Category: General

Culturally responsive and relevant pedagogy (CRRP) is becoming more and more spoken and written about within teaching and learning communities. In a fast-changing world, educators are challenged to question their own beliefs, values, practices, and pedagogy while remaining in a system that supports and fosters a specific worldview. 

In an effort to connect with like-minded educators who wanted to explore these ideas, I joined an equity, diversity and inclusion focused book club. The book club offered an opportunity for any 20 staff members from the board to receive a copy of the book and engage in monthly discussions of the text. Culturally Responsive Teaching and The Brain: Promoting Authentic Engagement and Rigor Among Culturally and Linguistically Diverse Students by Zaretta Hammond is written for educators who want to understand the science and research behind culturally responsive teaching, reflect on their thinking about why we do what we do and challenge the status quo.

While reading this book, I really appreciated the inclusion of an in-depth explanation of the structural functions of the brain involved in learning and the background knowledge required in order to foster a deep understanding of the role culture plays in learning. Being a reflective teacher, I loved that the author challenged the reader to explore their personal worldviews, core beliefs, and group values and that she described the necessity to go beyond surface (i.e., observable elements such as food and music) and shallow (i.e., social norms such as unspoken rules around personal space or eye contact) levels of culture. This is a concept that resonates with me because many people think of the surface and shallow levels of culture, but to effectively engage in CRRP we need to go beyond that and focus on the roots of culture. As members of an organizational structure I believe it is all of our responsibility to reflect on dominant cultural practices and the explicit and implicit messages these practices convey.    

This book assists educators who are ready to dig deep and reflect on their own beliefs and values. In order to understand the worldviews of others, we must first have self-understanding, knowing our own worldview, beliefs and values as well as their origins.  Hammond fosters the development of self-understanding by including a set of inquiry questions following each chapter summary. Furthermore, additional resources for further exploration are also included at the end of each chapter. While I did not access these resources yet, they may be useful for additional supportive information as I revisit the text.

Additionally, our book club included educators with different backgrounds and in varying roles and members expressed that some of the concepts were helpful and being utilized in their professional practice. The ideas presented are adaptable for varying grades and the contents of the book suitable for all classroom and school settings. This book would be appealing for any educator ready to rethink traditional teaching practices. 

Although some readers may feel the book fails to provide specific examples or lessons, Hammond does a thorough job of creating opportunities for educators to reflect on and shift their mindset about students’ capacities, especially in regards to working with dependent learners. A change in our thinking or expanding our worldview is more valuable to me than a specific lesson plan, and a mindshift fosters CRRP becoming embedded in our practice. Our ever changing classrooms require educators to not only understand the necessity of CRRP within education, but to question the origin of the views, values and beliefs on which our current practices are built. If you are looking for a resource to support your own professional development or that of a group of educators, Culturally Responsive Teaching and the Brain may be just what you are looking for!

Hammond, Z. L. (2015). Culturally responsive teaching and the brain. Corwin Press.

New Year, New Me? No. There are no new year’s resolutions for me, not yet. I’m resting and recovering from that never-ending cold, so I’ll consider my goals later. Taking care of myself and accepting where I am are important tasks for me right now. I do have one resolution. I resolve not to put additional pressure on myself at this time!

On the other hand, Joshua*, a  first grade student, told me that his goal is to make breakfast in the morning. He is so proud of this independent skill he is developing. We talked about how hard it can be to pour from a full milk jug into a bowl of cereal. It takes that careful, slow release, and the bowl has to be in the correct position. We agreed that the milk spills sometimes, but that’s how you learn, by making mistakes. That conversation got me wondering, am I that forgiving of myself when I’m learning something new?

In September, I started a new role, Early Intervention Teacher. In the first 100 minutes of the day, I work with small groups of grade one students to develop literacy and self-regulation skills in the classroom during language centres. Although I have a lot of teaching experience, this is the first time I have found myself in a position quite like this. I want to do it right, so I am putting in some effort to learn how to do the job. I attend professional development sessions, read books and blogs, and watch videos. Some days I feel like I spilled the entire jug of milk, and sometimes it feels like just a few drops. There are even days that go so smoothly I can hardly believe it!

Whatever your goals, I hope you are gentle with yourself when the milk spills. If you haven’t set goals yet, the Lunar New Year may seem like a better time, or the new moon or the first day of spring. Do it when the time feels right.

Happy New Year, everyone!

*The student’s name has been changed.

Around this time of year many people give and receive gifts, sometimes in unexpected ways.  As an ESL teacher I have always felt lucky in that regard — multilingual learners continually surprise me with new perspectives, unique interpretations, and inspiration.  

In keeping with that spirit here are just some of the gifts multilingual learners, all in the beginning stages of English acquisition, have given over the years. Some of the students in the following examples were mine, some were the students of colleagues; all bespeak the knowledge and insight multilingual learners can share with their classmates, if we only create the right conditions …

A cell diagram, labelled perfectly and in seconds, entirely in Arabic.

A deftly-sketched graph illustrating the class data survey, the multilingual learner silently guiding his group mates through the math representations. 

An exquisite birdhouse, assembled with the skill and speed of a master carpenter, while the rest of the class still fumbled with their first nail.

That same multilingual learner, upon seeing his struggling classmates, jumping from desk to desk, straightening nails with single taps and fitting panels together seamlessly.

A fable, crafted entirely in Mandarin, covering pages front to back, the precision of characters and fluid writing revealing advanced literacy skills.

A student in grade 4, with limited prior schooling and barely a word of English, demonstrating understanding of the grade-level science curriculum with one or two sessions of multilingual audio and visuals.

The bravery and grit of all multilingual learners, overcoming challenges many of us never have to face, and making it all look easy. 

For all these gifts and more, thank you. 

Ms. Garcia* was waiting for us outside the office. Her family had arrived in Canada in the fall, when temperatures were a little closer to what they were used to.  By now the air had turned a bit colder, edged with a hint of the Ontario winter to come.

The circumstances of the family’s arrival in Canada were not happy. Yet despite their sudden uprooting to a new country, her son was doing well.  His teacher had immediately observed skill and understanding in his work, and each new day revealed quickly-developing English skills.  

Ms. Garcia sent word through a family friend that she wanted to speak with us about her son. What kind of work did he do in class? How was he handling the stress of being in a new country? Did he have friends? She had all the questions any parent or caregiver would, but the language barrier prevented her from asking them with the same ease others enjoyed. We immediately scheduled a meeting with an interpreter for the following week.

The classroom teacher and I reached the office and greeted her. She returned our smiles warmly yet silently, and we walked into the adjoining conference room together. Soon after, the interpreter arrived. After a moment of removing coats and pulling up chairs, a stillness settled around the table, that slightly-uncertain pause before a meeting begins.

And then the interpreter gave us a gift.

Seamlessly moving from English to Spanish, he asked us to please look at one another — and to ignore him. We were to think of him, he continued, as an audio system off to the side, who would make our words intelligible to the person we were addressing. Then he stopped, moved his chair back slightly, and lowered his gaze to the table. A second or two passed in silence, and then we all looked away from him and towards one another. 

Ms. Garcia spoke first. Although I could not understand her words, the slight furrow of her brow, the tiny shake of her head, made her worry apparent. Seconds later the gentle, slightly quieter voice of the interpreter followed her words, gracefully trailing them with perfectly concise English. The same thing happened when the classroom teacher responded, still facing Ms. Garcia, and we barely noticed the subdued Spanish rounding off her sentences. The conversation continued in this way, almost like a duet, a back and forth that was different, and in many ways the same, as any other conversation. It took a bit of getting used to, a bit more of a pause between statements, but eventually all of us were lulled into this new way of communicating, this new way of speaking directly to one another. 

The exchange was different from other meetings I had experienced, across the ocean and many years ago.  When I worked overseas as a young adult, I sometimes needed people to interpret for me. And although intentions were always good (to this day I am profoundly grateful for the kindness and empathy shown me) at times interpretations could feel as isolating as the language barrier itself. When someone is talking about you in your presence, with utterances couched in the third person, when the speaker is not looking at you … it can sometimes feel as though you are not really there. Statements such as “Tell her this”, or “She should do that” are double-edged swords — the information you need is communicated, but the human connection inherent in conversation is absent. I suppose in this sense, they were never really “meetings” at all. I was simply the eventual recipient of a message. 

Today, I am keenly aware of the much higher stakes for multilingual parents and caregivers. All those years ago, I received interpreted information that I needed for myself, and no one else. I did not have a child I loved more than anything in the world to advocate for. When I try to imagine what that must be like, to entrust my child to an unfamiliar school system, to navigate it in a different language, I am overcome with awe and respect for multilingual families. 

As teachers we know it is essential to build relationships with parents and caregivers; we cannot serve students to the best of our abilities if we do not have the trust and partnership of their families.  And for those families without the linguistic capital to easily communicate with the school, our responsibility is heightened. With a simple statement, “Please look at one other”, the interpreter at our meeting gave us the gift we needed for the beginning of that journey.

Our conversation with Ms. Garcia continued for some time that day. The classroom teacher showed samples of her son’s work, described his strengths, and even shared laughter with Ms. Garcia. To anyone passing by in the hall, the tableau we presented must have looked curious: three women leaning towards each other in conversation, and a kind-looking man with downcast eyes, off to the side and seemingly shunned!  By the time our meeting ended, the goodbyes and gratitudes stood in lively contrast to our quiet greeting 40 minutes earlier. Our interpreter was all smiles. 

Throughout my career I have gleaned numerous insights from colleagues and ESL specialists on parent and caregiver engagement. Here are just a few tips that I have found useful in creating welcoming schools and ensuring open communication for multilingual families:

• translating important school notices into many languages 
• having dual language books and multilingual learning resources readily available and used in classrooms and libraries 
• creating and translating tip sheets for caregivers, including “how to help your child in reading and math” or “how to maintain first language”
• ensuring regular contact through settlement workers and interpreters, to see if caregivers have questions or need updates
• not assuming that silence on the part of caregivers indicates a lack of interest in their child’s education; language barriers, cultural expectations of deference to the teacher, unfamiliarity with how the Ontario school system works, adjustment and feelings of overwhelm are just some of the reasons caregivers may not actively engage with teachers and the school

Many years after the meeting with Ms. Garcia, the events of that day stay with me as a reminder of the importance of connection, and the multilingual tools we have to facilitate it.  As the holidays now draw to a close and we face the cold months ahead, I am looking forward to discovering many more such winter gifts.

*names have been changed