I never knew education like this

The educational field found me in the most unexpected way.

In my youth, visiting the school counsellor or principal’s office was a regular affair; parent-teacher meetings often revolved around my sleuth of misbehaviours.

Yet some four years ago, I found myself sitting across the table—in the “counsellor’s chair”—something I would never have imagined. Across the past few years, I have had the unexpected privilege of walking alongside teachers, families, students as I served as a social worker, and now in the general office. And this has perhaps been one of the most life-giving experiences I’ve had thus far.

Since Teachers’ Day just passed last week, I thought to pen down some reflections and thoughts about how I have come to appreciate and experience education. Here, you will find some broad ideas I had crystallised in the past few weeks about what makes me feel so drawn to education, and what I love so much about working in the field.

(A quick note: I am going to mention the school I serve in, Grace Orchard School, aka GOS, simply to ground my thoughts. I write in my personal capacity, and what’s written here does not represent the school.)

Education as formation

I love working in a school because we get a front row seat to the formation and becoming of many little humans.

I love the idea of formation because it brings to mind a deeply internal process in a person. Education is not about simply the development of the mind, but about the formation of personhood and character. A sort of microcosm of life-beyond—school is where our young ones have opportunities to “practice real life”. After all, for many, school is where you make your first real friends, where you make the most mistakes, and where you find yourself. As a school, then, I believe it would be imperative that we provide plenty of spaces and avenues where pupils can safely make mistakes and learn from them.

I find myself regularly reminded that curriculum is not just the “official” planned act of delivering teaching and learning. When we consider curriculum as the total learning experience of students—both planned and unplanned—we can begin looking for formation in the most unlikely places. Learning no longer occurs solely in the formal places of a classroom, but along corridors; not just in the formal schemes of work, but in the off-topic comments that arise mid-lesson—the ones we perhaps dismiss too quickly.

Formation for flourishing

Reflecting on my experience at GOS, I have begun to realise how important these fleeting moments can be. The thing is—they almost never feel significant in the moment. As professionals, we often get swarmed and overwhelmed by the “formal” things—in my case as a school social worker, it often seemed that the quality of assessment and my intervention plans that mattered more than anything else.

Yet, how might we “do” education in a way that allows for our young ones to experience formation in a way that shapes them into whole, flourishing humans?

Thinking back to my own experiences as a student, I recall my most vivid memories to be those informal, possibly fleeting moments. Moments where I felt heard, seen, and known. Moments where teachers showed a vulnerable side of themselves. Moments where my teachers leaned in, and were kaypoh about aspects of my life I never imagined adults ever cared about.

At GOS, what stands out to me is experiencing how educators and staff members are likewise formed through their work of forming. Our students are never just “recipients” of formation, but are active participants in their development—and even in the developing of those who give and sow into their lives. Perhaps no one could ever genuinely enter the realm of education and leave unchanged.

Flourishing through uncovering

I love school because we are about uncovering the strengths and hidden potential of individuals. “Hidden” not because they are hard to find. “Hidden” probably because we often are not looking at the right places, and not giving enough time to consider and nurture the potential and strengths of young ones.

In the past, educational models emphasised teacher-led pedagogy, structured instruction and standardised testing to deliver knowledge to students (probably heavily influenced by the Industrial Age). In those contexts, I would guess that giving time and space for students was unheard of. Students are seen more as recipients of knowledge and education—not so much whole persons.

Conversely, when we become more student-centred and student-led, and when we provide environments that allow for greater learner agency and flexibility, we begin to experience an uncovering of student strengths and potential. Borrowing an idea from the late Anthony Yeo (Singapore’s father of counselling), we have to choose whether we are to be Tourists or Tour Guides. To be a Tour Guide is to presume you know the lay of the land; to be the expert that expects all others to follow along. To be a Tourist in the world of the other, however, is to be innately curious—to maintain a position of not-knowing and to have that great desire and expectation to be wowed by the other.

Flourishing occurs in relational contexts. I love school because students get to experience an environment that uncovers their potential and facilitates their flourishing as little humans. At the same time, it is in this same space where professionals, parents, and many other stakeholders experience their own formation—and perhaps experience flourishing in community.

To educators and teachers,

Thank you for the work you do—seen and unseen.

Thank you to my teachers who saw something in me I never imagined was there.

Thank you to my colleagues for your unwavering dedication to shaping lives—even as you “tour” the world of our students.

What more would the educational field have in store for me? Not too sure. But I am sure excited to continue sowing into and contributing towards the lives of our young ones. Our work may seem small in the moment, but let’s never lose sight of how sacred and beautiful education is.

Happy (belated) Teachers’ Day (: