The garbage can during vacation was in side an old two-room shed. It was all wood and very rough. There were shutters on some of the windows and the door hardware was rugged and functional. On an uncommonly warm day when I was transferring kitchen trash into the shed and the place was swarming with sluggish flies. Many were stupidly and slowly bumping into a six-paned window that was unshuttered. I found an old Frisbee and pressed it against the pain so I could squash several bugs at the same time. Then the pane jumped free of its frame without breaking. But a corner broke off when it hit the ground. The next day I went to the hardware store to buy a replacement pane ($2.99) and a jar of white putty. It was a simple fix. When I checked it just as we were leaving for the last time, I took comfort that the job wasn’t so expertly done that it seemed unconventional compared to the other five panes. If there was a difference it was that the new glass was much cleaner.
Here is evidence that my aspirations for handiness far outpace the realities. This was a tool-less repair (the guy at the hardware store cut the pane to size) and so the semi-neatness can be attributed not to poor tools but to bad tool use. I can fix things around the house but they are never done craftily. Beer brewing is the closest I come to doing something that qualifies as a crafted product. And yet, when I think about my teaching (not possible in the moment most of the time) I believe that we can count that work as a craft. I don’t mean that I am great at the craft of teaching – although I think I do a damn good job. Instead, I would submit that being a really good teacher would qualify a person to be a craftsman. In preparing to make this claim, I consult Sennet’s The Craftsman to see if he would agree. I believe that he does. But don’t buy the book since NSF will gladly cover the cost and a University will deal with the postage.
In one of many delightful digressions the author charts glass-making as it makes the transition to being an industrialized process. While the glass rolling makes great flat sheets that can be used when repairing windows, the glassblower remains important. The former is great for replicability and consistency while the latter creates items that are unique and inspire. In a similar fashion, the author talks about different ways of being a parent. He writes:
Here is evidence that my aspirations for handiness far outpace the realities. This was a tool-less repair (the guy at the hardware store cut the pane to size) and so the semi-neatness can be attributed not to poor tools but to bad tool use. I can fix things around the house but they are never done craftily. Beer brewing is the closest I come to doing something that qualifies as a crafted product. And yet, when I think about my teaching (not possible in the moment most of the time) I believe that we can count that work as a craft. I don’t mean that I am great at the craft of teaching – although I think I do a damn good job. Instead, I would submit that being a really good teacher would qualify a person to be a craftsman. In preparing to make this claim, I consult Sennet’s The Craftsman to see if he would agree. I believe that he does. But don’t buy the book since NSF will gladly cover the cost and a University will deal with the postage.
In one of many delightful digressions the author charts glass-making as it makes the transition to being an industrialized process. While the glass rolling makes great flat sheets that can be used when repairing windows, the glassblower remains important. The former is great for replicability and consistency while the latter creates items that are unique and inspire. In a similar fashion, the author talks about different ways of being a parent. He writes:
The real issue is the self-image that parents hold up to their children: rather than convey “be like me,” better parental advice should be more indirect. “This is how I lived” invites the child to reason about the example. Such advice omits, “Therefore you should ….” Find your own way; innovate rather than imitate (p. 102)As I prepare to teach students who are just entering the teacher education program, I am not too concerned about theories and techniques. My expressed purpose is to help them connect with the heart and soul of the profession. In my mind, I am crafting a conversation. This includes setting the expectations, establishing the climate, and supplying the materials to inform the discussions. I stir, I encourage, I am patient. One statement I want to make is that even though students enter this program knowing it will take three years to finish, as of the first night of class in three years they will be meeting their own students for the first time in their own classrooms. In that moment, are they going to think back about how to write a lesson plan or what standard is being addressed? No. Instead they will be remembering the deeper purposes and possibilities by becoming a teacher. This remembrance may not be evidence at the surface. But if I am a craftsman who is earning is taxpayer-funded salary, then what I set into motion from my soapbox should continue to reverberate when that novice teacher meets his or her students for the very first time. Surely it is not necessary to build a bookcase or gazebo to qualify as a craftsman. I feel we can inspire as we teach and be comfortable with the notion that we are filling our duties as craftspersons.
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