It was with real sadness that I read about the death of Vivian Gussin Paley. When I was studying to become a teacher and knee deep in textbooks about child development and theory, I accidentally chanced on Wally’s Stories in the library when waiting for the photocopier (remember those days?).
I am a sucker for a good bit of narrative and enjoyed the human way that she talked about children and her role as a teacher. My photocopying forgotten, I sat and read the book that afternoon.
Vivian G.P. wrote about her own experiences in the classroom, but she never preached. She simply talks about the dialogue of the day without agenda. She links with an invisible thread her own search for ‘truth’ in the context of a kindergarten classroom. Many early years texts have ‘in practice’ sections and these are often pretty drab, but the way that she celebrates children as equals makes her books come alive with vivid colour.
I love her work and liberally give my copies out to anyone I think may even be remotely interested. In fact, I would go so far as saying I judge the quality of a practitioner’s reflective practice by whether they are ‘touched’ and inspired. I seldom get my books back and must have bought at least six or seven copies of each title.
Put simply, V.G.P. sees her own growth as a teacher (and as a human being) as directly linked to her understanding the dynamic of the community of children that make up the class. She continually questions her own assumptions and prejudices, and when I was studying to be a teacher this was one of the most precious gifts anyone had given me. Compared to her, even years later, I am an amateur. It is an approach that has certainly helped me in management.
In these times of new inspection systems, a carousel of new ministers, populist agendas and lies about funding, her lessons are as relevant now as they have ever been. Our role as educators should be respectful and sensitive to children rather than fearful and protective towards politicians and inspectors.
As she says herself:
‘…every child enters the classroom in a vehicle propelled by that child alone, at a particular pace and for a particular purpose. Here is where the fair study of children begins and where teaching becomes a moral act.’
(The Boy Who Would be a Helicopter, 1990)