I'm only putting up part 2, because part 1 was mostly discussion of when and where to hold a Shabbaton...
Rabbi Yosef Gavriel Bechhofer הרב יוסף גבריאל בקהופר
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
My shiur in MTA of 6 Tishrei, part 2: Learning Torah "Subversively"
My shiur in MTA of 6 Tishrei, part 2
My shiur of 6 Tishrei at MTA, part 1: Mitzvah ha'ba'ah b'aveirah
My shiur of 6 Tishrei at MTA, part 1
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
I like to think this is how I give shiur (and how shiur should be given)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inquiry_education
http://www.darcynorman.net/2008/08/15/postman-teaching-as-a-subversive-activity/
http://okdork.com/2008/04/15/book-report-teaching-as-a-subversive-activity-by-neil-postman/
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/79681.Teaching_as_a_Subversive_Activity
http://subversiveteaching.tripod.com/
http://www.amazon.com/Teaching-Subversive-Activity-Neil-Postman/dp/0385290098
http://books.google.com/books?id=SeYoVm4zoVoC&dq=isbn:0385290098&ei=FIiKTqHMNMzNUfSE8LsP
http://www.arvindguptatoys.com/arvindgupta/taasa.pdf
Consider this excerpt from the second chapter:
Educational discourse,
especially among the educated, is a laden with preconceptions that it is
practically impossible b introduce an idea that does not fit into traditional
categories.
Consider as a primary case in point the notion that a classroom lesson is
largely made up of two components: content and method. The content may
be trivial or important, but if is always thought to be the 'substance' of the
lesson; it is what the student are there to 'get'; it is what they are supposed to
learn; it is what is 'covered'. Content, as any syllabus proves, exists
independent of and prior to the student, and is indifferent to the media by
which it is 'transmitted'. Method, on the other hand, is merely the manner in
which the content is presented. The method may be imaginative or dull, but
it is never more than a means of conveying the content. It has no content of
its own. While it may induce excitement or boredom, it carries no message -
at least none that would be asked about on the College Boards, which is to
say, worthy of comment.
To our knowledge, all schools of education and teacher training
institutions in the United States are organized around the idea that content
and method are separate in the manner we have described. Perhaps the most
important message thus communicated to teachers in training is that this
separation is real useful and urgent, and that it ought to be maintained in the
schools. A secondary message is that, while the 'content' and 'method' are
separate, they are not equal. Everyone knows that the 'real' courses are the
content courses, the kind of which James Bryant Conant is so fond: The
Heritage of Greece and Rome, Calculus, Elizabethan Drama, The Civil War.
The 'fake' courses are the methods courses, those conspiracies of emptiness
which are universally ridiculed because their finest ambition is to instruct in
how to write lesson plans, when to use an overhead projector, and why it is
desirable to keep the room at a comfortable temperature (The educationists
have got what they deserve on this one Since they have saddled themselves
with a trivial definition of 'method', what they have been able to do in their
courses has wavered from embarrassing to shocking. The professors of the
liberal arts have, so far, escaped the censure and ridicule they deserve for not
having noticed that a 'discipline' or a 'subject' is a way of knowing something
- in other words a method - and that, therefore, their courses are methods
comas)
'The medium is the message' implies that the invention of a dichotomy
between content and method is both naive and dangerous. It implies that the
critical content of any learning experience is the method or process through
which the learning occurs. Almost any sensible parent knows this, as does
any effective top sergeant. It is not what you say to people that counts; it is
what you have them do. If most teachers have not yet grasped this idea, it is
not for lack of evidence. It may, however, be due to their failure to look in
the direction where the evidence can be seen. In order to understand what
kinds of behaviors classrooms promote, one must become accustomed to
observing what, in fact, students actually do in them. What students do in the
classroom is what they learn (as Dewey would say), and what they learn to
do is the classroom's message (as McLuhan would say). Now, what is it that
students do in the classroom? Well, mostly, they sit and listen to the teacher.
Mostly, they are required to believe in authorities, or at last pretend to such
belief when they take tests. Mostly, they are required to remember. They are
almost never required to make observations, formulate definitions, or
perform any intellectual operations that go beyond repeating what someone
else says is true. They are rarely encouraged to ask substantive questions,
although they are permitted to ask about administrative and technical details
(How long should the paper be? Does spelling count? When is the
assignment due?) It is practically unheard of for students to play any role in
determining what problems are worth studying or what procedures of
inquiry ought to be used. Examine the types of questions teachers ask in
classrooms, and you will find that most of than are what might technically
be called 'convergent questions', but which might more simply be called
'Guess what I'm thinking' questions Here are a few that will sound familiar:
What is a noun?
What were the three causes of the Civil War?
What is the principal river of Uruguay?
What is the definition of a nonrestrictive clause?
What is the real meaning of this poem?
How many sets of chromosomes do human beings have?
Why did Brutus betray Caesar?
So, what students mostly do in class is guess what the teacher wants them
to say. Constantly, they must try to supply the Right Answer. It does not
seem to matter if the subject is English or history or science; mostly,
students do the same thing. And since it is indisputably (if not publicity) recognized that the ostensible 'content' of such courses is rarely remembered
beyond the last suit (in which you are required to remember only 65 per cent
of what you were told), it is safe to say that just about the only learning that
occurs in classrooms is that which is communicated by the structure of the
classroom itself. What are these learning’s? What are these messages? Here
are a few among many, none of which you will ever find officially listed
among the aims of teachers:
Passive acceptance is a more desirable response to ideas than active
criticism.
Discovering knowledge is beyond the power of students and is, in any
case, none of their business.
Recall is the highest form of intellectual achievement, and the collection of
unrelated 'facts' is the goal of education.
The voice of authority is to be trusted and valued more than independent
judgment.
One's own ideas and those of one's classmates are inconsequential.
Feelings art irrelevant in education.
There is always a single, unambiguous Right Answer to a question.
English is not history and history is not science and science is not art and
art is not music, and art and music are minor subjects and English, history
and science major subjects, and a subject is something you 'take' and, when
you have taken it, you have 'had' it, and if you have 'had' it, you are immune
and need not take it again. The Vaccination Theory of education?
http://www.darcynorman.net/2008/08/15/postman-teaching-as-a-subversive-activity/
http://okdork.com/2008/04/15/book-report-teaching-as-a-subversive-activity-by-neil-postman/
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/79681.Teaching_as_a_Subversive_Activity
http://subversiveteaching.tripod.com/
http://www.amazon.com/Teaching-Subversive-Activity-Neil-Postman/dp/0385290098
http://books.google.com/books?id=SeYoVm4zoVoC&dq=isbn:0385290098&ei=FIiKTqHMNMzNUfSE8LsP
http://www.arvindguptatoys.com/arvindgupta/taasa.pdf
Consider this excerpt from the second chapter:
Educational discourse,
especially among the educated, is a laden with preconceptions that it is
practically impossible b introduce an idea that does not fit into traditional
categories.
Consider as a primary case in point the notion that a classroom lesson is
largely made up of two components: content and method. The content may
be trivial or important, but if is always thought to be the 'substance' of the
lesson; it is what the student are there to 'get'; it is what they are supposed to
learn; it is what is 'covered'. Content, as any syllabus proves, exists
independent of and prior to the student, and is indifferent to the media by
which it is 'transmitted'. Method, on the other hand, is merely the manner in
which the content is presented. The method may be imaginative or dull, but
it is never more than a means of conveying the content. It has no content of
its own. While it may induce excitement or boredom, it carries no message -
at least none that would be asked about on the College Boards, which is to
say, worthy of comment.
To our knowledge, all schools of education and teacher training
institutions in the United States are organized around the idea that content
and method are separate in the manner we have described. Perhaps the most
important message thus communicated to teachers in training is that this
separation is real useful and urgent, and that it ought to be maintained in the
schools. A secondary message is that, while the 'content' and 'method' are
separate, they are not equal. Everyone knows that the 'real' courses are the
content courses, the kind of which James Bryant Conant is so fond: The
Heritage of Greece and Rome, Calculus, Elizabethan Drama, The Civil War.
The 'fake' courses are the methods courses, those conspiracies of emptiness
which are universally ridiculed because their finest ambition is to instruct in
how to write lesson plans, when to use an overhead projector, and why it is
desirable to keep the room at a comfortable temperature (The educationists
have got what they deserve on this one Since they have saddled themselves
with a trivial definition of 'method', what they have been able to do in their
courses has wavered from embarrassing to shocking. The professors of the
liberal arts have, so far, escaped the censure and ridicule they deserve for not
having noticed that a 'discipline' or a 'subject' is a way of knowing something
- in other words a method - and that, therefore, their courses are methods
comas)
'The medium is the message' implies that the invention of a dichotomy
between content and method is both naive and dangerous. It implies that the
critical content of any learning experience is the method or process through
which the learning occurs. Almost any sensible parent knows this, as does
any effective top sergeant. It is not what you say to people that counts; it is
what you have them do. If most teachers have not yet grasped this idea, it is
not for lack of evidence. It may, however, be due to their failure to look in
the direction where the evidence can be seen. In order to understand what
kinds of behaviors classrooms promote, one must become accustomed to
observing what, in fact, students actually do in them. What students do in the
classroom is what they learn (as Dewey would say), and what they learn to
do is the classroom's message (as McLuhan would say). Now, what is it that
students do in the classroom? Well, mostly, they sit and listen to the teacher.
Mostly, they are required to believe in authorities, or at last pretend to such
belief when they take tests. Mostly, they are required to remember. They are
almost never required to make observations, formulate definitions, or
perform any intellectual operations that go beyond repeating what someone
else says is true. They are rarely encouraged to ask substantive questions,
although they are permitted to ask about administrative and technical details
(How long should the paper be? Does spelling count? When is the
assignment due?) It is practically unheard of for students to play any role in
determining what problems are worth studying or what procedures of
inquiry ought to be used. Examine the types of questions teachers ask in
classrooms, and you will find that most of than are what might technically
be called 'convergent questions', but which might more simply be called
'Guess what I'm thinking' questions Here are a few that will sound familiar:
What is a noun?
What were the three causes of the Civil War?
What is the principal river of Uruguay?
What is the definition of a nonrestrictive clause?
What is the real meaning of this poem?
How many sets of chromosomes do human beings have?
Why did Brutus betray Caesar?
So, what students mostly do in class is guess what the teacher wants them
to say. Constantly, they must try to supply the Right Answer. It does not
seem to matter if the subject is English or history or science; mostly,
students do the same thing. And since it is indisputably (if not publicity) recognized that the ostensible 'content' of such courses is rarely remembered
beyond the last suit (in which you are required to remember only 65 per cent
of what you were told), it is safe to say that just about the only learning that
occurs in classrooms is that which is communicated by the structure of the
classroom itself. What are these learning’s? What are these messages? Here
are a few among many, none of which you will ever find officially listed
among the aims of teachers:
Passive acceptance is a more desirable response to ideas than active
criticism.
Discovering knowledge is beyond the power of students and is, in any
case, none of their business.
Recall is the highest form of intellectual achievement, and the collection of
unrelated 'facts' is the goal of education.
The voice of authority is to be trusted and valued more than independent
judgment.
One's own ideas and those of one's classmates are inconsequential.
Feelings art irrelevant in education.
There is always a single, unambiguous Right Answer to a question.
English is not history and history is not science and science is not art and
art is not music, and art and music are minor subjects and English, history
and science major subjects, and a subject is something you 'take' and, when
you have taken it, you have 'had' it, and if you have 'had' it, you are immune
and need not take it again. The Vaccination Theory of education?
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Ethicist - Flight or Fight - NYTimes.com
The Ethicist - Flight or Fight - NYTimes.com
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Flight or Fight
By ARIEL KAMINER
My husband and son took a New York-to-Milwaukee flight that was supposed to leave Friday at 11:29 a.m. The flight boarded after 4 and didn’t leave the gate until 4:40, and a half-hour later the pilot announced it would be another hour until takeoff. At that point a devout Jewish family, worried about violating the Sabbath, asked to get off. Going back to the gate cost the plane its place in line for takeoff, and the flight was eventually canceled. Was the airline right to grant that request? M. W.,NORWALK, CONN.
Situations like that can bring out the worst in people. But despite the seething resentment of a plane full of people — and despite, no doubt, his own carry-on valise full of hassles — the pilot tried to do the right thing. He went out of his way to accommodate one family’s urgent need.
He should not have done so.
Passengers bought tickets in the belief that the airline’s primary goal was to get them to their destination as close to schedule as possible. Once they are buckled in and the doors are locked, it’s not ethical to announce that the rules have changed and that a personal (as opposed to medical) emergency — no matter how compelling — might take precedence.
That would be just as true if turning back to the gate had merely cost a few minutes rather than doomed the flight entirely, since on a plane even a slight delay can ripple outward, from the people in the cabin to the people who are meeting them to the passengers waiting to board the plane for the next leg of its journey and so on. It would also be true if the personal emergency were secular in nature — if someone suddenly realized she’d made a professional mistake that might cost her millions, and she had to race back to the office to fix it.
If a religious practice does nothing to harm others, then airlines should make a reasonable effort to accommodate it. But though that family has every right to observe the Sabbath, it has no right to enlist an airplane full of captive bystanders to help them do so. By boarding a flight on a Friday afternoon, the family knowingly risked running into trouble. The risk was theirs alone to bear.
That is to some degree a culturally specific view, of course, born out of a constitutional tradition that enshrines religion as a matter of personal conscience. It might look different from another country — or from inside some of those religions. So I asked Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, author of the two-volume “Code of Jewish Ethics.” He said the situation puts two values in conflict: honoring God through his commandments and not dishonoring Judaism in the public eye, as might happen if the other passengers blamed the religion rather than the family’s risky choice for their inconvenience. As for the family in question, the rabbi —a frequent traveler — advises, “Once a flight has been delayed a lot, there are no guarantees, so be aware of that before, not after, you board a flight on a Friday afternoon.”
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