The title for this blog comes first from Paolo Freire's idea that we must read the world before we can read the word. I think this quotation from an interview with Language Arts sums up this idea rather nicely:
"If we think of education as an act of knowing, then reading has to do with knowing. The act of reading cannot be explained as merely reading words since every act of reading words implies a previous reading of the world and a subsequent rereading of the world. There is a permanent movement back and forth between 'reading' reality and reading words - the spoken word too is our reading of the world. We can go further, however, and say that reading the word is not only preceded by reading the world, but also by a certain form of writing it or rewriting it. In other words, of transforming it by means of conscious practical action. For me, this dynamic movement is central to literacy." (Freire 1985)
I have been thinking for some time of the stories that I want to share, the best means through which to share them, and the object of sharing them. Writing, for me and for many people, is a therapeutic exercise but also one that challenges me to shape and reshape language to express ideas with precision. While I certainly write in my everyday life, I don't find myself taking a lot of pride in my e-mails and essay questions. During Peace Corps, I felt like I had something to say that people were interested in hearing. Now, as I am far from an expert on Kinshasa or the DRC, I don't feel as comfortable sharing my opinions on everything Congo as I did in Mzansi. My inability to write about the parts of my life that I assume outsiders would deem interesting has caused me to pause and consider if there is anything interesting that I do have to say.
For now, the questions I find myself pondering as I swim laps generally revolve around my students, my pedagogy, and my study of literature. I know that these topics may not be as nail-bitingly exciting as life in a South African village (ironic, because I cannot count how many people have told me how mind-numbingly boring life in a South African village is), but in theory, blogs are public because there just might be someone out there who does want to know just what's going through my head during that flip turn.
So, in this blog, I hope to discuss the ways in which we read the word and the world inside of my classroom as well as the ways in which I find myself reading the world around me and constantly rereading the words that my students and I study.
"If we think of education as an act of knowing, then reading has to do with knowing. The act of reading cannot be explained as merely reading words since every act of reading words implies a previous reading of the world and a subsequent rereading of the world. There is a permanent movement back and forth between 'reading' reality and reading words - the spoken word too is our reading of the world. We can go further, however, and say that reading the word is not only preceded by reading the world, but also by a certain form of writing it or rewriting it. In other words, of transforming it by means of conscious practical action. For me, this dynamic movement is central to literacy." (Freire 1985)
I have been thinking for some time of the stories that I want to share, the best means through which to share them, and the object of sharing them. Writing, for me and for many people, is a therapeutic exercise but also one that challenges me to shape and reshape language to express ideas with precision. While I certainly write in my everyday life, I don't find myself taking a lot of pride in my e-mails and essay questions. During Peace Corps, I felt like I had something to say that people were interested in hearing. Now, as I am far from an expert on Kinshasa or the DRC, I don't feel as comfortable sharing my opinions on everything Congo as I did in Mzansi. My inability to write about the parts of my life that I assume outsiders would deem interesting has caused me to pause and consider if there is anything interesting that I do have to say.
For now, the questions I find myself pondering as I swim laps generally revolve around my students, my pedagogy, and my study of literature. I know that these topics may not be as nail-bitingly exciting as life in a South African village (ironic, because I cannot count how many people have told me how mind-numbingly boring life in a South African village is), but in theory, blogs are public because there just might be someone out there who does want to know just what's going through my head during that flip turn.
So, in this blog, I hope to discuss the ways in which we read the word and the world inside of my classroom as well as the ways in which I find myself reading the world around me and constantly rereading the words that my students and I study.
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