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Major Article 05

Teaching as an Art
Peter Lutzker
Peter Lutzker has been teaching English in Steiner Schools in Germany for 20 years and regularly gives courses in the context of pre-service and in-service training for Steiner School teachers throughout Europe. The following article is adapted from a speech he gave at the yearly conference English Week, held in Altenberg, Germany in November, 2006. His forthcoming book The Art of Foreign Language Teaching will address this theme in the context of empirical studies conducted in the fields of language learning and teacher education. E-mail:  peterlutzker@googlemail.com 
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Concepts of Teaching: Implications and Alternatives
“I cannot really recall my other teachers”
“Porter took his failure very well”
“Schiller can be glad, Herr Professor”
Developing Alternative Educational Perspectives
References

Concepts of Teaching: Implications and Alternatives
Concepts of teaching decisively shape the framework and atmosphere in which all educational questions are considered and decided. The concept of teaching as a science widely prevalent today became an increasingly accepted view in the course of the 20th century. Its origins can be found in educational thinking in the second half of the 19th century, largely due to the widespread influence of Johann Friedrich Herbart’s writings and the ensuing Herbartismus. From this point on, the practices of teaching and teacher education came to be seen as legitimate fields of scientific inquiry and knowledge, offering the underlying basis for ensuing educational theory and practice. This view is clearly evident, for instance, in most educational research in which the objective methods of the natural sciences have generally been accepted as a standard paradigm. Concurrently, it has also become the dominant perspective in the training of teachers, shaping the entire approach to pre-service and in-service training. 
Whereas the methods of science are seen as offering a model for objective, research-based educational theory, the paradigm of successful business practices is often considered to offer a model of efficiency and productivity for educational practice. From a perspective based on attaining the best possible results in the most efficient manner, schools have increasingly been viewed as a form of service institution in which teachers are to be held accountable for productivity, often measured on the basis of their pupils’ standardized test scores. Even within very different national traditions and educational systems a deeply held belief in the necessity of achieving the goals of standardization and accountability which both science and economic production demand is prevalent today. The metaphors and images borrowed from science and business which underlie this view of teaching have deeply influenced the ways teaching and education are generally perceived. 
This is particularly evident in policies precipitated by recent educational developments in the United States and in a number of European countries. In their wide-scale attempts to establish objective and measurable standards for all pupils, an underlying view of teaching and learning based on the dictum of education as a ‘hard science’ has been widely accepted. What Elliot Eisner (2005) has described as a formalist vision of schooling based on the paramount goal of efficiently reaching narrowly defined aims, can be considered the basis of most contemporary educational policies in both the United States and Europe. He writes,

Like the management of an assembly line, predictability, control, order and specificity are prized and pursued. The administrator’s main task is to run the organizational machine so that students achieve intended outcomes. In this vision, schooling is taken “seriously.” By seriously I mean that the student’s life within the school is analogized to the world of work. Schooling is the child’s work and the teacher’s job is to supervise its development so that it is performed well. 

Although this understanding of schooling and teaching represents the dominant view of our times, there are and have been very different concepts of teaching. In the context of this article I want to explore some of the implications of an alternative concept, namely teaching viewed as an art. Considering teaching as an art implies not only a different understanding of teaching, but requires considering a different framework of knowledge as well. In the arts there are clearly ways of knowing and doing that cannot be represented within the measurable, objective domains of traditional science and education. The musician’s refined sensitivity to nuances of tone, the actor’s to voice and gesture, the clown’s to the possibilities of improvisation, all represent dynamic forms of knowledge and expression which inherently resist fixation and standardization. The highly emergent qualities of artistry do not lend themselves easily to scientific research or discourse and thus do not reflect that type of knowledge which most educational theory has propagated as essential. At the same time such forms of knowledge incontrovertibly evidence precise ways of knowing and acting. Inherent in the concept of teaching as an art is the view that those capabilities and skills which excellent teaching demands are far closer to those required of artists, than of scientists. One of the most prominent educators who has taken this position is Elliot Eisner. In a chapter called “On the Art of Teaching” in his book The Educational Imagination (1985) he explains the four reasons which lead him to define teaching as an art:

First, it is an art in the sense that teaching can be performed with such skill and grace that, for the student as for the teacher, the experience can be justifiably characterized as aesthetic. (…)
Second, teaching is an art in the sense that teachers, like painters, composers, actresses, and dancers, make judgments based on qualities that unfold during the course of action. (…)
Third, teaching is an art in the sense that the teacher’s activity is not dominated by prescriptions or routines but is influenced by qualities and contingencies that are unpredicted. (…)
Fourth, teaching is an art in the sense that the ends it achieves are often created in process. (…)
It is in these four senses – teaching as a source of aesthetic experience, as dependent on the perception and control of qualities, as a heuristic, or adventitious activity, and as seeking emergent ends – that teaching can be regarded as an art. p. 175-177.

Using terms like “flexible purposing” and “fluid intelligence,” Eisner goes on to elucidate how artists learn to address changing elements in their mediums, drawing on a repertoire of possibilities to create and work with those dynamic qualities intrinsic to their respective art forms. In establishing manifold parallels between such processes in the arts and in teaching, a fundamentally different vision of teaching is advanced. Through realizing possibilities within a framework in which qualities such as openness, sensitivity, flexibility, creativity and expressiveness are deemed as most essential, the teacher as an artist in her classroom is seen as exhibiting comparable forms of skill and grace as a musician, dancer, or actor. This is a perspective with potentially far-ranging consequences affecting all aspects of teacher education and teaching.

In exploring the implications of this view, it can be instructive to first examine specific examples of teachers who appear to evidence these artistic qualities. In this context an autobiographical perspective in which adults recall such teachers also offers the possibility of considering the effects and significance of their teaching in later life. The following excerpts illuminate in different ways those qualities that have been seen as intrinsic to artistry in teaching. 

“I cannot really recall my other teachers”

The Canadian educator Ted Aoki has written about his experiences as a pupil during World War II (Aoki 2005). As Aoki is of Japanese descent, he along with all the other Japanese children in his junior high school was forced to leave his 7th grade class in April, 1942 to be sent to an internment camp. Reflecting on this experience more than half a century later he writes,

  It was a bewildering day for many of us. (…) We had been hearing rumors that we were to be moved, first to Vancouver, then somewhere to the interior of British Columbia and possibly beyond. We had been trying not to believe Charlie Tweedie, who told my brother, Tim, that all the Japanese would be herded en masse to Hastings Park, and who had said, teasingly perhaps, “That way only one bomb will do it!”
  On this day in April, I went to school solely for the purpose of leaving school. As soon as school began, we cleaned out our desks, returned texts that belonged to the school, gathered our books and belongings while our Occidental schoolmates silently watched our movements. With our arms full, we left our classroom, taking footsteps that seemed to know that these might be the last, at least in this classroom. Cautiously, we moved step by step down two flights of stairs and wended our way along the worn path of the school playground, homeward bound. (…)As I walked I felt the school’s tug and this walking home was like hands that slip away in parting, knowing not what to say in a silent farewell.
  I was about to leave the schoolyard. Something called upon me to turn around for a last look. On the balcony of the school stood my teacher Mr. McNab alone, watching us as if to keep guard over us in our departure.
  I almost felt I did something wrong in stealing a look, so without a wave of good-bye, I resumed my walk homeward. I wondered, “What is Mr. McNab thinking right now?” p. 194

This summons up for him other memories of Mr. McNab. He goes on, 

  I cannot really recall my other teachers in all the years of my schooling, which began in Fanny Bay. But Mr. McNab, I remember. He was the one I recall. He was the teacher who urged us in school to display our Japanese kimonos and to perform some “odori” to Japanese music. He was the one who on the annual district sports day insisted on taking all the students, the athletic and the not so athletic, breaking with the tradition of sports days for elite athletes. For us, the event was something special. It mattered little whether we won or lost. All of us were grateful that Mr. McNab took us, swift ones and slow ones, dumpy ones and lean ones, tall ones and short ones. 

Later, reflecting once again on this never-forgotten sight of his teacher standing on the balcony, he considers more closely the qualities of “watching” which he experienced in those moments:

  It was a watching that was watchfulness – a watchfulness filled with a teacher’s hope that wherever his students may be, wherever they may wander on this earth away from his presence, they are well and no harm will visit them. (…)
  When Mr. McNab watched his students leave, his watching was a watching with thoughtfulness – a thoughtfulness that spoke silently from deep within, a thoughtfulness that reached out without gesture or motion, a thoughtfulness filled with both hope and sadness: hope for the well-being of the departing student, and sadness that he must now live in the empty presence of his students’ absence. p.196

He concludes, 

Authentic teaching is watchfulness.... In this sense, good teachers are more than they do; they are the teaching. When Mr. McNab watched, he was the teaching. No less, no more. 

“Porter took his failure very well”

In the context of critical reflections on the quality of schooling that the author had experienced forty years earlier as a black child in Harlem in the 1920s, there is a striking passage in which he then recalls those few teachers whom he considered to be decisive for his later development. In particular, 

… the never-to-be-forgotten Mr. Porter, my black math teacher, who soon gave up any attempt to teach me math. I had been born, apparently, with some kind of deformity that resulted in a total inability to count. From arithmetic to geometry, I never passed a single test. Porter took his failure very well and compensated for it by helping me run the school magazine. He assigned me a story about Harlem for this magazine, a story that he insisted demanded serious research. Porter took me downtown to the main branch of the public library at Forty-second Street and waited for me while I began my research. He was very proud of the story I eventually turned in. But I was so terrified that afternoon that I vomited all over his shoes in the subway. (…) I was an exceedingly shy, withdrawn and uneasy student. Yet my teachers somehow made me believe that I could learn. And when I could scarcely see for myself any future at all, my teachers told me that the future was mine. p. 662 
 
These are the remembrances of one of the outstanding American writers of the 20th century – James Baldwin (1962). In considering the discussion of Mr. Porter more closely it is apparent that his significance for Baldwin had nothing to do with the subject he actually taught in which he “took his failure well.” Instead there was a clear recognition of the talents and interests of his young pupil combined with an active involvement in encouraging them “by helping me run the school magazine.” He gives him assignments, places high demands on the quality of the research and, perhaps most strikingly, accompanies his 12 year old pupil from his school in Harlem to New York’s largest research library. It is noteworthy that he doesn’t do any of the research for him or even with him; he simply waits for him. His response to his pupil in the end is being “very proud of the story I eventually turned in.” Baldwin then goes on to say, 

Every child’s sense of himself is terrifyingly fragile. He is really at the mercy of his elders, and when he finds himself totally at the mercy of his peers, who know as little about themselves as he, it is because his peers’ elders have abandoned them. I am talking, then about morale, that sense of self with which the child must be invested. No child can do it alone. (italics in original) 

What he writes here reveals underlying connections between these two experiences. Each child, highly dependent on his teacher, was invested with what Baldwin has termed “that sense of self with which the child must be invested.” Their writings more than 40 years later illuminate the significance of what this meant to them. 

“Schiller can be glad, Herr Professor”

In his last writings, the German writer Alfred Döblin invited all his former high school teachers to an imaginary "conference" in which he told them what he had thought of them then and what he thought of them almost half a century later (Döblin 1980) In no uncertain terms, he reminded them of events that had occurred and described how they still remained with him. Among the many unhappy memories of his school years, there is one notable exception:

"Herr Professor Konrad, I see you and I am glad to see you again. We had German in the upper grades with you. We read some Goethe, but mostly Schiller. You know, the long philosophical poems. It is odd, Schiller seems to have written these poems for the purpose of having them studied in school. I have never heard of anyone reading them afterwards. (…) You read the poems to us Herr Professor, standing before the lectern, one arm resting back on it. Your clothes were too big for you. You were quite large, dynamic and thin. You always held your head a bit bent back. You spoke of Truth, Virtue, Beauty. When you spoke these words they were true and not just words. It was moving to watch you. When you read a poem, believe me Professor Konrad, I remembered it; it became a part of me. When I think about Schiller and the Idealism of 1800, I think about you Professor Konrad, and then Schiller is true. Schiller can be glad, Herr Professor. He was fortunate to have had you. When you see him above, do not be afraid; talk to him, tell him what you have just heard." p. 76

In contrast to the two previous examples, Döblin is describing a teacher he had in his last years in high school. Hence, this encounter must be viewed in the context of late adolescence, as opposed to the pre-adolescent experiences of Baldwin and Aoki. Two aspects of Döblin´s text can be considered particularly relevant in this respect; his critical search for Ideals (“When you spoke those words they were true, and not just words. (…)When I think about Schiller and the Idealism of 1800, I think about you Professor Konrad, and Schiller is true.”), and the deeply formative nature of this encounter with Schiller’s poetry (“When you read a poem, believe me Professor Konrad, I remembered it; it became a part of me”).Schiller’s works came to life, unforgettably embodied in Professor Konrad’s voice, posture, gestures and clothes. Reading Schiller’s challenging philosophical poems (“I have never heard of anyone reading them afterwards.”) his teacher served as a kind of ´medium’ connecting the ideals of his young students with Schiller’s own passionate idealism. Both the deeply formative nature of the experience and the degree of thankfulness with which it is recalled reveal decisive parallels to the other two examples. 

Developing Alternative Educational Perspectives

In considering these three remembrances, it is evident that the standard educational frameworks of science and business and their accompanying terminology are inapplicable. Educational concepts based on the paradigms of attaining maximum effectiveness and objective, replicable results offer little basis from which one can explore the educational processes described in these passages. A different perspective and another vocabulary are clearly called for.

In this context the term attunement can help us to elucidate crucial processes which occurred. The word attunement has a series of different, yet related meanings: in a musical sense it can mean ‘to bring into harmony’, in physics it denotes the ‘bringing into resonance of different objects with each other’, in psychology it refers to ‘bringing into agreement, establishing a connection between people or within a situation’. The multiple resonances implied in that term can help us to perceive some of the essential qualities of teaching present in these examples. In each, a striking sense of attunement between teacher and pupil was established. With Mr. McNab and Ted Aoki this became apparent while he stood watching on the balcony and his pupil looked back at him. Strikingly, it occurred entirely without words. Between Mr. Porter and James Baldwin it was evidenced in his sensing of the potentials of his young pupil and in the concrete manner of their working together to develop them; all the more remarkable insofar as it occurred wholly outside of the subject which he was supposed to teach him. In the example of Professor Konrad, a different form of attunement took place; in this case between Professor Konrad and Schiller’s poetry, through which his pupils were able to experience Schiller’s poetry and ideals as “true”. 

In considering these examples it becomes evident that the essential prerequisite for developing attunement lies in the inner being and attitudes of the teacher, revealed not in specific subject knowledge which they imparted, but in the way in which they perceived and touched their pupils. What Aoki writes with respect to his own experience is equally applicable to the other two examples:

  What is the voice of teaching that this story speaks? Surely it is more than a nostalgic remembrance of a past. Surely it is more, much more than a recording of a minor historical event in the lives of a teacher and a few students.
  Why is this particular story of a single moment worth a remarking? Could it be that that which is remarkable is the indwelling presence of the shimmering being of teaching that is open to those whose listening is attuned aright? 

What is it we hear when we listen to this “indwelling presence” which Aoki maintains can be heard by those “whose listening is attuned aright”? What connects Mr. McNab watching on the balcony, Mr. Porter accompanying his pupil on the subway, and Prof. Konrad speaking of “Truth, Virtue and Beauty”? In each case there appears to be a guiding inner belief in the potentials of their pupils, a kind of continual envisioning of qualities and possibilities which these teachers were able to see. The psychologist Viktor Frankl considered this belief to be the decisive gesture underlying all teaching. He writes (Frankl, 1977),

From the very first hour and in the most critical phases, whoever does not continually see and address the positive, the whole and the good which exists in a person – his hidden potentials and possibilities – has missed that which is most decisive in all teaching. p. 150

The presence of this inner vision is revealed in the nature of the gestures that are described. Mr. McNab standing on the balcony, Mr. Porter accompanying his pupil and Prof. Konrad standing before the lectern are all sensitively and expressively attuned to their pupils - they are touching them, not grasping them. Although they are extraordinarily close, there is no holding on, no clutching, but, paradoxically, a kind of letting go, a letting be. The deep sense of attunement created was dependent not only on their nearness to their pupils, but also on a tactfulness which allowed their pupils to respond freely. 

The philosopher David Michael Levin has addressed the crucial distinctions between the gestures of touching and grasping. In the image of a person grasping something he sees a metaphor for our times, insofar as this gesture reflects the continual need to secure, to possess all forms of knowledge. He writes (Levin 1985), 

Our gestures bespeak capacities: not only capabilities for doing, but also capacities for being. (…) 
The grasping gestures characteristic of our technological world are powerful, but they cannot reach into the essential nature of things. In this regard, such gestures are tactless transgressions. The careful touch, which is open to feeling what it touches and uses, gets in touch with a thing’s essential nature more deeply and closely than the hand which wilfully grasps and clings, moved by strong desires (i.e. by attractions and aversions), or than the hand which is indifferent to the beauty of the thing in the wholeness of its truth. (italics in original)
p. 124,128.

It is in the reciprocating gestures of his students that the nature and manner of a teacher’s presence are most clearly revealed. In the context of these memories it becomes evident that each teacher evoked corresponding responses not only in those remembered moments, but that they continued to touch their pupils throughout their entire lives, a process culminating in a final metamorphosis expressed in their pupils’ deep sense of thankfulness. 

Within a framework and atmosphere formed by the models of science and business there is little chance to develop what can be learned from such examples of teaching. To use these as examples of effective teaching would profoundly narrow and thus distort what occurred. The pedagogical acts described here have little place within a context in which standardization and measurability are the paramount dictums: what was taught and what was learned is wholly immeasurable. 

It is within the context of viewing teaching as an art, in which qualities such as openness, sensitivity, flexibility, creativity and expressiveness are considered most essential, that these examples can reveal to us in different ways the finest qualities and possibilities of artistry in teaching. Within an artistic framework, schooling is no longer analogous to the world of business and the workplace, but can become the place of an “indwelling presence” created and shared by teachers and pupils alike. This requires, above all, practicing a different kind of seeing and listening. Aoki writes,  

So placed, I may be allowed to hear better the voice of what teaching essentially is. The question understood in this way urges me to be attuned to a teacher’s presence with children. This presence, if authentic, is being. I find that teaching so understood is attuned to the place where care dwells, a place of ingathering and belonging, where the indwelling of teachers and students is made possible by the presence of care that each has for the other. p. 191

Aoki’s experience, as well as those of Baldwin and Döblin, show that school as “the place where care dwells,” continues to exist in pupils long after all schooling is over. This is a perspective of teaching which presents us with profoundly different possibilities and responsibilities than those prevalent in most concepts of teaching today. It is a view that also implies an understanding of teacher education which recognizes that realizing our potentials as teachers requires developing and refining artistic capabilities of seeing, listening to and touching our pupils; all capacities deeply rooted in sensory and affective experience, not in theoretical knowledge. “(T)he place where care dwells” was not created through what these teachers knew, but through what they perceived, felt and did. This is the “voice of teaching” of which these stories speak.  

References

Aoki, Ted. 2005. “Layered Voices of Teaching” Chap 8 in Curriculum in a New Key: The Collected Works of Ted Aoki. Mahweh NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Baldwin, James.1985. “Dark Days” Chap in The Price of the Ticket. London: Michael Joseph.
Döblin, Alfred. 1980. Autobiographische Schriften und letzte Aufzeichnungen. Freiburg im Breisgau: Olten.
Eisner, Elliot. 1985. The Educational Imagination: On the Design and Evaluation of School Programs. 2nd ed. New York: Macmillan.
Eisner, Elliot.2005. “Two Visions of Education” Teachers College Record November 07, 2005 available online at http://www.tcrecord.org (ID Number 12234).
Frankl, Viktor. 1977 Das Leiden am Sinnlosen Leben. Freiburg: Herder. 
Levin, David Michael. 1985. The Body’s Recollection of Being: Phenomenological Psychology and the Deconstruction of Nihilism. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.