Three Education Metaphors

I listened this morning to the BYU Devotional Speech Dr. Nancy Wentworth gave on November 27, 2012.  She shared some great metaphors related to education. 

First Metaphor:  Education is like a race

Wentworth said. “In the classroom there are some students who feel that they can never be the best student in the class, the winner, so why should they continue? As teachers we try to encourage growth in our students, not just winning.”

Wentworth went on to explain that personal improvement is a victory in and of itself, and that through working hard any student can improve.  Wentworth advises to help one another, “coach” one another, and work together.

 

Second Metaphor:  Education is like a garden 

 

When Wentworth related education to a garden, she compared the gardener to a teacher. Teachers create an environment in which children, or seeds, can learn and grow into their full potential.
“It is the responsibility of the gardener to create an environment where the seed can grow (and) where the students can thrive and develop,”

Third Metaphor:  Education is like a family

The final metaphor Wentworth related to education was family. She talked about how loving parents teach their children correct principles, and encourage them to constantly improve.
“At school, children learn many things beyond skills and knowledge,” Wentworth said. “They learn to share, to work hard, to experience new things, to ask questions (and) to explore new ideas. Like a loving parent, good teachers point out the small successes of their students so the students want to keep trying, keep working and keep growing.”
 

Eight Cow Person

Thanks to Flavia McKnight--one of our Esperanza founding board members for reminding me of this favorite story and film.  It is my hope that everyone at Esperanza will treat everyone else at Esperanza as an "8 cow" person so all can work on reaching their potential.   

JOHNNY LINGO'S 8-COW WIFE~~

condensed from Woman's Day Patricia McGerr When I sailed to Kiniwata, an island in the Pacific, I took along a notebook. After I got back it was filled with descriptions of flora and fauna, native customs and costume. But the only note that still interests me is the one that says: "Johnny Lingo gave eight cows to Sarita’s father." And I don’t need to have it in writing. I’m reminded of it every time I see a woman belittling her husband or a wife withering under her husband’s scorn. I want to say to them, "You should know why Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for his wife."
Johnny Lingo wasn’t exactly his name. But that’s what Shenkin, the manager of the guest house on Kiniwata, called him. Shenkin was from Chicago and had a habit of Americanizing the names of the islanders. But Johnny was mentioned by many people in many connections. If I wanted to spend a few days on the neighboring island of Nurabandi, Johnny Lingo would put me up. If I wanted to fish he could show me where the biting was best. If it was pearls I sought, he would bring the best buys. The people of Kiniwata all spoke highly of Johnny Lingo. Yet when they spoke they smiled, and the smiles were slightly mocking.
"Get Johnny Lingo to help you find what you want and let him do the bargaining," advised Shenkin. "Johnny knows how to make a deal."
"Johnny Lingo! A boy seated nearby hooted the name and rocked with laughter.
"What goes on?" I demanded. "everybody tells me to get in touch with Johnny Lingo and then breaks up. Let me in on the joke."
"Oh, the people like to laugh," Shenkin said, shruggingly. "Johnny's the brightest, the strongest young man in the islands, And for his age, the richest."
"But if he’s all you say, what is there to laugh about?"
"Only one thing. Five months ago, at fall festival, Johnny came to Kiniwata and found himself a wife. He paid her father eight cows!
I knew enough about island customs to be impressed. Two or three cows would buy a fair-to-middling wife, four or five a highly satisfactory one. "Good Lord!" I said, "Eight cows! She must have beauty that takes your breath away." "She’s not ugly," he conceded, and smiled a little. "But the kindest could only call Sarita plain. Sam Karoo, her father, was afraid she’d be left on his hands."
"But then he got eight cows for her? Isn’t that extraordinary?"
"Never been paid before."
"Yet you call Johnny’s wife plain?"
"I said it would be kindness to call her plain. She was skinny. She walked with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. She was scared of her own shadow."
"Well," I said, "I guess there’s just no accounting for love."
"True enough," agreed the man. "And that’s why the villagers grin when they talk about Johnny. They get special satisfaction from the fact that the sharpest trader in the islands was bested by dull old Sam Karoo."
"But how?"
"No one knows and everyone wonders. All the cousins were urging Sam to ask for three cows and hold out for two until he was sure Johnny’d pay only one. Then Johnny came to Sam Karoo and said, ‘Father of Sarita, I offer eight cows for your daughter.’"
"Eight cows," I murmured. "I’d like to meet this Johnny Lingo."
"And I wanted fish. I wanted pearls. So the next afternoon I beached my boat at Nurabandi. And I noticed as I asked directions to Johnny’s house that his name brought no sly smile to the lips of his fellow Nurabandians. And when I met the slim, serious young man, when he welcomed me with grace to his home, I was glad that from his own people he had respect unmingled with mockery. We sat in his house and talked. Then he asked, "You come here from Kiniwata?"
"Yes."
"They speak of me on that island?"
"They say there’s nothing I might want they you can’t help me get."
He smiled gently. "My wife is from Kiniwata."
"Yes, I know."
"They speak of her?"
"A little."
"What do they say?"
"Why, just..." The question caught me off balance. "They told me you were married at festival time."
"Nothing more?" The curve of his eyebrows told me he knew there had to be more.
They also say the marriage settlement was eight cows." I paused.
"They wonder why."
"They ask that?" His eyes lightened with pleasure. "Everyone in Kiniwata knows about the eight cows?"
I nodded.
"And in Nurabandi everyone knows it too." His chest expanded with satisfaction. "Always and forever, when they speak of marriage settlements, it will be remembered that Johnny Lingo paid eight cows for Sarita."
So that’s the answer, I thought: vanity.
And then I saw her. I watched her enter the room to place flowers on the table. She stood still a moment to smile at the young man beside me. Then she went swiftly out again. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The lift of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin the sparkle of her eyes all spelled a pride to which no one could deny her the right. I turned back to Johnny Lingo and found him looking at me. "You admire her?" he murmured. "She...she’s glorious. But she’s not Sarita from Kiniwata," I said.
"There’s only one Sarita. Perhaps she does not look the way they say she looked in Kiniwata." "She doesn’t. I heard she was homely. They all make fun of you because you let yourself be cheated by Sam Karoo."
"You think eight cows were too many?" A smile slid over his lips. "No. But how can she be so different?"
"Do you ever think," he asked, "what it must mean to a woman to know that her husband has settled on the lowest price for which she can be bought? And then later, when the women talk, they boast of what their husbands paid for them. One says four cows, another maybe six. How does she feel, the woman who was sold for one or two?" This could not happen to my Sarita."
"Then you did this just to make your wife happy?"
"I wanted Sarita to be happy, yes. But I wanted more than that. You say she is different This is true. Many things can change a woman. Things that happen inside, things that happen outside. But the thing that matters most is what she thinks about herself. In Kiniwata, Sarita believed she was worth nothing. Now she knows she is worth more than any other woman in the islands." "Then you wanted -"
"I wanted to marry Sarita. I loved her and no other woman."
"But —" I was close to understanding.
"But," he finished softly, "I wanted an eight-cow wife."

A great website for the Johnny Lingo film: 

www.johnnylingo.com

Esperanza As a Light

I listened this morning again to the BYU devotional speech given by Pres. Thomas S. Monson on November 1, 2011 about being a light.  President Monson used Webster's definition of light as "something that illuminates." He said that just as turning on a light switch in a dark room will bathe the room in light.

It is my hope that Esperanza can be a light and illuminate on how to help Hispanic learners reach their academic potential. 

Message from "The Lion King"

This morning I listened to the BYU Devotional Speech that Pres. Thomas S. Monson gave on November 1, 2011.  In his speech he quoted from the Disney movie "The Lion King" -- advice Mufusa gave to Simba and related it to students about reaching their potential in life.
"Look inside yourself Simba, you are more than what you have become. Remember who you are," Mufusa said.

This is something we want to remember and to say to our Esperanza educators and scholars every day not only with our words but also with our actions.

Remembering Who We Are

I listened to the BYU Devotional this morning given by Doug Prawitt on July 19, 2011. His comments caused me to ponder not only on my own life but also on how we want to help our Esperanza scholars. He said, “We are not here to prove to everyone that we are perfect." He explained there is danger in such a perspective, because when we commit mistakes we condemn ourselves and at the same time we justify and hide them. Making mistakes is part of living, he said, and those mistakes are the ones that make us stronger.

He went on to explain that it is important to remember who we are while striving to correct where (mistakes) we are. It is also important to remember this when working with others.

When our Esperanza colleagues and/or scholars make mistakes we need to help them remember who they are and their potential before focusing on correcting mistakes they have made. It's hard for a person to permanently change an undesirable behavior if he sees himself as a trouble maker and/or a bad person.

If we can help each other as colleagues and with our scholars to understand that mistakes are part of the process of reaching our potential, we will create a more inviting environment and experience more growth individually and as an organization.

Words Were All We Had

I finished reading Words Were All We Had by María de la Luz Reyes. The narratives by eleven different Latinos touched my heart as they told how they were able to become biliterate against the odds.

Not only did the stories touch the heart but they also taught some important lessons for us as Esperanza educators and stakeholders. One lesson had to do specificially with the kind of educators our scholars need. It became apparent that a Spanish speaking teacher--even if she/he is Hispanic-- is no guarantee that that teacher will create a child-centered learning environment that is respectful and caring. Even they can exhibit deficit views.

Not only is "authentic caring" crucial for educators, but educators must also be able to challenge these young bilinguals to reach their potential. These are two characteristics an educator cannot fake. Even very young children can "read" a teacher.

The lessons learned from these narratives reinforce Dr. Haberman's STAR educator principles. This is why it is so important we have Esperanza educators who are predisposed to work well with this population whether they are Hispanic/Latino or not.

Esperanza Scholars

It is my hope that we will call our students scholars and that we as educators can set the example. It is for this reason that I had a strong interest in Dr. John W. Welch's acceptance speech for the 2011 BYU Maeser Distinguished Faculty Lecturer Award that he gave last Tuesday.

He based his remarks on a quote by Joseph Smith: "Thy mind, o man, must stretch." Dr. Welch encouraged all his listeners to expand their minds, discover new things and seek for flashes of inspiration. We want no less for our Esperanza scholars (both students and educators). He went on to say that discoveries require hard work and going the extra mile--over long periods of time. We must continue to believe that an answer is out there somewhere.

Dr. Welch's remarks support BYU's mission statement which states in part, "....stimulating setting where a commitment to excellence is expected and the full realization of human potential is persued." We, too, want to provide this type of environment at Esperanza for our scholars.