachers would be given the same basic wage. This information effected a number of the interested candidates. Many did not think that the climate was right for taking a master's program. These people opted out of the program. Fortunately we were able to get enough people to commit to the program to make it viable.

In the spring of 1996 our first official course in teacher research began. Judith Newman was our professor. She had us engaged before our first class had started. She asked us to read and respond to a mystery novel. What a way to start! I liked the course before it had officially begun. The classes were equally satisfying. Judith read to us, expected us to read, and told us that we needed to write everyday. We wrote freewrites, journal entries, corresponded with the cohort via email, and wrote a "piece" every class. We shared our work with the group and together we worked on our understandings. We developed a collaborative learning community.

My response to the novel was a struggle. I remember using my "old" university techniques to write my response. I had little pieces of paper and paper clips everywhere. I was going to be very thorough. I tried to sound academic.(whatever that sounds like) Judith responded to the piece in a way that was not threatening. Through group discussions, and shared readings my ideas began to grow and flourish. My awakening was beginning. I experimented with various styles of writing. Each attempt was encouraged by Judith. Over time I became more adept at "showing" rather than telling. I was on a journey…a learning journey.

I began to look at my practice critically, to collect data, to record critical incidents, to read, reflect and write. I expected to make progress in my writing, but I did not think that the process would have such a profound effect on me. For some reason I thought I would only look at my professional life, but I found that the critical process that I was engaged in, touched my entire life. I was not expecting to focus on personal assumptions and critical incidents, but that was indeed what had happened. Thoughts that had lain dormant for over thirty-five years were brought to the surface and began to reconstruct themselves in a new light. Suddenly I was questioning everything, and writing was helping me clarify my thoughts. Everything became a possible story.

I had remembered what I hadn't understood, you might say, until my life caught up with the information and the light bulb went on (Conroy, 1991).

As I bumped up against my beliefs and practice, I became uncomfortable.

I am in the middle of my life
And I am having a crisis.
Is this a mid-life crisis?
Everything I thought I knew
I find I don't really know
Practices I took comfort in
No longer comfort.
Everything I didn't know
I know a little bit better
And I am having a crisis.
Why don't I just go out and buy a cherry red convertible
You know,
The kind that says I'm having a crisis
Or dye my hair red or pierce my nose
Or take off for Tibet with my backpack…
My God, I am having a crisis

Educating As Inquiry And Reflexive Practice began in September 1996. Judith Newman and Wayne Serebrin co- taught this curriculum inquiry course that had been designed to complement and build on our previous course. We continued to read, write, collect critical incidents, and discuss however a heavier emphasis was put on collecting data. We analyzed our findings and surprisingly, themes for inquiry emerged. I collected data on the administrator's role in developing a learning community. I hoped that my actions would match my espoused values(Argyris & Schon,1996).

By October 4, 1996, I was ready to switch inquiries…something easier and less problematic was in order. I had discovered that I was uncomfortable with the notion that an administrator is a teacher of teachers. I spent my class time cleaning my book bag while I stewed on my problem. After class I went shopping. I was returning my cart when I noticed that a woman was having difficulty retrieving her quarter from the cart. As I helped her it struck me… right out of the blue. I was thinking in terms of transmission. I was not a teacher of teachers because I did not stand front row and centre mandating the way we should go at things. I did not "direct" the teaching and learning enterprise because I was not a "transmission" administrator. The language I was hearing from colleagues and from much of the literature was "transmission language." It smacked of hierarchy and hence my discomfort. The work of Vygotsky(1978) and Judith's words about leading from behind came to mind. How could I have been so blind? I was in the wrong paradigm. How did that happen?

Kathleen Weiler in her book Women Teaching for Change states that:

By taking positions in an existing hierarchical bureaucracy, women administrators like these face structural limitations that create conflicts between their goals and the possibility of achieving them.

Administrators attempt to influence what goes on in school by encouraging certain kinds of curricula, by introducing certain viewpoints and topics, and by calling into question accepted "truths" about students, knowledge, and teaching. However, they are limited by their position in an hierarchical institution and by the fact that they are not in the actual classroom in interaction with students (Weiler, 1988: 112).

Now I could name the tension . I operate in a collaborative inquiry mode as opposed to a hierarchical, transmission mode. My values and approaches are rooted in feminism. I value connected knowing (Belenky et al 1986). I prefer to create an atmosphere that focuses on collaboration and community, where the students' needs are central to the discussion and the actions that are taken. Reading, reflecting and writing in a collaborative setting have helped me look at my practice in a new way. I am now able to directly connect theory with practice and can articulate the reasons for my behaviour.

Equally important in making possible this critical pedagogy is the work of women administrators who support classroom teachers, introduce new materials, and create an atmosphere in which progressive teaching is encouraged. The work of these administrators points to the importance of creating a community within schools in which progressive teachers and administrators who share common goals can find support and can see that their work in valued and rewarded. The qualities that have been associated with feminist pedagogy are central to the kind of transformative teaching these teachers and administrators hope to accomplish. This teaching reflects feminist values in pedagogy as well as content. Their work recalls Schniedewind's description of feminist teaching: "Feminism is taught through process as well as formal content. To reflect feminist values in teaching is to teach progressively, democratically, and with feeling."(Schniedewind,1983:
271)…And at the same time, they ground a critical inquiry in a deep respect for their students' lives and cultural values (Weiler, 1988).

This revelation was a turning point for me. Suddenly my focus was clear. I had something to write.

Argyris C. ,and Schon, D.A. 1974 Theory In Practice: Increasing Professional Effectiveness. San Francisco: Jossey- Bass.

Belenky, et al 1986 Women's Ways Of Knowing The Development Of Self, Voice, And Mind. New York: Basic Books Inc., Publishers.

Conroy, Frank 1991 Think About It: Ways we know, and don't. Harper's Magazine,Nov: 68-70.

Globe and Mail,November 18, 1996 Trustees Urge War On Child Poverty.

Newman, Judith M. 1991 Interwoven Conversations: Learning and Teaching Through Critical Reflection. Toronto:OISE Press.

Weiler, Kathleen 1988 Women Teaching for Change.Massachusetts: Bergin and Garvey Publishers Inc.

White, T.H. 1958 The Once And Future King. Great Britian: Harper Collins Publishers.