Goran's blog

Introductory Bio

Kathleen Goran is a grad student in The Literacy and Language Instruction program at Michigan State University. She has two years teaching experience in a second grade classroom in Southside Chicago. Currently, she is working as a clerk at the Administration Building for Warren Consolidated Schools while she finishes her degree.

Blog Entry

As a movie buff, I am making this assignment work for me as Paulo Freire would have liked.

Think Pleasantville. In this 2008 drama, high school students David and Jennifer find themselves trapped in a 1950s black and white society. Moms wear floral dresses and pearl necklaces. Dads return from work at five o’clock to a warm cooked meal. Children are content accepting reality for what it is, a dehumanizing lie that alienates them from their own decision-making.

School is a well-oiled banking system churning out hundreds of disciples each year. Here, students memorize and repeat geographical features of Pleasantville and take down copious notes from their teacher detailing that Pleasantville exists separate from the world, bordering nothing, leading to nothing. In fact, Pleasantville is the world. When David (who was originally elated at the idea of integrating into the mindless culture seemingly free from conflict) inquires to what is outside Pleasantville, the class gasps. “Why, nothing is outside Pleasantville,” the teacher responds. Whereas David gradually starts to turn against his domestication and his oppressors, the others resist. Absolute ignorance is all they know. It’s pleasant.

Who wants just pleasant? Paulo Freire, author of Pedagogy of the Oppressed, would be proud of David’s ensuing actions. He leads a mind-awakening revolution and transforms society to one that liberates instead of pacifies. The people of Pleasantville, adults and children, students and teachers, start to become engaged in a revolution of critical dialogue. Freire argues that the banking system of education needs to be replaced by problem-posing education which is grounded in communication and authentic thinking. The outdated “banking” concept of education treats students as buckets that are filled by teachers. The more full the bucket, the more passive and “successful” the student. However, Freire states that these buckets are the ones most separated by society. They aren’t encouraged to think critically for themselves nor do have knowledge that is meaningful enough to do so. They are worker bees and they are treated by their oppressors (the teachers) like they are suited for nothing more.

“But one does not liberate men by alienating them.” (Power of the Oppressed, 62). As I read Freire’s powerful words, I started to feel hopeful about the next generation of kids. The school I taught at was run like a military school by administration and several of the veteran teachers. And yes, the kids did listen . . . to an extent. We were told, as novice teachers, that the children couldn’t handle anything more than silence. Hallways were silent. Lunchrooms were silent. Classrooms were silent. In this system, Freire would also say that their minds were silent. And, just like he explains, certain students would occasionally rebel against those seeking to domesticate them, sometimes in extremely violent ways.

But back to me being hopeful . . . I was hired in along with ten other freshly graduated, eager minded teachers on the primary team. Our teaching philosophies were based on communication, choice, and reflection. All classrooms used morning meetings, readers and writers workshops, authentic assessment, and inquiry-based learning centers. Students were encouraged to question their learning and gave their input to what content would be taught in the upcoming weeks. I learned quickly that my students didn’t put forth much effort when they were only working to appease me or their parents. They only did what was required and nothing more. The real learning occurred when that fire inside them was lit, the one that realized the importance of learning and how they fit into it. None of us wanted our kids simply to function at minimum wage in their dangerous world of Englewood. Even as young as second grade, as the year progressed and we built trust, these seven-year-olds voiced their hopes to become something much more in life. They didn’t just learn from me. They learned from each other and I learned from them.

The process of becoming stands apart from the traditional banking system of education. It works with the nature of man, man as a revolutionary force. It works to liberate and enlighten. And isn’t that what we as teachers want to do most? Pleasantville, despite the name, leads to nothing. It’s prospect of change that gives us hope. In my mind, hope beats pleasant any day of the week.